by Jade Astor
“You know, I think this could work,” Logan said, slowly coming back to life. “Jamie will still be part of the story, so he can’t say we voided his contract. And we can still use the name recognition, but it’ll be more like a cameo appearance.”
“Nothing to worry about,” Victor assured him. “The people who tune in to see Jamie will stay if the storyline is strong enough. And it will be. All of us will make sure of that.” He scanned the group. “Who’s with me?”
“I’m in,” said Chuck. “It’s not like we have much to lose at this point.”
“Me, too.” Wes nodded. “Come on, Darian, what do you say? Can we count on you?”
Darian found his resolve melting when the five of them circled around him, their voices pleading and their faces bright with optimism. They really believed in Logan’s project, he realized, or at least in the power of their longstanding friendship. He was part of their group now, actor or not. And they had slim hope of getting anyone else to join the cast on such short notice, with a major storm bearing down on Reece Hall.
His moms would be thrilled, for sure. He could hear them bragging now: That’s our son on the screen—the one getting chased by the gay zombie!
“I guess I can try,” he said uncertainly.
“It’ll be a pretty demanding role,” Logan warned. “A lot more involved than just standing around posing in a Victorian costume. You’ll need some training—”
“I’ll take care of that,” Wes offered, clapping Darian on the shoulder. “With pleasure. Show him everything I know. How long could that possibly take, after all?” He laughed, and the others did too, their mutual relief obvious.
“It’s all settled, then,” Victor said, though he didn’t seem especially happy that Wes volunteered himself as Darian’s coach. “One other thing, Logan. Since you’re using my idea about Fenwick, I want a screenwriting credit. Nothing major—just as a consultant. I think I deserve that much for saving your production from ruin.”
“We can talk about that later. For now, it looks like we’ll have a new face in front of the camera. Congratulations, Darian. I know you’ll be great. Why don’t you step into my room for a few minutes so we can go over a few details?”
“Okay,” Darian said. Logan seemed so enthusiastic that Darian didn’t want to disillusion him. All he could do was try his best, he reasoned. Everyone on the set knew he wasn’t a professional actor. They’d just have to deal with his learning curve.
“And sayonara to our old friend Jamie,” Victor said. “By the end of the day, it will be like he never existed.”
As the group dispersed with newfound energy, Darian followed Logan down the hall and into a guest room more or less identical to his, except for the piles of cast-off clothing, photocopies, and spiral-bound notebooks covering every flat surface. Logan fished out a surprisingly pristine copy of the script and dropped it into Darian’s lap.
“So your first order of business will be to look that over and get a feel for Caleb’s role in the story. Since his spirit will be possessing you, we probably won’t have to change too many of Jamie’s lines. Still, I’d value your input. You’re an expert when it comes to writing, Victor says.”
“I admit I don’t know much about screenwriting. Or performing, like I said before. I hope you don’t regret offering me this role.”
“Nah. We’ll make it work somehow. I’ve made do with much less.”
Darian wasn’t sure if he should be offended by that, so he moved on. “I’m sorry about you and Jamie,” he said, but Logan didn’t seem overly concerned about that, either.
“Oh, we’ll be back together in no time—even before we finish this film, most likely. Don’t be surprised if we end up splicing Jamie’s scenes back in during post-production. I know how these things go.”
“Ah,” Darian said. So that explained Logan’s willingness to substitute Fenwick for Caleb—he fully expected Jamie to come back and pick up where he left off. Darian’s big debut would most likely end up on the cutting room floor, or whatever the digital equivalent was. In an odd way, he found that comforting. At least it took the pressure off.
“We’ve been off and on for years, as Victor probably told you. It’s always been tricky to figure out our anniversaries. That’s why I was hoping we could make it legal. At least then we’d have a date to mark down—until the divorce, anyway. But that might just start the countdown to the next reconciliation.”
Darian marveled that Logan could be so casual about their volatile relationship. He couldn’t have handled that, he was pretty sure. But then, he would never become involved with someone like Jamie. Dealing with such histrionic behavior had to take a toll on one’s patience.
