Page 4 of Hollywood, Ending

“You what-in-the-hell, Kai?”

“I’m sorry if I shouldn’t have said that but I like saying it if you don’t mind. Love is big and reckless so I just say it whenever I feel it. You welcomed me into your apartment to run lines because I was nervous. You gave me good advice. You put my little drawing up on your wall. I love you.”

“Wow. Well, thanks, Kai.”

“I don’t love you a lot or anything. But a little. I love you a little.”

“Okay. I like you a medium amount. A socially acceptable amount.”

“Great. See you tomorrow.”

4

The next morning we started rehearsals with Kathryn at this warehouse that had been fitted out to be a 1986 nightclub. Kathryn led the blocking, walking us through our marks and discussing movement. Kai seemed nervous, but his actions and choices were on point. He saw his character as inward-focused, as precise and limited in his movements, almost like he was afraid to fully let go until this scene in the nightclub where Jude loses his composure and tells Carly about his extensive family trauma.

There’s a saying in the Industry—Don’t waste it in rehearsal—and I tend not to, but Kai gave so much that I felt like I had to meet him where he was, such that we were both really laughing and smiling when we talked inside Andy’s house.

“Keep it innocent,” Kathryn told me after one take where the camera operator was pretending to hold a camera as I grabbed Kai by the waist flirtatiously.

“She’s not innocent,” I said.

“Well, it’s rehearsal,” Kathryn demurred. “We’ll figure her out as we go.”

I nodded, trying not to reveal my annoyance that Kathryn thought she understood Carly better than I did.

I knew my reputation. Hard to direct. Challenging. Won’t let a scene go. Obsessive.

But aren’t those good qualities? Don’t you want a collaborator who gives everything to make the best possible movie?

_____

When we broke for lunch, I wandered off into a small stand of shrubs behind the warehouse. I sat down on an overturned five-gallon bucket to call my agent, Jamie. Hollywood is pure glamour.

“What’s new?” I asked her.

“Now that you’re in a movie with Matthew Malone, everyone’s calling me. Studios are taking notice, Junie. I got a couple scripts to send you.” Jamie was all business. If Jamie had hobbies, I was blissfully unaware of them. “One is a show in the Star Wars universe. Limited series. Very upscale. Only thing is you’re blue.”

“I’m blue?”

“Yeah, you’re blue. So lots of time in the makeup trailer,” she said.

“Is it one of those CGI things where the whole shoot happens in a warehouse in Atlanta?”

“To be fair,” Jamie answered, “I believe the warehouse is in Manitoba. Budget’s good, though. And they’ve got a great showrunner. Angela Simpson. Did that spy show for Netflix. Now she’s with Disney on this Star Wars thing. Eight episodes. I like it for you. The other thing is an epic fantasy. New Brian Arawas project.”

“As long as I’m not playing a kid.” Part of the reason I’d fought so hard to book Andy Warhol Never Gets Old was because my character isn’t in high school. The problem with being twenty-two is that you can still play seventeen, and when you’re a Former Nickelodeon Star, it’s hard to book anything but teen movies. I needed to prove I could be an adult.

“She’s not a kid. She’s a queen. Agrippah, Queen of the Realm. Look, it’s a fantasy. You’re fighting orcs or whatever. But Brian Arawas has a half-billion-dollar franchise under his belt. I know you don’t love fantasy, but there’s real meat to this character, and you’d be the lead in a Brian Arawas movie.”

“You don’t love the script,” I said.

“I don’t love the script,” Jamie agreed. “But I love Agrippah as a role. Actual nuance. Real feminine power. It’s shit you don’t see every day.”

“I’ll read them both,” I said. “Send them over.”

_____

After another four hours of rehearsals, Kai and I shared a ride back to our apartment building.