How to Be a Movie Star

by TJ Klune

  “Yeah,” Gustavo said flatly. “I’ve never been happier. Sometimes I want to sing about it.”

  “Really?” Josy asked.

  “No. Of course not. What the hell.”

  “I get it, man,” Casey said, taking Gustavo’s hand in his. “I tried to get more gay stuff in my movie, but the studio bigwigs didn’t like it. Said since it was marketed toward teenagers, they wouldn’t get it. Dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

  Quincy looked startled. “Your movie?”

  “Hmm? Yeah. The one based on my first book. The Hungering Blood Moon.”

  “That was you? But that movie was so—adequate. It was very adequate.” He paled. “I meant good. It was—”

  Casey laughed. “It’s all right, man. It was awful. I didn’t have anything to do with it aside from it being off my book. The screenwriter butchered it. But I got a lot of money from it, and they’re going to film the sequel next year. Fans seemed to like it, and that’s the important thing. Gives me more incentive to finish the last book, especially since you helped me with my writer’s block.”

  “I didn’t even do anything,” Quincy said faintly.

  “Sure, man. If you say so. Gustavo’s helping me too. He’s watched the movie eight times—”

  Gustavo looked offended. “I have not. Why on earth would I subject myself to that drivel? Oh my god.”

  Casey rolled his eyes. “He doesn’t like it when I find out he’s doing something super cool.”

  “Yes,” Gustavo said. “Because super cool is something I aspire to be on a daily basis. And even if I’ve watched it repeatedly, it’s only because it’s a study on what not to do when adapting a literary work.”

  Josy’s heart squeezed sweetly at the look Casey gave him. “Aw, man. Literary? You’re so Vanilla Ice, you don’t even know.”

  “Whatever,” Gus mumbled. “I have notes on it I’ll share with you later.”

  “I get what you’re doing, man,” Casey said to Quincy. “And I’m glad Josy’s part of it. Happy queers are the best kind of queers.”

  Quincy seemed a little overwhelmed. “Yes, well, I’m… trying. And it’s not always easy for me. I don’t—being in charge of something like this makes me nervous. And I don’t do well with being nervous. Or being in charge. Or being in public. Or having dinner at a stranger’s house.”

  Casey eyed him up and down. “You seem to be doing okay to me.”

  “Even better than okay,” Josy said. “You’re, like, the best director I’ve ever worked with. And you’re eating dinner like a champ. Rock on.”

  Quincy didn’t look like he believed him, but that was okay. Josy was a turtle. Slow and steady gave first-time directors confidence, or however that saying went.

  “Why are you nervous?” Gustavo asked.

  Quincy looked down at the table. “I’m not used to—I don’t….” He curled his hands into fists.

  Gustavo frowned. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I sometimes do that without meaning to.”

  Casey glanced at Gustavo before turning back to Quincy. “Hey, man. It’s okay. No biggie. You don’t have to say anything you don’t want to.”

  “They’re good people,” Josy whispered to him. “If you do. They’re my friends. Just like you are.”

  Quincy looked at him, a strange expression on his face.

  Josy smiled like he expected a turtle would.

  It seemed to work. Quincy took a deep breath and let it out slowly. When he spoke, his voice was quiet. “I’m not very good at this kind of thing. I like writing, but writing is solitary. Some people think it’s lonely, but it’s not for me. And when I wrote the script, I didn’t even think about wanting to direct it. But my grandad said it would be good for me and told me that he would help finance it and stuff if I did.”

  “Roger Fuller,” Gustavo said.

  “Yeah.”

  “He came to my store. I showed him all the movies of his I had for rent. He said it delighted him. I told him I wasn’t there to delight him as I was running a business, but he just laughed at me.”

  Quincy sighed. “Sounds like him.”

  “You have anxiety.”

  Casey squeezed Gustavo’s hand. “Hey, Gus. Maybe it’s none of our business—”

  “It’s okay,” Quincy said. Josy bumped their shoulders together. “Yes. I guess that’s one way to put it. It was… worse when I was a kid. Crippling, in fact. Coupled with depression, and I was probably more of a mess than I was worth. It took a long time for me to get to a place that was functional. Medication helped. Therapy did too. But it’s not a cure-all. Still have good days and bad days.”

