How to Be a Movie Star

by TJ Klune

  “Wow,” Xander said. “We really need to work on your self-awareness.”

  “What if he doesn’t like stoners?” Josy demanded. “What if he thinks marijuana is evil and tries to give me pamphlets about drinking the blood of Jesus and eating his little body crackers?”

  “I don’t know how those things are related.”

  “Of course you don’t! You’re not the one trying to make a new friend! I don’t want to drink Jesus—oh look, it’s Tigress. Tigress. Tigress!”

  She looked startled as she was walking by, a book with the impossible title of I Almost Got Fisted by a T-Rex but Its Arms Couldn’t Reach clutched to her chest. On the cover, a half-naked man stood in front of a tyrannosaurus that was nuzzling his neck. Josy wasn’t sure how that made him feel.

  “Hi,” Tigress said happily. “You guys in line to meet Q-Bert? He’s so wonderful.”

  “I knew it,” Josy groaned. “I knew he’d be wonderful. And I can’t figure out what to say to him to make him be my friend.”

  Her face scrunched up. Josy had never seen a confused tiger before. It was enlightening. “Why not just ask him?”

  Josy gaped at her.

  She cocked her head. “What? What did I say?”

  “Something very easy,” Xander reassured her. “He’s just processing. It takes him a moment.”

  “Oooh,” Tigress said. “Well, he’s very nice. He’ll probably be just as nervous as you are. I know you said you don’t know him, but he has a blog where he writes a lot about his struggles with social anxiety and depression. He makes a lot of us feel better because he helps remind us that we’re not alone with our mental health issues. He’s built a great community where we can all talk about what it’s like for us.”

  “Did you hear that?” Josy asked Xander with wide eyes. “He’s perfect.”

  Xander squeezed his hand. “I don’t think that’s quite what she meant.”

  Tigress smiled. “Sort of. It’s just… it’s hard for him to be out there. In front of a crowd and then meeting people face-to-face. But he also knows how hard it is for someone like me to step out of my comfort zone and come to a library with my face painted like my favorite Q-Bert character. It’s weird, but he says that it’s okay to be weird. And that makes me feel better. I don’t have to justify myself to anyone here. For a little while, I feel like I can breathe.”

  “Can I hug you?” Josy asked seriously. “It’s okay to say no.”

  “Thank you for asking,” Tigress said. “And thank you for understanding that I’m going to decline. I don’t… I don’t like being touched like that.”

  Josy grinned at her. “I totally understand. You do you, boo-boo.”

  “You’re a nice person,” she told him “That’s all you need to be. Don’t worry too much about all the rest.”

  “Easier said than done.”

  “Maybe. But if you worry too much about all the things you could be, you’ll miss out on all the things you actually are.” She shuffled her feet and glanced toward the door. “Now if you don’t mind, I think I’d like to go back into my shell for a little while at home. Maybe I’ll see you again at the next reading?”

  Josy nodded. “I look forward to it.”

  She backed away slowly. “I’ll hold you to that. Bye.” She whirled around and hurried toward the door.

  Xander squeezed his hand. “Feel better?”

  Josy turned slowly toward him. “Absolutely not. Just be myself? Do you know how hard that is? Oh my god, what if he—”

  “Next!”

  Josy jerked his head to see how much farther away the front of the line was.

  And to his horror, saw that they were the front of the line.

  Dee was waving her hand at them, beckoning them toward a large table where Q-Bert sat, nervously fiddling with his glasses, books stacked around him. Josy had only known of Q-Bert’s existence for a little more than an hour, but even he could see that Q-Bert was always moving, leg bouncing, foot tapping. He was twitchy. Josy wanted to hold his hand to make him feel better.

  “Oh no,” Josy whispered. “I’m doomed.”

  “Gross,” Xander muttered. “How did your palm get so sweaty so fast? It’s like you just dunked it in water.”

  Josy ignored him. His mouth was dry, and he tried to chalk that up to the indica tablet and not his nerves. Then he realized he didn’t like to lie to himself and thought it was most likely a combination of both.

  Dee arched an eyebrow at him. “Feel free to step forward any time now. It’s not like there’s a gigantic line behind you and we only have so long before we have to clear out.”

