“I agree,” Lydia said. “I think we’ve found our Comicon outfit.”
After enduring weeks of preparation, hours at the gym, media trainers, publicists, all those stylists (hair and wardrobe), and of course, Lydia, Nikhil was finally at Comicon. It was all down to this moment—when the casting for the most coveted action role of the year would be announced, and fans would either be thrilled or disgusted.
Nikhil was nervous. Actually, that was a gross understatement. He was alone in a private dressing room behind an auditorium filled with Ironis superfans, with his pounding head in his shaking hands, wondering if the bank would take his parents’ house if he ran out the back door.
Well, he wasn’t actually alone. Lydia and two people from the studio were right outside his door. Probably there to make sure hedidn’trun after all the work they’d put into their make-a-celebrity project. He was wearing the outfit Marley had picked for him, so it kind of felt like she was here, too. He ran his fingers over the smooth silk of the scarf. He hoped he’d draped it properly.
It had been a week since that meeting in the personal shopping suite when she’d surprised them all by choosing a green suit for him. They’d picked a few other outfits after that, but this was still his favorite.
He assumed he’d see more of Marley after that, but he hadn’t. He’d gone back to Reid’s once more—after the tailor finished the alterations—but Marley hadn’t been there. Just that surly guy, Ernesto, and Fernando the tailor. Who didn’t seem to appreciate Nikhil humming the opening bar to his namesake ABBA song while he checked to see if the waist of the green pants fit.
But it was fine. Marley had done what she was hired to do. Nikhil didn’t have regrets for insisting the studio hire her—he’d wanted Marley to pick out his clothes because he’d hoped she’d help him retain a little bit of himself. And Marley had succeeded there. He was more comfortable in these clothes than in anything those other stylists had picked for him.
But he couldn’t deny that seeing her again—seeing that she was as perfect as he remembered, maybe even more—brought back feelings that were a little inconvenient right now. Feelings of regret for how things had ended between them in the past, and a realization that he was just as besotted with Mahreen Kamal as ever.
The door to his dressing room opened. “Hey, hot stuff,” said a voice behind him.
“Esther.” Nikhil grinned widely and turned to face his agent. “I had no idea you’d be here.”
Esther put one hand on her hip. “What, and miss thebiggestannouncement for mybiggeststar in hisbiggestrole?”
Esther Brownstein had been his agent for five years and was one of Nikhil’s favorite people in the industry. Though a few years younger than he was, she talked like a stereotypical 1950s old Hollywood agent, thanks to having grown up in the business. She worked at her dad’s agency and had no shortage of up-and-coming superstars in her client roster.
Nikhil leaned way down to kiss her on both cheeks.
“Darling,” Esther said, squeezing his biceps, “we need to have a tête-à-tête before the big event. I’ve locked the door. Just had a call from LA: you’re going on a press tour before shooting.”
Nikhil frowned. “What? Why? More than the junket tomorrow?”
“Yeah. They did some market testing and are worried. So I said, ‘Get him onDrew! OnJimmy! Hell, send him overseas toGraham.’” She reached up and pinched his cheek. Someone had shaved him a few days ago, so the beard he’d had for two years was now gone. “Let them see that this face is cuter than any Ryan or Chris.”
“Wait—yousuggested the press tour?”
Esther nodded, then glanced at the door. “I’ll lay it straight, kiddo. I don’t like that they’re announcing this with such fanfare before the movie even shoots. I think they’re using this event to see what they can get away with, if you know what I mean.”
What she meant was the studio wanted to see if the racist fanboys would be on board with a Brown Bronze Shadow before it was too late to recast the role.
“You think they’ll fire me before we even shoot?”
She shrugged. “Scripts can still change, and they can edit your role to practically nothing if they decide it’s not worth irritating their fan base. Which, fine. You and I still get paid. But… we want sequel money. We wantmerchandising.”
Nikhil had no idea if he wanted a sequel. Or action figures. The money he was making from this one role was more than enough to pay off his parents’ debts. “I’m not sure if I want more than the one film, though.”
Esther put her hands on his arms again. “In this industry, you’re only as good as your last title.” She let go of him and sighed. “Maybe you don’twantto be anaction hero, but you do want to work, right? Any role will be hard to come by if this one goes south. Especially with your…” She waved her hand at his face. Esther didn’t have to say it. He knew she meant especially with him being nonwhite. “You don’t want to be living in your parents’ basement forever, right?”
“I’m onlytemporarilyliving in my parents’ basement,” hesaid. He still had his LA apartment—sublet while he was in Toronto. Before this role, he could only afford that apartment because of his collection of side hustles. He really did not want to go back to driving for Uber or fertilizing lawns in LA.
“Do the press tour, gorgeous. I’ll work with them to get it as short as possible. Be charming. Make them fall in love with you like I did. The fans are going to eat up those pearly whites, and I’ll have a contract on my desk for a standalone Bronze Shadow origin movie before this one’s out. You wait and see.”
Nikhil exhaled. It didn’t sound like he had much of a choice. “Okay. Fine. But there are only six weeks until shooting, and I’m in training and rehearsals nine to five every day.”
“Yep! That’s why we’re pushing for a short trip. Stay tuned. The cogs are turning.”
Nikhil’s phone rang then. He looked at the screen. It was an unknown number.
Esther patted his arm. “We’ll catch up after the event. I’ll be right here cheering you on. Knock ’em dead, hot stuff. They are going toadoreyou!”
Nikhil reluctantly accepted the call the moment Esther left the dressing room.