  “Your parents didn’t help?” Gustavo asked.

  “No.”

  Gustavo didn’t push. “So you have anxiety and are sad. That sounds like my entire existence.”

  “He’s not trivializing anything,” Casey said quickly. “It’s just how he—”

  “I know,” Quincy said. “He’s blunt. That’s okay.” He glanced at Gustavo. “Are you…?”

  Gustavo fiddled with a fork. “Am I what?”

  Quincy looked uncomfortable. “Never mind. It’s not—”

  “Normal? No. I tried that, but it didn’t work out.”

  “I dunno, man,” Casey said. “Seems like it worked out okay in the end to me.”

  “Don’t order the Internet,” Gustavo told Quincy. “It makes life complicated, and then you end up wearing Hawaiian shirts for reasons you don’t want to explain.”

  It was then everyone decided to ignore the Hawaiian shirt Gustavo was wearing. It was blue with white flowers. It looked nice.

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” Quincy said diplomatically. Josy was proud of him.

  “I don’t have parents,” Gustavo said. “Casey said I’m Orphan Gussy, but that’s ridiculous, and I told him never to say that again.”

  “I said it twelve more times,” Casey said, sounding gleeful.

  “And his parents are jerks who don’t deserve him. Same with Josy. He’s an actor, and they didn’t like it. But as long as he doesn’t agree to be in a film about robots destroying yet another city without repercussions for the loss of life or property damage, he should do what he wants. No one should be able to tell him otherwise. Except for the robot thing. That’s nonnegotiable.”

  “Gustavo loves me,” Josy told Casey. “He’s like the best friend and father I always wanted.”

  “Oh my god,” Gustavo muttered. “I take it back. What the hell.” He shook his head. “What I’m trying to say is that life sucks, and people say and do mean stuff because their own lives are awful. Maybe it’s hard to make movies about happy queers or eat dinner, but do it for you and no one else.” He stood abruptly. “I’m going to clear some dishes now.”

  And he did just that, stacking plates and silverware before heading toward the kitchen.

  “Is he okay?” Quincy asked.

  “Yeah, man,” Casey said. “He’s fine. Sometimes he needs some space. No big deal.”

  Quincy hesitated. Then, “Is he autistic? Or…?”

  “Does it matter?” Casey asked, a challenge in his voice.

  “No,” Quincy said. “I’m sorry. That’s none of my business. I shouldn’t have asked. It isn’t my place.”

  Casey’s face softened. “It’s fine. He’s just… Gus, you know? Labels aren’t a thing for him. And that’s okay. He doesn’t need to be defined. He knows who he is, and so do I. That’s all that matters. It doesn’t mean it’s the same for everyone else, and I’m not trying to take away from anyone who is autistic. For Gus, everything else is just….” He shrugged as he waved dismissively. “Extraneous.”

  “He’s pretty great.”

  Casey grinned. “He is, isn’t he? Now, who wants to get high?”

  QUINCY DIDN’T.

  Josy did, but he didn’t want to make his friend uncomfortable. Quincy told him it didn’t matter, and Gustavo said he wasn’t going to smoke. And smoking by yourself was never a good idea, an
d Josy couldn’t do that to Casey.

  Besides, Josy was keyed up from what had turned out to be a most excellent mature dinner event and knew he’d need some help to get to sleep. They were only working a half day tomorrow, but he still needed to get at least six hours in.

  Josy and Casey passed the joint back and forth until the roach singed the tips of his fingers. It was sweet and mellow, and Josy felt good.

  “I wish you had a jacket,” Josy told Quincy as they stood near the door, getting ready to leave.

  Quincy frowned. “Why? It’s cold, but it’s not too bad.”

  Josy shook his head. “No, so I could help you put it on. It’s what friends do at the end of mature evenings.”

  “Oh. Um. Sorry?”

  Gustavo was glancing back and forth between the two of them, his brow furrowed. “Do you guys like each—”

  “Each of the courses we ate for dinner,” Casey said cheerfully. “I mean, salad and noodles and cookies. That’s three.”

