"Jesus Christ man, are you looking for Aphro-fuckin'-dite or something?"

I'm going to pretend that I didn't hear Trace say that. I could make a snappy comeback about it being Helen of Troy or Audrey Hepburn actually, but that would be giving the little troll some kind of dignifying response. He's been bitchy with me all day, and as much as he'd like to pretend it's my fault the ass has enough of his own issues without requiring me to create them for him.

This process can be kind of dull though, so I guess I can't blame him. We're stuck in yet another faceless dance studio. They all look the same - plain white walls, sprung floors, mirrors. Nobody ever seems to paint the walls anything except white; maybe we dancers just don't have a lot of imagination when it comes to decorating. It's all the same. Marty calls the girls in one by one and we have them grind up all over Eddie so we can see how they move. I already have my group dancers so we don't need to bring them all in here to teach choreography or so we can compare. What we need to see is how these girls move in an intimate situation, since if they get hired that's what they'll be doing with me for this video.

To tell you the truth, I sometimes wonder if these auditions are kind of sexist because it's sort of like a cattle call. Give 'em a number instead of a name and call them in one by one so you can stare at them and either accept the goods or send 'em away. It never used to bother me until Rachael made this comment one time about us treating them like slabs of meat instead of people. She insisted it was the process at fault and not the people behind it, but she failed to come up with any other solutions when I asked how else you can choose a woman to star in a video when the criteria is that she has to be good looking. Call me shallow if you want, but while I try my best not to judge people by superficial shit in the real world I cannot hire an ugly woman for a video. It's not because I think she's worth any less, it's because when people watch a video they don't care if you're beautiful inside; it's all about the aesthetic.

"Oh it's not Aphrodite he's looking for."

"And what's that tone supposed to mean?"

Rachael remains silent, hiding under her cap, and I flash her an annoyed look. She was fine when we started, but as time has gone on she's slumped further and further back into her chair, with her arms folded and a pinched expression on her face. I don't know what the problem is with these two today but it's like they both took PMS pills. The type that causes it instead of cures it.

Besides, they know the drill; they've been through this a hundred times before. Heck, Marty does it five times as often as they do and he's not whining about it. It's a pretty simple process; we get an agency to send us various head shots, we pull out the ones we like and invite them to an audition. Sometimes all we need to do is check that they're cute and can hit a mark; sometimes we need dancers or somebody with a little more acting skill. Those take longer. This audition today isn't too bad since even girls that can't do choreography can usually shake it a little - except this one girl earlier who had a great ass but no rhythm. I felt sorry for her, she was totally awkward and even she could tell she'd blown it.

"You feeling anybody JT?" Marty asks as the previous girl leaves.

By my count we have another fifteen to see unless we make a decision right now. That sounds harsh, that some girls won't even get the chance, but we only do that if we discover somebody so on point that we get really excited. That doesn't happen much. There are so many beautiful women in LA trying to make it in this business that you almost take it for granted.

"They're all fine, but nobody really stands out."

My nose screws up in a little bit of frustration. I'm really feeling that tingle in my toes which says I have a hit on my hands with this song, and I want the video to kill it. Whoever plays opposite me needs to sizzle on screen and while these girls are all good looking, I've yet to see what I need. Call it charisma or sex appeal or whatever you want, but it's that thing that makes it impossible for you to drag your eyes away. I need it.

Not least since I had a total beer goggles moment this morning when I turned over and the girl I picked up last night looks nothing like she did last night. The sex is kind of hazy in my memory too. She was pleasant enough and didn't assume that one hook up meant she was going to be my new paramour, which is a nice change from all those girls who are already dreaming of the Hello magazine wedding spread after the first night, but despite my extreme horniness I'm not sure it was worth it. She wasn't all that and the only reason I ever thought she was is named Budweiser. You'd think after so long a drought just to get laid at all would make me a happy camper, but in my old age I get less satisfaction out of one night stands than I did at twenty one when playing the field was the best thing ever.

So yes, today I really need to see a girl and have a 'wow' moment. If Trace or Rachael thinks I'm being too fussy then fuck them. My so called 'anal retentive perfectionist control freakishness' pays their damn bills.

"I need a break," Trace groans, his chair squealing as he pushes it back and stands up. "You want a smoke break Rach?"

"Sure." She follows suit.

I'm not sure when those two started ganging up on me instead of me and Rach ganging up on Trace, but I don't like it. The two of them even look identical from the back - baggy jeans and vests with trucker caps. From my label, I might add. Pre-menstrual bitches, the pair of them.

