‘Yeah, I thought you might say that.’
‘Do you think you can stall them until after Christmas?Say my grandma is sick or something.’
‘Isyour grandma sick?’
‘...No,’ he admits, immediately regretting that he did not take that wide open goal when he had the chance.
‘Nash, that’s not something to lie about,’ huffs Kurt.
‘Well, she died in 2005 and was a total dick, so I don’t mind us using her as an excuse.’
‘I feel morally conflicted,’ Kurt sighs.‘You know I hate it when I feel morally conflicted.’
‘Fine, forget the grandma.’
‘Nash, I’m going to be real with you a second.You might be their leading man and yes they might want you for this film series.But they can and will recast you if you fuck them around.I’ve seen them do it for properties just as bigasChristmas at the Clinic.Look atThe Witcher!They recast Henry Cavill even though everyone and their mom fancied him.Being the fan favourite isn’t enough.’
Kurt clears his throat and softens his tone.‘I don’t know how much longer I can make them wait.If you piss them off, they might gamble that Barbie has enough star power alone, and that the fanbase might accept someone a bit more studio friendly.’
Kurt’s right.He’s running out of time.He taps his chest with his knuckles.‘Okay.Let me reread the contracts.’
Kurt sighs, or possibly slurps sauce from somewhere; it’s not so clear over this long-distance connection.‘Good.Meanwhile, I’ll try to stall them.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Just put that beautiful face of yours onto thinking about this.’
‘I don’t think you think with your face.’
‘Eh, whatever.I’m not the writer.’
Something uncurls in Nash’s chest, but before he can speak, it squishes back up, a hard little stone deep inside him.
‘I will think about it.I promise.’
‘All right.It’s the 21st now.I’ll call you in two days, okay?We need a decision for Christmas Eve if I can’t stall them.Speak to you in a few days, bud.’
And with that, he hangs up.Probably off to surf on a big wave or some kind of activity that you have to get extra insurance for if you go on vacation.Nash can’t really think of anything worse.
Though being stuck in a tiny apartment with a Kermitty stranger is definitely up there.
* * *
Nash lies in guilty silence for some time, until his stomach rumbles so loudly he realises he’s starving.When did he last eat?He doesn’t even know.
He finds Christopher in the kitchen frowning as he crouches in front of a shockingly small fridge with pen and paper in his hand.His round-frame glasses slide ever so slightly down his nose.
He’s quite handsome when he concentrates.Not in the LA way where everyone is all daily gym sessions and green smoothies and golden and slightly unreal.But he is undeniably attractive.Those big baby blues, and softly pink lips.Nash can’t help but notice the freckles peppering Christopher’s forearms, where his sleeves are rolled up.
Yes, he might be inordinately tall, but he’d probably look good in a suit.As long as he didn’t talk or move.It’s easier to appreciate him when he’s not flapping around.
Christopher’s 90s-leading-man foppishness is probably a hit with women.And he’d probably kill with the Americans – that accent can take you a long way.Not that there’s any sign of long-term girlfriends here.Nash is almost certain a man like Christopher didn’t buy the vase in the hallway, but even so, if he had a girlfriend around, it wouldn’t be empty – there’d be flowers or dried ornamental twigs or something in it.
He’s been staring, Nash realises.Not that Christopher has noticed him.Nash tells himself it’s just because he was waiting for Christopher’s glasses to slide right off the end of his nose and crash to the floor.But he feels uncomfortable now that he’s lurking, so he announces himself.‘Anything good in there?’
Christopher startles and looks from Nash to the paper in his hand.‘Well, unfortunately I spent the week eating everything so that the fridge would be empty for you.’
‘Hospitable of you, even if we now don’t have anything to eat.’
