I laugh despite myself. “Maybe I'm just getting old.”
“You're thirty-two, not ninety-two.” She pauses, then leans forward slightly. “Speaking of which, I heard through the grapevine that Marvel's doing another round of auditions for that new project. The one with all the practical stunts. Didn't you say you were interested in that?”
My stomach tightens. I've been dreading this conversation. “Yeah, I heard about it.”
“And?”
I take a long drink of water, buying myself time. Sophia knows me too well to accept a casual brush-off, and honestly, I don't know why I'm keeping it a secret.
“I can't audition,” I say finally.
“What do you mean you can't? Brandon, this is exactly the kind of opportunity you've been waiting for. Big budget, respected director, and they specifically want someone with your experience.”
I set down my sandwich and look her directly in the eye. “I failed my last physical.”
The words hang in the air between us. Sophia's expression shifts from confusion to concern.
“What do you mean you failed?”
“My shoulder. It's not healing like it should, and I can't pass the mobility tests they require.” I try to keep my voice casual, but I can hear the frustration creeping in. “I'm doing physical therapy, and I go back for a retest in three months, but right now, I'd have to submit my current physical with any audition.”
“Brandon.” Her voice is soft now, the way it gets when she's worried. “Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because I didn't want you to worry. And because saying it out loud makes it real.” I manage a smile. “Besides, it's not permanent. The PT is helping, and my therapist thinks I'll be cleared by the end of summer.”
Sophia reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “I can imagine how frustrated you must be.”
It's not a question, and I don't try to deny it. “Yeah. I'm getting older, Soph. These injuries are taking longer to heal, and the recovery time between jobs keeps getting longer. I can't keep doing this forever.”
“Does anyone else know?”
“Stella knows. She's actually been helping me think through some options. Career stuff.”
“I'm glad you told her and she's helping you,” Sophia says. “She's good at plotting out career options for people.”
“She is. She's got some smart ideas on how I can stay involved in this world.”
“What kind of options are you considering?”
I pick at my sandwich, grateful she's not pushing the injury topic. “Stunt coordination, obviously. Maybe choreography. I've been thinking about the teaching side, too. There are a lot of young stunt performers who could benefit from someone showing them the ropes properly.”
“You'd be amazing at that,” Sophia says immediately. “You basically taught me everything I know about on-set safety.”
I smile at the memory. Sophia was fourteen when we first worked together on that spy show for the kids' network. Just a petite girl with dark brown hair, piercing blue eyes, and more talent than half the adults on set. I was doing easy stunts, playing the bumbling bad guy who always got caught, and she was this fierce little spy character who took down villains twice her size.
“You were a natural,” I say. “You just needed someone to teach you how to do it without actually getting hurt.”
“You did more than that.” Her voice is serious now. “You looked out for me when a lot of people on sets didn't look out for kid actors. I don't know if I ever properly thanked you for that.”
“You don't need to thank me. That's what good friends and self-nominated big brothers do.”
She smiles at that. We've never talked about it explicitly, but somewhere along the way, that's what we've become: family.
“Well, let me return the favor,” she says. “I can reach out to some of the coordinators I've worked with and get a sense of what opportunities might be out there. Unless Stella is doing that?”
“A little. Stella's been encouraging me to network more, actually. She says I need to start thinking of myself as a brand, not just a body for hire.”
“That's really smart.”
