I think I know what she’s afraid to say. Stars rise and fall quickly in LA. Everyone’s screaming my name right now, so it’s better to capitalize on the moment and get a role like this one so that my profile will continue to skyrocket. Losing this chance could just as easily mean that my profile will plummet, and within a month, no one will care about who I am.
I feel like I usually do right before I step in front of a camera. I have pre-performance nerves, because that’s what is about to happen: I need to perform. I have to show fake confidence and apologize for yesterday. “I wasn’t feeling too well,” I could explain.
The restaurant is almost empty. People are still setting up some tables. I think only high-profile guests might be allowed inside early. I see someone who might be Keanu Reeves eating lunch in the corner, reading a newspaper. Paola visibly stiffens when we see the table we’re supposed to reach. But I think it might be a flinch of surprise more than anything. That’s why I get stiff, anyway. Dave Miller is there. So is Reynolds Bachmann, one of the executive producers. Not surprising, for a sorry, we have to let you go sort of meeting.
Not as expected, though? Logan Gray and his manager, Audrey. Why would they be here if I’m going to be fired? Are we both about to be let go from the film? Is production about to be stopped altogether?
Audrey has white-blonde hair and blue eyes that I think might be color contacts. She reached out to me and Paola when I was hired a couple of weeks back. She suggested a friendly meeting with Logan, and I’d accepted, but Gray cancelled at the last second, and then that not-so-friendly interview on the red carpet…
Logan’s leaning back in his seat, shades back on. He doesn’t look up when Dave stands, arms wide in welcome. His collared shirt has some sweat stains today, not that I mind. The fact that Dave doesn’t care about appearances has made me feel more comfortable with him.
“Great. You’re here. Please, sit.”
Paola and I take the last two empty chairs. Audrey gives a friendly hello. Reynolds checks his phone. He’s much more a suit-and-tie guy, not something I see a lot in LA. His silver-gray jacket might just be over a couple thousand dollars. I’ve never understood spending so much money on clothes, especially in a place where so many people are struggling to find a place to live and food to eat. But maybe I’m not so different. I live here, too, and have more money than I really need.
Reynolds nods at me and Paola. “Appointment coming up,” he says to Dave.
“Something to drink?” Dave asks us, ignoring him.
“Just water,” Paola answers for both of us. She knows I’m sober.
Dave waves down a woman passing by in uniform, who nods.
“Sorry we’re a bit late,” Paola says.
“Five minutes?” Dave shrugs.
“Ten,” Reynolds corrects.
Gray’s sigh is loud. Audrey kicks him under the table, a little more obviously than she probably expected. Her face turns red as she sips her own glass of water.
The woman comes back and puts the two glasses on the table. Her eyes linger on Gray for a long second. Gray meets her gaze with a smirk.
“Business, then,” Dave says. “Let’s get to it. We’ve—well, we’ve got a problem. Take off your shades, Gray.”
Gray takes his time slipping the shades off. The bruise has started to turn green. Paola sits straight, almost quivering with tension. I try to relax into my role, but my voice cracks a little. “Yeah? Is everything okay?”
“Not really. No.” Dave scratches his beard under his chin. “Publicity for the film is—it’s not great. This is supposed to be the number one rom-com of the season. Got word from PR. The negative attention is already affecting buzz for the film.” His eyes land heavily on Gray.
“Look, Dave,” Gray says, “if you’re going to fire me, then fucking fire me.”
I exchange looks with Paola. “Sorry,” I say, “why would Gray be fired?” The only thing I can think is that fight he’d gotten into, but Gray had gotten into fights before he was hired, too.
Everyone stares blankly at me, except for Paola, who is also frowning in confusion. She does her best, but I know she isn’t as much a part of this LA scene yet, either, and has clearly missed something.
“You didn’t see?” Reynolds asks. “Really?” He snorts.
Audrey leans in and whispers, though I don’t know why, since everyone can still hear her. “Gray was found—er—unfortunately—um—”
“A video of me sucking my friend’s dick was released, and now everyone hates me for cheating on Willow Grace,” Gray says, staring up at the ceiling.
Paola’s mouth falls open. Mine does, too.
“Who the hell even has a name like that?” Audrey mutters. “Willow Grace.”
Dave rubs the back of his neck. “Like I said. The negative press is turning potential viewers away.”
Gray shrugs. “Wasn’t thinking about the film’s publicity when it was leaked.”
“Bullshit,” Reynolds says, but he’s still looking at his phone and doesn’t seem mad. I wonder how many meetings like this he deals with daily. “Video like that? Had to be released on purpose.”
“It doesn’t matter either way,” Dave says, tapping the table. “The consequences are the same. Write Anything is becoming a joke. Online, in the news.”
“That’s what we get for hiring him, I suppose,” Reynolds mutters. I have the sense that he was never really on board with Logan Gray being the film’s star. “Can’t hire the bad boy archetype and not expect him to act like the bad boy archetype. Would’ve been better with Phillip Desmond.” Phillip Desmond: another up-and-coming actor, but he’s always felt a little expected to me, with his blonde hair and blue eyes and empty smile. My biggest insecurity is that I’m not much different from Phillip. If he’d been hired instead of Gray, the film would’ve been boring. Phillip and I wouldn’t have had any sort of chemistry.
Not that Gray and I have any sort of chemistry.
But, well—I have to admit, he is attractive. And feeling attraction isn’t always the sort of thing that’s easy to act out on-screen.
“Sorry,” Paola says, hands gripped in her lap so tightly I can see her biceps clenching. “I’m not sure what the purpose of this meeting is, exactly.”
We—the four of us—look at Dave and Reynolds. Dave looks at Reynolds. Reynolds finally slips his phone into his jacket’s inner pocket.
“We need to get the publicity of this film back on track. After that interview Gray did, calling golden boy here a shitty actor, everyone’s decided that Gray hates Matthew. Not great, when they’re supposed to be in love on-screen.”
“Get to the point,” Gray says under his breath.
Reynolds glares at him. “We need you two to start up a public relationship.”
The silence that follows might just last a full minute.
It takes me a second to process what he’s saying. As an actor, I’ve been trained to figure out emotions quickly—to pinpoint them, figure out where I feel them in my body, make sure they’re being expressed organically. But now? My mouth opens and closes silently.