I heave a deep sigh and look at Marty. "You wanna call the next one?"

He duly does so and in she walks. She's in a similar uniform to the rest of them - they all try to look casual but flash as much flesh as possible. There is definitely a lack of subtlety in this town; they all seem to have taken the "less is more" approach to mean less fabric instead of less flesh. All the girls are tailored to a similar look, since I have a definite vision in my head of what I want for this video. It's all going to be about dark corners and dark sexy hideaways, lots of heat, so I wanted somebody to fit in with that - dark and sultry. So they're all dark haired and have a slight Latina vibe to them, and like I said they all dress practically the same: sweatpants to look casual, but figure hugging ones. Cropped shirts of various dance or sports gear labels. They may all be in sneakers but they're out to show off their bodies.

A lot of guys would kill to have this kind of day at work, but over a decade in this business and I've become utterly blasé to it. Still, it doesn't exactly suck.

I tap my pen against her headshot while Marty gives her the instructions. They're short and to the point - when the music comes on, get up on Eddie and freestyle it. Be sexy. The one thing that has been pretty different is the way the girls interpret those instructions. Some basically started behaving like strippers, some were total teases, some got heavy with the looks and eye contact and some, like this girl now, seem to be channelling the Pussycat Dolls. Since what I had in mind was more of a cross between tease and the normal way you might get up on somebody in a club, I don't think she's what I want.

She's not bad looking at all, she has almond shaped green eyes and a perfect Cupid's bow for lips, but the way she moves isn't what I pictured at all. Marty subtly tries to direct her more that way - as he has with all of them, we don't expect them to be total mind readers - but although she takes the hint she's still not quite there. That'll make it another line through another name. Out of thirty plus girls, I have about twenty five crosses and the rest all down as a pretty unenthusiastic maybe.

Heck, maybe it's only because I'm not in the right frame of mind for this today. Maybe if we brought them back tomorrow I'd see them all through totally different eyes. Maybe I'm just a picky bastard with impossible standards. Blah.

***

It's not long before I get bored myself and give Marty a break so I can have one. We only have seven more girls, five minutes won't kill us. I'm still hoping I'll see the one and save myself from a second round - or worse, a second batch of new prospects some other day - but I'm not willing to compromise. If you want first place then it never pays to take second best. Sometimes that really complicates my life, but I quickly learned in this business that when they tell you about the glamour and accolades they never mention the trials and tribulations.

Despite their grouchy moods, I head out the back to hunt down Trace and Rachael. It's weird, even when they're grumpy I'd usually still rather hang with them than anyone else. I have plenty of other friends I could hang with, but there's a definite comfort factor in having those two around. I'd never tell them because it's sappy and they'd mock me endlessly, but I really do love their annoying asses. It's great to have people like Matt or Tim or Addy around to mix it up, but somehow I always end up with Trace and Rachael.

When I step out into the lot the smell of new tarmac hits my nose. It's not great, but it's mostly covered up with fresh air. I can hear the gruesome twosome talking around the corner of the building, and I'm just about to head round there when I start to tune in on what they're saying and stop dead in my tracks.

Trace sounds doubtful. "Are you sure you're not being paranoid?"

"Come on, the resemblance is pretty fuckin' obvious."

"Well the song is about her, a subconscious association wouldn't be a huge deal."

Rachael lets out a grunt. I can't see her face but I imagine she just rolled her eyes. "It's way beyond that. These aren't just passing similarities Trace, every girl in there has the same skin tone and colouring as her. All practically the same height, too."

"But that's about the same height as all his other dancers. You know they like the girls to be shorter than him, looks better."

I have no idea who the hell they're talking about, but it's already obvious that Rachael's bitching about my video and Trace is sticking up for me. I take back what I said about him being a troll. What's her problem and resemblance to whom, exactly? I just picked a look I wanted and chose head shots that fit it; I didn't have anybody I know in mind when I did it.

"Which on its own would mean nothing but add it to everything else and the way he acts around her…"

"What way?" Trace voices the thought in my head for me.

"You don't see it? He never normally spends so much time with women he isn't dating, especially when he's on the road and can barely make time for anybody. He's always texting and calling when we're away, and you've seen the way he looks at her?"

"What way? It looks normal to me."

Rachael lets out the kind of exasperated 'ahh' that Mom used to give me when I wouldn't clean my room. "Well you look at every woman that way you little perv so you would think it was normal." That's true actually, Trace is a little lecher. "Point is it's not healthy."

