Authors: Lauren Rowe
“Okay, hang on. Don’t get too excited. It’s not nearly as much money as the TV show, since it’s a small role for scale plus ten and they only need you for a few weeks of shooting. This movie isn’t gonna make you a celebrity like the TV show—I mean, it might get you in the door of your next audition, introduce you to some well-connected people, which is always good, but this part alone isn’t gonna be a game-changer.”
“Holy fuck,” I say, standing up from my bed and pacing around my bedroom. “This is fantastic.”
“Yeah, if you didn’t get offered the TV show the same day, I’d probably be jumping up and down, popping champagne for you about the movie. But the TV show is a much better opportunity in the big picture—I’m positive I can get things going for you much faster if you’re the star of a reality show than a bit player with a couple lines in a
Magic Mike
rip-off.”
“But, still, the
Magic Mike
rip-off is a feature film, right? From a major studio? That’s pretty huge. And if I do a good job and make friends with everyone, and the casting director winds up really liking me, who knows what other movies they might think of putting me in at some point. Right?”
“Yeah, sure. Don’t get me wrong. It’s fantastic they want you, especially since you’ve got no prior experience. That speaks volumes about how much they believe in you. In fact, they already like you so much, they told me they’re planning to expand your role a bit from what’s in the original script. They’re gonna throw you a few more lines, make you more featured. They’re even gonna give you a name—you’d no longer be ‘Stripper Number Six.’” He laughs.
“Are you serious? I’ve got an actual
name
?” I blurt. “Awesome! What is it?”
“
Brad
.”
I laugh. “That’s most definitely a white-guy name.”
“Yeah, the casting director was laughing her ass off about it when she called me.”
“Wow, thanks, man,” I say. “I can’t wipe the smile off my face. Offers for a speaking part in a major Hollywood movie
and
a TV show on the same day. Holy fuck, I feel like I just got called up to the big leagues.”
“Slow down, high-speed. Don’t get too excited,” Adam says. “Unfortunately, you can’t have your cake and eat it, too. It’s gotta be one or the other—the TV show or the movie. The shooting schedules conflict.”
“Oh.” I pause for a long beat, considering the situation. “Would the movie require me to stop doing my Ball Peen Hammer videos?”
“No. Actually, it was the videos that tipped them in your favor,” Adam says. “They loved you in your auditions, of course—you charmed their pants off—but those Ball Peen Hammer videos convinced them you’re not just a dancing monkey. In fact, just ’cause you’re so pretty, they might even throw you on the press junket when the movie releases, depending how things go.” He laughs. “They called you a ‘marketing genius.’”
I laugh. “It’s not me who’s the genius,” I say. “It’s Maddy Behind the Camera. Remember Maddy from that night at Giselle’s? I introduced you right after I performed.”
“Oh, yeah. That’s right—your cheerleader, right?” He laughs. “Well, you definitely owe her one. Those videos helped you get both offers. But, like I say, it’s a moot point about the movie. It’s a great boost for your confidence to get the offer, and it tells me you’re a slam dunk in auditions, so that’s great, but like I say I recommend you take the reality show. Without a doubt, especially based on who you are, the TV show’s the perfect fit for you.”
I bristle. “Based on who I am? Who am I, in your view?”
“Ball Peen Hammer, baby,” he says brightly. “You’re not trying to be some kind of serious actor or anything. You’re just a ‘handsome and happy lad,’ livin’ it up. And this reality show will play to that. Think about how
Jersey Shore
launched those kids and made ’em household names. That’s what I’m gonna do for you. But that’s all down the line, once we’ve gotten things rolling. First things first, let’s call the producer and tell her you’re in and that you can’t wait, okay?”
“No. Like I said, I gotta think about it before I make my decision.”
Adam audibly sighs. “Fine. I’ll tell them you’re traveling today on a family emergency or something and I can’t reach you ’til Monday. That way they won’t think you’re pulling some sort of diva crap. But I gotta know by Monday, Keane, okay? Or else we’re gonna piss them off.”
I clench my jaw. “Tell them whatever you want. I’ll let you know as soon as I make up my mind.”
“Okay. Call me as soon as you can.”
“I will. Talk to you later.”
