Elise studied her big brother on the screen, the one who’d kept chasing acting all this time without, as far as she could tell, a scrap of real talent for it. And now he was just sitting there dry-laughing at her question, which put a fast crack in her patience.
"You can still laugh, huh?" She leveled a flat look at the camera. "You actually think this is funny?" Her voice climbed. "Mom and Dad can’t keep bankrolling your stupid little dream forever, Ronan. The smart move, the only move, is you quit and come live with us. Here. In Dallas. With your actual family."
She wasn’t finished. "It’s been three years since we left. Three. We packed up Little Tokyo and moved out here so Dad could run the business with Grandma and Grandpa, and we left you behind in LA so you could chase this thing. That was the deal. That was all of us betting on you. And it’s been more than five years now. Five, Ronan. At some point you’ve got to look at it straight and let it go."
Through all of it Ronan just listened, chin propped on one hand, wearing the look of a man enjoying himself a little too much. Which, right on cue, wound her up another notch.
"Are you even listening to me?"
"Yes, yes, I’m listening." He spread his free hand. "I’ve got the whole speech. You want me to give up acting, quit LA, and move to Dallas. That about cover it?"
She let out a sharp breath through her nose. "That’s exactly right. And I’ll be straight with you. You’ve got no future out there. None. You know what they say about that place, don’t you? Hollywood’s dark. To land a real role, a proper breakout, you have to give up your body and sell your soul—"
He burst out laughing. "Hold on, wait. Where are you even getting this?"
Color crept up her face. "What? I heard it. The neighbors say Hollywood’s where the demons live these days. That they eat babies—"
That finished him. He doubled over, a hand pressed flat to his stomach. "Stop! Stop! You’re serious right now? You actually believe that? Elise, that has got to be the most insane thing I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth."
Her cheeks went hot. She folded her arms tight and glared into the camera. "What is so funny? God, you’re insufferable. You know what, forget it. I’m done, I’m not talking to you. I’m hanging up. Bye—"
"No, wait, wait, I’m sorry!" He hauled himself mostly back under control. "I’m sorry, okay? It’s just so funny. I can’t believe you’d actually fall for—"
He caught the storm building on her face and changed tack fast. "Okay, okay. Look, just don’t believe that stuff, alright? You lived out here yourself, what, three years ago. You know there’s nothing like that here."
"I’m talking about ’Hollywood.’ Specifically. Not Los Angeles."
He bit down on another laugh. "Trust me. Speaking as a guy who actually works in the place: don’t believe the rumors."
She wasn’t having it. "Yeah, well, how would you know?" A little smug now. "You’re a nobody out there. It’s not like the big shots are inviting you to their fancy little parties to snack on babies with them."
He let that one go, the smile still sitting on his face. "And what if I told you this nobody just landed himself a male lead?"
For a second it didn’t land. Then it did, and her eyes went round. "What? Y-you... you got a lead? A male lead?"
It didn’t compute. Her brother, five straight years an extra, the punchline of half these calls, had booked a lead role?
"That’s right." He couldn’t keep the pride out of his voice. "That’s the real reason I called, actually. Not money. I wanted you guys to hear I finally got my break." His eyes flicked past the camera. "Speaking of, where are Mom and Dad?"
"Out. Together, somewhere." She waved it off, already circling back. "And I still don’t believe you for a second. How does someone like you land a male lead? What did you do, give up your body? Sell your soul?"
Another laugh slipped out of him.
"I’m serious!"
He reined it in. "Sorry, sorry. Okay, to put your mind at ease: I got the lead on my acting. That’s the whole story. Nobody’s body and nobody’s soul changed hands, so you can retire the demon theory."
She chewed on that, and it didn’t sit right. The brother she knew couldn’t act his way out of a paper bag. So how in the world had he pulled this off?
He read the doubt sitting plain on her face. "I know exactly how it sounds. But I promise you, I got this one clean. Every bit of it aboveboard."
Her narrowed eyes eased, little by little. "...Fine. I’ll believe you. For now." Then, rallying: "But let’s be real. If they actually handed you a lead, the project can’t be anything big. Some no-name foreign thing nobody’s ever heard of, probably. Right?"
His smile widened. "Okay. You are really not gonna believe this part." He let it hang a beat. "You want to know who’s playing the female lead? Jane Kingsley."
The name landed. Elise’s eyes flew wide, and she jerked back hard enough to nearly send the laptop sliding off the bed.
"You’re joking." Her voice cracked up an octave. "Jane Kingsley? From the «Futility» movie? No. No way."
He nodded, easy about it. "Yes way. That’s what I’m telling you. This thing’s a big enough deal that they landed Jane Kingsley for it."
She shook her head hard. "Nope. I don’t believe you. What’s it even called, this project of yours? Tell me the name. I’m looking it up on IMDb right now, and if Jane Kingsley’s really attached to something, it’ll be right there."
He hesitated. "I don’t actually know if I’m allowed to say. It’s kind of confiden—"
"Then I don’t believe you!"
That stopped him. He turned it over for a long moment. ’Is there really any harm in her knowing? It’s probably been announced already, online, on TV. Hardly a state secret at this point.’
He gave in. "Alright. It’s called «Castaway in Time». NBS network. Go ahead, look it up."
The second the words were out, Elise was typing. She pulled up Google, punched in Jane Kingsley’s name, clicked through to her IMDb page. And there it was, sitting right at the top of the list. «Castaway in Time». Her newest project, still marked as not yet in production.
’...He’s not lying?’
She dug for more, but there wasn’t much posted yet: an NBS production, directed by Henry Hill, written by Jenny Lee, produced by a Mark Kelly. Jane Kingsley was the only confirmed name on the page. Nobody else in the cast had been listed.
She looked back at the screen, at her brother’s face. "Okay. So you’re telling the truth about that part. Jane Kingsley really does have a project with the exact name you gave me." Her chin lifted again. "But I still don’t fully believe you. I don’t see a ’Ronan Mercer’ anywhere on this cast list."
He just smiled. "Give it time. Pretty soon you’ll know I wasn’t making any of it up."
She stayed on him anyway, poking holes, firing off one question after another, in no hurry to hand him the win.
Eventually he wound it down. "Look, I’ve gotta run. Do me a favor, tell Mom and Dad I called. Let them know I landed a lead and they can quit worrying about me for once. I’ve still got things to take care of tonight."
He closed out the Skype call while she was still mid-question, a whole line of them stacked up behind her.
He’d barely clicked the window shut when his phone started buzzing on the desk.
He glanced at the screen. A number he didn’t recognize.
’Who’s this now?’ He frowned at it. ’Only person I’ve handed my number to lately is Director Hill. Could be him. Or somebody he passed it along to.’
He picked up, not quite sure who he was talking to. "This is Ronan Mercer speaking."
The voice that came back was deep and easy, a grin already sitting in it. "Yo. That Ronan Mercer I’m talking to? Aight, good. So look, I got your number off Henry Hill. You know, the director, the guy you just sat down with? Yeah, him and me go back a ways."
Ronan’s eyes went wide. He knew exactly who this was.
The agent.