What Would Faust Do?

The press photos splayed across the table were familiar. Erica had seen them in magazines and on paparazzi sites all documenting the incredible rise of Hollywood's newest golden boy.

He's not bad looking, if you are into all American types. Which I'm not.

She slowly inhaled a focused breath, determined not to let her nerves betray her. She kept her hands locked together on her lap. Three sets of eyes watched her intently while playing the same nonchalant game, but they were desperate for her agreement.

"And how long are we talking about exactly?"

Mr. Pierce sighed. "Potentially? 'Til death do you part."

Laughter tickled the back of of Erica's throat. The last thirty minutes had been ludicrous. Her audition was a mere formality to precede a twisted offer. Three sirens sat across the lacquered table from her singing songs of fame and wealth; if she only agreed to one impossible favor.

"You understand how ridiculous you all sound, right? I mean, people don't just do things like this. You can't force someone to fall in love with another person." Her fingers gripped the edge of the table grasping for something solid within the strange circumstances.

"No one said anything about you falling in love," Mr. Pierce corrected.

Erica didn't like his critical tone. "I wasn't talking about me," she shot back. "I meant him. You can't just throw two people together like that and pull some strings and expect them to dance."

Mr. Pierce cleared his throat and nodded at the woman to his left. Her face was bright with the knowledge of conspiracies and dark secrets. "We have gone to careful lengths to make sure the woman we chose would be right. You happen to resemble the high school sweetheart he left behind when he left his small town to be an actor." She relaxed back into her chair looking smug.

"So I look like an old girlfriend. So what?"

"You will resonate with all those powerful memories of youth and innocence that we need him to find again before things get out of control." If Mr. Pierce found any romantic notion in the idea, he hid it exceptionally well.

"And then what? Some puppy love cures him of his current string of bad choices and I'm out on my ass? Why would anyone agree to that?" Erica's chair screeched on the stone floor as she rose to her feet. "I'm afraid you will have to find a more agreeable puppet."

"How are you enjoying your waitressing job, Miss Snow?"

Erica halted at the question, but Mr Pierce didn't bother to to look surprised. "It's fine." She picked up her purse to continue to the door.

"And are you enjoying that cramped studio apartment?"

"I think it's cozy."

"Fine and cozy? Is that how you imagined your life out here?"

She pictured the peeling paint on the walls of her apartment. Most of the appliances didn't meet city code, but her landlord couldn't be bothered and knew her only other option was the street. She spent shift after shift faking painful smiles at the insipid conversations of self inflated egos to scrape bigger tips.

They had certainly done their research. She was miserable, and they knew it.

"You're positive this will work?"

A suggestion of a smile appeared on Mr Pierce's face. "If you do as we say."

Erica smoothed out her skirt with damp palms and returned to her chair as the third member across the table slid a folder towards her. He had yet to speak a single word, but his silence was as intimidating as Mr. Pierce's no fluff attitude.

She poked through the pages with the tip of a pen, afraid to burn her fingers on the file. The contract wasn't a novel, but it was a substantial read. "This is a pretty heavy contract."

"It is for your protection as well as ours." The lawyer spoke with a pleasant, soft voice. It made him even more frightening to Erica.

"Protect me? From what?"

Mr. lawyer sighed and folded his hands on the table. "At the end of your contract, you will have the option to sign a continuance. If you opt out, you keep any assets acquired during the agreed time frame. That includes any salary from film offers and gifts you may receive from either your charge or resulting from your career."

"My charge?"

"He will be your responsibility while under contract," Mr. Pierce interrupted. "Your job is to point him in the directions we want him to go. It's that simple."

She knew it wasn't. "And if I can't? Or what if I refuse something?"

"You refuse, we terminate the contract. That includes any roles you might currently be involved in or currently under consideration." Mr. Pierce stared her down with a look she had seen on her father's face when she would try to defy him. "We have a very long reach and a lot of friends, Miss Snow. Don't think you can take your little acting job and run. You screw us over and you will find yourself blacklisted by every producer, director, casting agent and even make up artist involved with quality films. All you will have left is home camcorders making porn."

The concept of bowing to this trio's demands constricted her throat. She eyed the contract again, but knew it outlined her guaranteed casting in a major production, a monthly salary in addition to the film and a clause allowing her to leave without penalty should the relationship become threatening or abusive. She wasn't required to sleep with him, although it was highly recommended.

Her hand was sweaty and the pen slid through her fingers the first time she pressed the tip against the signature line. A nervous laugh and a dry hand later, she scratched her name across the paper.

Mr. lawyer snapped the file closed before she could change her mind. Once it was in his possession  the static in the air dissipated.

"Well, Miss Snow," Mr. Pierce stood and extended his hand. "I suggest you start practicing your acceptance speech for the academy."