Find a quiet spot, turn the page, and let’s see what this story has been hiding 🌙 ✦ “Tell me, Coleman.
What the hell was that?
What the hell was that?” Adrian waited until the shoot wrapped.
Then, in a narrow alley outside the studio area, he intercepted Coleman Vincent, grabbed him by the collar, and slammed him against the wall, the impact cracking through the alley.
Fury burned through him, but he forced himself not to swing.
“You planned to get me drunk from the start last night, didn’t you?
You kept trying to push weed on me, then called the cops and tied me to that club’s cocaine mess.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Coleman struggled for air and tried to twist free.
“Let go, or…” “Or what?
You’ll call the cops again?” Adrian shouted.
“I treated you like a friend.
You did all this for a role?
For a few lines?
Was it worth it?” “What the hell do you know?” Coleman suddenly knocked Adrian’s hands away.
“What the hell do you know?” His face twisted until he barely looked like the man who complained on set every day and talked endlessly about the future he deserved.
“I’ve been here almost three years.
Three years.
I’ve had fewer than ten speaking parts.
I’ve fought for everything I could reach.
I’d do anything.
I’ve put in so much, and this is all I get?
Why?
Why?” His voice rose into a ragged shout.
“I watched extra after extra start getting small parts while I couldn’t grab anything.
I finally got an agent, and he’s useless.
I want to be famous.
I want people to look at me.
I don’t care what it takes.
And I never thought of you as a friend, so don’t stand there getting sentimental.” Adrian stared at him.
For a moment, he couldn’t quite believe Coleman had said it.
By the time he could move again, Coleman had already hurried away.
“What the hell is going on?” Adrian muttered it after he got back to his car in a daze.
Then he slammed his palm against the steering wheel.
“What the hell is going on?” The apartment door opened with a heavier sound than usual.
Puck, curled comfortably in his little bed, lifted his head at once.
A second later, the pup sprang up, scrambled for the door, and leapt toward Adrian as soon as he stepped inside, tongue already out for his face.
“All right, you little disaster.” Adrian caught his front paws and tried to smile.
“I should be grateful dog food doesn’t come with garlic.” The smile was tired.
He carried Puck inside and sat down.
For a long time, he said nothing.
Then the words started coming, mostly to the dog and partly to himself.
“Have you ever seen someone like that?
Selling out a friend, setting him up, going that far, all for a role with a handful of lines.
I don’t get it.
Hollywood feels like a different planet.” He let out a long breath.
By now, the shape of it was clear.
Coleman must have started planning the moment he joked that if Adrian couldn’t play the waiter, he could take over.
Adrian getting Jordana’s number on The Faculty set had probably pushed him the rest of the way.
First, Coleman dragged him to a bar that didn’t check too hard, using the celebration as an excuse.
Then he tried to get him as drunk as possible.
Then he kept nudging him toward weed.
Adrian had tried pot a handful of times in high school.
He wasn’t some saint with a halo polished clean.
But he had always kept himself mostly in check, and even drunk the night before, he had refused it.
Good thing.
The last step had been calling the police and linking him to some drug situation nearby.
That part wasn’t hard.
In Los Angeles, anyone listening in the right places or watching the right news could find a suitable mess.
All Coleman needed was for Adrian to miss call time and carry the smell of scandal with him.
The worst part was how small the prize was.
Adrian had seen people frame others before.
The old life hadn’t been pure.
But for this?
For a tiny speaking part?
What kind of hatred did a man need to do that?
The first two steps were ugly.
The last one was dangerous.
If Adrian had given in and smoked, if the police had asked the wrong question or pushed for a test, the trouble could have been much worse.
That was the worst-case scenario, but who knew what might have happened?
And Coleman probably would have enjoyed it.
“If Neil and the others ever hear about this, they’ll laugh themselves sick.” Adrian sighed again.
Maybe he had gotten too attached to enjoying the second childhood he had never properly had before.
Maybe he had let too many old lessons slip.
He held Puck’s front paws and lowered his voice in mock threat.
“So keep your mouth shut.
Don’t make me eliminate you for knowing too much.” Puck barked twice and turned his head aside with devastating disrespect.
“What, you’re laughing at me too?” Adrian immediately scratched under his chin.
Puck yipped, wriggled free, and fled to the corner, where he peered back with his tail wagging.
That helped.
A little.
But Coleman’s face kept coming back, especially the near-crazed look at the end.
Add Frederick’s warning on top of it, and Adrian’s mind refused to settle.
“Crazy,” he muttered.
He wanted to tell himself Coleman was a special case.
One bad actor didn’t define the whole business.
He couldn’t quite believe it.
Then another argument rose outside.
“Please, Mrs.
Waters.
I promise.
Just a few more days.” When Adrian opened the door, the voice from the apartment diagonally across the hall reached him at once, anxious and close to breaking.
“I’ve heard enough promises,” Mrs.
Waters snapped.
“Pack your things and leave, or I call the police.” “Please listen to me.
Please…” The pretty woman from across the hall stood in her doorway, pleading.
She looked even more worn down than before.
Mrs.
Waters could not legally throw her out on the spot, but Naomi looked too exhausted and frightened to fight the threat.
The landlady did not soften.
She insisted the woman get her things.
Adrian sighed quietly.
Sympathy rose first, then shame.
When boredom had left him with too much time to speculate, he had once wondered whether she might be a prostitute.
