How to Be a Movie Star

by TJ Klune

  Josy was relieved. “Yes, sir. Thank you for saying so.”

  “And if something comes up, you’ll tell me, yes?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Good. Now, if we can just—”

  The door behind him opened.

  Josy turned to the sound of voices.

  Q-Bert.

  Quincy.

  He spoke to someone over his shoulder. “And I know we haven’t found the right person, but I’m hopeful. Chemistry is important for—”

  He stopped when he saw Josy.

  He blinked.

  He blinked again.

  And then he squeaked.

  “Hi,” Josy said, sounding rather breathless.

  “Um,” Quincy said. “Hi? And also, what?”

  “Oh my,” Roger said. “There it is. Dee, you absolute minx. How I treasure you.”

  Quincy continued to stare at Josy, who fidgeted. He wasn’t sure what was cool here, if he should shake his hand or, hopefully, go in for an apology hug. He did neither and instead said, “I’m here to audition for the part in your movie. Congrats on that, by the way. I didn’t know you were an author and a screenwriter.” He paused, considering. “And a director. That’s, like, so rad. Good job.” Now or never. “Also, I wanted to apolo—”

  And that’s when he saw the person behind Quincy.

  His blood boiled. Fiery rage consumed him.

  But since he was good at what he did, he said, “Hello, Mason. It’s nice to see you again. I didn’t expect you to be here.”

  Mason Grazer stood behind Quincy, a blank expression on his handsome face. Mason Grazer, one of the three people Josy hated. He was blandly handsome in a way that suggested he’d been xeroxed from someone unique and had ended up slightly faded. He looked like any one of the interchangeable models on an Abercrombie & Fitch bag. Short sandy-blond hair with bright green eyes and muscles that seemed ridiculously fake. When he smiled, people swooned. Josy was not one of those people.

  Add in the fact that he was standing so close to Quincy it made Josy’s stomach twist in ways he didn’t understand. Josy knew violence was wrong and should be avoided at all costs, but if an eagle swooped in through a window and sank its talons into Mason’s face, Josy would feel absurdly patriotic and do very little to help.

  “Josiah,” Mason said, and for whatever reason, he’d decided today he wanted to sound British, even though he was from Seattle. “How delightful. How positively droll.”

  “You two know each other?” Quincy asked, sounding flustered.

  “Hollywood is such a small town,” Mason said, patting Quincy on the shoulder. “Of course we do. Josiah and I have auditioned for the same roles before.” He smiled sympathetically at Josy. “He always tries his best. It certainly is a… quality he has. Tell me, Josiah, how are the residuals for genital herpes? Good, I hope.”

  “I don’t have herpes,” Josy said, just to be clear. “It was a commercial I did.”

  “He was really very good in it,” Roger said. “I certainly believed that the herpes didn’t get in the way of his game.”

  Josy looked back at Roger. “You know my work?”

  Roger winked at him. “I googled you. You played a very good corpse on that television show. Maybe even the best I’ve ever seen.”

  “Thank you,” Josy said. “I worked really hard on that.”

  “You’re here to audition for my movie,” Quincy said faintly.

  Josy turned back to him, suddenly worried. “I hope that’s okay. I just—I thought you knew I was going to be here. I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

  Quincy stared at him for a moment longer before shaking his head. “No. It’s—it’s fine.” His smile looked forced. “I’m sure Grandad and Dee will explain it all to me later.”

  “We look forward to it,” Roger said. “Isn’t that right, Dee?”

  “Sure,” Dee said easily.

  “Now, if you don’t mind,” Roger said, “I’d like to see what Josy can do. Shall we proceed?”

  Showtime.

  JOSY STOOD in the center of the room. Mason, as it turned out, had already been cast in the movie and would be his scene partner. Dee had a camera set up on a tripod, pointed at both of them. Before they could begin, Roger had Josy sign a nondisclosure agreement, telling him that the plot details for the movie were being kept under wraps and anything he heard in the room today must be kept secret. “If you blab, I’ll sue you,” Roger said cheerfully. “Please don’t make me do that. My attorney would chew you up and spit you out.”