We hang up and I sit and stare blankly at the wall for a long minute, my mind racing. Ho-lee shit. I’ve got a huge decision to make here.
I definitely need some expert counsel from someone who knows me inside and out. Someone who won’t bullshit me, no matter what. Someone who loves me the most.
Chapter 53
Keane
Friday, 10:04 a.m.
“What’s wrong?” my mother blurts when she answers my call.
“Why do you think something’s wrong?” I ask.
“Because you’re calling me.”
“I just wanted to hear your voice.”
“Oh, thank God,” Mom says. “I thought you were calling me from the hospital or jail.” She breathes a sigh of relief. “So to what do I owe this rare pleasure, honey? You need money?”
“Nope. Just wanted to say hi.”
“Mmm hmm. Are you perhaps calling to charm me into making you a big pan of lasagna, my darling Keaney?”
“No, actually, I
wasn’t
, but if you’re offering, then hell yeah, dude, I’d totally mack the hell outta some Momma Lou lasagna.”
Mom giggles. “All right, honey. Just don’t tell the others. They always hate it when I coddle you.”
“You’re not
coddling
me, Momma Bear, you’re
mothering
me—and doing a mighty fine job of it, I must say.”
“Yeah, yeah. You can stop charming me now, Keaney—I’ve already said I’ll make you the lasagna.”
“Thanks, Mom-a-tron. You da best. But, hey, would you mind making me some chili instead of lasagna? I’ve got a big photo shoot next week so I’m laying off the carbs. Gotta make my abs pop; you know how it goes.”
“Yes, I do. It’s a constant battle for me to make sure my abs are popping.”
I laugh.
“So what’s the photo shoot, Keaney Baby?”
“Remember that modeling agency I told you guys about in our group text? They want me to shoot a bunch of different stuff for a portfolio so they can start booking modeling jobs and commercials for me.”
“Ooooh. That’s exciting. What kinds of modeling jobs?”
“Fitness stuff, mostly. Some fashion. They said I’m already in the running for a big Calvin Klein campaign even without having the portfolio, just based on some shots I posted on Instagram.”
“
Calvin Klein
? Omigosh. Is it an ad for jeans?”
I smile to myself, anticipating my mom’s reaction to what I’m about to say. “No, Mom. Underwear.”
“
Underwear
?” Mom blurts. “Oh, Keaney.” She sighs. “So you’re gonna make an entire
career
out of wearing nothing but your underwear?”
I laugh. “Apparently.”
“Oh, Keane. For goodness sake.” My mother’s words are scolding, but her tone tells me she’s smiling from ear to ear on the other end of the phone line. “Well, good luck with that. Speaking of you wearing nothing but your underwear,” Mom continues, her voice full of warmth, “are you still prancing around half naked for hordes of screaming women these days?”
“Yeah, but not as much. I’ve decided to try to make a go of the modeling and acting thing.”
“Oh, modeling
and
acting? I thought it was just modeling. That’s great, honey. I think acting will be right up your alley. I always say you’re a ham and cheese sandwich, don’t I?”
“Yup.”
“I really think you’ll have lots of success with acting if you put your mind to it, honey.”
“That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about, Mom. I’ve been going to auditions the past few weeks and I just got offered my first two acting jobs—one on TV and another in a movie.”
“Oh my gosh!
Two
acting jobs? Congratulations, honey!” She begins squealing and shrieking in celebration.
“Mom, stop screaming with unbridled glee for a minute.
Mom
. Hey, Mom. Hello?”
“What?”
“There’s a glitch. Because of scheduling, I can only take one of the jobs. I gotta pick.”
Mom giggles. “Oh, well. That’s still worth shrieking about. Either way, you’ve landed your first job in Hollywood, right? This is so exciting!” She squeals again. “We’ll have to have everyone over for dinner to celebrate. When can you come?” She squeals yet again. “I’ll make whatever you want for dinner. Gah! I’m so proud of you.”
“Mom, listen. Stop squealing like Little G for a second, woman.”
We both laugh.
“Dude, I gotta make a huge decision here. I’m stressed out.”
“Oh, honey, there’s no reason to be stressed. This is a good problem to have. Just tell me about each offer and I’ll help you figure it out.”
