The Family Fang - Kevin Wilson [35]
Their faces serious and somber, the Fangs walked into the studio and arranged themselves according to the instructions of the photographer, a heavily made-up woman, bug-eyed and nervous. For five minutes, the woman pointed and simply said, “There, there, there.” Annie pretended not to understand what the woman wanted, staring dumbly at the unmanned camera. “Go sit beside your mommy,” the photographer said. “She’s mentally handicapped,” Mrs. Fang said, covering her mouth with her hand. “Oh,” the woman replied and then said, louder and clearly enunciated, “Go sit beside your mommy.” Annie sat down and looked into the camera, ready for her close-up.
“One, two, three, cheese,” the woman said and the Fangs, teeth bared, shouted, “Cheese!” The woman made a soft, squeaking sound like a too-tight shoe, but was otherwise unfazed by the appearance of the fangs. “Okay, Dad, I think you blinked,” she said, and then once again framed the family in the viewfinder of the camera.
The fake teeth were starting to ache a little, and they kept running their tongues along the veneers in between shots. “Can we take these off?” Buster asked once the photographer had finished the session, but Mr. and Mrs. Fang had already returned their fangs to the plastic storage container. “Once we get the photos and send them out to people for the holidays, it’ll get a better reaction,” Mr. Fang said but he was obviously shaken by the lack of shock from the photographer. “She was too busy doing her job,” Mrs. Fang said, rubbing the tension out of her husband’s shoulders. “It’s like asking a brain surgeon to notice the magic trick you are doing while he’s in the middle of an operation.”
Buster said, “We need some fake blood.” Mr. Fang said, “Maybe. That’s not a bad idea.” Mrs. Fang said, “And a stuffed deer that we can pretend to be eating.” Mr. Fang said, “That could be arranged.” Annie said, “Sometimes I think my heart is in my tummy.” No one else said a word.
Three days later, Annie received a phone call from the director’s assistant. “I have some bad news,” the man said. Annie, suddenly, as if struck by lightning, stopped acting retarded. “What is it?” she asked. Had filming shut down? Had they run out of money?
“We’re cutting your line,” the man said.
It was as if a doctor had told Annie that her leg could not be saved and would have to be amputated. Actually, for Annie, it was worse. She’d rather be missing a leg and have a speaking role in a feature film than the alternative.
“Why?” Annie asked. “Do you think I can’t do it?”
“That’s not it, Annie,” the man said.
“Sometimes I think my heart is in my tummy,” Annie said.
“That’s perfect, Annie, but Marshall just felt that the main character would be more tortured if he never got to talk to his daughter during his sales trip than if he got to talk to her once.”
“I disagree,” Annie said.
“Well, Marshall and the screenwriter discussed this and they’ve made their decision.”
“What do they want?” Mrs. Fang asked Annie, who covered the mouthpiece of the phone and screamed, “Get out of here.” Mrs. Fang, stunned, turned and walked out of the living room.
“So I don’t get to be in the movie?” Annie said.
“No, Annie, you’re still in the movie, but you just don’t have any lines. You’ll be in the scenes where Donald Ray calls his family, and you’ll be in the movie when it comes out.”
“I’ll be an extra,” Annie said and began to cry.
“Oh, sweetheart, please don’t cry,” the man said, sounding as if he might cry as well. “Can I talk to your mom or dad?”
“They’re dead,” Annie said.
“What?” the man asked.
“They’re busy,” Annie said. “They don’t want to talk to you.”
“Annie,” the man said, his voice finally regaining its composure. “I know you’re mad but if you want to be an actress, you need to learn how to deal with