  Since Josy didn’t want that to happen, he agreed.

  Once he did sign, he was sure he’d get to hear more about the project itself, but apparently Roger had other ideas. He leaned forward from his wheelchair, resting his chin on his hands as he watched them avidly. Quincy sat beside him, staring down at the laptop. Dee fiddled with the camera before she gave them a thumbs-up.

  Mason had taken a copy of the script from a bag near the table. Josy closed his eyes for a moment and reminded himself that he was capable, he was likable, and dammit, he could do this.

  “Forgot your script?” Mason asked. “Figures. I suppose we’ll have to get you a copy—”

  “I’m ready,” Josy snapped.

  When he opened his eyes again, Josiah Erickson was gone. All that remained was Liam.

  He was so method that if he were a superhero, people would call him Method Man.

  Wait. No. That wasn’t right. That was a rapper.

  “You may begin any time,” Roger said.

  Mason rolled his eyes, looking down at the script. He scanned the page for a few seconds before looking back up at Josy. For everything that Josy disliked about him, Mason was certainly adequate. He’d beaten Josy out for more roles than not, so he had to have something that Josy just couldn’t see as well as others.

  He nodded at Josy.

  At Liam.

  Liam’s gaze slid unfocused as his shoulders slumped. “Dante,” he said, putting the weight of all the wrongs in the world in his voice. “What are you doing here?”

  “I had to see you,” Dante said softly.

  “I told you I wasn’t ready.”

  Dante looked frustrated. Damn him for pulling it off. “I know, but it’s—you can’t keep going on like this, Liam. You’re going to kill yourself.”

  Liam scoffed. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You have no idea what—”

  “I do,” Dante growled. “I know you try and keep all this shit from me, but I do. You forget. I know you. Maybe better than anyone else.” He shook his head. “Or at least I did. I know your father is sick, Liam. And I know how much you love him. But what he’s asking you to do… it’s madness. You have to know that. He’s lost his mind.”

  “You don’t get to speak about him that way!” Liam shouted. “He’s—oh god, he’s dying. I’m going to give him whatever he wants while I still can. I haven’t been the best son. I know that. So I need to do what I can while I still can.” He looked away. A perfect tear slid down his cheek. His voice cracked when he said, “I need to do this.” Granted, he didn’t know what he was supposed to be doing, but that didn’t matter. He was nailing this. He heard Roger sniffle, and he almost broke character to dance, but somehow he kept it together. He was supposed to be sad, goddammit.

  “I’m not trying to….” Dante sighed. “They’re just stories. That’s all.”

  “Maybe,” Liam said. “But my father believes them. And that’s all that matters. I love you, Dante, but I have to do this.”

  Dante smiled sadly at him. “I know you do.”

  Now to go for broke. He stepped toward Dante and reached up to touch the side of his face. Dante looked surprised but covered it up well. “I’ll come back.” He leaned forward and kissed Dante’s cheek. “I won’t ask you to wait for me, but—”

  Dante captured Liam’s hand in his, turning his head to kiss his palm. “I know. Just… be safe.”

  And scene.

 
Liam fled deep within Josy as he took a step back. He reached up and wiped his face.

  He turned to look at the others.

  Dee gave him a thumbs-up, a big grin on her face.

  Roger blew his nose into an embroidered kerchief.

  Quincy was typing furiously on his laptop.

  “Bravo!” Roger cried, dropping the kerchief on the table and clapping his gnarled hands. “Oh! That was wonderful. Dear boy, you are marvelous.”

  Dee coughed.

  Roger rolled his eyes. “I mean, thank you for that. We appreciate your time today. We’ll let you know. Please don’t get your expectations up.” He leaned forward and whispered, “Get them way up.”

  “That bit at the end,” Quincy said, looking up from his laptop. “What was that?”

  “Exactly,” Mason said, glaring at Josy. “That wasn’t in the script.”

