A/N: On P-a-t-r-e-o-n there are chapters ahead right now!
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There were fewer people around the pool, and the usual routine of producers coming up to me had stopped once I was with Jennifer.
Yes, objectively, I was a standout actor, but much of my work had not yet been released, and Looper was minuscule compared to The Hunger Games.
Anyone with a brain would realize that the series was going to become a multi-billion-dollar franchise, which made its lead actress almost untouchable to low-level industry insiders.
There were a few polite nods toward Jennifer from passing guests. She looked over at me and said, "Where are you from?"
"New York."
"Yeah, you don't seem like you're from here."
I smirked. "What makes it obvious?"
"Everything looks new. But you seem kinda used to it, somehow, but only by a bit."
I brushed my hair up. "You should play a psychic."
She sat down on a stone bench on the patio nearby, far from the rest of the crowd. "How much do you think it will pay?"
"Less than The Hunger Games, I mean, that's a given."
"Who would be the director?" she asked.
"I don't know. Christopher Nolan."
"Oh, better than the last director I worked with. He was such an asshole."
"Who?"
"David O. Russell. Kept yelling at the crew on set." She mimicked an abrasive, barking accent: "That was a shit take, Jennifer; Bryan, I don't want to hear your fucking breath."
I smiled. "I just heard recently the story where the director of Casablanca, Michael Curtiz, when he was making Noah's Ark, the crew built a giant temple that was to be flooded by a giant reservoir with two million gallons of water."
She looked engaged, so I continued, "And when the AD said, 'What about the extras?' he responded with, 'They can look after themselves.' Dozens of extras were swept off set, and three people died by drowning."
"Damn, nevermind, I take back what I said."
We both laughed. I looked up toward the night sky; it was dark and clear, though only a handful of stars had survived the glare of the party lights.
"What was the press like for Hunger Games? I can't imagine."
"Lionsgate wants me to do four movies in a row, and then in between promote each movie. During one of the scenes, my ear popped and I didn't go to the doctor. Boo-hoo."
"Hmm. Are you fine now?" I leaned in closer as she swept her hair back to reveal her ear.
She pointed to the canal. "I mean, I am kinda deaf on this side, so—"
"But now, you can block out when a director says you're a shitty actor."
She laughed. "Do you think you will direct one day?"
I hesitated for a moment. "I don't know. I like writing more. I don't think I have the patience for directing. Writing is a beautiful thing. With a simple three-act structure, I can tell the life of someone similar to me but express it to the audience in a much more entertaining and impactful way. I mean, a director is like a conductor in an orchestra, but I think it's much more interesting to be the music and go whatever way I want to go."
She went quiet for a second. "Sounds like you are working on something right now."
I glanced over at the other guests; the ambient chatter seemed to drop away. "Umm. Yeah, this project. It sounds cliche when I tell it, but Will isn't going to become some high-level government official or a tech executive, but he rejects it all. He drives to California for a girl."
She repeated the last phrase under her breath and began to scrape her fingernails together.
"You should never chase someone. I mean, what do I know? But what do you want the film to do? From what you told me"—she giggled—"Will sounds like a stalker."
I chuckled along with her. "I don't want to picture Will as this sort of hero. He's not. I don't want the audience to get the feeling of wasted talent; every movie in that genre does that. Instead, I want the viewer to live a life that brings you fulfillment rather than the awards."
"So when you win the Oscar, do you think you led the wrong life?" She tilted her head up.
For the first time, I caught her full face under the moonlight. The smoky eye makeup made her blue eyes stand out, making her seem part of a world I hadn't quite entered yet.
She possessed an effortless charm. Behind those eyes, she had probably met dozens of ambitious young actors just like me, yet she was still sitting here, willing to talk.
"Who says I'm going to win?" My voice rose slightly. "You're going to win it."
She shrugged her shoulders. "I saw Looper because it was the talk of the town. To be honest with you, I didn't like it."
I grinned, and she pressed on: "The first half of the movie is this thrilling, exciting part, and the other half is this drama on a farm with some romance."