  “It was great,” Quincy said. “Thank you for inviting me.”

  “You can come back,” Gustavo said. “At some point in the future. I’ll let you know when. Or Casey will.”

  “Thank you.”

  Casey stepped forward and hugged Josy. “Good to have you, man. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

  Josy patted Casey’s back before letting go.

  “No,” Gustavo said.

  “But—”

  “No.”

  Josy sighed. “Fine. Our secret handshake?”

  “We don’t have a secret handshake,” Gustavo said, arms across his chest. “What the hell, does that even sound like something I would do?”

  “You made me practice it with you because you said you wanted to get it right,” Casey said.

  “Oh my god. I did not.”

  “My bad,” Casey said, winking at Josy. “Must have been some other Grumpy Gus that I know.”

  “Whatever. I have to go make sure Harry S. Truman knows I forgive him.” He turned and walked down the hall toward the bedroom.

  Josy and Quincy barely made it off the porch before the door opened behind them. Gustavo came back out, and as Josy turned around, he held up his hand. “Yes!” Josy crowed. “Gustavo with the fake out.”

  They did their secret handshake. It was flawless.

  Gustavo scowled at him as they finished. “I will never do that again. Please don’t loiter on my porch.” He slammed the door shut behind him, and a second later, the porch light switched off, leaving them in semidarkness.

  And with that, the mature adult dinner party came to an end.

  IT WAS a beautiful night to be walking outside while slightly stoned. Sure, it was cold, and maybe only one of them was slightly stoned, but still. The stars were out, and Abby’s streetlights were lit. Josy thought it was perfect. Since he and Quincy were friends, Josy felt like they could talk about anything. He thought about what to say to get the conversation going.

  “Do you think there are bears in the woods?” Josy asked.

  Quincy’s eyes widened. “What? I don’t know. Do they have bears here?”

  “Maybe. I mean, we’re in the mountains. Bears live in mountains.” Josy frowned. “Did you know they make bear Mace in case you’re attacked by a bear? I don’t have any, so if we are approached by a bear, you need to speak calmly and back away slowly. Don’t run, because they’ll chase you and then maul you.”

  “I don’t want to get mauled!”

  “You won’t,” Josy said seriously. “You’re with me. I know what to do if we encounter one. I saw it on National Geographic. Did you know there’s a country called Zimbabwe?”

  “What does that have to do with bears?”

  Josy shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t think they have bears there. That’s Lottie’s Lattes. She’s the one that brings craft services to the movie set. And that’s Gustavo’s video store. And that’s pretty much all I know about Abby.”

  “Do you hear yourself talking?” Quincy asked him.

  “No? Why? Can you not hear me either?” He wasn’t that stoned that he was only thinking he was talking out loud, right? He hated when that happened.

  Quincy sighed. “No, it’s—never mind.”

  Josy nodded. For some reason, he couldn’t think of anything else he could say to impress his friend. Maybe this was why he had so few to begin with. Finally he decided on, “Did you have a good time tonight?”

  Quincy nodded. Their shoulders bumped together. “It was nice of them to include me.”

  “Yeah, man. I think so too. Casey knows how much I like you. You’re so neat, you know?”

  Quincy stared at him. “You really mean that, don’t you.”

  “Yes? I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t believe it. What’s the point of saying something you don’t mean?”

  “Right,” Quincy said slowly. “What’s the point.” They passed Lottie’s Lattes. The lights were off. Lottie had told him earlier that she had plans with the We Three Queens. They were going to play cards, which Josy thought might be code for something else, like a bank heist or charity work. He couldn’t be sure. “Your friends are… they’re good.”

  “Yeah. I think so too.”

  “They been together a long time?”

  “A little while. Over a year. Casey knew right away that Gustavo was someone he wanted to know, and Gustavo was… well. He didn’t know what to do about it. But they figured it out. Casey told me he was nervous at the beginning because of the whole ace thing—”

  “The what?”

  “Ace. Casey is asexual. It means he doesn’t really experience sexual attraction.”

  Quincy was quiet. Then, “So how are they together?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “They don’t….” He flushed as he looked away. “They don’t… you know.”

