How to Be a Movie Star

by TJ Klune

  “Fans, dude. They love fiercely.”

  Gustavo was setting the table in the tiny kitchen. Josy had been over to their house a few times for dinner since he’d arrived in Abby. They told him he was welcome whenever he liked (well, Casey told him that; Gustavo was mostly silent in his invitation), but he didn’t want to overdo it. They hadn’t been living together long. When Casey had moved to Abby, he’d taken over Lottie’s Lattes while Lottie did some traveling, but she quickly decided the world was too big. Then Casey purchased the B and B with the idea of renovating it. He was going to live there, but Gustavo told him he would die of asbestos and he might as well just move in with Gustavo.

  Josy remembered the phone call he’d gotten that night, and it’d made his heart ache sweetly at the joy in his friend’s voice. Gustavo had sounded less joyed, but not by much.

  Josy had only been in Gustavo’s home once before Casey had moved in. It had been neat and tidy with everything in its place, just the way Gustavo liked it. And while those things were still there, the house had become warmer. Bits and pieces of Gustavo and Casey were scattered all throughout the house. Their lives were melding together, and Josy couldn’t be happier for them. His favorite thing was the framed picture of Gustavo and Casey standing in front of the B and B holding a SOLD! sign that hung on the wall in the living room. Casey was grinning wildly at the camera. Gustavo wasn’t exactly smiling, but the look of awe on his face as he stared at Casey was just as good.

  They completed each other.

  And so, even though he could be over every night if he wanted, he thought they needed their space. They were still growing with each other, and while he liked witnessing it, he didn’t want to overstay his welcome.

  (Casey told him that Gustavo often complained about having more people in their house, but also said that he got grumpy when he heard Josy wasn’t coming over.)

  He watched as Gustavo set out one place setting, and then another, and then another…

  …and then another.

  Josy frowned.

  He counted the people in the room. Three of them. Unless Harry S. Truman counted, but Gustavo didn’t let him eat at the table.

  Which meant—

  “Who else is coming?” he asked.

  The doorbell rang.

  “Why don’t you get that,” Casey said as he poured the noodles into a strainer in the sink. “It’s probably for you, anyway.”

  That sounded awfully close to being a surprise. It could be anyone. It could be an IRS agent saying Josy was going to be audited. It could be a doctor saying that Josy had whooping cough, though he couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually been to the doctor. And he wasn’t coughing. Or it could be Steven Spielberg, ready to make that war movie with Josy in the lead along with his trusty dog sidekick who would get injured in battle, causing Josy to sob over his body. In the end the dog would live, and they would move to the country to heal.

  It wasn’t Steven Spielberg.

  It was someone better.

  “Quincy!”

  Quincy stood awkwardly on the porch, looking nervous. His ears were pink from the cold, and he was carrying a bottle of wine. “Uh, hi?”

  “You’re here,” Josy breathed reverently. “At the house. Whoa.”

  “I was invited.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Unless you don’t want me—”

  “Are you kidding? This is the best day ever. Dude! Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? We could have walked together! I could have shown you things. Like… buildings. Ignore me, I’m a little high. I wouldn’t have if I knew you were coming. Which you did. Because you’re here.”

  Quincy shrugged as he looked down at his feet. “I wasn’t sure I was going to. Casey invited me, but he said it was up to me. It—ah, it took me a bit to work up the courage. I’m not very good at being in places I don’t know.”

  “Don’t worry about that,” Josy reassured him. “This isn’t just a place. It’s one of the best places. And now that you’re here, it’s even better.”

  “Oh. That’s… nice. Thank you. I brought wine.” He thrust the bottle into Josy’s hand. “I don’t know how good it is. The We Three Queens saw me on the street when I was walking over here and insisted I bring it. I don’t even know where they got it from. The label has a lizard on it. That can’t be good.”

  “It’s best not to ask. One time Bernice sent me socks she’d knitted in the mail. Somehow she knew one of my socks had lost its mate at the laundromat, and I was feeling bummed. I think they can read minds, but I don’t know how to test it.” Josy blanched. “Oh man, I’m so sorry. It’s the weed talking. I’m being rude to a guest. May I take your coat?”

