The Movie Star's Secret

by Chloe Parker Boulder

  "Are you sure?"

  Arun considered it for a fraction of a second.

  "What the hell, why not." He never had needed much persuading. "You only live once."

  Arun took a seat on the gloriously comfortable sofa, gently swirling the drink around in his glass. He wondered if it was a good idea having another drink. He couldn't remember how many he'd already had (it was definitely more than six, since arriving at the party) and no amount of fresh, cold air could halt the effect it would have on him. In a room full of other people, that effect is fine. He'd just be merry, perhaps a little handsy and affectionate but it would be nothing more. But here, just the two of them? And in a hotel room too, for christ's sake! In any other circumstance, they'd already be naked on the bed. But this wasn't any other circumstance, and he had to remind himself of that. Another drink would only make him forget to remind himself. But he couldn't just sit there with it in his hand. How rude would that look? And handing it back would only make him look stupid. So he decided that he would have to drink it, but slowly and it would be the only one. He felt like groaning. It was so much easier knowing beforehand where you stood with someone. This kind of uncertainty belonged back in his youth, though he had to admit, there was an electric sort of thrill to it. The maybe that seemed to be lingering in the air.

  He unbuttoned the top button of his shirt.

  No harm sending out a little signal, just in case.

  Cody paced up and down in front of him, staring out of the window for a moment before moving to the opposite side of the room and leaning against the wall. He had hoped that keeping moving would release some of this nervous energy but it just made him feel self-conscious and silly. He might genuinely be feeling like a love-struck school kid but he sure as hell didn't want Arun to know it. Of course, Arun had been watching him this whole time and in the space of that few minutes it had become delightfully obvious to him just what was going on in Cody's head. He'd seen this kind of thing before and had done it himself when he was younger, striding back and forth outside a gay bar back home, wondering if he'd ever find the courage to actually go inside. He did, and it was wonderful, but he'd done it off his own back and had often thought how horrifying it might have been had someone actually seen him and taken the next step for him. Which is why he simply leant back in his seat, a pleasant smile on his face, and waited. It was also nice to know that he could still read the signals, however unexpected the source of them might be. During all the hours he'd spent watching Cody in his movies, he'd never once suspected that the fantasy might become a reality.

  He started a conversation, asking Cody what had happened after he'd had left the party. It wasn't something he was particularly interested in, but it got Cody focused enough to stop with the pacing and get him sat down, in the chair opposite, where he took the topic in his stride, loosening up in his seat, spreading his legs and dangling an arm over the side of the chair. Arun took off his coat and lobbed it onto the other armchair, an indication to Cody, if he were being observant, that he would be staying.

  "When do you start filming the next Blake Lancaster?" said Arun, once Cody had finished recounting his evening.

  "Three days. I'm kind of excited about it actually."

  "Really? I'm surprised you want to do another one."

  "I didn't, not at first. But the studio said they were going ahead with it."

  "Because they make money."

  Cody nodded. "Because they make money. They were going to make another one regardless of whether or not I wanted to do it. They have plans to build it into a shared universe."

  Arun rolled his eyes and let out a groan. "The two worst words in the industry right now. Shared fucking universe."

  "That's three words," said Cody, stifling a grin.

  "It doesn't matter how many words you use, it's always a terrible idea."

  "I agree, and maybe I should have just walked away, left them to it, but I couldn't end things at the last film."

  "Because it was so terrible?"

  "It wasn't that bad. Just a little unfocused."

  "No, it really was. Sorry." Arun leapt forward in his seat. "Don't get me wrong, you were great in it. You always are, no matter what you do, but unfocused is a massive understatement. It had, what, six or seven major characters, two of whom never met at all, during the entire film, and only your character had anything resembling a conclusion to his story. It felt as though they added all these characters simply because they could, and it was a way of getting more big names into the film."

  "Don't feel as though you have to hold back," said Cody.

  For a moment Arun thought he might have gone too far, launching into a scathing critique of something, at the person who was most heavily invested in it. But he saw the expression on Cody's face—the sparkle in his eyes that assured him he was in on the joke.

  "I'm not wrong though, am I."

  "You're not," said Cody. "None of us started out with the intention of it becoming like that, but the studio interfered. You know, the usual. People in suits who don't have a clue about these sort of things, but love to pretend they do and are damn well going to make themselves heard. So no, the only reason I agreed to this fourth one is the script. It's fantastic. And I don't just mean within the confines of an action movie."

  "I never said that it was bad because it was an action movie."

  "No, I know. Sorry, it's just that, well, you know how it is. Some people can get really snobbish about things they don't consider worthy."

  "Any genre can be worthy if it's made with the right intentions. And you know what, if that's not the case then at least the action movie genre is one that guarantees you hot dudes and big explosions, and sometimes that's enough to get you through."

  Cody laughed, shifting in his seat to get more comfortable, assured that his doubts over Arun's sexuality had been refuted.

  "Would you ever consider directing one?"

  "A big budget action spectacular?"

  "Yes."

  "Would you ever consider not being in them?"

