Unfortunately, it turned out his power was not as far-reaching as he’d hoped. The producer credit Renata had negotiated for him before season six was nothing more than a salary bump and an empty title. Besides, as successful asIntangiblehad been in its prime, he knew it was running on borrowed time at this point—especially in a television landscape that had changed drastically over the past decade. He couldn’t blame them for resorting to this kind of cheap stunt to keep all their jobs around for another year, give them the chance to go out on their own terms.
Shane shrugged, looking down at his menu. “Hopefully there’s life after life after death.”
Renata fixed him with a calculating stare, then clearly decided not to push it. She unfolded her napkin and placed it on her lap with a flourish. “Well, that’s exactly why we’re here.You’re in a very delicate position right now, and we want to make sure your next move is the right one.”
“Isn’t it a little early for this conversation? I won’t be free again until next summer.”
“I don’t have any hard offers or anything. But it’s a good time to think about what’s important to you, what you want the next stage of your career to look like. This is a real turning point for you. There’s a lot of buzz around the show right now, which is good, but it’s a double-edged sword, because people only see you as Harrison. A lot of actors have trouble following up an iconic TV role like that. You don’t want to go too similar and pigeonhole yourself, but you don’t want to go too far in the other direction, either.”
Shane nodded slowly. Tendrils of anxiety curled up his spine, threatening to wrap around him. Harrison was essentially a heightened version of himself—especially after eight seasons of the writers tailoring the role to him—and he’d never tried to do anything else. Any attempt to move in a different direction might end up being a short stroll with a long drop. There was no way to find out without risking total public humiliation, the kind he’d seen Lilah try her best to weather over the past few years. The kind that had sunk her career low enough that she needed to come back to the show for a hard reset. But now that it was ending, he wouldn’t have that safety net anymore.
“I think stability is the most important thing to me right now. If I could get another regular gig like this one, I’d be flexible about what it was.”
The waiter came by to refill Renata’s sweet tea and take their orders. She took a long sip before setting the glass down with a satisfied exhale.
“How do you feel about superheroes? I don’t know about anoffer, but I could definitely get you an audition. What about a villain? That might be fun for you.”
Shane leaned back in his chair, considering it. “Would I have to get jacked?”
“Probably.”
“Pass.” He was in decent shape, but judging by how miserable he was every time he had to spend a few weeks cutting carbs for the occasional shirtless scene onIntangible,he probably wasn’t cut out for sacrificing months (if not years) of his life to brutal workouts and strictly regimented meal plans. Plus, his other least-favorite shooting days were the ones in which he had to act against a green screen. He doubted he could pull off an entire movie of reacting to nothing.
Renata pursed her lips. “It’s your call. But if you want my advice, I wouldn’t rule it out entirely. You want stability, that’s a good wagon to try to hitch on to.”
“What are my other options?”
She sighed, plucking a roll out of the bread basket. “Okay. Opposite direction. I got a tip that Perry McAllister is developing an F. Scott Fitzgerald biopic, but they’re still working on getting the script together. I think you’d be perfect for it, if you’re interested. It’s a bit of a gamble, but you’d have your pick of projects if you pull it off. Could really show your range, maybe even be an awards contender. Perry has a pretty good track record.”
He had another jolt of nerves, so quick and strong that he physically shivered.If I even have any range.
“Maybe. What else?”
“Anna Karenina?There’s a new miniseries in the works, and you’ve already got the beard.”
“I’m not sure I have a Russian accent in me.”
Renata waved her hand dismissively. “They’d want British. You’ve never seen a period piece?”
Shane grimaced. His accent work was limited to either toning down or amping up his own. “I don’t know…”
Renata barked out a laugh. “So you don’t want commercial, and you don’t want prestige. You’re about to lose your spot at the top of my Easiest Clients list.”
Shane drained his water glass. “What about another show? Not just a miniseries. Anything there?”
They were interrupted by the waiter stopping by to deposit their entrees: shrimp tacos for him, Margherita pizza for her.
Renata delicately separated a slice from the rest of her pie. “Too early to tell on that front, but I’ll keep an ear out as we get closer to pilot season.” She took a bite, hesitating as she chewed. “Actually…there is one thing. But I already know you’re not gonna like it.”
Shane squeezed his lime wedge over his tacos. “What is it?”
Renata set down her pizza slice. “UBS approached me about a new prime-time game show for next season. They want you to host. Keeping things in the family, and all that.”
Shane perked up. Hosting was definitely in his skill set. If nothing else, he was charming—at least, most people not named Lilah Hunter seemed to think so. And even she had, once upon a time. “Why wouldn’t I like it? What’s the show?”
She sighed. “It’s calledI’m Not Swallowing That.Contestants try to catch each other lying, and if they do, the one that gets caught has to eat something disgusting. Supposedly it’s a huge hit in the UK.”
“They have to eat it, or they have to swallow it?”
