because the character is known to charm everyone he meets, except for his father and the girl he sets his hopes upon.
In short, I want Devon Maddox, and all I have to do is convince the studio he’s perfect for the project. I’ve already set a precedent of lowering my standards and integrity by directing this low-budget, cheesy teen romance, Tortured Desires, in order to acquire the right to direct Call Me Out , so I’ll do what it takes to have my pick of actors.
There is just something about Devon that intrigues me. He isn’t like the others in this movie. He doesn’t whoop and holler in between takes or talk about the results of the last NFL game. Devon is quiet and reserved. Along with the script curled in his back pocket, he carries books around the set with him. I once overheard him trying to strike up a conversation with the gaffer about Taoism and the implications and limitations of daily practice in modern day society. The conversation didn’t go far. I should’ve jumped in, but one of the other actors distracted me. He reads, but every once in a while when I glance over at him, I see him observing everyone around him; studying them. It’s the smart thing to do as an actor, since the world is filled with inspiration.
Just as I’m about to round everyone up after the lunch break, Julie comes over with my cell. “Oliver wants to talk to you.”
I give her a look, and she shifts uncomfortably and glances away. I love having Julie around, but sometimes she makes decisions based on what she wants instead of what I want. Take my ex, Oliver, for example. Julie likes him, always has, so whenever he calls, his smooth, practiced voice convinces her to give the cell to me.
Julie holds the cell out, and I know she gets the message loud and clear.
Don’t do that again. The way she averts her eyes is enough to tell me she knows I don’t approve of her deciding to take the call instead allowing me to decide. But just because she knows what I would say, doesn’t mean she won’t let it happen again.
With a sigh, I take the cell and hold it to my ear. “Hey, Oliver. How are you?”
“Cole, it’s good to hear your voice.”
God, I love his rich tones . They wash over me like silk and satin. I say nothing back because he hasn’t answered my question, and I know his tricks.
“I’m in Boston, actually, and thought maybe we could meet.”
My heart thumps in my chest, and it takes a moment for me to wrestle the instant emotions forcing their way out of the deep, dank dungeons of my metaphorical heart. I’m keenly aware that I’m still in front of the entire cast.
With a glance around at the table, I can see that no one is looking directly at me, but I’m not stupid enough to think they’re not paying attention to everything. People always care about the most insignificant things when it comes to me.
Julie is between Devon and Anita now, and has an ear turned toward me as she pretends to care about her fingernails.
I get up and walk between crew members and equipment until I’m near my trailer.
“Cole?” Oliver asks when I don’t reply.
“I’m not sure what to say. I mean, it’s not like our meetings ever work out, and what is there to talk about?”
“A new film I’m producing. I need someone else to help me with it. I’ll tell you more at dinner, but you’re the only person I want producing it with me.”
“I’m not sure I have time to—”
“We’d star in it as well. It’s about Russia in the Boxer Rebellion.”
“Because I look like a Russian, right?”
“You know that doesn’t matter.”
“So you’ll be a Russian soldier and my bit role will be either your wife, or the mistress who sends you off to war? Or am I held captive, waiting for you to rescue—”
He laughs. “I wouldn’t dream of asking you to be in a movie like that. I know how you despise the traditional female role. Frankly, I’m hurt you seem to think I’d even take on such a clichéd
In short, I want Devon Maddox, and all I have to do is convince the studio he’s perfect for the project. I’ve already set a precedent of lowering my standards and integrity by directing this low-budget, cheesy teen romance, Tortured Desires, in order to acquire the right to direct Call Me Out , so I’ll do what it takes to have my pick of actors.
There is just something about Devon that intrigues me. He isn’t like the others in this movie. He doesn’t whoop and holler in between takes or talk about the results of the last NFL game. Devon is quiet and reserved. Along with the script curled in his back pocket, he carries books around the set with him. I once overheard him trying to strike up a conversation with the gaffer about Taoism and the implications and limitations of daily practice in modern day society. The conversation didn’t go far. I should’ve jumped in, but one of the other actors distracted me. He reads, but every once in a while when I glance over at him, I see him observing everyone around him; studying them. It’s the smart thing to do as an actor, since the world is filled with inspiration.
Just as I’m about to round everyone up after the lunch break, Julie comes over with my cell. “Oliver wants to talk to you.”
I give her a look, and she shifts uncomfortably and glances away. I love having Julie around, but sometimes she makes decisions based on what she wants instead of what I want. Take my ex, Oliver, for example. Julie likes him, always has, so whenever he calls, his smooth, practiced voice convinces her to give the cell to me.
Julie holds the cell out, and I know she gets the message loud and clear.
Don’t do that again. The way she averts her eyes is enough to tell me she knows I don’t approve of her deciding to take the call instead allowing me to decide. But just because she knows what I would say, doesn’t mean she won’t let it happen again.
With a sigh, I take the cell and hold it to my ear. “Hey, Oliver. How are you?”
“Cole, it’s good to hear your voice.”
God, I love his rich tones . They wash over me like silk and satin. I say nothing back because he hasn’t answered my question, and I know his tricks.
“I’m in Boston, actually, and thought maybe we could meet.”
My heart thumps in my chest, and it takes a moment for me to wrestle the instant emotions forcing their way out of the deep, dank dungeons of my metaphorical heart. I’m keenly aware that I’m still in front of the entire cast.
With a glance around at the table, I can see that no one is looking directly at me, but I’m not stupid enough to think they’re not paying attention to everything. People always care about the most insignificant things when it comes to me.
Julie is between Devon and Anita now, and has an ear turned toward me as she pretends to care about her fingernails.
I get up and walk between crew members and equipment until I’m near my trailer.
“Cole?” Oliver asks when I don’t reply.
“I’m not sure what to say. I mean, it’s not like our meetings ever work out, and what is there to talk about?”
“A new film I’m producing. I need someone else to help me with it. I’ll tell you more at dinner, but you’re the only person I want producing it with me.”
“I’m not sure I have time to—”
“We’d star in it as well. It’s about Russia in the Boxer Rebellion.”
“Because I look like a Russian, right?”
“You know that doesn’t matter.”
“So you’ll be a Russian soldier and my bit role will be either your wife, or the mistress who sends you off to war? Or am I held captive, waiting for you to rescue—”
He laughs. “I wouldn’t dream of asking you to be in a movie like that. I know how you despise the traditional female role. Frankly, I’m hurt you seem to think I’d even take on such a clichéd
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