  Cody stared at Arun, impressed with his non-answer. "I've thought about it," he said, looking away.

  "Does that mean your next film will be something of a departure?"

  "I've not signed on for anything yet."

  "You can only be the action hero for so long. There'll always be someone younger and fitter and sexier to take your place." He quickly flicked his gaze up and down Cody's body. "Maybe not sexier."

  Ignoring that comment (though it certainly aroused his interest), Cody took in a long breath, long enough for Arun to consider if he hadn't, once again, let his fantasies take control and overstepped the line.

  Letting out his breath, slowly, Cody noticed a distant look on Arun's face and sensed that he was regretting what he said. His initial desire was to ramp up his own flirting, letting Arun know that he had no need to regret anything, but instead he took another path, once more prodded by a fear of the headlines that swirled before his eyes and the snide and bitter gossip that would come raining down on him. At some point he knew he would have to find the strength, if he was going to get what he wanted, to break through these fears, but that strength wasn't there just yet.

  "Did you get anywhere with the financing you needed?"

  Arun's face fell, in clear disappointment. He muttered incoherently, trying to gather himself together, before he was able to speak properly. "Not really. There were a couple of production companies interested, but it was still only a fraction of what I'd need, even with them both on board."

  "You can make cuts and changes to accommodate the budget though, can't you?"

  For a second, Arun thought about getting up and calling the whole thing off, struck by the likelihood that, whilst he had thought that his fantasies might not be so fantastic after all, it now seemed as though they were. But he was here now and so might as well throw himself into what they really had got together to talk about. You never know, he thought, it might solve the problems h
e was having in getting his movie made

  "I probably could, but why should I?"

  "If you don't, you probably won't get any money at all. And even then, they're only going to give you what they think they'll make back. It's all about return on investment."

  "Yeah, and that's exactly the problem. You've already said it yourself, that these money people like to shove their noses in where it's not wanted. They'll want to change things, not because it serves the story but because it serves their bank balances. I've already had enough of that with A Life Alone. You know, there was this production company I almost got involved with when making it. The main guy there, he said the story would work better if one of the two male characters was replaced with a woman."

  "Do you not want more roles for women?" said Cody, knowing, in his gut, that it was not about that.

  "Absolutely, but wait until you hear this guy's reasoning. He said—and I swear I'm not making this up—that if one of the two leads was a woman, she could have a nude scene."

  Cody scrunched his face up. "Creepy."

  "Yeah, and totally missing the point of the movie, which was a gay story about gay men. He was thinking about it only in terms of making money. And, well..."

  "You just want to be an auteur don't you?," said Cody, laughing. "One who also gets all the money he needs."

  "How dare you," said Arun in mock horror, before laughing heartily. "Okay, yeah, sure, I know I sound like someone who wants to have his cake and eat it too, but it's my art. My ideas. My vision. So why shouldn't I be able to have full control over it?"

  "That's not how things are done around here. Tell me, was A Life Alone made entirely to your own design, or did it have other people's fingerprints on it?"

  Arun looked at him and shrugged his shoulders.

  "Right," said Cody, "and look where it got you."

  "Fine. What do you suggest I do about it then?"

  Cody got up out of his seat and wandered across to the mini bar. He held his glass up. "Another?" Arun nodded, giving no thought to what he'd told himself earlier. Cody handed him a glass, liberally filled, and began pacing again, holding his own glass against his chest.

  "Okay, so I'd say there's two ways of looking at it. First of all, if you want to get your name out there, and your career moving forward, which in turn, if you're successful, will get you to the point where you can make the kind of films you want to make, with as little interference as possible, then for now, you'll have to play the Hollywood game and do what the suits tell you. Or secondly, you can scrape by with the minimum of funding, and therefore the minimum of interference, in order to keep full control of your art. Only, you'll still have to make changes and compromises, because, remember, you'll have no money, but at least it'll be you calling the shots. You deciding what has to be cut. Though don't forget, there's always ways around things. Different, cheaper ways of getting your point across, so it might not be as difficult as you think to keep full control."

  Arun sighed. "I don't like either of those options." He sighed again, but more resigned this time. "Am I being too selfish with my dreams? Am I letting my ego get out of hand because I want to control everything?"

  "Like a true director!"

  "Yes, but I'm not sure it's a good thing."

  "It might be. There's been plenty of people throughout history who have just got on with doing their own thing and gone on to create magic."

  "True, but I hardly think I'm a DaVinci or anything."

  "You never know."

  "Oh, I think we do."

  "Actually," said Cody, leaving the word hanging as he went across the room. He leant against the wall and stretched, wanting to loosen up the tiredness that was beginning to weigh on him. "There is a third option."

  "Which is?" said Arun, when it became clear that Cody wasn't going to elaborate.

  Cody smiled and looked at Arun from the corner of his eyes. "I'll keep that to myself for now."

  "Tease," said Arun, referring not only to what Cody had just said but also the way he was stood, stretching back against the wall, so that his shirt had pulled loose from his trousers, exposing a small patch of skin.

