Darcy stared at her, or him, for a moment. How could this happen? She'd made it clear that they were searching for the sexiest man on earth. "I - I'm afraid you won't be suitable for the role we have in mind."
Bobby's face crumbled. Sniffling, he drew a lace-trimmed hanky from the bosom of his evening gown. "It's always the same. People never understand me."
Darcy groaned inwardly. Shoot, now he was going to cry.
"I only want the chance to prove myself. Is that too much to ask?" Bobby dabbed at his eyes. "Why can't I be considered for a leading male role?"
"It might help if you dressed like a male," Vanda muttered.
"But I am male. I'm all male," Bobby insisted, then leaned toward Darcy. "Is my mascara running?"
"No, you look... great."
"Thank you." Bobby smiled sadly, his red lips trembling. "Don't worry about me." He held up a hand as if to ward off their sympathy. "Somehow, I will survive. I'll continue the struggle. After all, I'm an artiste. And I must never sacrifice my personal style."
"Of course not, Mr. Streisand. If I need someone with your... style, I'll be sure to give you a call."
Bobby raised the hanky high into the air, then yanked his arm down to clutch the hanky against his chest. "I thank you." He glided out the door.
Darcy shook her head. "It's gotta get better than this."
Michelle opened the door. "Chuckie - " She glanced at the clipboard and frowned. "Badabing."
"Must be a stage name," Maggie whispered.
A slim man sauntered into the room. His silk shirt was half unbuttoned to show off curly chest hair and three gold necklaces. He tossed his eight-by-ten glossy on the table. "Whoa!" He eyed them, his grin flashing a gold tooth. "I've never seen so many hot babes under one roof." He stepped back and struck a casual pose with one hip jutted to the side.
Darcy resisted a shudder. "Mr... Badabing. Do you have any experience?"
He chuckled and rubbed at his thin moustache. The diamonds on his pinky ring glittered. "Hell, yeah. I've got all kinds of experience. What do you three ladies have in mind?" He winked.
Vanda leaned toward Darcy and whispered, "Can I kill him?"
"So." Chuckie tucked his thumbs under his belt. "If I win I'll be called the Sexiest Man on Earth?"
"You would need to be selected for the show first." Darcy collected his photo and slid it under her legal pad.
"Hey, if you want sexy, you've come to the right place." Chuckie rotated his narrow hips. "They don't call me Badabing for nothin'."
"Please, let me kill him," Vanda hissed.
Darcy was tempted to give her blessing. "I'm sorry, Mr. Badabing, but we won't be needing your services."
Chuckie snorted. "You don't know what you're missing."
Vanda smiled. "Neither do you."
With a sneer, Chuckie strode out the door.
Darcy's eye twitched. She rubbed her temple, trying to relieve the growing sense of doom.
Michelle opened the door. "This is Walter."
Walter strode into the room. He was a middle-aged man with thinning hair and a round belly. "How do you do?" He smiled as he set his photo down on the table.
He would never be considered sexy, but at least, he had good manners. Darcy smiled back. "Do you have any acting experience?"
"Sure do. For the last three years, I've been doing commercials for Captain Jake's Buffalo Wings." Walter's smile faltered when they didn't react. "You know, Captain Jake's Chicken? They've got the best buffalo wings in the city."
"I'm afraid we don't eat chicken," Maggie said.
"Oh, vegetarians, huh? Well, I sing and do this dance. Here, I'll show you." Walter proceeded to strut back and forth across the room, flapping his arms. Then, he began to sing. "I'm baked with herbs and spices, and come with tasty rices. I'm never fried, so you won't die. And you'll love my new low prices!"
Darcy's mouth fell open. Her friends were equally quiet.
Walter's grin glowed with pride. "Pretty awesome, huh? Of course, it looks even better when I wear the chicken costume. I've got it stashed in my car if you'd like to see it."
They continued to gape at him.
"Speechless, huh? I get that all the time."
Darcy's eye twitched again. "I'm afraid this isn't a musical reality show. But if we ever produce one, I'll remember you."
"Oh, okay." Walter's shoulders slumped. "Thank you, anyway." He trudged out the door, looking thoroughly henpecked.
Darcy tilted forward and plunked her forehead against the tabletop. "This is hopeless."
"Don't worry." Maggie patted her on the back. "There's a bunch more for us to see."
One hour and twenty applicants later, Walter the Dancing Chicken was starting to look really good.
Then, Michelle opened the door and emitted a long, dreamy sigh. "Garth Manly." She pressed a hand against her chest as he strode into the room.
More sighs came from Vanda and Maggie. They sagged in their seats. Darcy gave them a worried look. Maybe they'd drunk some blood past its expiration date. But no, they didn't appear to be suffering from indigestion. They were gazing blissfully at the new applicant.
He was all right, she supposed. Definitely the most handsome man they'd seen so far, though that wasn't saying much. His wavy, dark hair was brushed back from a tanned face. "Mr. Manly, do you have any acting experience?"
"Yes." He set his signed photo on the table, then took a wide stance. When he crossed his arms over his broad chest, his biceps bulged.
Maggie and Vanda sighed once again. Michelle remained at the door, rubbing her cheek against the doorframe.
"What kind of experience?" Darcy asked.
"Theater, mostly." He raised a dark brow. "Would you like to see me in action?"
"Oh, yes," Maggie breathed.
He bowed his head, apparently getting into character.
Vanda whispered, "Pick him. He's gorgeous."
Darcy hushed her.
Garth Manly lifted his chin and gazed over their heads. He raised his right hand. "To be, or not to be - "
"Could you turn around, please?" Maggie asked.
He looked surprised, then turned his back to them and started again. His right hand went up. "To be or not to be..."
Vanda and Maggie leaned forward, their eyes riveted to his buns of steel. Darcy had difficulty hearing his performance over their heavy breathing.
"Whether 'tis nobler - "
"Could you take off your shirt?" Vanda asked.
He swiveled to face them. "Excuse me?"
Darcy stifled a groan. She should have insisted on doing the interviews alone. "There'll be a hot tub," she explained. "We need to know if you look all right in a swimsuit."
"Oh, of course." He took off his black leather jacket and draped it on the back of the chair. As he unbuttoned his shirt, he glanced at them from under thick eyelashes and slowly smiled. "Do I get any music while I strip?"
Maggie giggled.
Darcy almost gagged.
Vanda skimmed a long purple fingernail over her bottom lip. "Tell me, Garth, do you have any experience in stripping?"
He gave her a smoldering look. "I prefer not to do it as a solo act."
Vanda dropped her hand to the neckline zipper of her slinky, black catsuit. "Oh, I'm definitely in the mood for a... duet."
Darcy slanted a glance to the side. Good Lord, Vanda was unzipping her catsuit. "Okay, that's enough. Mr. Manly, could you wait in the lobby? We might need to see you again."
"Of course." With a knowing smile, he picked up his discarded clothes and left. Michelle stumbled after him.
Maggie turned to Darcy. "Why did you send him away? I thought he was perfect for the show."
"I believe he is," Darcy confessed, "but I had to get him out of here before Vanda stripped naked."
With a snort, Vanda zipped up her catsuit. "You're no fun."
"He'll be great, but he's only one," Darcy reminded them. "We need at least four more mortals, and we need to find them tonight."
"Okay." Vanda dragged a hand through her purple hair. "Let's get back to work."
After three more hours, Maggie was practicing writing Mrs. Don Orlando de Corazon on a sheet of paper, while Vanda was amusing herself by swiveling her chair in circles.