  “I’m… not wearing a coat?”

  He wasn’t. He was wearing a gray sweater over jeans. He looked awesome. “Right,” Josy said hastily. “I don’t do the hosting thing very often. I must be out of practice.”

  Quincy shuffled his feet.

  Josy grinned at him.

  Quincy asked, “Can I come in, or…?”

  “Yes! Yes. Come in. My casa is su casa. It’s not my casa, but that’s what people say, right?” Josy stepped back, giving Quincy room to enter. He wished Quincy was wearing a coat so he could take it and hang it up. That felt weirdly like an adult thing to do. He didn’t know why he was so nervous. He bit his bottom lip to keep from blurting out something that would probably be embarrassing.

  “Hey, Quincy,” Casey said, coming out of the kitchen. “Glad you could make it.”

  “He brought wine,” Josy blurted. “It has a lizard on it. Lizards can regrow their tails after losing them, so it’s probably moderately expensive. Isn’t that so cool?”

  Casey stared at him for a moment before recovering. “The coolest.” He took the wine from Josy, staring down at the label. “Oh, wow. Great, man. This will go really well with dinner. Good choice.”

  “The We Three Queens gave it to him,” Josy said, fingers itching to take someone’s coat for fuck’s sake.

  “Of course they did,” Gustavo muttered. “They probably knew exactly what we were making.”

  A chittering noise came from their feet, and they all looked down to see an albino ferret twist its way around Gustavo’s feet.

  “What is that?” Quincy asked.

  “That’s Harry S. Truman,” Gustavo said as the ferret started gnawing on his shoelaces. “He shouldn’t be here. I grounded him this afternoon, as he chewed on a display at work like some sort of feral heathen.”

  Harry S. Truman squeaked at Gustavo.

  “I don’t care if they made another Sharknado movie, you can’t just destroy something that doesn’t belong to you. Go to your bed.”

  “He’s the ferret with merit,” Casey said. “Part of Gus’s mystique.”

  Gustavo scowled at him. “I told you not to describe me as having mystique. It makes me sound like a fortune-teller or a Smurflike comic book villain, neither of which I am.” He looked at Quincy. “Since you’re an author, you must like encyclopedias. I have a collection to show you. Follow me.”

  Quincy did. He glanced back at Josy, who was still in a state of shock that Quincy was here, of all places. He was a famous writer who was directing what was sure to be a blockbuster film, and he chose to have dinner at the Tiberius house.

  “You’re not a vegetarian or a vegan, are you?” Casey asked before they went into the living room. “I didn’t think to ask. If you are, that’s cool. You just won’t like any of the food I made. I tried being a vegetarian once because I’m woke, but man, I love hamburgers like you wouldn’t believe. I feel bad about the cows, but not enough to avoid eating them.”

  “No,” Quincy said. “I’m not a vegetarian or a vegan.”

  “Good,” Gustavo said. “They can’t be trusted. Please don’t touch my encyclopedias. They’re in alphabetical order, and even though it didn’t take me long to put them that way, I didn’t allot time this evening for corrections.”

  Casey grinned after them before he
turned back toward Josy. He jerked his head toward the kitchen. Josy followed closely behind him.

  “Why didn’t you tell me he was coming?” Josy demanded the moment they were out of earshot. “I would have—okay, I don’t know what I would have done exactly, but I would have done something. Maybe not smoke or whatever.”

  “I didn’t know if he would,” Casey said as he put the wine on the counter. “I floated the invite, told him no pressure.” He started digging through a drawer near the sink. “That’s okay, right?”

  “Yeah. Absolutely. I just… it would have been nice to walk with him, you know?”

  Casey pulled a wine opener from the drawer. “You get to walk back with him, if that helps.”

  Josy’s eyes widened. “Holy crap. You’re right. I do.”

  “You really like him, huh?”

  “Oh, he’s so cool,” Josy said. “He likes books, and I now know two people who write them. He’s a director, and I like being directed. He lets the We Three Queens give him street wine, and I have knitted socks. We have, like, so much in common.”

