“I quite loved that movie,” Mark said. “Are there no original ideas left?”
“Mark!”
“The director wants to shoot it almost cinema-verite style, and he tasked me with getting work on a sheep farm to prepare for the role.”
“Can we confirm this with anyone?” Liam asked.
“I am a legitimate actor. You can look me up on IMDB.” The production that Nathan was fired from hadn’t taken down his credit yet. He knew that final credits wouldn’t be confirmed until the film was locked and screened for the press months from now.
Mark scrolled to Nathan’s page on his phone, which still had his headshot and bio, and nodded approvingly. Liam looked over his shoulder.
“The director for this film doesn’t want to announce it to the press. He is planning to bring it as a surprise screening to the Cannes Film Festival.”
“Why couldn’t you come here in the morning?” Liam asked.
“I’m all screwed up from the time change. It’s morning to me.” That part Nathan wasn’t lying about. He was wide awake, though that was also because of the adrenaline pumping through him.
“Well, this is an interesting development.” Mark slipped his phone back into his pocket. “But my brother needs someone who can do the hard work. Lambing seasons gets very hectic. Do you have any experience working as a farmhand?”
“Yes. I gardened at university.” The lies spat out of Nathan like bullets in a machine gun of self-preservation.What the fuck am I doing?The only farmhand I’m familiar with is jerking off a random guy outside a barn!“You can talk to my former employer, Eamonn Charles. He ran a farm at Uppercross College.”
Liam crossed his arms. “What did you grow?”
Marijuana.
“Tomatoes.”
“This isn’t a tomato farm. Do you have any experience handling livestock?” Liam asked.
“Even better!” Nathan raised a pointed finger in the air. “I’ve been to some of the hottest clubs in London. I’ve had to navigate through drunk, sweaty, aggressive crowds. If you think those sheep are a handful, try getting to front of the bar when the line is ten people deep. Try carrying your friends home when they’re too smashed to walk.” So technically, Nathan was that drunk friend, but he empathized with his friends’ struggle to lug him back to the hall.
“This is unbelievable!” Liam ran his hands through his hair, which was as thick as his beard. “You are supremely under-qualified for this job.”
“What I lack in experience, I make up for in grit.” Nathan had heard that in an inspirational movie before he passed out on his couch. It made the corner of Mark’s lip turn up into a smile.
“So you’re from London? My wife spent some time there years ago.”
“You don’t say?” Nathan’s voice cracked on the last word.
“She studied at the Royal Academy for Dramatic Arts for a little bit. She was an actress, so I have a soft spot for them. Everyone gives them a hard time, but they are incredibly resilient, resourceful, and thick-skinned. At least, my wife was.” Mark seemed to retreat into a fog of memories.
Liam softened just a bit. “I’m sorry, but you just don’t have the experience necessary to handle this undertaking.”
“So I’ll learn!” Nathan felt so close, he didn’t want to give up yet. “I’ve learned new accents and pages of new dialogue in hours. I’m trained in stage combat, too. I can certainly feed some sheep.”
“It’s a bit more strenuous than that.”
“I’ve done boot camps at my gym. I know all about strenuous.”
“There’s something about you…you almost feel familiar…” Mark stared at him, and Nathan wondered what he was finding. “I have an extra room you can use.”
“Mark!” Liam yelled. “Are you serious? The man could be a serial killer.”
“If I was a serial killer, I would’ve packed lighter.”
Mark laughed at the joke. Liam most certainly did not.
“Liam, have you gotten any other applicants?” Mark asked.