Seeing his chance for a smooth segue, Darian pounced on it. “Of course, I can understand why Jamie might be on edge lately. Why he might want to get away from Reece Hall.”
Logan’s expression turned grim. “Yeah. First the thing with the fake blood, then that screw-up with the makeup remover, though I suspect he was imagining that. I’m still disappointed in him, though. He knows how important this film is to me.”
Privately, Darian doubted that Jamie cared about anyone’s prospects but his own. He also found Logan’s selective memory interesting. “You left out the scariest incident. A dead body, right on the grounds! Possibly a murder, Argo says.”
“Maybe, maybe not.” Logan shrugged.
“What do you think happened to Brother Lew?”
“Good question. A bad-tempered vagrant is as good a guess as any, but we really shouldn’t rule out an accident. I mean, let’s say Brother Lew leaned on his stick and it broke, then somehow he fell on it. It’s not impossible.”
“I suppose not,” Darian said doubtfully. “You know, I wondered about your remarks at the time. You asked Victor if he had done it in self-defense. Why did you suspect him?”
Logan grew visibly flustered. “Well, I didn’t really. It was just a knee-jerk reaction. It’s his house, after all. Makes sense he might have had some inside knowledge.”
“But you and Victor have been friends a long time. Surely you don’t think he’s capable of doing something like that.”
“Of course not,” Logan said, too quickly. “You’re right. I should never have said what I did. Anyway, all of that is in the past. Let’s just focus on finishing this film.”
“Yeah. Not like the last one, right? You mean the one about the serial killer on the campus? Wes told me how you never managed to finish it.”
“Did he? Well, put whatever he said in the forgetterie, along with the rest of that film. This one’s going to be totally different. This time, thanks to you, losing one of our lead actors isn’t going to derail us.”
Darian had to replay the words in his mind, certain he had heard wrong. “You mean Jamie walked out on that one, too?”
“Jamie didn’t walk out on us, no.” Logan paused and squinted, as though he knew he’d said too much. “But it’s safe to say it was largely his fault we couldn’t finish the film. Enough of all that, though. I forgave him a long time ago, and I’d say Victor has, too.” He flashed Darian a supportive smile and stood up. “Another thing we have to thank you for, I guess. Victor’s a great guy, you know. I hope you’re beginning to see that.”
Darian followed him to his feet, nodding as though he understood completely. Maybe he really did have a handle on this acting thing after all. “I’m certainly grateful to him for inviting me here.”
“Not half as grateful as I am at this point. Now take that script and start rehearsing with Wes. He’s a better actor than most people give him credit for. You’ll learn a lot from him. Meanwhile, I’ll get Sandra working on a couple of costumes for you. I’m eager to see what she comes up with.”
“Me, too,” Darian said. As he plodded downstairs, he struggled to make sense of Logan’s words. He wasn’t surprised that Jamie had disrupted the filming of Logan’s first masterpiece back in college, and it had apparently involved another actor walking off the
set. Since then, Victor had forgiven Jamie for his involvement. What exactly had he been talking about?
When he got back to the set, he found Victor brainstorming with Sandra and Chuck.
“I’ve been thinking about the murder scene,” he said, pantomiming his ideas as he described them. “Chuck, you can position the camera low to the floor, so it will pick things up from Caleb’s point of view while Thaddeus attacks him. Then I’ll wring my hands just out of the shot and laugh triumphantly while the image goes blurry and then black. Poof, no more Caleb. Possible?”
“Piece of cake,” Chuck confirmed.
“We can tape Jamie’s picture to the camera if it helps,” Sandra said. “Might inspire you to twist harder.”
While Darian watched, Wes came up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder. He jumped.
“Hey, sorry, man,” Wes said, laughing. “Ready to start your tutorial? I thought we could work in here so we won’t disturb the great thespian at work. Looks like Victor’s taking right over. Soon he’ll want more than shared screenwriting credit with Logan.”