  Sarcastic lesbians were Josy’s jam. He could dig it. Granted, he wished she hadn’t chosen this exact moment for sarcasm, but still. He would have to ask Xander later if Dee ever hung out with stoner hipsters, because that would be epic.

  He tried to take a step forward. Funnily enough, his feet weren’t working, and he stayed where he was.

  Xander sighed. “Come on.” He pulled Josy forward.

  Q-Bert swallowed thickly as they approached the front of the table. Stacks of books were piled on either side of him. Josy glanced at some of the titles (Locked in a Loch with the Loch Ness Monster: Sea of Love and Probed in the Anus by a Neoconservative Alien Who Realized Its Politics Are Terrible and A Triceratops Got Me Pregnant and Now I’ve Given Up My NRA Membership) and was struck by the idea that he was in the presence of a literary genius. What were the chances that he would know two of them in his lifetime? He needed to make this work so Q-Bert would be his friend, and then would meet Casey and become his friend. After a six-month period of getting to know each other, they would decide to co-author a book and eventually go on to win the Man Booker Prize.

  He had no idea what the Man Booker Prize was.

  He had no idea how he’d even heard of it.

  He was so stoned.

  He stood in front of the table staring down at Q-Bert.

  Q-Bert stared up at him, fingers tapping on the table.

  Josy opened his mouth to say something to make Q-Bert his friend, but no sound came out.

  He hadn’t expected that.

  He closed his mouth.

  Dee looked back and forth between them. “Huh.”

  Xander apparently decided to use his powers for evil, because he said, “Josy, isn’t there something you wanted to say?”

  Josy wasn’t feeling very fond of Xander at the moment. “Um.”

  “Hi,” Q-Bert said.

  “Hi,” Josy breathed.

  “Huh,” Dee said again.

  “Jesus Christ,” Xander muttered.

  Josy ignored them. “Hi,” he said again. Then, “I already said that. Sorry.”

  Q-Bert smiled. “That’s okay.” He looked down at the table, then back up at Josy. “Do you—”

  “You shoved a cupcake in my face,” Josy blurted.

  Q-Bert winced. “Yeah, sorry about that. It’s this whole… thing.”

  Josy nodded furiously. “Oh, it’s okay. I just thought we should get it out there. I mean, cupcakes. On my face. I wasn’t expecting that. I mean, I wasn’t expecting a rhyming erotic Sasquatch having sex with a newly minted bisexual frat boy either.”

  “You… weren’t?”

  “No.”

  Q-Bert pushed his glasses back up on his nose. He looked nervous. “What did you think was going to happen?”

  “A poetry slam.”

  Dee coughed roughly. Josy hoped she wasn’t choking.

  “A poetry slam,” Q-Bert repeated slowly.

  “Yeah,” Josy said. “You know, with people snapping and berets and long cigarettes and flapper girls and saxophones and….” He frowned. “Wait. That doesn’t sound right. Poetry slams aren’t 1920s jazz clubs.” He glanced at Xander. “Right?”

  Xander sighed again.

  “Did your boyfriend not tell you what this was?”

  And that got Josy’s attention. He looked back at Q-Bert. “My boyfriend? I don’t have a boyfr
iend.”

  Q-Bert flushed. “Oh. You’re… holding his hand, and I thought—”

  “Not his boyfriend,” Xander said dryly. “Josy just likes holding hands. And trust me when I say this wasn’t my idea. At all. This is all on Josy.”

  Josy pulled his hand out of Xander’s. “We aren’t dating.” He didn’t know why he sounded so scandalized.

  “Sorry,” Q-Bert said again. “I didn’t mean to—”

  Dee leaned down and whispered something in his ear, squeezing his shoulder gently. Q-Bert closed his eyes and nodded as he listened. Dee kissed his cheek before stepping back again.

  Q-Bert shook his head as he opened his eyes. “I apologize a lot.” He sounded chagrined. “Dee likes to remind me that I don’t have to.”

  “She’s right,” Josy said seriously. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Xander does the same for me. So does Serge. And Casey. And Gustavo. And—”

  “I think he gets the point,” Xander said.

