training. I made one film and it hit big. It’s been a roller coaster ever since.” He flicked a spool of thread across the table. “I work with a coach and try to take classes, but fuck. I film sixteen hours a day pretty much the whole year. I haven’t had a whole day off in months.”
“Jesus, you don’t make it sound very glamorous.”
“Trust me, it’s not. I took this fucking part out of the worst kind of hubris. Believing my own damned PR. Now I get the karma of that. The whole world will know I’m a fraud.”
“Fuck if you’re a fraud!”
Gray looked up with wide eyes.
“I’ve been watching your films for years. Okay, we ain’t talkin’ Tennessee Williams here, but what you do is wildly entertaining, commanding, gripping, and nobody does it better.”
“Shit, man, that’s the nicest thing anyone ever said to me.”
“You don’t have to fail at this either. I’ll admit you’re not looking good right now.” He grinned to soften the criticism. “But you can get it. You just need to find the reality in all those fancy words.”
“How am I going to do that? I really am trying.”
“Don’t you have a coach?”
“Yeah, but she’s used to working with real actors. She talks over my head.”
Ru sat opposite Gray. “Think about it. This dude is blabbing about killing himself. Haven’t you ever thought of doing that? Like, either killing yourself to make all the shit and pain stop, or maybe killing yourself to keep from killing someone else.”
Silence.
Ru looked up at Gray, who stared at him with an open mouth. Suddenly he nodded. “Hell yes, I have. That makes sense to me.”
“That’s what he’s doing. He’s just saying how much easier it is to off yourself than to suffer the slings and arrows of all the idiots and their lies and demands. But if you kill yourself, are you giving up—what? Like heaven, or enlightenment? See, Hamlet probably kind of believed in God, but even if you don’t, you could kill yourself and be missing out on something really good that life has waiting. So it’s a tough one.”
Gray flopped back in his chair. “How do you know this shit?”
Ru stared at his perfect manicure. “Been there and done that, darling.”
“Jesus.” He blew out breath like a horse. “So will you help me?”
“Me? How?”
“Run me through lines, tell me when I suck. Most of all, tell me what the shit means in the real world.”
Oh Jesus, oh Jesus. Like somebody just offered an addict his drug of choice. He took a breath. Don’t forget, this dude is a nearly married man, and they call that masochism. “God, I’d love to, but I have two collections to finish designing.”
“What if I helped?”
Ru grinned. “You sew?”
“No, but I sure as fuck know a lot of people who do from the costumers on my films. I could get a bunch of great sewing people who could take your drawings and turn them into clothes. You’d be hands-free, baby. Then you could help me. Does that work?”
“There are people a lot more qualified than I am to help you.”
“No, actually, there aren’t. You just explained that damned soliloquy better in a few minutes than anyone else has in days and weeks. If you’re willing, I’ll do anything I can to get your help.”
Welcome to S&M world. He smiled. “Okay, I’ll do it.”
“Man, that’s the best thing I’ve heard this week.” Gray tipped so far back on his chair he should have fallen on his ass, but apparently gravity did not apply to superstars. He flopped forward with a crash of chair legs. “When can we start? Now?”
“Uh, no. I have to go to my day job.”
“Tonight?”
Oh Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. “Okay, tonight.”
“Is your place okay? I’ll bring dinner.” He stopped and got that different Gray expression. The unsure one. “Uh, maybe you have a, uh, boyfriend or something who isn’t going to want me there. We could work at my hotel. It’s nice.”
“No boyfriend—or something. My place is
“Jesus, you don’t make it sound very glamorous.”
“Trust me, it’s not. I took this fucking part out of the worst kind of hubris. Believing my own damned PR. Now I get the karma of that. The whole world will know I’m a fraud.”
“Fuck if you’re a fraud!”
Gray looked up with wide eyes.
“I’ve been watching your films for years. Okay, we ain’t talkin’ Tennessee Williams here, but what you do is wildly entertaining, commanding, gripping, and nobody does it better.”
“Shit, man, that’s the nicest thing anyone ever said to me.”
“You don’t have to fail at this either. I’ll admit you’re not looking good right now.” He grinned to soften the criticism. “But you can get it. You just need to find the reality in all those fancy words.”
“How am I going to do that? I really am trying.”
“Don’t you have a coach?”
“Yeah, but she’s used to working with real actors. She talks over my head.”
Ru sat opposite Gray. “Think about it. This dude is blabbing about killing himself. Haven’t you ever thought of doing that? Like, either killing yourself to make all the shit and pain stop, or maybe killing yourself to keep from killing someone else.”
Silence.
Ru looked up at Gray, who stared at him with an open mouth. Suddenly he nodded. “Hell yes, I have. That makes sense to me.”
“That’s what he’s doing. He’s just saying how much easier it is to off yourself than to suffer the slings and arrows of all the idiots and their lies and demands. But if you kill yourself, are you giving up—what? Like heaven, or enlightenment? See, Hamlet probably kind of believed in God, but even if you don’t, you could kill yourself and be missing out on something really good that life has waiting. So it’s a tough one.”
Gray flopped back in his chair. “How do you know this shit?”
Ru stared at his perfect manicure. “Been there and done that, darling.”
“Jesus.” He blew out breath like a horse. “So will you help me?”
“Me? How?”
“Run me through lines, tell me when I suck. Most of all, tell me what the shit means in the real world.”
Oh Jesus, oh Jesus. Like somebody just offered an addict his drug of choice. He took a breath. Don’t forget, this dude is a nearly married man, and they call that masochism. “God, I’d love to, but I have two collections to finish designing.”
“What if I helped?”
Ru grinned. “You sew?”
“No, but I sure as fuck know a lot of people who do from the costumers on my films. I could get a bunch of great sewing people who could take your drawings and turn them into clothes. You’d be hands-free, baby. Then you could help me. Does that work?”
“There are people a lot more qualified than I am to help you.”
“No, actually, there aren’t. You just explained that damned soliloquy better in a few minutes than anyone else has in days and weeks. If you’re willing, I’ll do anything I can to get your help.”
Welcome to S&M world. He smiled. “Okay, I’ll do it.”
“Man, that’s the best thing I’ve heard this week.” Gray tipped so far back on his chair he should have fallen on his ass, but apparently gravity did not apply to superstars. He flopped forward with a crash of chair legs. “When can we start? Now?”
“Uh, no. I have to go to my day job.”
“Tonight?”
Oh Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. “Okay, tonight.”
“Is your place okay? I’ll bring dinner.” He stopped and got that different Gray expression. The unsure one. “Uh, maybe you have a, uh, boyfriend or something who isn’t going to want me there. We could work at my hotel. It’s nice.”
“No boyfriend—or something. My place is
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