Sitting among the group of young ladies who had come to apply as new actresses at Lonald Entertainment House, Amara Davis—a fair‑complexioned 22‑year‑old—stretched her long, slender legs as she waited on the grand floor to be called for her audition.
Her dream was to become one of the best Nollywood actresses in her country. She had heard that many CEOs and owners in the Actors Guild Association often slept with young, upcoming actresses in exchange for movie roles, but that wasn’t her main concern.
Amara wanted to become an actress, and most of the audition centers she had visited were biased and never even gave her feedback after wasting her precious time.
Amara remembered the last CEO of Alfred Entertainment House she had gone to see. The elderly man had insisted that she spend a night with him before she could audition at his studio—and likely, he said, she wouldn’t even need to audition afterward. He would simply cast her in one of the available movies and give her a role or two.
Amara had agreed to spend the night with him, but when she arrived, she found several other women lined up for the same reason.
Irritated—especially at the thought of contracting a séxually transmitted disease, since she had assumed he’d invited only her—Amara returned home to the apartment she shared with her best friend turned sister, Emily Jackson. Both had refused to return to their village after graduation; coming from poor families had drawn them together as best friends in the city.
“Amara, what happened?” Emily asked when Amara returned home angry and threw herself onto the only white couch in their shared room.
Emily was light‑skinned like Amara. Though, Amara sighed and relaxed back on the couch facing the bed.
“Emily, you wouldn’t believe what I saw at the hotel he sent me to,” Amara said, shaking her head sadly.
“What did you see there?” Emily asked, not wanting to imagine something evil like kidnappers or ritualists. Coming from poor backgrounds was one reason they had become best friends—both were determined to succeed in life.
Amara shook her head and cried out, “My goodness!”—startling Emily, who stood in front of her, staring in shock, waiting for her to explain.
Amara sat fanning herself with her fingers, feeling unusually hot in the cool night air.
“Emily, can you believe I saw about fifteen women there? When I asked why they were there, they said they had personal business with the CEO. What other personal business could it be besides sleeping with him?” Amara blurted out. Emily swallowed hard.
“Wait—you agreed to sleep with the CEO of Alfred Entertainment House just to get a movie role?” Emily questioned. Amara shook her head.
“Yes! What do you expect, Emily? I want the job. I want to start acting in films,” she replied.
“Calm down, girl. You don’t have to get into nonsense with him just because you want a job. What if he uses it to blackmail you and refuses to pay you, or your nudes get leaked to the public?”
“What do you mean, blackmail me?” Amara asked, her eyes wide. Emily laughed.
“Oh, so you don’t know how cunning most of those bosses or CEOs are? They know you’re naive and eager for work, so they could record it and use it against you,” Emily told her.
“What? If that’s the case, I can sue him,” Amara replied.
“Sue him? Where would you get the money to sue him?” Emily questioned, scoffing. Amara fell silent and swallowed.
“You’d better wait until you find a genuine job that pays real cash with no strings attached, rather than jump into something that will give you sleepless nights,” Emily advised, but Amara shook her head again.
“Well, I’ve already come home, so I’m automatically not going back. He said unless I sleep with him first, I won’t get a job offer with them.”
“Wait—is the CEO even a young man?” Emily asked. She wasn’t involved in entertainment; after graduation she had gone into tailoring instead of job‑hunting, since most graduates in their country struggled to find work, while Amara had pursued acting.
“He’s not a young man, Emily. Someone’s father and husband, so to speak,” Amara replied, shaking her head in disgust.
“And you agreed to sleep with a married man just for money or a movie role?” Emily’s question made Amara feel embarrassed.
“Leave me alone, Emily! I’ve already told you I’m not going back, and I’ll look for other audition centers to try again.” Amara stood up from the white couch and walked to the bed, while Emily sighed and let her be.
***
“Ma’am, it’s your turn to audition. Go in and see the auditors,” a female receptionist said to Amara.
“Okay, thank you.” Amara stood up and adjusted her dress as she watched the previous woman step out and heave a sigh of relief.
Breathing heavily, Amara pushed the audition‑room door open and walked to the front of the auditorium, where three judges sat across from her.
“Good afternoon, young lady. You’re Miss Amara Davis, right?” the male judge asked first. She recognized him as one of the country’s best veteran actors, William Jack.
“Yes, sir!” Amara replied with a smile, feeling her palms sweat. She rubbed them together to calm her nerves.
“All right. Feel free to show us what you’ve got. What will you be performing?” the second judge, an actress, asked. Amara recognized her as Stephanie Roland, also a veteran actress.
Amara’s face lit up with joy as she looked at the three top judges examining her acting skills. She wasn’t sure she could express herself well under their gaze.
“Are you ready now?” the last judge asked. Amara recognized her as Fiona Wilfred and let out a heavy breath.
“Yes, ma’am,” she replied, staring nervously at their faces.
“Wait—you’re performing as what again?” William asked.
“A poor, kind girl,” Amara responded.
“Oh, that’s what’s written here, and I can see that’s probably your type of role. But acting your daily life doesn’t show us your real skills. Act like a pro—be someone you’re not. Perform with the passion and pain of a new character. So what would you like to act to raise your score and see if you can be enrolled in Lonald Entertainment House as one of our new actresses?” William asked. Amara swallowed as she stared at him, confused.
“I don’t really know. What suggestions can you give me? I’ll act perfectly anything you ask,” Amara said.
The second female judge suggested, “How about you act as a classy princess, a female gangster, or a police officer arresting a suspect?”
Amara swallowed.
“Pick one and be quick—we have other people waiting outside to audition,” Fiona Wilfred added, her face unsmiling.
“Okay, I’ll act as a police officer stopping a suspect,” Amara finally responded.
“Good. At the count of three, you’ll hear a buzzer, then begin. Ready? One… two… go!” William commanded.
Amara began acting as a police officer stopping a suspect.
“Hey, you—stop there!” she commanded an invisible suspect, her face stern. “If you move, I’ll shoot. You’re under arrest for the crimes you’ve committed. You have the right to remain silent—anything you say can be used against you in a court of law. Now move!”
Amara acted as though she were dragging an invisible suspect away, handcuffing them with seriousness before finally leading the imaginary suspect offstage.
