The Movie Star's Secret

by Chloe Parker Boulder

  "I remember that film," said Arun, moving up the bed to sit beside Cody. "You were stunning in it. Okay, so it was more visually than anything else, but that wasn't your fault. You did the best with what you were given. It's just, the film was lacklustre. Rather haphazard and incoherent."

  Recalling the scathing reviews that the film got, Cody smiled to himself, knowing why things had ended up like that. "Not to brag or anything—"

  "But you're going to anyway."

  Cody nudged him playfully with his elbow. "The director and the producer both saw something in me and made changes to the script halfway through." He raised an eyebrow. "That went down well, I can tell you. Right in the middle of shooting. They'd seen the dailies and how strong my screen presence was and gave me a bigger part."

  "How big exactly is your ego?" Arun said, narrowing his eyes.

  "Probably as big as yours." He flicked an eyebrow up and flashed him a tight-lipped grin. "Anyway, those weren't my words. That's what the producer said, no lie. That I had a strong screen presence."

  "Was he fat and balding and middle-aged and sweaty?"

  "That's a disgraceful stereotype. Not all movie producers are salacious creeps."

  Arun paused for a moment, looking at Cody in an expectant way. "I notice you haven't actually answered my question."

  "Fine," said Cody, rolling his eyes. "He was almost exactly like that, but nothing happened."

  "What, not even a quick hand-job in the executive washroom?"

  "No." Cody laughed. "In any case, by all accounts it wouldn't have been a hand job. More like thumb and forefinger."

  They both laughed. Arun hooked his leg over Cody's and moved in closer, wrapping his arm around Cody's shoulder. Cody snuggled in and continued his story.

  This propulsion to the big leagues happened when he was twenty-one. He was finally on the ladder to success and had no intention of falling off it. He thought about being honest, of course—it's horrible to have to live your life as a lie, living in fear that one of the best things about you might be the very thing that brings you down—but he also knew that it would be prudent not to be truthful. The film had been an international success (despite its clear faults) and, figuring that if he considered it all from a worldwide viewpoint, where things aren't always so accepted, he chose to keep his sexuality a secret. It very quickly became clear that this was the right thing to do. The newspapers and the gossip columnists soon started asking him about his love live. Were the rumours about him and Gina true? (They were, thankfully, which meant that should anything start to look like it might pierce his armour, he could come clean about that instead, hopefully throwing everyone off the scent.) Did he have a girlfriend? Did he enjoy having young women throwing themselves at him, lusting over him? These were same tired old questions that were constantly thrown at him and he soon became adept at answering them. Fortunately for him, his responses were believed, for there was also another actor coming up the ranks around the same time, whose private life was poked into, whose secrets got revealed. Within six months he was guest-starring in second-rate television dramas. His secret and Cody's were different but Cody feared that the outcome would be the same.

  It annoyed him at first, but he soon got over it when the glory and money came in. Now, looking back on that time, it doesn't annoy him quite as much. But it disappoints him so much more. All he can see now is how stupid he was and how he was doing himself—and everyone like him—a disservice. But equally, he knew that he wouldn't have been able to have the career he's had if he hadn't chosen this path.

  "I was bullied at school. I was this scrawny, dorky kid who, in all fairness, did not have a clue. It was real hell at times. I remember thinking, as I sat alone in bed and cried, that one day—" He clenched his fist. "One day, I would show them. I'd be better than them and actually do something with my life. I'd be a success. Whenever I doubted that I was doing the right thing by hiding who I was, I just recalled those days at school. Right or wrong, out of those two things, that was the most important to me. I had to show the bullies that I was not a loser."

  Alistair knocked on the trailer door, interrupting what Cody was saying to Arun. He moved the phone away from his face and shouted for Alistair to come in.

  "Sorry, I know you said not to disturb you, but it's going to be another couple of hours before things get up and running again. Things are getting waterlogged and need draining."

  "That's okay, thanks for letting me know."

