Page 86 of If the World Was Ending

Lorne Adams blinked as if Hunter was confused. “Why would you audition?”

“That’s the process.” Hunter fought a blush because he was being an idiot.

“They already know they want you, Hunter.” Lorne smiled like Hunter was an adorably confused child. “So do a lot of other people, so if you don’t want this role, we can find you something else easily. This one is the most high-profile, with the most money.”

Hunter stared at the script he’d been up late last night reading. It was a co-starring role in a new superhero franchise that also starred two top-tier, super-famous New Zealand-born acting brothers. He fingered the edges of the pages, ignoring the mouthwatering Cobb salad also in front of him. “How much?”

It wasn’t about the money because Hunter knew whatever they offered would be more than okay. Eighteen months ago, he was bartending at Range for fuck’s sake. Lorne smiled. “Well, they started at one-five, but I countered, and they caved immediately, so we’re looking at two-five now.”

Two-five? Hunter wasn’t entirely sure what that meant. It must be twenty-five thousand. Or maybe two hundred and fifty. He knew from reading Variety and Deadline that Oli Byrne made about three million on his last picture, and the older Jack Byrne made four on his. But surely they wouldn’t give Hunter nearly that much. He’d only been in Platonic Planet and Staycation, which only hit theaters last week and wasn’t doing great, although people loved his performance. Hunter reached for his water glass.

“I know two and a half million is less than the Byrnes, but they signed on early. Still, I think—” Lorne stopped because Hunter began choking on his water. “You all right?”

Hunter tried not to pray that the floor in the fancy Wolf Gang Puck restaurant would open up and swallow him because that would mean he’d never see that ridiculous sum of money. “Sorry. Wrong pipe. I’m fine with two point five… million.”

Lorne studied him as he sipped a dirty martini. Hunter wasn’t comfortable enough around Lorne yet to drink. He’d only been Hunter’s agent for a month. He didn’t want Lorne to think he wasn’t a serious actor, and drinking at a business lunch felt unserious to Hunter. Lorne put down his drink and smiled. “Margo told me you had confidence issues, but I didn’t realize it would be so charming. Hunter, this is just the beginning. If all goes to plan, you’ll be making ten million a film in five years.”

Hunter’s whole body started to tingle, so he took another gulp of water and picked up his fork. Food would help ground him. Lorne had been one of the many business cards shoved in his pocket at the premiere of Platonic Planet, and he was the only one who didn’t try to shit-talk Margo. In fact, he’d praised her when Hunter had agreed to a meeting. Margo had taken the news of his departure with a smile and an “I told you so.” She’d told him to keep in touch, but he hadn’t, of course. He thought it would be weird.

“You talked to Margo?”

“Didn’t have a choice.” He chuckled as he cut his prime rib. “Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t blowing smoke up your ass when I said I liked and respected her. I do. But she cornered me when I was at Mickey Fine’s one morning, grabbing breakfast. She insisted on telling me what she thought you needed from me. And warned me she’d ruin me if I fucked you over.”

Hunter smiled. “She’s a good one.”

“She is, and she trusts me, and I hope you do too.” Lorne paused to chew and swallow his bite. “So, two-five with two percent on the back end? Yeah?”

“Yeah. I liked the script. It was edgier than most superhero stuff without being depressing, and it was uplifting without being cheesy.” Hunter took a bite of his salad. “I’m in.”

After lunch, they walked through the lobby of the Beverly Wilshire together. Hunter thanked the doorman as they stepped out into the drive, which sliced its way between the two hotel towers that made up the property. They both handed the valet their tickets. Lorne’s car was brought up first. He slapped Hunter’s shoulder and shoved on his sunglasses. “Congrats, Hunter.”

“Thanks. Seriously. For everything.”

Lorne got into his car, and Hunter waited for his, which was probably buried somewhere in the bowels of their underground. A dented old Kia didn’t usually get prime parking from the valets in Beverly Hills. He could get a new car now. He had to, really. Although Margo had once told him Brad Pitt drove a minivan around town because no one expected to see Brad Pitt driving a 1991 Dodge Caravan. Maybe the Kia was a perfect decoy. He really did get stopped everywhere since Platonic Planet debuted at number one and still sat there, six months later. It was a record never seen before.

He put on his sunglasses, realizing that he was probably going to be noticed now as he waited for his car, and pulled out his phone. There was a text from his mom. She wrote in all caps, which was common nowadays because she was constantly excited about his life, about seeing an interview of his on a Canadian national entertainment news show. He smiled. She was so excited for him—and she seemed so proud, and that was the best part of this whole thing.

Mom

HOW WAS THE MEETING? DYING TO KNOW!

I’m going to film another movie. I’ll tell you more later. How are you feeling?

Mom

YAY! SO PROUD! GOOD MONEY? I’m fine. I look like a Chia Pet.

Hunter laughed under his breath. His mother’s hair has started growing back in now that the chemo was done, and she hated it.

You can still wear a wig until it’s longer if you’re uncomfortable.

Mom

it will grow FASTER if you tell me more about the NEW MOVIE!

Later. I have to drive home and get ready for an event tonight.

Mom