"Does this mean you're doing the cooking?"
"Yes. If that's okay? I love cooking, so it's not a problem."
"Good. You can do all the cooking then, if you like it so much."
Arun's eyes narrowed. "Why do I get the feeling that you can't actually cook?"
"I can boil an egg," said Cody. He gave it a little consideration and then cocked his head. "Actually no, that's a lie. I'm entirely useless."
"How do you get this far into life without knowing how to cook?"
"I have a dietician. Had him for ages now. He sorts everything out. You can't possibly expect me to keep this figure," he motioned up and down his body with his hand, "without a dietician, surely?"
"Lots of other people manage it."
"True, but I've got the cash, so..." He shrugged his shoulders.
"If you didn't have expert help, would you just be a saggy, overweight lump?"
"No," said Cody. "I'd be dead, having gorged myself on takeaways for an entire decade."
"I must send this dietician of yours some flowers."
"You're not his type," said Cody, deadpan. "I used to think that he was the most important person in my life."
"And now?"
"Now? He might have slipped to second."
"Well," said Arun, cracking some eggs into a bowl, "we all know how much you love Hailey Maddocks."
Cody laughed deeply from the gut, this jokey twist having been quite unexpected. "Yeah, we did get along really well in the films we made together."
There had been plenty of rumours in the press about Cody and Hailey, which this time were completely untrue, though neither one of them did anything to refute them. On Cody's part, it was because of the obvious, but for Hailey it was because she was dating someone who was much younger than her and she knew that the press would have an absolute field-day with that (he was legal, but only just, whilst she was twenty-seven). So although neither one of them confirmed to other what their reasons were, they both did all they could to keep the rumours flying, at least until the press were distracted by something else.
"There was a definite chemistry in all the interviews I saw."
"You know full-well that I'm not talking about her."
Arun whisked the eggs, smiling.
It occurred to Cody that perhaps Arun's jesting was because he wasn't on the same page as Cody. It had, after all, only been a couple of months, and it was certainly possible that Cody was merely smitten so much with Arun because this was the first time he'd felt anything like this. It might, therefore, not be the beginnings of love at all, instead being just a bit of fun (not that Cody wanted to see it that way).
"You really did pay a lot of attention to my career, didn't you?" he said, deciding to join in on the ribbing.
"I guess," said Arun. "You were always good fun in interviews though. And hot too, of course, so, bonus!"
"Come on then, how long, exactly, have you had a crush on me?"
"I've never had a crush on you at all."
"Bullshit. I can imagine you at home, watching tv in your pants, drooling over me."
"Why am I in my pants in this scenario?"
"You know why. God, I bet all this is just so I can be one of your conquests. You'll never guess who I slept with! That sort of thing."
Arun's reply was straight-faced. "That's exactly what it is. We slept together that night, at the hotel, and the first thing I did afterwards was brag about it to all my friends."
"Damn right. I'm a fucking catch."
A soft smile spread across Arun's face. "You really are."
"You're a better one," said Cody. He glanced down at the ingredients that Arun was mixing into the eggs. "I don't like mushrooms."
He spun around and sauntered off outside (the conversation having led down a path of sentimentality that he wasn't in the mood for), leaving Arun stood there, shaking his head in bewildered delight.
A week had passed. Cody had been itching to tell Arun this fact, and what it meant. Arun, wiping the sleep from his eyes and rolling over in bed to face the beaming excitement of Cody, had not expected him to take it all quite so literally.
"Have you been keeping track of the days?"
Cody nodded firmly. "You said I could read it in a week. It's been a week."
"Technically," said Arun, "it was mid-morning when we agreed to this deadline, so by my reckoning," he twisted around and lifted his phone up, "we've got another few hours yet."
"Oh my god," said Cody, folding his arms. "You've no idea how difficult it's been sticking to this whole you-can-read-it-in-a-week thing. The number of times I've almost snapped and demanded that you let me read it, but no, you said a week and I've respected that. Let's not argue about a couple of hours."
Arun grinned, seeming playful suddenly. "I dread to think what you're like at Christmas."
Cody's face dropped, a seriousness taking over him. "No, fair warning, I am a nightmare. It's the only time when I am a morning person. Everything has to be perfect."
"Okay, but I bet you're one of those people who wants to open a present early." He mimicked Cody's voice (though it wasn't anywhere near successful). "Just one. There's plenty of others that'll be left for the big day."
Cody punched him on the arm, just vigorously enough to let Arun know that Cody knew it was a joke, but also that it wasn't actually too far from the truth.
Rubbing at his arm, Arun rolled his eyes and gently shook his head. There was no use holding it back any longer. The dreaded moment had come.
"Fine," he said. "You can read it after breakfast."
"No, I'll read it during breakfast. So come on." He pushed Arun, on his still throbbing arm, strong enough to slide him across the bed. "Get up and make me some pancakes so I can get started."
He tried taking his time, but pancakes do not take long to make and before he knew it, there were a stack of them on a plate in front of an expectant Cody.