  “I know,” Josy said nervously. “But I thought… I mean, they have this history, right? The way the scene ended didn’t… I didn’t feel it. There needed to be more of a connection. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to go off script. Okay, that was a lie. I kind of did mean it.”

  Quincy shook his head. “No, it was fine. It was actually better.” He continued typing on the laptop before he sighed and closed it. “I’ll… look. I’m….” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m trying to make something different here, okay? And honestly, I have no idea what I’m doing.”

  “He doesn’t,” Roger agreed. “But I have faith in him. Also, I happen to have people at my beck and call who do know what they’re doing.”

  Quincy smiled at his grandfather before looking back at Josy. “When you think of queer films, what do you think of?”

  “Cheap-looking,” Josy answered honestly. “Especially if the queer characters are front and center. It’s not fair, but the budget just isn’t usually there. Or if it is, we’re in the background. Or the sassy sidekick. And if we are the main characters and there’s a good budget, it’s because the queer character is going to get sick. Or die. Or end up alone. We’re stereotyped or tragic or sometimes both.”

  “Exactly,” Quincy said, his hands in fists on the table. He looked fired up. Josy liked it. “And I hate that. Why can’t we be happy just like everyone else? Why do the Oscar-bait movies with queer people always end up as tragedies? I’m sick and tired of not having happy endings for us, and I want it to change. But since no one else is doing it, I figured I would try.” He blanched. “Not that I think I’m making a better movie than anyone else. That’s not what I mean. I wouldn’t presume—”

  “Wow,” Josy said in awe. “That’s so amazing. You’re so cool. Like, maybe even the coolest.”

  Quincy flushed. “That’s not—I’m not—” He groaned and covered his face. “You don’t have to say that. But thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” Josy said. “Thank you for letting me audition. Even if I don’t get the part, I hope you get to make your happy gay movie.”

  “It’s a fantasy,” Quincy blurted as he dropped his hands.

  “But even fantasies can become realities if you believe in them hard enough,” Josy said sagely.

  “What? No. The movie itself. It’s a fantasy. Sort of. I wrote it because I wanted to see queer characters go on journeys that didn’t end in death or putting their own wants or needs in the background. So there’s this guy, okay? Liam. His dad is sick. He’s going to die. But he has stories he wants to tell his son. About his youth. About this land he used to go to, this weird, fantastical land.”

  “It’s like Narnia,” Roger said gleefully. “Except instead of going in the closet to find it, he’s bursting out of one.”

  Quincy rolled his eyes. “His dad is… not a nice person. At least he didn’t used to be, but he’s facing the end, and he’s summoned his son for the last time. Liam thinks he wants to listen, but there’s a lot of bad history there. And it’s caused a lot of friction between him and Dante, his ex-boyfriend.”

  “Which is me,” Mason said. “Because I’ve already been cast.”

  “Congratulations,” Josy said, because even though Mason was a jerk, he still was in a movie that Josy was not.

  Yet.

  “And I’ll be honest,” Quincy said, “Dante is the showier role. Even though Liam is the lead, Mason is going to play a bunch of different characters that Liam comes across when he actually goes to his father’s fantasyland. Creatures that only exist in his father’s mind, though the line will blur so the audience starts to believe it’s real.” Quincy tapped his fingers on the table. He always seemed to be moving. “Because they do have this great love, and Dante will become part of the fantasy that Liam follows in his father’s stories.”

  “Whoever gets cast as Liam will have to make out with Mason a lot,” Roger said. “Especially when he’s in creature makeup.”

  “Monster porn,” Josy breathed. “You’re making monster porn.”

  Quincy groaned. “It’s not… it’s not porn. I mean, sure, yeah, I write it as Q-Bert, but this—this isn’t that, though it is an extension of it. This is serious. It’s supposed to be mystical. It’s supposed to be pure.”

  Roger scoffed. “Please. Like it’s going to stay that way once the Tumblr people get their hands on it. I guarantee that whatever is pure and innocent in the world, someone has drawn graphic porn of it and posted it online. You of all people should know this. I’ve seen some of the fan art.”