He led Darian back to the sitting room, where the empty chip bag still sat crumpled on the sofa. Wes swept it to the floor and motioned for Darian to sit down. “Nervous?”
“A little. I guess teaching is performing, in a way, but aside from that the last time I was on stage was in the third grade. I played a caterpillar, as I recall.”
“There, you see? You have experience after all. Trust me, it’ll be fine. Just step right in where Jamie left off.”
“That’s sort of what I’m worried about. I mean, I’m nothing like him.”
“And we’re all grateful for that, believe me.” Wes dropped onto the sofa next to him. “Come on. I’ll help you get into character. Let’s start with the million-dollar question—are you going to end up with me or with Victor?”
Darian blinked, startled. “Am I—what?”
Wes laughed. “Your character, Darian. That’s what I meant.”
“Oh. Right. Sorry.”
“Lesson One. You have to start thinking like Fenwick now.”
“I’ll try.” Darian twisted his fingers together, feeling stupid as reality hit him like a fist in the gut. He was going to ruin the production. They’d all be furious with him, Victor included, and with good cause.
“Let’s start with some character-building exercises. Back in college, I took an acting workshop about how to slide into a new personality when you’re preparing for a role. It’s kind of like a cross between an improv skit and an interview. I’ll ask you questions about your past, and you answer any way you want to. Just say whatever pops into your head. Only ground rule—none of it can be true. You have to answer as Fenwick.”
“Got it.”
“After you answer, you get to ask me something. We both have to answer in character. But remember that either character can lie if he wants to. He might have his reasons. Keep that in mind, too.”
“This is getting more complicated by the minute.”
“Don’t worry. You’ll get the hang of it. Before you know it, it’ll be just like Fenwick and Osbourne are talking to each other. Okay, first question—where were you born?”
“Bangor,” Darian blurted. Then he paused, open-mouthed. “I don’t know where that came from. I’m not from there. I’ve never even visited there.”
“Of course not. That was Fenwick answering. I told you this worked. Okay, next question is yours. Go.”
“Um…” Darian’s mind flailed in an effort to come up with something that wouldn’t embarrass them both. “What’s your earliest memory and about how old were you?”
Settling back against the sofa, Wes stroked his beard. “I think I was about three years old. I remember it so clearly, though—waking up in the house all alone. I cried for my mother and father but no one came. I was scared there was a ghost in my room. Why wouldn’t anyone help me? Then my brother came in. He was younger than me, but just the same I was sure he would help me, comfort me. Instead, he started laughing at me. He’d been trying to scare me all along. His laugher was evil.” Wes blinked, a faraway look stealing into his eyes. To his horror, Darian was sure he saw tears collecting on his dark lashes. “And you know the worst part? My mother never came. My brother just stood there for what seemed like forever. He even told me he hated me.”
A few painful minutes passed. Wes stared at his shoes, saying nothing. Finally Darian laid a hand on his arm. “That’s horrible, Wes.”
“Sure is,” Wes muttered. Then he looked up and grinned. “It’s also totally fake. You already forgot the rules of the game.”
“Oh. Right.” Darian blew out a breath. Damn. He sucked at this. Wes had spoken so naturally, with such tightly controlled emotion, that Darian had been completely drawn in. “You really had me going there. You’re a good actor.”
“Thanks. My turn again. Ready?”
“Yes.” Darian placed his hands in his lap and leaned forward a little, determined to match Wes’s performance with one of his own.
“Don’t overthink your answer. You have to be spontaneous.”
“Understood.”
“Okay, then. Do you believe in true love, and how will you know when you feel it?”
Startled, Darian forced out a gruff laugh. “That’s two questions,” he protested.
“So there’s a part A and a part B. This is just for giggles, right? We can be flexible. Go ahead, Fenwick. Answer your master.”
This, too, startled Darian until he remembered that he was now Fenwick speaking to Osbourne, not Darian speaking to Wes. “All right. Here goes…sir. To address the first part, of course I believe in true love. It’s the fabric that knits the universe together. Don’t you agree?”