"You're forgetting something," said Cody, looking up at Arun with wide eyes and raised eyebrows.
"You'll just get it messy," said Arun, who had printed out a copy of the script before the holiday.
"I'm not a child."
Arun's face suggested that this might not be entirely true, but he'd run out of excuses now and had no option. He disappeared into the bedroom and pulled the script out from the bottom of a suitcase. Bringing it into the dining area, he dropped it onto the table, next to Cody's plate of pancakes. Cody reached across and rearranged the two things so that he could better multitask. Arun went and sat down at the opposite end of the table. Cody paused and flicked his gaze across to Arun.
"Are you just going to sit there and watch me read it?"
"Yes."
"Couldn't you go for a walk or something?"
"No. I want to see what your reactions are as you read it. I want to know what you're thinking."
"I'll tell you what I think about it, once I've read it."
"Yes, but I need you to be honest."
"What, you think I'm going to lie? Is that why you want to watch me, 'cos you don't trust me to be honest?"
"No, it's not that. I do trust you. People tend to want to sugar-coat things though and that's not what I need. I need the truth."
"I can tell you something truthful right now if you want?"
Arun sighed. "I get that I'm being annoying, I do. But you know how important this is to me. You can't just say that it's shit. I'll need specifics."
"It's not going to be shit. That I can say without even reading it. Anyway, it's important to me too. And not just because it's important to you. And, more importantly, why are you so convinced that I'll think it's shit? I don't know why you'd think that. I thought you were pleased with it?"
"I am. I really am. But me being pleased with it is vastly different to anyone else being pleased with it."
Cody had never seen Arun be so doubtful about himself. It was kind of endearing but also rather annoying. His confidence was one of the things that he loved abou
t him and so to see it evaporate, and so quickly too, was a difficult sight.
Realising that this doubt he was displaying wasn't doing him any favours, Arun slapped his hands on the table and gave himself a mental slap.
"Right," he said. "Enough of this faffing around, why don't you get on with reading it so we can both find out exactly where we stand?"
A smile spread over Cody's face. There he was! The Arun he loved.
He laughed. There was a slight nervousness to it, one that he was certain Arun hadn't picked up on. What a time for that word to pop up. Loved. Having better things to think about—though, in the grand scheme of things, maybe they weren't as important—he pushed his emotions aside. He stabbed at the pancakes with a fork, pulled the script forward, so it was balanced on his lap, the top of the page resting on the edge of the table, and leaned back. He flicked over the first page and began reading.
Arun sat at the other end of the table, scrutinising Cody's face. He must be an excellent poker player, he thought, for there was nothing on his face to read. He was unable to gauge any sort of reaction at all. For a few moments he wondered if there was any point sitting there, watching. But then another thought crossed his mind. Perhaps it was that Cody had a terrible poker face and that what this lack of expression really meant was that the script was dull and boring, a horrifically flat waste of time. Something so deathly average that it didn't warrant any kind of emotional response at all.
With that possibility bashing at his mind, Arun began to panic. Upon agreeing to let Cody read it, he'd told himself that any questions about it should wait until the end, but now he was struggling to contain those questions. The desire to blurt them out was so powerful that he considered clasping his hands over his mouth as some sort of childish safeguard.
What does he think of it so far? What bit is he up to? Has he got to this bit yet? Does he like any of the characters? Who's his favourite?
He screeched his chair back, resting his chin on his hands on the table, so that he was stretched out and low down. Cody threw him a warning glance and it was enough to get him up and away. He went into the kitchen and did some washing up, trying to keep one eye on Cody the entire time, lest he should miss the one moment where his mask slipped (the downside of this was that, in being so distracted from the task at hand, he almost sliced the top of his finger off). When the washing up was done, he went and sat back at the table, but soon began to drum his fingers, resulting in another glance from Cody, through slightly narrowed eyes.
He knew it was no use. Watching Cody read the script was futile. Being close enough to still see him was dangerous. He went outside, past the pool, and sat in one of the chairs, turning it so that it faced away from the villa. The view was wonderful, obviously, but even that was unable to take away the agony of the wait. And it seemed like an eternal wait, one filled with the urge to get up and run back inside, to see if he'd finished yet, or at the very least to look over his shoulder, away from the view, to see if he could see Cody, and therefore his expression.
Eventually, Cody came outside. Arun heard his footsteps and leapt out of his seat.
"Well?" he said, his voice frantic, as though he'd just spotted the surgeon coming out of the operating room.
"It's wonderful."
"You're just saying that. I was watching your face remember."
Cody smiled and laughed. "It was pretty tough not showing my feelings. Thank God you left after a while." He sat down on the grass, which was soft and warm, and ran his hand over the short blades.
"Yeah, but you didn't show any emotion."
"That's because I'm a fucking good actor, thank you very much. And before you say anything, no, I'm not just saying it's wonderful because that's what you want to hear."
"Because that doesn't help anyone."
"Exactly. No, I genuinely loved it. You changed some of it though, haven't you?"
"What do you mean?"
