"Well, never say never. You could still be a guest star, after all. And they might not find anyone else, anyway."
Coop polished off his drink. "Do you have anything for me to try out for in the meantime?Anything. I'm not picky."
"I've got a couple of auditions for you, but let's wait and see about this role before we commit to anything. I'd hate for you to get the reputation as the guy who backs out, who can't be counted on."
Coop shuddered. That was no idle threat; it was so easy to get a bad reputation, and, starting out, you simply couldn't afford that. There was no way he'd have anyleeway if he signed on to a project and then got yanked back by a contract for something else. His name would be mud.
"If there's anything I can try out for without committing too quickly, I'll take it." Too bad he hadn't gotten a better contract forWolf Cop; if there'd been some sort of commitment, or a kill fee, he'd be sitting in a much healthier position. Instead, it was more or lessa case of "If we whistle, you'd better come running." But without any pay unless they decided to hire him again. And very much a pay-per-appearance, nothing-locked-in contract. But that was the best he could hope for as a newcomer. The ball was in their court. All the same, he hated to wait; he needed to wipe away the sting of that rejection.
Allan hesitated. "Yeah. There are some thingsyou could try out for. They won't be casting immediately, so getting your foot in the door can't hurt. Anyway, the idea that you might not be available is bound to make you more popular." He grinned his shark-toothed grin and tapped his glass lightly against Coop's empty one. "In the meantime, there's a premier party I can get you into Saturday night, if you want to cut loose."
Coop hesitated.It was always good to schmooze, of course. But big Hollywood parties never seemed to bring the sort of schmoozing that would actually help his career—just a lot of alcohol and the temptation of drugs. Coop had done a damned good job of avoiding any sort of addiction so far in his life—except to approval, where he was beyond hope—but he knew very well that he had an addictive personality,and as low as he was feeling, it didn't sound like a good time to be tempted.
"Eh, maybe not." He studied his glass so he wouldn't have to look at Allan if he had to make more excuses. "Kinda tired, and not in the mood for parties."
"You'd be in the mood for this one," Allan said knowingly. "It's at Rorke Swindon's mansion. And he'll be there."
Coop raised his head and blinked. Rorke Swindonwas a famous (infamous?) movie producer, and he was openly and lavishly gay. More than one of his previous lovers had ended up with plum roles in movies, thanks to their connection with him. It wasn't as crass as prostitution or openly sugar-daddying, but it was definitely on the same spectrum, and everyone knew it.
"You think I should try for that, huh?" Coop's face felt frozen. He studiedAllan, searching his eyes, trying to read every last bit of subtext available to him. Was that the only hope for his career, being Swindon's boy toy? Seducing his way into the industry? Perhaps there was no hope for him, if it came down to acting alone. His self-esteem, already low, plummeted further at the thought.
Is that really what you think of me?he wanted to ask, but didn't dare.
"Why not? He's between boyfriends. It can't hurt to show up and be your usual charming self. You may take a liking to each other."
Coop rolled his eyes. "I'm not even out."
"Pretty sure you'd manage to handle that revelation if you ended up in a major film," observed Allan, whose gaze had gotten knowing and cynical. "Everybody comes out these days, eventually, one way or another."
Cooplooked down at the puddle his glass had left on the counter and rubbed the clear base of the glass around on it. His throat felt tight and his gut empty, bleak as a stereotypical desert blowing with tumbleweeds. He wanted another drink very much, and thought that was probably a really bad idea. There were two ways tonight could go at this point—well, more than two, but two main ones—and drunk outof his mind was looking really good right now. At least that would dull all these feelings.
Sometimes he hated feeling so much.
"Okay," he said quietly.
"Look, don't go if you don't want to. I'm not saying that's your only shot here. But you're young and cute, and why shouldn't that work to your advantage? If there's chemistry, why not? And if there isn't, no harm done. You'll have schmoozedand done the rounds and let your face be seen. That's always a good thing."
"I already said yes," Coop said quietly.
"Good boy. Now, let's have another drink."
Cooper hesitated, then slid his glass forward. "Just the one."