  “Right,” Josy said quickly, trying to find his way back to Friendship Station, where he and Q-Bert could board the train and be friends and hope the train didn’t get derailed by a penny on the tracks and kill dozens and cause an ecological disaster when chemicals leaked into a nearby river. “You get it. The point I was making. About everything.”

  Q-Bert looked like he didn’t get it at all but was too polite to say otherwise. Josy liked those kinds of people. “I do.”

  And since Josy knew that friendships were built upon honesty and trust, he said, “And it’s probably my bad about the whole poetry slam thing. I wasn’t really paying attention to what the prize was when I called in to the radio station to answer the trivia question. But to be fair, the prize doesn’t matter because it’s not about what you get when you win as much as it’s about winning in the first place.”

  “Radio… trivia?”

  “I’m very good at it. No one knows why.”

  “It’s one of his quirks,” Xander added helpfully. He was a good friendship wingman.

  “So you really had no idea what this was going to be about when you got here?” Dee asked, sounding rather gleeful for a person in a library this late on a Friday night.

  “None,” Josy said.

  “Oh my god,” Q-Bert moaned, flushing brightly. “I’m so sorry—”

  Dee cleared her throat.

  “I mean, I know it probably wasn’t what you were expecting, and it can be a lot to take in if you’ve never heard of me before, but I swear that—”

  “I liked it,” Josy said quickly because Q-Bert looked like he was about to get up from the table and run. “Like, so much, man.”

  Q-Bert’s eyes widened. “You did?”

  “Xander, tell him.”

  “He liked it.”

  “See?” Josy said. “Xander always tells the truth, even when you don’t want him to. Like that time I used beard wax to curl the ends of my mustache and he said I looked like I was going to tie a woman to train tracks while wearing a black cape.” A terrible thought struck Josy. “Which I would never do, of course! I don’t remember the last time I actually saw a train.”

  “We took the train to get here,” Xander reminded him.

  “That’s the Metro. Everyone knows when you tie someone to train tracks, it has to be for one of those steam-powered trains.” He looked back at Q-Bert. “But I would never do that, regardless of what kind of train it is. So, in summation, I liked your monster porn.”

  “Thank you,” Q-Bert said, voice cracking slightly. “That’s very nice of you.”

  Josy was feeling very good about this. Maybe this would work out after all. He knew the key to any artist’s heart was gushing praise. “I especially liked the part where Sasquatch really seemed to care about whether Daxton Shepherd was in pain after they had to use the slime from the cave wall as a lubricant. It showed that even though he was a monster on the outside, he was considerate on the inside, which is not something I expected from a large, intelligent primate.”

  “That’s… thank you. I know it’s not—”

  “Come on, man!” someone said loudly from behind them. “We’re all waiting here!”

  Q-Bert blanched.

  Josy felt awful. “Oh crap. I didn’t mean to take up so much of your time. I just—you seem really cool, and I like talking to you.”

  “It’s okay,” Dee said, glaring at the crowd behind Xander and Josy. “Some people don’t know when to keep their mouths shut.” She looked down at Q-Bert. “But we might need to wrap this up. We only have the library for another half hour.”

  “Do you want me to sign something?” Q-Bert asked Josy. “I can sign whatever you want.”

  “I didn’t bring anything for you to sign,” Josy said morosely. “I didn’t even know you existed until I got here. I feel bad.” And even though the sign on the table said the books were only ten bucks, Josy couldn’t afford that. Ten bucks could buy a shit-ton of Cup of Noodles when things got rough.

  “Which one do you want?” Xander whispered because he probably knew what was going through Josy’s head. He was scary like that.

  “Oh, hey, no, you don’t have to do—”

  “Just pick one, okay? It’s my way of saying thank you.”

  “For?”

  “Being alive.”

  “Oh. Wow. Well, when you put it that way.” He looked down at the table. “I’m going to buy one of your books. Well, Xander’s going to buy it, but it’s going to be mine.”

  “That’s not going to work,” Dee said gravely.

