I suppose my feelings aren’t complicated at all. I know what the issue is. I’m falling in love with Sam. In the most clichéd of clichés, I’ve got a thing for a movie star who is going to bye-bye out of my life in weeks.
The least I can do is keep it to myself, so he doesn’t know. That’s a risk that I’m not willing to take, not even at my bravest. The shame of rejection would be too much. Sam said he was surprised that I could act at all. Well, let’s keep that going.
Twenty-Nine
The next two weeks pass in a fairly predictable routine. Sam and Fangli work. I half-assedly job search and whole-assedly refine Eppy. Every few days, I visit Mom. At night, Sam and I go out to smile and be seen, and I am careful to keep conversation light and my hands to myself.
Thus ends the first month of me pretending to be a movie star. This is what I’ve learned.
Eppy is super amazing and I’m going to be a millionaire and maybe in Vanity Fair to talk about how it changed my life in a very inspirational but humble profile story. I have put this out to the universe multiple times.
Being a movie star has become easier now that I have the hang of it.
Fangli is cool and I like her very much.
Mei is professional and I take it at that. She considers me staff.
Mom doesn’t do much but look out the window every time I visit, and I call Xin Guang every two days in a polite and cheerful not-pushy way to say “I remain very interested.”
Sam…is killing me. Killing me simply by existing. Even when he’s not near me, I think about him and I don’t like it. Agatha Wu Reed always warned me against letting a man take up too much space in my thoughts, and Sam consumes an inordinate amount of my waking time, partly because he’s around so often. My suite has become a bit of a gathering place for the three of us late at night—Fangli, Sam, and me—where we watch movies, go online to check out the world’s weirdest houses or grossest recipes, do quizzes to see what Disney princess we are, or play cards. That’s the most fun because although Sam might have crushed me at video games, he’s atrocious at cards and Fangli and I take great pleasure in his inability to hide how much it bothers him to lose.
“War?” I ask one night in disbelief as Fangli checks over the deck to see how he messed up yet again. “You even lose at War?”
“I had bad cards,” he sulks.
“Five times in a row?”
It’s this side of Sam that has me stuck. He’s unguarded and that makes him more real and unbearably attractive. He doesn’t change from when he speaks to me or Fangli and me together. I know it’s genuine but it’s as friends. Sometimes the two of them lapse into Mandarin but my app has only gotten me to eating in a restaurant （Wo yao chao fan, I can now order fried rice） so there’s a lot I miss. Occasionally he shoots me a look from the corner of his eye paired with a sly smile, and my heart stops. He doesn’t mean anything by it. He’s not a professional flirt but he’s aware of his visual power and I think it’s become second nature.
Messes me up every time, though. Every time. What also ruins me is that he wants updates about Eppy. That he takes it so seriously thrills me.
“Tell me the changes you made on it,” he says as we attend another soiree. Toronto’s big film festival is coming in September, and since Fangli’s management wants her to be seen and Sam has a movie premiering at it, we’re on a bit of a circuit.
I hold my gradually warming glass of white wine that I’m forbidden to drink as we stand at a table in the corner taking a quick break from schmoozing. “It’s going well,” I say.
“When do I get to try it?”
“Later.” Why am I dreaming about Vanity Fair and morning shows but I immediately say no to Sam trying it out? The whole point is to have people use it.
“You’re going to need testers, and you already promised me I could beta test,” he says reasonably. “It has to scale and I gave you a bunch of ideas.”
“Why do you want to try it?”
He grins. “You make it sound exciting, like it’s going to turn my life around. I could use that.”
“You. Sam Yao, movie star.”
His smile doesn’t drop. “Who only has limited time in a day and on this world to get things done.”
“You can try it once I write up how-to instructions,” I say. He’s right, I do need to test it.
By the time our next big engagement comes around, I’m more confident, which is good because it’s for Chanel and is an all-eyes-on-me situation. Fangli was going to do it but begged off last minute. She’s come down with a cold and truly does look like hell.