  "And apparently Maria's gone off on one about her costumes, again. Too tight or something, so you're probably best staying in here out of the way."

  "Good idea. Of course, if she'd lay off the doughnuts..."

  Alistair laughed, not entirely convincingly, and then left. Cody put the phone back to his ear, to hear Arun's remark at what he'd just overheard.

  "You're a bitchy fucker, aren't you."

  "I've seen her go through an entire box of them."

  "So? Why can't she do what she wants and look how she wants?"

  "Because if I've got to stay in shape, she can fucking well do the same."

  "Fair point," said Arun, not wishing for the conversation to derail so spectacularly.

  "Anyway, sorry, it looks like you're stuck talking to me for a couple of hours."

  Arun swivelled in his seat and dangled his legs over the arm of the chair. "I think I'll cope."

  "How's the script coming along?"

  "Yeah, not bad," said Arun. He made it sound as though things were bad, but they weren't. Not overall at least. It's just that he'd been stuck on how to get the story out of something of a tangle and it had been bugging him for a couple of days now. Wary of making Cody nervous—risking the chance of him pulling out his finances—Arun had braced himself for this moment, planning to breeze past it. Unfortunately, unlike Cody, Arun was not an actor.

  "Is it not going well then?"

  "No it is. Very well in fact." Was he now overcompensating? "It's just, I'm at this really complicated bit and it's annoying me. Not annoying me, you know?" He took a breath. "I need to figure out a reason for why someone is where they shouldn't be, that makes it look like they're involved in the main plot but actually it's something else. A something else that leads to the secondary plot taking over, which in turn then becomes a part of the main plot and therefore leads to the big showdown at the end." He laughed nervously, fearing that his rambling was saying more than the actual words. "Nothing major, you know."

  "I thought you already had the plot mapped out?"

  "No, just the basics."

  "That's not what you told me at the party. And it all seemed to be there when you went through it at the hotel."

  "Yeah..." Arun grimaced. "I thought that if I told you the truth, you wouldn't agree to finance it. I could kind of see where you were heading before you actually said it."

  Cody got up and stretched his legs, pacing around the trailer. It had all seemed perfect. A relatively low-cost investment, on someone who he thought had it all figured out. A Life Alone seemed as though it had been made by someone who was confident in what he did, and nothing about their time together so far had indicated that he wasn't. He knew that no-one can be so assured all the time, but this was Arun's passion. The way he'd told it, this story was something that he had to make, and if he knew he had to make it, surely then he must know exactly what it was he was making.

  "How much of they story have you actually got?"

  "Most of it, don't worry. I know precisely where it's going. In the scheme of things, it's just a small issue. Connecting one point to another, that's all."

  "Oh." Cody sat down and leant forward, elbows on knees. "So nothing to worry about?"

  "A blip, nothing more."

  "I swear though, when you went through it at the hotel, it all seemed there."

  "It very well might have been," said Arun. He cleared his throat. "The problem is, I can't remember what I told you. I'd had a few drinks." A grin spread across his face. "And there
was something more important on my mind."

  "Were you always planning on fucking me?" said Cody, hearing the change in Arun's voice.

  "Now hold on, you're making me sound like some sort of predatory monster."

  Cody didn't take the joke. He thought he'd been careful all throughout his career, yet here was someone who might have already known, somehow.

  "But it was a possibility?"

  "A chance." Arun arranged himself properly on the chair. "Listen, until we met, I had no idea you might be gay. It was only ever wishful thinking. But when it was just you and me, after the others had left us alone, there was something there."

  "We clicked."

  "Yes. Exactly. But it was clicking with a flourish." He laughed. Cody laughed too. "You were flirting with me. Why else do you think I hung around, while you were off talking to the suits?"

  "I saw you looking bored at one point."

  "So bored," he said, elongating the first word. "But like I said, there was that chance that it wasn't simply my imagination. Me trying to bring my fantasies to life."