  Laughing, Cody caught Arun's line of sight and looked down, seeing that his shirt had come loose. He dismissed it with a shrug. The relaxed, jokey flirting between them was nice and, though it had had the effect of dialling down his concerns, it was all still something that could be easily explained away, should any third-parties come asking. Just two friends who were comfortable around each other.

  "What's this film of yours about?"

  "Did I not already tell you about it?" The two of them looked at each other blankly. If he had, it was many drinks ago now. "It's about a married, straight couple and he has an affair with another man that leads into something deadly."

  "No, I mean in detail. Like, run through the whole story for me."

  As he spoke, Cody sauntered across to the bed and sat on the edge. He hadn't meant it to be so alluring. The air had taken on a cosy feel, though that might have been because his eyes were feeling a little heavy. The bed seemed like a comfortable place to sit, especially as he was looking to be told a story. When he realised that his actions might seem deliberate, from Arun's point of view, he hooked one leg over the other and leant forward, elbow on knee, chin on fist, hoping to give off a studious vibe, but it was immediately uncomfortable, so he fell backwards, resting on his forearms and to hell with what anyone might think of it.

  Arun gathered himself together, silently arranging all the pieces of his story in his head. He pulled himself up out of his seat, flexed his arms a bit (for he too had gone a little tired) and launched into his tale.

  Cody listened without interrupting, remaining quiet the entire time. It must have taken at least twenty minutes, possibly thirty, for Arun to go through the story, and at the end of it he stood where he was and stared at Cody, hoping to glean something—anything—from his face or his posture or even the way he was breathing. But Cody let the story drift through the room, still saying nothing as he held Arun's gaze, soaking in the atmosphere that Arun had created.

  "You have to make this film," he said finally. "It sounds fantastic."

  "Really?" There was an innocence to the way Arun said it, almost pleading for it to be true.

  "Yes. God, yes. I mean, fuck, it sounds like exactly like the kind of film I'd want to see."

  He realised what that meant, having said it out loud. It was, after all, definitely a gay story. But it was too late to do anything about it, the words had been spoken and Arun must have heard them and surely understood what he'd meant. Even though Cody had lived a closeted life, he wasn't so ashamed of himself that he was going to rescind his comments. That would only make him sound much worse and this man in his room was someone that he wanted to impress.

  Arun's eyes remained glued to Cody's. He'd understood the meaning behind Cody's words but was searching his brain for a reason—anything—that might explain away what Cody had just said. But there was only the one reason and it brought Arun's fantasies surging back to the fore. "Yes, me too. I want to see myself on screen," said Arun, keeping things on topic. "I just don't think anyone else does. Not, as you say, the suits with the money anyway. So come on then, what should I do? What's my third option?"

  "Right, okay, so—and hear me out first, because it's going to make me sound like a proper Mr. Egotist."

  "I can't promise anything," said Arun, coming closer and resting on the edge of the dresser, that stood opposite the bed.

  Cody smiled at him and launched into his own story. He explained how he'd deliberately focused his career on the big budget blockbusters because they were successful and he was good at it.

  "That's debatable," said Arun, proving why he couldn't promise anything, though it was, he thought obvious, a joke.

  Cody feigned horror (much like Arun had done earlier) but, as Arun saw, there was actual hurt behind it, if only a hint.

  "Sorry, I'm only messing. Honestl
y, I genuinely believe you are the best movie star of the last decade. You've got that star quality about you that no-one else seems to have. The humour, the down-to-earth nature, the beauty, the charisma. You're the full package." His eyes dropped from looking at Cody's face to the other, full package that Cody seemed to have.

  Cody noticed where Arun's attention had fallen too. He smiled to himself. He'd come back to this room tonight buzzing with the possibility of what might happen, to find that it turned out that it could happen and now, a few drinks later and a connection made, that it was going to happen, and whilst previously that would have scared him, something had changed in him during the last hour or so. He'd blossomed or accepted his true self or something. Whatever it was, he was no longer scared—not right now at least—about what would come afterwards.

  "Sorry," said Arun again, bringing Cody out of his dreaming, "I interrupted you. What were you saying?"

  Toying with the idea of forgetting it all and leaping on top of Arun and ripping his clothes off, Cody pushed those thoughts aside and carried on with his tale, for it was, to him (and hopefully to Arun too) just as important as what might come afterwards.

  He continued with what he'd been saying, about how he'd been successful with the big action roles. They'd led him to a string of box office hits, that had paid enormously well for him. He had considered not being in those kinds of films anymore, knowing that at some point, he'd make one or two that weren't successful. Or it might be that he simply got too old, as Arun had suggested earlier. Knowing that either of those possibilities could happen, Cody began to plan ahead, investing in his future (he'd always had a sensible head on his shoulders. Perhaps too sensible at times). He worked non-stop. He was always in demand, so it was easy. And it was easy too, because of his success, to negotiate a better deal, cleverly getting back-end cuts of the box office takings instead of, or sometimes as well as, an upfront payment. Other people might be loath to brag about it, but Cody had put in a lot of hard work to get himself to this position, so had no qualms about doing so. He was filthy rich and the time had come to start putting that fortune to good use.