"The main character isn't quite how you'd been describing him. I thought you had him locked down in your mind, that you knew precisely who he was?"
"I did."
"So what happened?"
Arun paused ever so slightly, wanting what he was about to say to carry a little extra weight. "You."
Cody looked puzzled.
"All this time that we've spent together," said Arun, "has made me realise something. You'd be perfect for this role. That's why I changed things. To write it specifically with you in mind."
"No," said Cody. "No no no, I'm just here to finance it. That's all. It's your film. Creatively, it's nothing to do with me."
"I disagree. It shouldn't just be something you're involved in from a distance. It should be our film. It's perfectly clear to me that that's how it should be."
"I'm not ready to be in a film like this."
"Why not? You've said yourself that the big budget blockbusters can't go on forever. That's what brought the two of us together. Onto the same path, yes?"
"That's in the future though. I've just finished filming one of them and there's all the promotion that'll need doing."
"But you've not signed up for anything else yet. Why is that do you think?"
"I needed a break."
"But why now? If your plan for the future was to use your money to finance other people's films, then I'd say that the future is already here, meaning..."
Cody's voice went quiet. "That the big summer films are in the past."
"I know you pretty well by now," said Arun. "You're never going to give up acting. It's in your blood. So your future isn't just going to be about financing movies, is it?"
"I was hoping to take things gradually."
"I think that would be a mistake. Your name still carries a lot of weight. I think you should do everything at the same time, really show everyone what you're made of."
"The perfect opportunity to show them all that I'm more than just an action hero," said Cody, though it was more to himself.
"Precisely."
Cody fell silent. This really had been his plan, but he'd always thought it was another decade off yet, at least. Plenty of time to test the waters, to find the right project, the right role. He thought about the script he'd just read. Now that Arun had pointed it out, it did seem as though the main character was tailor-made for him, but he knew there were dozens of other actors for whom it would fit. Better actors than him.
"No," he said. "No, you're making a mistake. I am nowhere near good enough to be in something of this quality. I'll just ruin everything that you've worked so hard on."
"You're being too harsh on yourself. It's just nerves, about the unknown."
"I'm just being honest."
"No, it really is just nerves. Trust me, you'll be perfect in it. And that's not simply me letting my feelings for you influence my decision. I've always known that there was more to you than what you've done so far."
"You're just telling me what you think I want to hear."
"We agreed not to sugar-coat things, remember? If any of this is going to work, we have to be honest and I am telling you the God's honest truth. This role is perfect for you."
Cody stood up. "I'll think about it," he said, though his voice was distinctly noncommittal. He walked off, back inside, away from any immediate response.
Sitting outside, relaxing after a wonderful evening meal (that Arun had persuaded Cody to help him cook, without any disasters), Arun tickled Cody's leg with his toes. Cody looked up from his phone, where he was checking a few messages.
"Let's go up on the roof and watch the sunset," said Arun.
"That's such a clichéd thing to do," said Cody.
"And yet we haven't done it yet. Imagine going back home and telling everyone that we went to this amazing villa in the mountains of Spain but never bothered to watch the sun go down. It's unfathomable."
"Then we must do it immediately," said Cody, laughing.
"We don't have to," said Arun. "It's just an idea."
"No, I genuinely wan
t to. It's the perfect night for it as well." He stood up and placed his phone on the seat of his chair. "Come on. No distractions." He walked past Arun and headed inside, taking a detour on his way to the bedroom (which was where the stairs to the roof were) to stop off and grab a bottle of bourbon and two glasses. When he got to the roof, Arun had already made his way there and was sat on the top level of the two-tiered bench. Cody went and sat beside him, close, so that their legs were touching. He put the bottle and glasses on the bench to his left and poured them both a drink, handing the first one to Arun.
"So," said Arun, having taken a sip. He was about to broach a subject that had remained quiet since it was first suggested. "Have you thought any more about taking the lead role?"
"I need more time to think about it."
"It's been a week. Is that not enough time?"
"It would be, normally, but this is possibly the biggest decision of my entire life."
"Not that you're being melodramatic or anything."
"I probably am, but it's so far out of my comfort zone and my experience that, right now, the only thing I can see is me fucking it up."
"That's just nerves talking." Arun found it hard to believe that this confident man he was with could be nervous about the same thing for more than a week.
"It might be, I guess. What if it's not though? What if it's the truth? I could end up doing irreparable damage to my career. I'd be a laughing stock. The dumb action movie star who thought he could do better." He twisted in his seat to face Arun. "More importantly though, think about what it'd do to your career."
"It wouldn't do anything."
"Yes it would. No-one would take you seriously any more, after foolishly putting your faith in me."
"Wow, you are grossly overthinking things. Why don't you re-read the script? That might give you a bit more confidence in it all, now that you know why I wrote it that way."
"It doesn't matter how you write it, I won't be good enough for the role."
"Look, the only thing you need to know is that I know you'll be perfect for the role. I wouldn't have offered it to you otherwise and I'm sure as hell not going to deliberately mess up my own art, am I?"
The Movie Star's Secret Page 9