  Josy blanked for a moment before he got what Quincy was saying. “Have sex? It’s okay to say it, man. For someone who wrote about Sasquatch pile driving a frat boy, you’re funny when it comes to sex.”

  “That’s not real,” Quincy snapped. “Gus and Casey are.”

  “And thank god for that. I don’t know what I’d do if they weren’t. Especially since I thought they were real this whole time. Talk about a twist.”

  “I shouldn’t have asked.”

  “Nah, it’s okay. Maybe they have sex sometimes. Or maybe they don’t. And it’s okay either way. You don’t need sex to be in love with someone.”

  “But then how else do you show that you’re in love?”

  Josy looked up at the sky. The stars were bright. “Because you can look at the person and just know they’re someone special. That you would do anything to see them smile. Sex is good for a lot of people, but not for others. And just because they feel that way doesn’t mean they don’t love like everyone else.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  “Remember how you weren’t going to apologize for things anymore when you didn’t need to?”

  Quincy didn’t respond.

  Josy sighed. “You don’t need to apologize for asking questions. You didn’t know. Now you do. That’s how people learn things. You’re not being a jerk about it. You’re curious. No one should make you feel bad for being curious. You don’t know them very well, so maybe you wouldn’t ask them. But you know me, and I don’t mind. I think we’re weird about sex when we don’t need to be. It’s not taboo to talk about it. Sex is sex is sex, you know?”

  “What about you?” Quincy blurted. “Ah—that’s not what I—”

  “I like it,” Josy said, cutting him off before he could get worked up again. “Every now and then. But only with someone I really care about. But even then, it’s not a big deal for me. You know what’s better?”

  “What?”

  “Lying on the floor under a Christmas tree with someone and looking up at the lights. Or going to the park and sitting on a blanket and reading comics to each other. Or watching a movie you’ve seen a billion times b
efore and quoting the lines back and forth. It’s that feeling, right? That feeling of knowing you’re not alone because the person you’re with doesn’t want to be anywhere else but where they are.”

  There was a beat of silence. Then, “I like where I am right now.”

  Josy grinned. “Me too, dude. Abby’s a pretty cool place, right? It’s nice to get out of Los Angeles.”

  “No, I meant—yeah, Josy. Abby’s a pretty cool place.”

  “Can I hold your hand? I mean, we’re friends now, right? I like holding hands with my friends. It’s okay to say no if you don’t want to. I’m fine either way, man.”

  Quincy gaped at him. Josy thought he was far too precious for this world, and he needed to be protected at all costs. “Uh, yeah. Sure. That’s—that’s fine. Friends, right?”

  “Friends,” Josy said happily. He took Quincy’s hand in his own, marveling at how well they seemed to fit together. His fingers were a little cold, so Josy squeezed tightly, trying to warm them up.

  They held hands the rest of the way back to Baked-Inn & Eggs.

  “SO, THIS is me,” Josy said, standing in front of the bedroom door. He felt oddly nervous for reasons he didn’t quite understand. They were still holding hands, though Josy’s palm was a little sweaty now.

  Quincy squinted at him. “What?”

  Josy nodded toward the door and waited. This almost felt like the end of a date, which was weird. Maybe friend dates were like regular dates. “This is my room. So. Good night.”

  “This is my room too,” Quincy said slowly.

  “Oh crap. Right. Dude, I totally forgot. It was probably the noodles. I don’t eat carbs that much anymore. I think they made me forget.” He frowned. “Or maybe it was the spliff. And then the joint. That could be it too.” He looked down at their joined hands. Definitely sweaty, but if Quincy wasn’t going to say anything, he wasn’t either. “So. I guess… we should just… go inside.”

  “I guess so.”

  They stared at each other.

  Josy coughed.

  Quincy cleared his throat.

  Then they both turned and tried to walk through the door at the same time. The problem with that was both of them side by side were wider than the doorway. And also the door was still closed. The end result was a collision of knees and shoulders against wood. It wasn’t the dumbest thing Josy had ever done. (That would always be the time he was so stoned, he called to order Chinese food, only to discover two hours later when said Chinese food hadn’t arrived that he’d dialed a box of Goldfish Crackers instead of his phone.)