  "Which are?"

  "With you?"

  "Yes."

  "Oh, man, I have sucked you dry, pounded that ass and clung onto those lips so many times."

  Cody let out a loud laugh, deep and from the belly. He took in a long breath and let it out slowly. "This is not helping you fix your problem with the script."

  "No, but it's making me forget about it, which is just as good."

  "If it were me," said Cody, adjusting himself, "though scriptwriting is very much not where my strengths lie, I would just have an alien appear out of nowhere or something."

  "I see," said Arun, a hand down his pants, continuing with what it seemed as though Cody didn't want to. "The old Deus Ex-Machina trick."

  There was silence on the other end of the phone. Ordinarily, Cody would have covered the awkwardness somehow, masking his intellectual inferiority. In Hollywood, appearing to be clever was just as good as actually being so. Already though Cody felt more at ease with Arun than he ever had with anyone else, so—and, strangely, this wasn't the first time this had happened—he let the mask fall.

  "What does that mean?"

  "You beautiful creature you," said Arun, before explaining exactly what he'd meant. It turned out that Cody did know what the term meant, he just hadn't connected the two. It was a relief to both of them. Cody was happy that he hadn't come across as being quite as stupid as he'd thought. Arun, on the other hand, was pleased that Cody wasn't dumb. If there was going to be something long-term between the two of them—and it was odd to him that he was thinking like that so soon—there'd have to be more to Cody than his looks. And his money. If they couldn't talk at the same level, that, to Arun, might be a problem. "Don't worry about it. In fact, I should really be thanking you."

  "Why?" said Cody, sounding genuinely puzzled.

  "Because knowing that money isn't an issue—"

  "To a degree. I don't want to finance some huge-budgeted monster, not for my first time."

  "I thought you liked huge things for your first time?"

  "Funny," said Cody, deadpan. He smiled to himself afterwards though. It had felt good.

  "No," said Arun, "don't worry. It's still going to be a small film. Knowing that I don't have to cut corners due to financial reasons has really allowed me to let my imagination run free. When I was writing A Life Alone it was always in the back of my mind, telling myself that I couldn't take things in certain directions because it would mean another location or another set or another character. All things that would need paying for. Now, however, it's all about the story and what works best for that."

  "So, no aliens?"

  Arun laughed. "That's not what I do. You get what I'm saying though, right?"

  "Yeah yeah, totally."

  "Good. Not to get too sentimental about it all or anything but, this freedom you've given me? Hell, it might just be the most valuable and special thing that anyone has ever done."

  Cody tried his best to dismiss the compliment, but it had pulled at his heart too much. It was, after all, precisely what he'd wanted to do with his money. Giving it back to those who needed it. Plus it was Arun saying this to him, so...

  "I've been thinking about something else too," said Arun. "I owe you an apology."

  "For what?"

  "At the hotel. I reacted badly."

  "I don't understand?"

  "I wasn't exactly complimentary about how you'd chosen to put your career ahead of everything else."

  "Don't worry about it," said Cody, dismissing things again, though this time he was genuine. He really had forgotten about it. "I dare say you made some valid points. And we worked things out soon enough."

  Sitting with his knees pulled tight to his chest, Cody stared down the bed at the wall on the opposite side of the room. Next to him, with a noticeable gap between the two of them, Arun was looking in the same direction, his face stern as he absentmindedly played with the hairs on his legs, which were crossed at the ankle, in defiance, like his arms had been a moment ago.

  "I would go back and change it if I could," said Cody. "I'd do it differently. It's something I've thought about for a while now." He paused, wondering if Arun wanted to say anything yet. He hoped he did, but feared that it wouldn't be what he wanted to hear. Arun didn't say anything though, silent except for the breaths he was taking. "I'm proud of my career. Enormously so. And grateful too. Grateful that people still want to see my movies." He shifted slightly, edging his body round so that it was pointing more in Arun's direction. "It's been on my mind though, that something was missing from my life. I've seen attitudes change. People's perception of us has softened. They've realised that we're no different to everyone else."

