Chapter 2

“I’d imagine that wouldn’t go over well.”

“No. He’s not exactly friendly, you know?”

“Ha ha. Right, right.” Lester swapped a card in his stack. “Now, I heard rumors that Hot Blood was up for an Emmy this year, is that right?” The house cheered, and Ethan responded with a sly little smile.

“Well,” he began, “they don’t really tell me things, so—” The crowd laughed again. “Yeah, we’re up for best drama and best leading actor, as well as a few others.” Applause greeted this statement and Ethan nodded in thanks to the audience.

“Congratulations on the nominations, man,” said Lester sincerely. “Let me tell ya, I’ve been watching since it started and I’m absolutely blown away every single week. You earned those.”

“Thank you.”

Lester rounded to the audience, which was once more exploding with cheers. “All right, stick around, we’re gonna show an exclusive clip from tomorrow’s season finale! Don’t go anywhere, this is Midnight Oil!”

And just like that, the lights faded down, and the crowd dissolved into mumbles. With their microphones off, Lester and Ethan were allowed a moment to themselves. Ethan, the spotlight gone from him, dropped his smile the second he could. He took a long, deep breath through his nose, eyes closed and hand tight on the sofa’s arm rest.

Lester handed Ethan a bottle of water. “You okay?” he asked quietly.

Ethan took the bottle with a nod. “Yeah. I’m fine.” He drank a bit, hoping it would calm his racing heart.

Lester edged closer, elbows along his desk. “Your manager told me about all this.” He gestured to Ethan vaguely. “If you want, we can take a break from the interview. I can run the skit early, give you a chance to catch your breath…”

Ethan hesitated. It was a tempting offer. His eyes lingered on one of the cameras. The red light was on, but the camera man was idle. For a moment, he imagined just who it was who could watch him on the other side of that live feed. Ethan felt a little bristle of courage pluck up in his chest.

“No,” he said, regaining his composure. “No, I’m good to go. I don’t want to be downtown for too long. Besides…” He smiled. It was a true, sweet smile, its sincerity not so easily found in a place like Hollywood.

“Somebody special’s watching.”

* * * *

It took forever for Ethan to unclog his car from the congestion of the 110 Freeway, even at two in the morning. But finally, Ethan managed to break away from the herd and headed into Pasadena. His eyes itched from fatigue as he turned down his street. He couldn’t wait to just roll into bed and pass out for a good eight hours. He could only hope that a certain someonehad the sense to be in bed already. As he pulled into his driveway, however, Ethan spotted the living room lights still on.

Still, he smiled. Ethan parked and headed to the front door, wondering if that someone inside had fallen asleep in front of the TV. Keys jingling against the doorknob, he began to push it open.

“Finn—?”

“Tweeeeeeeeee—!”

Ethan jumped as a multicolored, paper party horn greeted him first. In front of him stood a 5’4”, blond haired, blue eyed fanboy with a loudly colored party hat on his head. He stood in his socks, boxer shorts and favorite Hot BloodT-shirt, his apple red cheeks puffed out as he smiled against his plastic toy. Behind him, a shiny, dollar store sign was strung on the hallway ceiling, reading CONGRATULATIONSin big tinfoil letters. When Finn had no more air to blow, he took the party horn away from his lips and clapped his hands together. Finn’s smile was massive.

“I watched the whole thing!” he swooned. “You were so awesome! I even rewound my favorite parts to rewatch! I’m so proud of you, it came out so great!”

Ethan took a second. His eyes went from the hat to the sign and back down again to Finn’s expectant face. “Is that what all this is about?” he asked blankly. “It was just a TV interview.”

Finn looked morally affronted. “Wha—?! No, no!It wasn’t just a TV interview! It was Midnight Oil!Everyone who’s super famous goes on there! And it was your firstappearance, too! It’s a crazybig deal!” He then turned and pointed to the couch. “See? Even Oscar’s celebrating!”

Oscar, Ethan’s fat, brown, squish-faced cat currently sat on the headrest of Ethan’s couch, an equally offensive party hat drooping off one side of his head. How he had the patience to allow Finn to try and put one on him in the first place was beyond Ethan.