There’s a pause…long enough that I wonder if I pushed too hard.
“Thank you,” he says quietly, the smile returning to his voice. “And I hope you remember that when I ask a favor.”
“You never have to ask,” I say. “I’m in.”
Another beat of silence.
Hikaru is one of our Seguin cousins. He was adopted at eight, and sometimes, he still waits to be told he belongs.
I hate that he still thinks he has to earn us.
“Seriously, man. What can I do for you? Help fund your next project? Hide a body? You know I’m down for whatever.”
That finally shakes a laugh out of him.
“I may talk to you about a producing credit down the line, but for now, what I need is a selfie.”
“A selfie?” I ask, tossing my hair over my shoulder, even though I’m the only one in the condo right now. “Why do you need a selfie?”
“I’m sure you’ve heard everybody talk about how you stole the scene you were in.”
“No…” Honestly, I hadn’t. I’d done the scene months ago and hadn’t really thought about it since. “I’m just glad I didn’t fuck up your entire movie.”
“Whatever. Everyone was shocked that I managed to gettheMaverickto do a cameo, which you totally could have phoned in. Instead, you showed up on set and killed it.”
My cheeks go hot. “Ah, thanks, man.”
I’m complimented frequently, but it’s usually about stuff I don’t have that much control over. Sure, I take care of my body and I’m a pretty good-looking guy, but my dads are fucking beautiful, and they both have better abs than I do.
Acting, though, is different. I don’t want to sound like an asshole, but it really is a craft, and you can’t fucking hide a lack of talent because the camera catches everything.
Ru hesitates, then says, “It’s just…the studio wants me to use you in my next film.”
Holy shit.
“Really?”
“They keep saying that you and I are a hit team. They’ve been tossing around collaborations like Kurosawa and Mifune.”
I snort. “More like Wood and Lugosi.”
Ru and I share a love of old school movies. A lot of the movies these days are too loud, too involved, too complicated. People really love the current 3-D renaissance, but…nah. Give me black-and-white, maybe some early grainy color, and a simple plot line.
“Seriously, Mav. They think there’s something there, and…they might be right.”
“You know I’m not a serious actor, Ru.”
More importantly, I don’t want my reputation to overshadow his talent. It’s why I didn’t join him in Cannes.
“What I know is that you’re not a seriousanything. On purpose.” He pauses in that elegant way of his. “Even though you could be a seriouswhatever you want to be.”
It’s my turn to go quiet. Ru is the sweetest soul, and as a director, he managed the set with quiet confidence. According to my scene partner, he also had a schedule that made sense and operated with a level of humanity not often seen in Hollywood. Unfortunately for me, Ru also has an incisive way about him, sometimes cutting to the heart of the matter with a little too much accuracy.
He knows my unserious persona is starting to fit like a jean jacket that’s been shrunk in the dryer.
“…crazy idea for a film short about a guy,” he says.
“Wait, what?”
