Conversations

Ryan hung up the call and couldn't go to sleep from the sudden offer. He was also surprised at the pay he would get—$100,000, twenty times what he got from Margin Call. Although, production would be much longer.

The role was unique in its own challenges. He needed to learn Bruce Willis's mannerisms, have a good emotional arc, and film long days. But now he wanted to celebrate, so he called Zachary Quinto, who had just finished a play on Broadway.

"Hello, Ryan. Just got back from New York?" A Pittsburgh accent came out of the phone.

"Okay. You free tomorrow to go to Marouch?"

"Sure. 8 p.m." The phone call ended, and Ryan's long flight finally caught up to him, so he fell fast asleep.

Ryan, during the day, watched a ton of Bruce Willis interviews and late-night shows. He noticed how Bruce sat with his elbows slightly out, how he'd narrow his eyes just a half-second before responding. He spoke slowly, and there was always that dry grin. The kind of grin that said, try to fuck with me.

Ryan practiced in the mirror, not mimicking, but absorbing. He watched scenes from The Sixth Sense, 12 Monkeys, and Die Hard with a Vengeance, trying to isolate the posture and tonal reflections. He lowered his voice an octave, let his shoulders droop slightly, and squinted just enough to soften his face.

Later that evening, Ryan threw on a black denim jacket and headed out. He took side streets through East Hollywood, walking under neon signs and cracked streetlamps. The sky was smoggy but open, the kind of L.A. night that makes you want to go outside.

At 8:07, he stepped into Marouch: a humble Lebanese spot tucked along Santa Monica Boulevard. The lighting was warm, and the air smelled of garlic, lemon, and roasted lamb. Faded murals of Beirut lined the walls. Old men played cards in the back, laughing in Arabic.

Zachary Quinto was already at a table in the corner, nursing a glass of arak and talking to the waiter. He looked up, smirked, and raised a brow.

"There he is," he said. "You're late." He smiled.

Ryan sat down and sighed, half-smiling. "I just walked here."

Zachary poured water into his glass. "Okay. Tell me you've seen Inception?"

"Na."

"You have to see it. Christopher Nolan is my favorite director at the moment," Zach said. "Are you ready for your new project?"

Ryan nodded, looking down at the menu but not really reading it.

"I'm a bit scared. But excited," he admitted.

Zach leaned in. "Every actor has that feeling. When I was offered the role of Spock, I couldn't go to sleep that night. I think an actor can never truly celebrate the roles they get because they still got to do it. And when you're finished, you don't want to ever think about the trash director or stuck-up castmates." Zach smiled and pointed at Ryan.

They ordered lamb kebabs, tabbouleh, and warm pita. Ryan sipped mint tea, listening to Zach tell stories about the Broadway run—how exhausting it was to cry onstage every night, how freeing it felt to lose yourself in something for months.

"I envy that," Ryan said. "Getting to live inside something long enough to stop acting."

"You'll get that on this film. Looper's gonna change you if you let it."

Ryan sat back, full now, the weight of the food grounding him a little. His phone buzzed with a text from Mark.

"Call me in the morning. Rian wants to do a read-through at the studio soon. Congrats."

He locked his screen and exhaled.

Next week, the pressure would be back. But tonight, he had food, a good friend, and, for the first time, something that felt like destiny instead of just hope.

***

Camila Parker, a new reporter at IndieWire, had been hating her job. The stale white walls filled with cubicles had depressed her the whole week. She thought that she would be working at The Hollywood Reporter or Los Angeles Timesafter graduating from UCLA, summa cum laude. Instead, no prestigious media company gave her a callback due to the effects of the financial crisis still present in the industry. Hell, she thought she was gonna work at TMZ to pay the bills and ambush stars like rats running away from bright lights.

For the past week, she had been getting coffee for Miles and doing a required piece on NYU film brats that think they're Spike Lee. And now she had to do a piece on a no-name actor who had only an indie film. Miles told her to do a small piece on Ryan Stone, who had an unusual career path: two films in quick succession with famous actors in them. He probably had parents in the industry. She walked up from the desk and went to Ron's Cafe to meet up with the fresh actor. She walked into the cozy cafe that was dimly lit and saw an attractive man sitting down, sipping a latte. His denim jacket and long fingernails were the first things she saw.

'At least he's not late.'

Camila shook Ryan's hand and introduced herself. She noticed a matureness unusual for his age.

"So, do you like the place? It just opened up."

"It's pretty." Ryan put his hand over the seat next to him, looking at the quaint cafe.

"You know that I wanted to be an actor, but the industry is too picky. It's so much more fun talking to people."

"When I was really young, I wanted to be a tennis pro. Sampras and Becker were my idols. But seeing Pulp Fiction and O Brother, Where Art Thou? truly changed my life."

"So did those movies inspire you, or was it something else?"

"Yeah, I loved doing plays in school from elementary to high school. I did Les Misérables in my senior year and had such a great time with the cast."

Camila smiled at Ryan's enthusiasm. He seemed so passionate; his hands started moving over the brown table, and his eyes showed one thing: hunger to be on set or performing. Camila had seen many actors who usually all want fame, and she saw that in the green actor, but also recognized that he had the dedication to prove it.

"You did a movie called Margin Call with legends like Kevin Spacey and Jeremy Irons. How was working with them?"

"Unfortunately, I didn't have scenes with Kevin or Jeremy, but I did see them act. The moment J.C. said 'cut,' they went back to their usual selves. Kevin told his usual stories, and Jeremy liked to see the playback of the scene and talk about movies."

Camila looked at Ryan's pearl teeth, and his long hair made him look like Kurt Cobain. His blue eyes looked brighter under the dark ambience and oak wood cafe.

"I just have to ask some basic questions about you, if that's fine for the piece." Camila cleaned her glasses with her shirt.

"Sure."

"Did you go to college or take some acting classes?"

"I didn't go to college. I guess I wanted to try my luck in Hollywood. I didn't know anyone when I came, but I did some acting classes in Santa Monica. I share a house with some of the people I met in class."

"That must have been tough. Looks like you got lucky."

"Yeah." He looked at the roof with closed eyes.

"Now I have to ask, rumors say you are playing a lead role with Bruce Willis, produced by Sony. Is that true?" Camila looked like a journalist who had uncovered Watergate.

"Wow, word travels fast. Yeah, Rian told me yesterday. I haven't talked to Bruce yet, but I look forward to working with him in some weeks."

Camila looked up from her notebook and said, "That's all I have for you. I hope the movie does well."

"Thank you."

Camila had a complete 180-degree perspective on Ryan. She looked forward to seeing Margin Call and the movie with Bruce Willis.