"He hasn't been laid in over a year; of course he looks at her like he wants to jump her, he looks at every woman like he wants to jump her. It's called being a guy." Little does he know about last night - I was laid less than twenty four hours ago, even if it wasn't exactly the most orgasmic experience ever.

Okay, I think that was an actual foot I heard stamping on the ground. He's obviously pissing her off now. "No, it's her. He goes off to that island all fucked in the head and has some weird intense thing with her, suddenly bumps into her a year later when she's all fucked in the head and picks right back up where he left off. It's not good."

Wait… Addison? She's talking about Addy? Hell no bitch, those girls look nothing like Addy! What, am I supposed to shy away from ever casting a brunette again because I dated her? I've dated women of every hair colour; I'd never be able to cast any female ever again! Stupid woman, what the hell is she thinking of?

And don't get me started on that little assessment of my relationship with Addy because she has no idea.

"Fucked in the head? A little uptight maybe but it's not like she's some head case."

"That's not what I mean…" Now she's taken on a whiny school kid tone. She lets out a sigh that even I can hear from my little eavesdropping position. "She's nice and I like her, but she's obviously depressed. She barely goes out except with us, there's some weird thing going on with her room mate and she always looks like she only slept three hours. And she's so damn negative all the time, you notice that? He was depressed back then when they first hooked up and I think she's depressed now, and the fact that those two seem to use each other as their own personal Prozac substitute when really they don't know each other all that well is a little twisted."

There's a pause, and if Trace values his life he had better be thinking of some brilliant and incisive comment to cut her down with.

"I never thought of it that way. I kind of see where you're coming from."

Bastard. I'm making a list and you're on it, so you better sleep with one eye open pal.

"But hey, isn't that what friends do? Lean on each other?" Trace then continues.

Hmm. Maybe you're off the list, depending on how the rest of this conversation goes. I can't believe they still haven't realised that I'm listening in. I'd have thought they'd hear me approaching; it wasn't like I was sneaking up on them.

"There's leaning on each other and then there's having some messed up symbiotic parasitic crap where you're co-dependent."

Yeah. Rachael is so off my Christmas card list and onto the dead before dawn list. I have a lot of lists.

"Well what do you plan to do about it?" Trace asks. "You know if you say any of this crap to him he'll just disagree and get pissy."

"I don't plan to do anything about it, it's his life." Oh really? You noticed that while judging it all without knowing shit, did you? "It just annoys and worries me because I don't think it's healthy for either of them and I think he likes having her need him a little too much, and he's still hot for her. As evidenced by the fact that he's insisting on releasing a song about her and isn't going to be happy until he finds her doppelganger to cast in the video."

"I don't even care if it's Addy's god damned twin at this point, I'd just like his picky ass to choose somebody already. We were supposed to go meet Dickwad an hour ago and I had to cancel, God only knows when we'll be able to reschedule."

"Another one who's hot for her."

"What? Dickwad? How can you tell?"

I'm with the troll, I've been around Alex the Dickwad a good few times now and the man is like an ice block. He has lots of smart comments and jokes but they're never warm or friendly, just annoying, hence his new moniker. There's no sign that he's ever thawed out enough to desire the touch of any woman, let alone Addy.

"He stares at her too. Though she can stay away from him because he really is a dick."

"Agreed."

Yeah, that'll be the first thing we've all agreed on throughout this whole conversation.

"And that Steve guy too, there was obviously something still there. And Justin looked totally jealous which is just more evidence for the prosecution."

"He was perfectly cool to the guy!" Trace protests.

"Never said he wasn't. Just said he looked jealous. Though Steve twittering on like a total idiot about him and Addy didn't help. Who tells your ex's ex all about your relationship with her?"

"The dude seemed fine by me."

And by me too, so Rachael can shove that theory where the sun don't shine. I really do not like her today; she's uncharacteristically full of bullshit. Usually even when I don't like what she has to say I can admit the truth to it, but nothing she has said about me and Addy makes any sense. I am not jealous of Steve. He was a nice guy, but like she said he babbled a lot. And why would I even be jealous since they're not together any more anyway?

Though I did kind of wonder if maybe they hooked up while he was staying, they were kind of touchy feely in the restaurant. He was supposed to have left yesterday and I nearly asked, but then remembered it's none of my business. If I really was jealous I'm sure I'd have masochistically asked anyway purely to torture myself.

Just like I've been masochistically eavesdropping on my cousin bitching about me. Good times.