  “Grandad!”

  “What? You know it’s true. Dee, tell him!”

  “It’s true,” Dee said, fiddling with her camera.

  “Whatever,” Quincy muttered. Then, “Liam goes on this journey which brings him closer to his father and reminds him of what he left behind. Yes, his father passes, but not before you see the love they have for each other. And Liam gets his happy ending with Dante. It starts off angsty, but it turns into a celebration of life.”

  “Wow,” Josy said, suitably impressed. “So, you essentially want to make gay Big Fish.”

  Quincy squinted at him. “What?”

  “The Tim Burton movie? With Ewan McGregor? Sick, estranged dad tells him stories about his travels in a fantastical world and sees odd things. Son learns to love himself and his father. It’s based on a book.”

  “No,” Quincy said. “Not gay Big Fish. This is… different.”

  “Sure,” Josy said easily. “Because of the monster porn. I get it. It sounds deep. Like, feelings and stuff.”

  Quincy made a strangled noise. “It’s—it’s nothing like Big Fish! Because the big twist in the film is that all of these monsters he finds are actually Liam’s imaginary friends he had when he was younger! And they turn out to be real.”

  “They do?” Roger asked, squinting at his grandson. “I don’t remember that part.”

  “Well, you wouldn’t. Because I’m going to add that part.”

  “Ah,” Roger said. “Rewrites. Got it.”

  “It’s not gay Big Fish!”

  “I believe you,” Josy said. “It’s going to be amazing. You wrote it, after all.”

  “Aw,” Roger said. “That was sweet.”

  Quincy looked flustered. He was staring down at his twitching fingers. “I just want there to be happy gays. I’m tired of feeling like we exist only to prop up other people or to end in heartbreak.”

  Josy understood this. He really did. Maybe not completely, but he had a firm grasp on it. He knew the world that existed outside of Los Angeles. He’d lived in it once. He was queer. He had queer friends. They didn’t get shit for it where they lived. Sure, maybe sometimes they got side-eyed every now and then when he held Xander’s or Serge’s hand, but it was rare.

  But that wasn’t how the world always worked outside of his little bubble. And to make it worse, it didn’t necessarily exist in Hollywood. He was told early on that in order to be taken seriously, he needed to keep his sexuality on the down low. “You won’t get the roles you want if they find out you’re a homo,” an oily producer had told him once.
“Especially if you audition for a straight character. What’s the point of having a queer play straight when it’s just as easy to go hetero?” Of course, the producer had then propositioned Josy in the next booze-soaked breath. Josy had politely refused. He’d been a cater waiter at a party, his ass slapped at least once for every circle he made around the room, tray in hand piled high with hors d’oeuvres. He’d briefly thought about arguing that if it was so important for straights to play straights, then why did so many straight actors get to play queer or trans characters when there were already people who lived that life better suited for the part?

  He hadn’t, of course. He’d learned rather quickly that no one cared about the opinions of a cater waiter trying to catch his big break. He was one of thousands in the same position.

  Besides. He’d never hidden who he was once he’d figured it out. He wasn’t about to start now. Not for anyone. So if that meant he got passed over for a role after a producer had scoped out his Instagram or asked if he’d ever sucked cock?

  So be it.

  He understood what Quincy was saying.

  And he really hoped he could be part of it.

  “I think it’ll be good,” Josy said honestly. “I mean, I had imaginary friends when I was a kid.”

  “Me too,” Quincy whispered as he looked away.

  “I hope this turns out to be everything you want.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Well, Josiah,” Roger said, clapping his hands. “It has been a delight. We’ll be in touch. And by that, I mean if you would step outside so we can talk about you without you listening in.”

  “Um. Okay? Like, outside the house, or….”

  “Outside the room would be just fine. Don’t make me chase after you. You’d be surprised how fast this chair can go.” He pulled out what looked to be a small walkie-talkie. It beeped as he pressed the button on the side. “Miranda? If you don’t mind, please keep Josiah company for a moment.”