  "And why do you think that is?"

  "I don't know. Times have changed."

  "No. It's because people have been brave enough to stand up for who they are. For the whole world to see."

  "I would have loved to have been able to do that."

  "So why didn't you?"

  "It would have ruined my career."

  "For some people, it would have ruined their lives. Didn't stop them though." He shook his head. "Why can't people just be honest about who they are?"

  "You think it's that easy?"

  "No, I don't think it's that easy, that's why it's so brave when people take the difficult route."

  "But you understand why some people don't, yes?"

  "Why they feel the need to hide?"

  "Yes, exactly. You said yourself that some people's lives are ruined by coming out. Not everyone's strong enough to overcome that possibility."

  "True, but you should have been."

  "Me? Why the hell should things be different for me?"

  "Because you have an influence on people."

  "Just because I'm an actor? That's not part of the deal."

  "You're a movie star, remember. Your words. It's very much part of the deal and you love it."

  "What, so I can't ever just be Cody Hiller, the person? I always have to be Cody Hiller, movie star? Is that right? My private life gone forever. Everyone has to know everything about me, it's their right?"

  "You're just being stupid."

  Cody folded his arms and turned away from Arun, his face getting warmer. Is that what Mr. High And Mighty over there really thought? Just because he'd been out from the start. He took a deep breath. Why was Arun lumping all this on his shoulders? Deliberately weighing him down because of the choice he'd made. The choice to be successful, which he was. Perhaps it was just jealousy. Maybe he wanted to be famous and this was all resentment? And what kind of influence, exactly, did he think that Cody had on the public? He alone couldn't change their perception about anything, regardless of the subject.

  He slumped back against the headboard.

  And stupid? What the fuck? Where had that come from? Did he mean stupid in general, or just relating to this, his refusal to be honest about his sexuali
ty in public?

  "Look," said Arun, just at the point when Cody was about to let rip with his angry questions out loud. "All I meant was that celebrities are the only people that anyone listens to these days."

  "Celebrities." Cody said it venom. "That's what I am then, is it?"

  "That's not what I meant."

  "And yet it's what you said. That I'm not an actor, I'm a celebrity."

  "Whatever. Call it whatever the fuck you want. You know how it works in this day and age. If you'd have spoken up and been true to yourself, things might have moved along quicker for all of us. Think of all the good you could have done."

  "I am doing good." He held a finger up at Arun, who had started to interrupt. "People need entertainment to make them forget about the world for a few hours. And, I know exactly what would have happened had I come out at the beginning. My career would have been over and what good could I have done then?"

  "You're so fucking naive."

  "I'm stupid and naive? Fuck you. I'm realistic. If I'd have come out at the beginning," he turned his head towards Arun, "when nobody knew who I was, remember, I wouldn't have been able to do any good. Now the world knows who I am. And more importantly than that, I've got money. That's all that's important. You know that better than me. Now I can do some good."

  Arun found that he had nothing to say to that. Even as he'd been saying everything he'd already said, he cringed inside, that he was saying it all to Cody. They hadn't left this hotel room for twenty-four hours simply because there was nothing either of them wanted more than to be with the other, finding out about all the things that might bolster the connection they had. And with his stupid choice of words (for clearly it was him who was the stupid one) he was doing his best to tear that connection down. But he'd always been stubborn. Wanting to be in charge. Never admitting that he was wrong. It was weak to do so. That's what he thought at least. Perhaps it wasn't, not when he could see the effect it was having on someone. After all, even though they'd only met a day ago, Cody felt like someone—regardless of how unusual it was—that Arun had known for a decade. He'd devoured anything that Cody had appeared in, numerous times; read every interview that he came across; watched endless amounts of YouTube clips. It all meant that he thought he kind of knew who Cody was, as a real person, not just the actor he saw on screen.