Two weeks after Ronan signed with CAA, he and Riley were back at Park Eats. This time Mr. Park hadn’t cleared the place out for them; the lunch service had the room full, every table going, dishes clattering and the smell of grilled meat and garlic hanging thick over all of it the way it always did. The two of them sat near the back, plates between them, talking under the noise.
Ronan worked a piece of kimchi between his teeth and set his chopsticks down. "It’s only been two weeks since you signed on as my agent, and you’re already telling me you’ve got real movement on the deal with NBS?" He couldn’t quite keep the disbelief out of it. "That’s a lot faster than I figured it’d go."
"Truth is, I was holding it back to surprise you." Riley chuckled low. "And it’s not just movement, kid. I already closed it. Got you a deal I’m betting you’re gonna like."
Ronan’s eyes went wide, and the chewing stopped. "Wait. You closed it? Already?" He laid the chopsticks flat. "It’s been two weeks, Riley."
He’d walked in today expecting the opposite of this. A working session, more or less: the two of them sitting down to talk through how they’d run the negotiation, what kind of opening figure NBS business affairs were throwing out, where they’d push back and how hard. He’d come ready to strategize. Instead Riley had gone and settled the whole thing on his own, and was sliding it across the table finished.
"Two weeks is plenty, when you know what you’re doing." His agent leaned back in the chair. "Calls, emails, back and forth till I was sick of the sound of my own voice. But I wore down those tight-fisted suits at NBS and got it done."
Ronan could hardly take it in. Back at Circle, Robert had never once spent more than a day putting one of his deals together, an hour some of the time, and that was the end of it. But that had been extra work. There was nothing in an extra’s contract worth fighting over, so nobody fought. This was the male lead. He’d watched other actors at Circle land real parts, roles with actual weight to them, and seen those negotiations run a month or longer before anyone put pen to paper.
Riley watched all of that move across the kid’s face and let himself enjoy it. "Don’t go getting stunned on me yet. Fast doesn’t mean I sold you cheap. There’s a real number on top of it."
"Yeah?" Ronan sat up straighter. "What did I come out at?"
Riley let the pause sit, the kind a man leaves when he already knows the figure lands. "$40,000 an episode. Twelve episodes, so all told, somewhere around $480,000."
Ronan went silent. ’$40,000 an episode? I’m actually worth that much?’
The most Robert had ever pulled for him was $150, maybe $200 for a day on set, eight or ten hours of standing in the back of a frame to earn it. That had been the whole measure of what Ronan Mercer was worth. Walking in today he’d braced for $10,000, maybe $15,000 if the wind blew right, and told himself even that was generous for a name nobody knew. Nothing close to $40,000 an episode had been anywhere in his head.
Riley still wasn’t finished. "Tell you the truth, though? I’m still not happy with it." He shook his head like the figure had done him a personal wrong. "$40,000, for an actor with what you’ve got? I pushed ’em hard, kid. Hours on the phone, emails flying. I had you pegged at $70,000 an episode, and I’ll stand behind that number all day. But NBS business affairs are a tough room. They dug in at $40,000 and wouldn’t come off it a dollar. And I couldn’t lean too hard, either. You’re still green, no track record behind you yet, and that’s a real risk on their side of the table. No sense pretending it isn’t."
He went on before Ronan could get a word in. "And money’s not the whole of it. I got your credit nailed down too. Main title, single card. That means your name comes up on screen all by itself, nobody else’s crowding it, set right where the male lead’s belongs. Got your perks written into the paper. And options on top of that, in case NBS comes back wanting you for another season somewhere down the road."
Ronan sat there half-stunned. The man had landed him all of it, and still wasn’t satisfied.
The chopsticks came down, and Riley looked across the table at him. "So. What’s the verdict, kid? You good with this? Or you want me to go back in there and squeeze ’em for a little more?"
Ronan’s hands came straight up. "Th-this is already more than I ever thought I’d get! I’m happy with it, honestly. Really happy."
Riley chuckled at the answer. "Now you’ve gone and disappointed me." He tipped his head, mock-wounded. "Here I had you figured for an ambitious kid, the type who’d tell me to march right back in there and squeeze ’em for every last dollar. Turns out you’re happy to sit on that little pittance."
Ronan’s ears went warm. "That..."
Riley let out a soft laugh. "Relax, I’m just messing with you, kid. You’re good." The tease went out of it, something warmer settling in behind. "This is a big deal for you. A real big one. Believe me, I get it."
Ronan managed a wry smile. Then, embarrassment creeping back in, he came out with the thing he’d been sitting on. "So, uh... when do I actually get paid? It’s just, I-I’ve got some things I really need to cover..."
Riley’s mouth curved, amused. "Can’t even wait five minutes, huh. Impatient one, aren’t you, kiddo." He propped an elbow on the table. "Doesn’t work like that, though. No money till you’re actually working for the production, and that’s not for another two weeks yet. Late February, give or take."
Ronan’s face fell a little. "Sorry. I don’t know why I figured otherwise. I think I just got used to how extra work runs. You put in the day, they pay you out pretty much on the spot." He rubbed the back of his neck, the rest coming harder. "It’s just, my savings have been getting real thin lately, and I’ve been working myself half to the bone to stay above water. This place, actually. I work here. Mr. Park’s my boss, and about the kindest one a guy could ask for. My landlord, though... he’s a whole lot less understanding."
Saying it out loud put the heat back in his face. Laying all of this in front of an agent he’d known two weeks, a man still half a stranger to him, and his eyes dropped toward the table before he could stop them.
Riley surprised him. "That’s a rough spot, kid. I hear you." Not a trace of mockery in it. "Tell you what. I’ll get on the phone with NBS business affairs and do everything I can to shake an advance loose for you, the second your name hits that contract. That work for you? You alright sitting tight a few days?"
Ronan’s head came up. "I-I’m more than alright with that."
Riley leaned in. "And these savings of yours, how bad off are we talking? ’Cause I can float you a few thousand right now, no trouble. You’ve got a landlord to keep off your back, right?"
Ronan stalled. "But... that’s too much. I couldn’t..."
"Kid." A low chuckle rolled out of him. "I’m your agent now. And I’m hoping, somewhere down the line, you and me get to be a little more than just agent and client."
Something flickered across Ronan’s face, half a second from taking it entirely the wrong way.
The veins damn near stood out on Riley’s neck. "Whoa. Not like that. I don’t mean gay love, boy, I mean friends. Friendship. Don’t you go twisting it up in that head of yours."
Ronan sagged, a breath of pure relief going out of him.
Riley couldn’t keep the laugh down. "You bastard. You actually thought I swung that way?"
And this time all Ronan could do was laugh right along with him.
Something between them had shifted a step closer, and they both felt it.
"Alright." Riley reached into his case. "Got the sides for Elijah right here. Take ’em home, learn the lines cold, and when the time comes, you go be Elijah, same way you were Thomas in that room. You hear me?"
He slid a small sheaf of pages across the table, «Castaway in Time» printed across the top.
Ronan had barely closed his hand around them when the room tipped and a pane of pale light unfolded in the air in front of him.
[Project detected: «Castaway in Time».]
[Scanning script... role identified.]
[Potential Grade: B (Breakout) — a hit in the making.]
[Role: Elijah, male lead. Method Grade: A (Lead) — total mastery required.]
[Full immersion locked until production begins.]
[Half-immersion available: a partial simulation, entered to study the character.]
His pulse kicked. It was awake again, the «Immersion System», reading the part straight off the page the way it had sized up Thomas that first afternoon in the casting room. This time it didn’t haul him under. It only set the grades in front of him and waited.