“Most assuredly I do.” Wes nodded in approval, so Darian pushed on.
“As for how I’ll know, I imagine my body will tell me first. My heart will beat with his, our eyes will lock when we speak, our hands will fit together perfectly as we walk. And most of all just being with him will feel comfortable and right. It will be like coming home to a place I’ve never been before.” He paused, studying Wes’s wistful expression. His pulse leaped when he realized he had done it—he had drawn Wes into his game. “Did that even make sense?”
“It did. Well said, Fenwick. You are most insightful for a butler. Now it’s your turn again.”
“Very well, Master.” More confident now, Darian allowed Fenwick to display a bit of attitude. He tilted his head rakishly and adopted a supercilious tone. “Since I have bared my heart to you, I will now ask you to do the same for me. Before Caleb came to this house, had you ever been in love?”
Wes’s thick brows shot up. He answered in his booming Osbourne voice.
“You are not only insightful, you are impertinent as well. However, I have given you leave to speak frankly, so I cannot fault you.”
“You cannot ignore me, either,” Darian teased. “Your response, sir.”
“Very well. My response is yes. Like every man on this earth of ours, I have felt my soul stir with that peculiar but exquisite ache only the most tender passions can arouse. What I feel for Caleb, I suspect, is lust of a purely physical kind. That, too, has its uses, so I will not denounce it completely. But it cannot compare with the genuine article, which does not require touching of any sort. The mere presence of the loved one in the room can be enough. I suspect you know that, too.” Wes smiled. “You know, I cannot imagine why I pined for Caleb. I would have been better off to let my brother drink his fill and instead seek out the charms of Fenwick.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“You’re welcome, Fenwick.” Leaning forward, Wes winked and gave Darian’s wrist an encouraging pat. “And Darian…don’t let anyone convince you that your acting skills are inferior to Jamie’s. I think we’re going to work together just fine.”
Darian relaxed, feeling the Fenwick persona slip out of his body like a tightly held breath. The interview technique worked way better than he could have im
agined. It was like he’d actually become another person for a few minutes. At the same time, he had been able to visualize his own performance, like someone sitting in a box above an opera. This must be what professional actors felt like all the time. It made him giddy, like a gulp of champagne.
Thoughts of his movie debut brought his mind back to his conversation with Logan. Wes had been part of the earlier film, too. Darian hoped he could shed some light on Logan’s strange comments.
“Sometimes fate smiles on us, I guess. Maybe this film will open up a whole new career path for me, and for Logan as well. Hopefully things will work out better for him this time. He told me about the film you tried to make in college. He said there were production problems.”
Wes leaned back, exhaling. “That’s putting it mildly. I guess none of us should have been too surprised it all went south, though. Logan was crazy to cast Mikah from the beginning.”
Mikah? A name he’d never heard before. Darian sat up straighter, though he kept his face perfectly composed. “Yes. Victor told me all about that little mistake.”
“He was totally closeted, you know. That was where the trouble started. Not only that, he came from some ultra-conservative Midwestern families. Imagine coaxing him to flash his wares in a nude scene with Victor. What the hell was Logan thinking?” Wes shook his head in resignation. “I doubt we’ll ever know the truth. Maybe it’s better that way. Legally, Mikah was an adult and had a right to disappear and start a new life if he wanted to. And we shouldn’t blame Victor. If there was more to the story, I doubt the law could punish him worse than he’s already punished himself all these years.”
Chapter 15
For a few minutes, all Darian could focus on was the stale smell of that outmoded sitting room mixed with the saltier tang of Wes’s potato chip bag. Calling on every scrap of acting talent he possessed—which maybe wasn’t much after all—he managed a casual nod.
“I can see how hard it must have been for Victor, yeah.”
“Well, Mikah wouldn’t be the first self-hating closet case to snap and run away. We all tried to tell him at the time. Ironic, isn’t it? Logan’s incompetence as a filmmaker actually worked in his favor for once. He deleted the few scenes he’d already shot and trunked the script for good. Mikah’s secret was safe forever.”