The director was throwing him a bone, but what he didn’t understand was that Walter was still writing the manga comic. If he liked any character, he would create a bigger role for the guy. But he never got the chance to speak as Yaz narrowed her eyes at the group of fighters.
“They’re stuntmen,” she drawled. She sounded like she was calling them prancing clowns. Then she looked at him. “Walter’s a martial artist too. He could probably do just as well. Plus, he acts.”
Walter absolutely did not act. He wrote, he drew, and he practiced a weird form of kung fu because his aunt had paid for the lessons. That did not make him a stuntman, by any stretch of the imagination. He was about to say that when DuYi clapped his hands with a cheerful grin.
“Excellent! Walter will work out with the men. He can tell me who will play the drunken student tomorrow.” Then he sauntered off, speaking rapid Chinese to the clutch of fighters.
Meanwhile, Walter spoke in an undertone to Yaz. “I can’t fight with them! They’ll kick my ass.”
“Nonsense,” she said, patting his arm. “Just throw a few kicks and look critical. This is about appearing to be good instead of actually—”
“Getting my ass kicked by real martial artists?”
She frowned at him. “Well, yeah. Don’t get your ass kicked. I’m going to squeeze out more money from them for screwing up with the casting.” She gave him a wink. “Try to have fun. This might take a few hours as I round up the right people.” She sauntered off toward the lead producer.
That left Walter standing there when a costume girl came up and handed him a gi while making gestures toward a back area that was covered with mats. When he looked, he saw the stuntmen pulling off their street clothes. Some of them were obviously unhappy with the change. They hadn’t planned on working out on the day of the booting ceremony, but DuYi had ordered them to, and now they were looking at him with expressions ranging from annoyed to gleefully evil.
Oh hell. These pissed-off guys reallywouldkick his ass. Fortunately he’d learned early how to deal with bullies. It wasn’t a foolproof tactic, but it might help him out here.
He wasn’t a great martial artist, but he was a kickass comic. He’d learned young that if he looked funny while doing stuff, people would laugh. And laughing people—even if they were laughing at him—didn’t usually hurt him too badly.
That was his plan. He’d spent a lot of time learning moves that looked ridiculous and still managed to get him out of trouble. He’d suffer a few bruises along the way, but that was better than the pummeling that would likely happen otherwise. With a weak smile, he found the bathroom and changed. Then he stepped onto the mat to face a dozen guys who really were not impressed with his lack of muscles, size, or general intimidation factor.
“Um, hi, guys. Look, this wasn’t my idea. DuYi just thought we could, you know, hang out a bit.”
Silence. Either they didn’t understand English or they didn’t care.
“Um, well, okay. I’ve had some champagne, so I don’t know how good I’ll be.” He mimed drinking and gestured over to the main area. Again, no one cracked a smile. Hell. These guys were major hardasses. “So what are we going to do?”
A big guy stepped forward and greeted him with a quick bow. “We begin with throws,” he said in English.
“Okay. Hi, my name is Walter.” He held out his hand to shake.
“I am Kong.” And wasn’t that a really obvious name for the man? He had anvil-sized hands and shoulders as broad as some beds. He took Walter’s hand in his, and instead of the warm handshake Walter expected, he bent his knees and threw Walter across the floor.
Oh yippee. It was going to be one ofthosesessions. Fortunately he knew how to roll into the throw so that he landed without too much damage. He did that now, landing on his feet with an aw-shucks smile.
“You got me there. Nice throw.” He searched their faces, looking for someone who showed that he understood English. No one gave him the slightest clue. The next guy approached. He was not as big as Kong, but his hands looked just as strong. He bowed, introduced himself as Teng, and also threw Walter across the mat.
This time he was ready. He even managed to defend against the first grip, but Teng was fast and switched tactics midgrip. Walter went flying toward the cardio equipment, barely managing to avoid braining himself on the elliptical machine.
“Ha-ha. Nice throw,” he said as he rolled to his feet. What these guys didn’t realize was that he was memorizing every single one of their names. He doubted he had any real casting control, but anyone who was an asshole just to be an asshole was not getting his vote for any part. It was the only revenge he had, and he gleefully embraced it as he got tossed from one side of the soundstage to the other.
Some guys were nicer than others about it. Some were downright cruel. And though Walter might have successfully defended himself against a few, he chose not to make the effort. Instead, he poured on the drunken stumble. It was the only way for him to save face—by claiming he was drunk. Plus, it gave him time to hope they’d start laughing.
They did, some with more cruelty than others. He kept memorizing their names while he stumbled “accidentally” into the cardio machines, the fake trees of the set, and even one of the makeup tables.
He was getting pretty beaten up. His ribs were already aching with bruises, not to mention his legs. He wondered how long it was going to take until they got tired of this. He sure as hell was. So this time he drunk-stumbled into one of the fake trees of the set. It had hard pointy branches, and he let his gi get caught while he twisted and fumbled to escape. He put his best comic confusion into the work, and sure enough, Kong’s laughter boomed across the soundstage. Walter had already guessed that the guy was the leader, and pretty soon everyone else was chortling too.
All except for one young man. He’d never introduced himself, but he watched everything with dark, serious eyes. Now he stepped up to unhook Walter’s gi.
“You are free now,” he said in slow, careful English.
He was, but Walter exaggerated his movements just enough that he was caught again, much to the hilarity of his audience. Excellent. But the man standing next to him didn’t break a smile. Instead, he leaned into the problem and gently disentangled Walter again.
“Now—”
Walter swayed, catching himself again.