  Josy squinted at her. “It’s not? Do you… oh. Is ten dollars code for something else? Like, some secret monster-porn thing? Are you going to shove more food on my face? Because I’m okay with that, but could you maybe aim for my mouth this time? I’m starving.”

  “Oh, he’ll aim for your mouth all right,” Dee muttered.

  “Dee!” Q-Bert growled. His hands twitched on the table.

  “What I mean is that since you’re a newbie and more precious than even the ring of power, Q-Bert here is going to gift you one of his books. Aren’t you, Q-Bert?”

  “You don’t have to do that,” Josy said. “We can pay for it. It’s—”

  “It’s okay,” Q-Bert said hastily. “I want you.” His eyes bulged. “I mean, I want to. Give you one, that is. For free. As a gift. From me. To you.” He pulled at the collar of his shirt. “Is it really warm in here? It feels really warm.”

  “My hands are sweating,” Josy told him. “So probably.”

  “What book do you want?” Xander asked.

  Oh god. He had no idea. He pointed at one. “I guess I’m curious how the triceratops convinced the guy to give up his NRA membership, and also managed to get him pregnant.”

  Q-Bert reached for the book and proceeded to knock a couple of copies to the floor in front of Xander and Josy. He sputtered another apology, but Josy told him it was fine. He bent down to pick up the books, Xander crouching down and helping him.

  “I think it’s going really well,” Josy whispered.

  Xander snorted. “If you say so.”

  “When do I ask him if he wants to be friends?”

  “Just… play it cool. You’ll know when the time is right.”

  They stood up, putting the books on the table.

  “Thanks,” Q-Bert said, gnawing on his bottom lip. “Who do I make this out to?”

  “Me,” Josy said promptly.

  “Uh. Yeah, great. Cool. I just need to know your name.”

  “Oh crap. I never told you my name.”

  Q-Bert waited.

  Josy panicked, wondering if it was too late to start this whole thing over.

  Xander groaned. “His name is Josiah.”

  Xander for the save! “Josiah Edward Erickson,” Josy said. “It’s nice to meet you.” He held out his hand, because he would salvage this. He would.

  Q-Bert stared at it for a moment.

  Maybe he didn’t like to be touched? And here Josy was, practically forci
ng his hand on him—

  Q-Bert reached up and gripped his hand. His fingers were long and slender. His skin was warm and dry. They didn’t quite shake hands, as much as they just held hands. Maybe now was the perfect time to ask Q-Bert if he wanted to hang out sometime. Josy started making plans. They could go to a farmers’ market and look at tomatoes. Or they could hike to the Hollywood Sign and breathe in that hot, dank Los Angeles air. Or they could go to a park and swing on the swings and then get frozen yogurt, even though frozen yogurt was literally pointless. It didn’t taste bad, it didn’t taste good, it just was.

  “Huh,” Dee said again.

  Q-Bert pulled his hand away as if scalded. He opened the book as he picked up his pen. He stared down at the page for a moment before he muttered something under his breath and started writing. It took him only a few moments before he finished with a flourish. He closed the book and handed it to Josy.

  Josy, who was running out of time.

  Now, it should be said that Josiah Erickson was not a coward. It takes a certain amount of gumption to be able to repeatedly stand in front of a line of producers and casting directors and overworked PAs and be scrutinized down to the tiniest little detail, only to find out that he’s not right for the role, with little to no feedback given. Most of the time, it’s just no. In fact, he’d heard that word more than any other in his lifetime.

  But he still got up every morning, telling himself that today was going to be the day he got his big break, even when he didn’t have any auditions scheduled. For all he knew, he’d be on shift at Applebee’s and a producer would see him and say that his face was exactly what he was looking for in his latest movie involving gigantic robots fighting each other and destroying cities with little regard to human life and/or property damage. He would most likely have to run in front of a green screen in slow motion while holding the hand of a beautiful woman who was inappropriately dressed for a robot apocalypse, but he could do it. As long as it wasn’t directed by Michael Bay, he could do it. And if Mr. Bay was involved, he would have to politely decline this random man in the booth at Applebee’s who had ordered artichoke dip, because there was a dude in Oregon who Josy cared for very much who believed Mr. Bay was a soulless husk of a human being and potentially a mass murderer.