“What the fuck!” Walter cried out, but Bing had already sent his words to Yaz, Walter’s big shark agent. She would salvage what she could for Walter.
Then Bing pushed his friend around and aimed him back toward the elder Wu. (Bing would no longer call him grand master, even in his thoughts, for the man had just shown his disloyalty.) “Have your agent double-check everything. Wu will screw you if he can, but he’ll stick to the letter of a contract.”
“No—”
“Damn it, Walter,” Bing said, shifting his accent and words to better fit with the American’s language. “I’m trying to be a good guy here. You don’t realize it, but I’ve already lost. Do what you can for you and then you’ll have the power to throw me something later.”
Walter gripped Bing’s arm, and he spoke in a voice that vibrated with determination. “How many times have you propped me up when I lost faith? How many times have you said ‘We’ll find a way’?”
Hundreds of times. And Walter had returned the favor. They’d helped each other. “This is different.”
“Yes, it is. Because I’m going to stand up for both of us. It’s my turn to tellyouto have faith in us.”
“He will destroy you—”
Walter’s face softened. “Believe in me, Bing. You’ll see.”
Bing believed his friend was a brilliant writer and a wonderful man. He believed in Walter’s kindness and inherent passion, but he doubted anyone would be able to stand against the elder Wu. The man was too powerful in China, and obviously his influence extended all the way to the US. So he gripped Walter’s arm and whispered, “Allow me to be the hero. Save yourself.”
Walter shook his head. “That’s not how a partnership works. Or a friendship.” Then his eyes glittered with pain. “I didn’t even know you were out.”
“I’m not! I’m….” Not gay? He couldn’t say the lie anymore. “I wanted to tell you,” he whispered. “But I couldn’t risk anyone knowing.” Even more, he couldn’t risk any romantic complications with his best friend and partner. This movie was too important to them both. So he had kept the secret… only to have it exposed now.
He’d been stupid, stupid to not see this coming. Kong had always been weak when it came to his father. He should have known the man could never keep such a secret.
Bing adjusted his stance to look through the doorway at the Wus. The older one was getting restless and wouldn’t linger long. Walter’s window of opportunity was fading. “I’m going to get out of this makeup. You talk to them, get whatever paperwork you can—”
“I’m going to string them along,” Walter said in a low whisper. “While we figure things out.”
Bing didn’t answer. That was Walter’s choice. Bing had relinquished all right to say anything about his friend’s actions.
From seven feet away, the older Wu smirked in victory. “Have you decided?”
Bing gave them both a shallow bow. “I must return to the costuming area. Walter will continue our discussion.” No emotion, no heavy inflection. He counted himself an excellent actor. Then he looked directly at Kong, his heart lurching as he realized that his brother was also now lost to him. “I pity your wife,” he said.
Then he walked away.
It was a grand exit, one worthy of the Red Wolf, and in the movie, it would have been accompanied by the appropriate music and scene cut. But this wasn’t a film, and Bing had to keep walking, sure in the knowledge that he was ruined. All his money was gone, along with this production. And not just his, but his family’s savings too. Without the work, he wouldn’t be able to stay in the West and would have to return to China. Worse, without the backing of the Wu school there, he would no longer be able to get jobs as a fighter except in the lowest cut-rate productions.
He was finished. He needed to think of another life, another career beyond acting. Beyond anything in entertainment—the Wu family had large influence.
As he walked, he passed by the assistant director’s office and overheard three different voices in some kind of argument. Laddin, the AD, was usually extremely careful with who he allowed in his work area, and no one was supposed to be there now. Normally Bing would have checked it out, but his emotions were churning too hard for him to care. But it did sound like Laddin was having some sort of problem.
Bing slowed his steps and headed for the office door to ask if Laddin needed any help. Then pain sliced through his throat, hot and hard. He was stunned by the precision of it, the visceral agony that combined with the drive to fall to his knees and howl. That, too, would be a movie moment for the Red Wolf—his silhouette against a starlit sky, lifting his throat to the moon as he released a howl of loneliness and pain.
He stumbled as he walked, his mind caught by that single image. Suddenly he was on all fours, his clothes sagging at his feet as he gave eerie voice to his pain. A wolf howl filled the hallway and bled out into night. Had he done that?
Then the sound stopped as Bing looked out at a world suddenly doubled in height. Or he had shortened. Or he….
Oh hell no.