  “That’s rad, man. He seems like an okay dude. If you like him, then I know I will too.”

  “I do,” Josy said. “I thought I messed up with the whole I-don’t-want-to-date-you-but-please-be-my-friend thing, but then Serge’s kismet happened, and now I’m in Quincy’s movie and we’re friends.” He hesitated. “Do you think he likes me? You know? Like that? Like a friend?”

  “Oh yeah,” Casey said easily. “It’s obvious.”

  Josy was relieved to hear it. Casey didn’t bullshit him. “Really?”

  “Sure, man. Even if I couldn’t see it with my own eyes, I’d still believe it because it’s you.”

  “But I’m not good at it.”

  “Nah. You’re actually the best. You just don’t know it like I do. It’s like—okay. So turtles, right?”

  “Right.”

  “They exist.”

  Casey was so smart. “Yes.”

  “And they move really slow.”

  “So slow,” Josy agreed.

  “But they don’t know that. To them, that’s their normal speed, and everyone else moves superfast.”

  “That must be really weird.”

  “Totally. But the point is you’re a turtle. You don’t know any different because you don’t need to. It’s just who you are. You do things your own way. You take your time. And turtles have their homes already around them, so anyone who goes near them is already in their home. It’s how I feel about you. I go near you, and I feel like I’m home.”

  “Dude,” Josy breathed.

  Casey shrugged. “It’s true.”

  “Dude,” Josy demanded. “That was like poetry!”

  “I’m a writer, man. Stuff like that is in my head all the time.”

  “I can’t even begin to imagine that. Like, it must be so cool being able to open your mouth and spit out greatness.”

  “Gimme some skin.”

  “Gladly.” He slapped Casey’s palm. Before he could pull away, Casey wrapped his fingers around his wrist. Josy liked holding hands, so this was a pretty good start to dinner.

  “And if you ever decide to move in a certain direction, that’s okay too. You know that, right?”

  Josy cocked his head. “What do you mean?”

  “If you found another turtle who you wanted to move slow with.”

  “My apartment back in LA doesn’t let me have pets. I mean, the woman next door has, like, twelve cats, but no one calls the front office because we’re pretty sure she’s also a witch and will hex us.”

  Casey squeezed his hand before letting go. “Sure, man. Quincy seems like he’s a good guy.”

  “He is,” Josy said. “You could tell he was worried about me being naked in front of him all day by how much he kept leaving the room.”

  “Sounds like a righteous dude. Wanna pop the cork?”

  Josy didn’t think he’d ever been to such a mature dinner party. “Absolutely. I have no idea how to do it. Is it going to explode and shoot out like it’s New Year’s Eve? Should I do it outside? I don’t want Gustavo to yell at me for breaking something again.”

  “I think that’s just champagne.”

  “Oh. You sure?”

  “Mostly.”

  It didn’t explode. Casey knew so much.

  THEY SAT down at the table, just four adults in the prime of their lives. Casey sat next to Gustavo, which meant Josy and Quincy would be sitting together on the other side of the table. It almost felt like a double date, or at least what Josy thought a double date would be like. He’d never actually been on one. And yeah, Gustavo and Casey were dating, but Josy and Quincy weren’t. But this could be a friend-date. Josy had been on many of those in his lifetime.

  Casey had made fettuccini Alfredo with chicken, and though Josy was sure it probably wasn’t the best for his diet, he figured if the director of the film didn’t have a problem with it, then he didn’t either.

  Quincy reached up to serve himself some salad but stopped when Gustavo shook his head. “Oh, I’m sorry. Are we saying grace or something?”

  Gustavo sighed irritably. “No. We don’t pray here. Organized religion is a detriment to humanity. Pastor Tommy said that being given false hope is like having a life vest made of cement, then getting tossed into the ocean.”

  “Pastor Tommy?”

  “My dad. He’s dead. And no, he wasn’t a pastor. That was just what everyone called him.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry?”

  “For what?”

  “Him dying.”