Looking at her now, the thought seemed cruel and stupid, a lazy stereotype that said more about his mood than about her life.
“Now,” Mrs.
Waters said.
“Right now.” Adrian couldn’t see the woman’s expression from behind, but the tremor in her shoulders painted enough of a picture.
He sighed again and started to turn back inside.
“Please, Mrs.
Waters.
My agent has arranged an audition for me.
If I get it…” The words came out choked.
Adrian stopped.
For two seconds he stood still.
Then he turned sharply, but the woman was already retreating into her apartment.
He almost followed.
After two steps, he stopped himself and waited in the hall instead.
He didn’t have to wait long.
Soon she came out with several bags and bundles.
Mrs.
Waters closed the door with a hard bang and walked away without a backward glance.
The woman stood with her back to Adrian, head lowered, one hand gripping her own arm.
Her shoulders shook faintly.
She clearly had nowhere to go and not much money to solve it with.
“If you don’t have anywhere else…” Adrian said after several silent minutes, the words leaving his mouth before he fully decided on them, “you can use my place.” She turned in shock.
Then she leaned back, wary despite the tears in her eyes.
The look made her seem painfully vulnerable.
Adrian scratched his head, suddenly awkward.
He had no idea why the offer had come out so easily, as if he had prepared it in advance.
But he had said it.
Regretting it now didn’t help.
And the fact that she hadn’t refused immediately told him his guess was right.
He lifted a hand in a wait-here gesture, went back into his apartment, packed a few things, grabbed Puck, and returned.
“Don’t worry.
I’ll get a motel.
There are clean sheets in the wardrobe.
Use mine or yours, whichever you prefer.” He tossed her the key.
“Why?” she asked, stunned.
Adrian was quiet for several seconds.
“Because I’m a background actor who just had a role stolen out from under him,” he said at last.
“So I guess I know the feeling.” He gave her a crooked smile, waved, and went downstairs without looking back.
He knew he was playing the hero.
He also knew it was happening because her situation felt too close to his own.
But everyone did something reckless on impulse sooner or later.
He might as well do it with style.
That night, Adrian turned over and over on the motel bed.
The day kept replaying in his head: Coleman without a shred of mercy, the reality he didn’t want to accept, the woman with nowhere to go.
By the time he returned to the apartment the next morning, it was almost ten.
When the door opened, his mouth fell slightly open.
The small room was spotless.
Not just cleaner than usual.
Clean enough that every surface seemed to have been reconsidered by someone with standards.
It wasn’t that Adrian had lived in filth.
In both lives, he had learned young to take care of his own space.
But a man living alone could usually be spotted by the details he didn’t think mattered.
“I didn’t have anything else to do, so I…” The woman had changed into simple clothes and spoke hesitantly.
“I hope I didn’t damage anything or disturb how you keep things.” “No, not at all.
It’s good.” Adrian understood what she feared and answered quickly.
“I never get it this clean.” She smiled, then stood there unsure of what to do.
For a moment, the room filled with awkwardness.
“Right.
I’m Adrian.
I’m from San Francisco.” “I know.” Her smile loosened a little.
“Adrian Vale.
I heard you last time.
I’m Naomi.
Naomi Watts.
I’m Australian.” “Nice to meet you, Naomi.” He rubbed the back of his head.
“Your accent is…
nice.
I thought you were British at first.” “I was born in England, actually.
My mother and I moved to Australia when I was fourteen.” Then her expression shifted abruptly, turning serious.
“You were far too impulsive, Adrian.
You didn’t know me at all, and you handed over your apartment key.
What if I were dangerous?
What if I were a con artist?” Adrian stared at her for several seconds.
Was she scolding him?
Like a child?
That turn was a little too fast.
“Wait.
How do you know…” He lifted both hands, faintly offended.
“Do I really look like some clueless kid?” “Of course you do.
You’re not even twenty.” Naomi said it bluntly, then seemed to realize how it sounded and looked a little embarrassed.
“The neighbors told me.” Adrian’s first expression was disbelief.
Then he laughed.
Naomi lifted a hand in apology, and the tension between them eased.
“I believed you weren’t that kind of person,” he said after a moment.
“Maybe I’m wrong sometimes, but you didn’t seem like one.” Then a sly smile tugged at his mouth.
“Besides, Mrs.
Waters has your information, doesn’t she?” Naomi laughed too, relaxing further.
Only then did they sit, one on each chair.
“Thank you, Adrian.” After pouring him a glass of water, she took a deep breath.
“If you hadn’t…” “It’s fine.
It wasn’t much.” He shrugged.
“Besides, I know what that feels like.
If I hadn’t found background work on set, I might’ve been in the same place.” She looked at him, questioning, so he kept going.
He told her about coming to Los Angeles alone, working temporary jobs for money, stumbling into Frederick by accident, becoming a background actor, the audition, the role, and Coleman’s betrayal.
When he asked what she thought, Naomi stayed silent for several seconds.
“Your agent wasn’t wrong,” she said at last with a bitter little smile.
“Things like Coleman happen here.
Especially among actors fighting for one chance.” Her gaze drifted to the window.
“It’s been more than ten years since I started doing commercials…” ✦ ✦ ✦ Ready for more?
CREATORS’ THOUGHTS TheBacklot Thank you for reading.
I hope this chapter drew you further into the story.
Stick around, because there’s still a lot waiting just ahead.