I threw my hands up defensively. "I hated Hunger Games too." I leaned hard into my native New York accent: "Jennifer, that was a shit take."
She broke into a loud, unguarded laugh that turned heads near the pool.
I smiled. "We both have shitty movies."
After a beat, she narrowed her eyes playfully.
"I'm going to watch your next movie and go on Rotten Tomatoes and—"
I held up both palms. "No, not Rotten Tomatoes, anything but—"
"I am going to write down that: I met the actor Ryan, and he was making fun of my movie because he had some success even though he can't act at all."
I pressed my hands together in mock prayer.
"Don't."
She crossed her arms. "What do you have?"
I paused, dropping the smile and returning to a steady, neutral expression as I studied her. "I have this role, Skylar. You get asked this a million times, but it will only take four days of your time. Skylar is the reason that Will changes. She's the most important part. And you would be perfect for it."
She didn't answer right away. Her gaze drifted toward the sky, leaving the silence hanging long enough that I felt the urge to jump back in: "You know it—"
"I am interested. I mean, I would need to see my schedule. And you seem to have a clear vision. Just don't end me with two million gallons of water."
"If you post that Rotten Tomatoes review, then I will."
She smirked. "Okay, then I won't. Do you want to get a drink?"
She rose from the stone bench and started walking toward the patio crowd. I fell into step beside her, acutely aware of the lingering stares from industry guests watching the two of us cross the deck together.
"How do you deal with all of this fame?" I asked under my breath.
"We are the same age, right?" she asked.
"Yeah."
"I am figuring it out too. When the movie premiered, I woke up to 25 paps parked outside my house. I thought the FBI was outside to take away my drugs. " she laughed. She shook her head faintly. "I don't know how people do it? And I am no Meryl Streep either."
I shrugged one shoulder. "The pay makes it worth it."
"Yep."
We drifted inside, escaping into a crowded, humid living room that felt like a sauna at full tilt. Across the floor, Zach was buzzing from cluster to cluster, thanking everyone for turning out. At the far end of the room, the bartender was beginning his final run down the counter before last call, assembling a French 75 for a Sony executive who had been nursing the same watered-down Negroni for two hours.
Catching sight of Jennifer, the bartender slid straight past three producers waiting at the rail and nodded toward her.
"I can wait," she told him. She turned back to me, leaning her elbow against the wood. "So tell me more about this Skylar role," she asked.
"Umm."
Behind us, the bartender slammed down a row of pickleback shots for a noisy trio in line.
"We meet Skylar at a Harvard bar when Will decimates this guy named Clark in a battle of wits."
"You're not that smart," she said.
I gave a dry smile. "Will goes to hang with his friends until Skylar walks right up to him and says: 'You're an idiot. I have been sitting over there for forty-five minutes waiting for you to come and talk to me, but I'm tired now and I have to go home.'"
Her mouth quirked upward. "Okay."
"She's smart, charming, and not at all shy. But she comes from a better educational background than Will and says, 'In the end, my brain is going to be worth two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.' But she's not afraid to match Will's friend's dirty jokes."
The heat and alcohol were going straight to my head, blurring the room around us.
"She gives Will an ultimatum by saying she loves him, and if she doesn't hear back, she would leave. Will says, 'I don't love you.' She's devastated but moves on to California. And then Will changes his mind through a therapist."
To my surprise, Jennifer listened with genuine curiosity as I ran through the pitch.
"This therapist role sounds more interesting."
She smirked. "I would love to see who plays it."
"Yeah, he's kinda the core of the film. He is a kind of a foil for Will, showing the audience what it looks like to experience things instead of just reading about them, like Will does."
The bartender returned with two flutes of champagne. Jennifer took them both, handing one over to me with a clink of glass.
"Send the script as soon as you can."
I nodded. From there, the conversation drifted comfortably through the rest of the night—directorial visions, visual influences, and the impending holiday release of Call Me by Your Name.
By the time we exchanged numbers and I finally stepped out into the crisp midnight air, the city felt different. It felt like I was standing on the threshold of a wider world, somewhere I could finally breathe.
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