  Gustavo frowned. “It was cancer, not you. So you don’t have to apologize. We can’t eat yet because they have to take pictures. You wouldn’t understand because you’re not a hipster.” Gustavo squinted at him. “You’re not a hipster, right?”

  “I don’t think so?”

  Gustavo nodded. “Good answer. If you were, you would know. Anytime we make dinner, or go out, or are near food that isn’t cereal or toast, they have to post it on Instabook.”

  Josy barely heard what they were talking about. He was busy taking a photo of the food Casey had made. He considered not using a filter, but then he realized it’d been a while since he’d used Mayfield, and it made the noodles look cool. He was generous with his hashtags and didn’t give much thought on the last one, hashtag friend-date with the Q-Man.

  Annnnd posted.

  He put his phone away just as Casey did the same.

  “Now we can eat,” Gustavo told a baffled Quincy. “I made the salad. And by made it, I mean I opened the bag and poured it into the bowl. I hope you enjoy it.”

  IT WAS going well. Quincy was eating the food. He was a little quiet, but Josy knew that was often the case, so he wasn’t too worried. The wine was gross, but then all wine was. However, because this was a mature and adult dinner party, Josy sipped it down, barely grimacing. He was quite proud of himself.

  “How’s the movie going?” Casey asked as Josy considered a second helping of noodles. He didn’t have another nude scene until his love scene with Mason (gross), which was still a couple weeks away. He would probably need to do a thousand crunches to make up for all the carbs, but he was feeling fine. Maybe just a little bit more. “Seems like everything is going good. Aside from seeing Josy’s junk today.”

  Gustavo’s brow furrowed. “I’m sorry, what now?”

  “I had to be naked today,” Josy explained. He had thirteen noodles and a piece of chicken on his plate. That should be okay. “In the shower. Then I wore a towel and chased after Mason, who was in his sunflower makeup.” That would never not bring him joy.

  Gustavo’s brow furrowed even more. “What kind of movie was this again?”

  Quincy coughed as he wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin. Josy didn’t know Gustavo was so fancy that he had cloth napkins. “It’s a… fantasy movie? About, um, imaginary friends coming to life? And there’s… Josy in the shower?”

  “And happy queers,” Josy said. “
Because Quincy wants queer people to be happy instead of sad or dead.”

  “In movies,” Quincy said quickly. Then, “And also in real life too.”

  “Why did you have to see Josy naked?” Gustavo asked Casey.

  Casey shrugged. “To make sure everything looked right, I guess.”

  “I was nervous,” Josy said. “I needed him to tell me I looked okay.”

  Gustavo pointed his fork at Josy. “I don’t ever want to see you naked.”

  “But what if I—”

  “No.”

  “There could be a time when—”

  “No.”

  Josy scowled. “I would do it for you.”

  “I know. And that’s a problem.” Gustavo set down his fork and looked at Quincy. “Do you know Michael Bay?”

  “Say no,” Josy whispered. “Even if you do and you think he’s a nice person, say no.”

  “No,” Quincy said without hesitation.

  Gustavo sat back in his chair. “Good. You can stay at the table.”

  “Thank you?”

  “S’cool, man,” Casey said. “Making happy queers. Representation, you know? It’s important.”

  Quincy glanced nervously at Josy, who nodded in return. “Yeah, I… I just wanted to make something different. You know, that you don’t normally get to see?”

  “So you made gay sunflowers,” Gustavo said.

  Quincy shook his head. “It’s not just—it’s not about the sunflowers. It’s a coming-of-age fantasy about a man who has lost his way and tries to reconnect with his father before he dies.”

  “It’s gay Big Fish,” Josy said.

  “It’s not gay Big Fish!”

  “It sounds exactly like gay Big Fish,” Gustavo said. “Big Fish was shut out of the seventy-sixth Academy Awards, aside from a nomination for Best Musical Score for Danny Elfman.”

  “Gustavo knows all the Oscars,” Casey said fondly. “I tricked him into telling me he loved me by using that against him. It was awesome.”

  “That,” Quincy said, sounding more fired up than Josy had ever heard him. “See? That’s what I want to show. You guys are happy. I want other people to see that.”