I proceed to tell my momma every single thing I know about the two jobs, including telling her briefly about the videos I’ve been doing with Maddy (and how the reality show would require me to stop making them), and she listens intently, interrupting only occasionally to ask a few pointed questions.
“So what do you think I should do, Motherboard?” I ask when I’m finished telling her the scoop. “The way I see it, the reality show is the more immediately lucrative pick: more money, more exposure, and a bigger chance of getting other jobs from it, right off the bat. On the other hand, the movie is a small part—really just a glorified extra unless I can somehow razzle-dazzle everyone on-set and make it into something or
maybe
impress the casting director or director so they think of me for their next movie. And, hell, with the movie, there’s no guarantee I’d even make it past the cutting room floor. In the TV show, on the other hand, I’d be the star.” I sigh heavily, the weight of the world suddenly pressing down on me. “I’d be an idiot to pass up the reality show, right? It’s a bird in the hand. A sure thing.”
Mom audibly shrugs across the phone line.
“Mom, come on. Just tell me what you think. I need your expert counsel.”
“Okay. Here’s what I think: in my expert opinion as a mother and a wise old woman, I think you should listen to your gut.”
“Come on, Mom. Don’t go all Yoda on my ass. Tell me your opinion. It’s a huge decision and I don’t wanna blow it. I want to make a mature and reasoned decision, not based on emotion.”
“Honey, there’s nothing immature about following your heart. In fact, having the self-awareness and confidence to bet on yourself and listen to your inner voice demonstrates more maturity and character than anything else. Life is rarely about what you
think
—it’s almost always about what you
feel
.”
I wait for her to continue, but she doesn’t. “So you’re telling me to take the movie?” I finally ask.
“I’m telling you that, after hearing you talk about the two offers, it’s clear to me which job offer made you feel like a million bucks and which one made you feel like that little poop-emoji with eyes—you know, the one Kat always tacks onto her texts when she’s changing a diaper?”
We both laugh.
“Screw your agent, sweetheart,” Mom says. “It’s his job to get you job offers and provide information to help you make your decision. But it’s
your
decision to make because it’s
your
life. In my opinion, you should take the offer that makes you feel like a million bucks every time, no matter how the potential money or fame stacks up. I don’t know anything about the entertainment industry, but I know a lot about life. And from my experience, in the long run, consistently making choices aligned with your true heart’s desire will lead you to your rightful destiny in the end. Life is a marathon, my love, not a sprint. Trust yourself. You’ll get to the finish line eventually. We all do. And when you get there, if you’ve been true to yourself, you’ll be able to look yourself in the mirror with pride and a sense of accomplishment—and, most importantly, no regrets.”
“Damn,” I breathe after a moment. “You
rock
, Mom.”
“Thanks. A little bit of brains combined with a lot of experience is a wicked combination.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
She sighs deeply. “Sweetie, baseball was
one
chapter of your life, but your story has so many unwritten chapters to come. Don’t look back and long for what could have been—look ahead and
aspire
. You want to be a handsome and happy lad, like you always say? Then be true to yourself and dream big. You’re gonna do wonderful things, sweetheart—exciting things—some of them maybe even with your clothes on.”
I laugh. “Thanks, Mom.”
“So now that you’re gonna be Brad the Token White Guy Stripper in a Hollywood movie does this mean you’ll be moving to L.A.?”
“Yeah. I’m gonna crash at Daxy’s ’til Zander can get his ass down there at some point.”
“Good. And you’ll still do the videos, I presume? You sure look like you’re having fun doing them. I especially love watching you interact with that ‘Maddy Behind the Camera.’ The two of you are adorable together.”
My heart lurches into my throat. “You’ve
seen
my videos? Oh my God, Mom. I didn’t even know you knew about them before I mentioned them just now.”
“Kitty Kat showed them to me the other day. But don’t worry, she warned me you talk about raunchy stuff in some of them, so I only watched the ones she said wouldn’t traumatize me. And from what I saw, you’re wonderful in them. You light up the screen.”
“That’s what Maddy always says. She says I come alive on camera.”
“You do. Especially when you’re talking to Maddy. And, man, does she giggle at everything you say from behind the camera. She’s absolutely adorable.”
“Zander says she’s adorbsicles.”