Chapter Twenty
The next morning, Charlie’s already awake when Simon stumbles into the kitchen.
“It’s six in the morning your time,” Simon says. “What are you even doing.”
“I wake up early.” Charlie’s even wearingshoes.
They’re both used to early call times, but there’s something disgustinglyresponsibleabout waking up early on a day off. But—Charlie is responsible. After that first season, he never showed up late, never missed a day. Simon thinks of Charlie asking whether he can pet Edie. He thinks of how Charlie drives, his meticulous parallel parking and obsession with correct mirror orientation. He recalls that Charlie has a particular strategy for getting rid of people who sleep at his house after parties. He remembers the party itself, which wasn’t boisterous and full of crime but instead featured snacks from Trader Joe’s, carefully labeled as gluten-free or vegan.
Simon has personally witnessed Charlie put Alex in a headlock no fewer than twenty times, and seen Alex put Charlie in a headlock at least twice as often. He’s been the irritated bystander of a years-long prank war Amadi and Charlie have been waging. Charlie is loud and sometimes he’s... exuberant. He’s kind of a pest. But underneath all that is a core of something steady.
Charlie hands him a cup of coffee. “Drink this. I think you just fell asleep standing up. I already took Edie out.”
They stand there awkwardly in the kitchen for a minute, not touching, not talking, until Charlie clears his throat. “I’m going for a run.”
By the time he gets back, Simon is maybe thirty percent awake. He’s dressed, at least. He wants to spend the day with his face pressed into the microfiber of the sofa—he had too many emotions yesterday; it can’t be healthy—but Charlie probably wants to do things.
Simon’s still figuring out how to explain that if Charlie wants to do anything fun, he’s on his own, because Simon doesn’t participate in “fun” or “doing things,” when Charlie gets out of the shower and sits on the couch. Simon moves his feet about four millimeters to give Charlie room, but Charlie just swears and hauls Simon’s legs onto his lap.
“What do you usually do?” Charlie asks.
“I go for a walk. I eat lunch. Sometimes I lie on the couch facing the other direction.” This is a lie: the other direction is for feet, and Simon could never. “I’m full of surprises. Spontaneous.”
Simon sits up, as if demonstrating that he’s capable of movement, has a sip of the coffee that’s gone lukewarm on the end table, and collapses back down. Charlie’s fiddling with the television remote, something it hasn’t occurred to Simon to figure out since he can watch things on his laptop or phone.
“What episode were we on?” Charlie asks.
“We just finished the planet full of old people. Season four, episode... ten, maybe?” He watches as Charlie logs into the streaming service. “I was mostly joking. We can go do things.”
“I just ran three miles, up and down the High Line. I want to sit. We’ll go out to lunch.”
“I like lunch.” That was all suspiciously easy. Obviously Charlie doesn’t depend on Simon for his entertainment. He’s twenty-seven and rich and probably has a dozen friends in the city. He’s capable of getting off this couch and doing whatever he pleases.
“You’ve spent the past three weeks watching television and playing on your phone,” Charlie says as theOut Theretheme music plays. “I know you weren’t, like, at the club.”
Simon isn’t sure whether that’s supposed to be insulting or reassuring, but the episode starts and Simon gets distracted because it’s one of his favorites. It’s the body-swap episode, which means he essentially got to play Alex’s character and spend the episode authoritatively colluding with space pirates. It was fun, a chance to do something new.
“You’re so good in this episode,” Simon says halfway through. Charlie’s gotten switched with Petra’s character, so he spends the episode acting like a serene and vaguely feline telepath.
“What?”
“I mean, you’re always good. But this one is special.” Charlie’s just looking at him, so Simon reaches for the remote and hits pause. “Okay, what did I say wrong?”
“Nothing. You don’t need to patronize me. That’s all.”
“I wasn’t.” Simon doesn’t exactly think Charlie Blake is a generational talent but he’s good at what he does.
But of course Charlie doesn’t believe him. Simon’s spent years rolling his eyes and sighing loudly and being, in general, pretty appalling about everything Charlie’s done on set. Simon can’t think about any of that right now.
Simon puts the show back on. Before, Charlie’s hand had been on Simon’s ankle. Now he’s using it to hold an electrolyte drink.
It’s the first time Simon’s seen the finished episode, and this part is better than he remembered. Charlie’s character needs to negotiate a hostage exchange. He’s angry, obviously, but he’s also frightened. He can’t let the person he’s talking to figure that out, but the audience has to be able to tell, which is tricky. There’s a lot of overlapping dialogue, which is never easy, and it ends with Charlie getting stabbed. And he’s doing it all while conveying that he’s Petra’s character pretending to be Charlie’s character. It’s a good performance—maybe even a great performance—in a good scene in a good episode.
“This is the part I was talking about,” Simon says. “I remember when we shot it, I thought, God, Charlie figured out how to be subtle.”
“Okay, yeah, that’s a Simon Devereaux compliment.” Charlie doesn’t seem mad—maybe even slightly amused—but there’s something brittle in his voice, and Simon doesn’t like it.
“I’m not trying to be mean.”
