Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 123873 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 619(@200wpm)___ 495(@250wpm)___ 413(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123873 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 619(@200wpm)___ 495(@250wpm)___ 413(@300wpm)
What the hell kind of acting school had Lau gone to, to learn how to do that?
“Sacrificing yourself for others,” Brendan drawled, the strange anachronistic 1930s accent making the edges of each word crisp as folded paper, “only gets you walked on, and lets shitty people continue to get away with being shitty people, because they know they can use the fallout to hold you hostage. Don’t make your decision based on what you think others want. Make your decision based on what you want.”
Cillian licked his lips, found some small fragment of his voice. “Isn’t that selfish, though…?”
“So be selfish, if you want to call it selfishness. When it comes to something like this, it’s not selfish to put yourself first,” Brendan said firmly. “So tell me what you want. What you want; no one else.”
“I…I…” Those fragments of his voice now felt like shards cutting his tongue. Cillian’s blush burned hotter, fire wrapping around his throat in a noose; his eyes stung from not blinking, but he couldn’t seem to as long as Brendan looked into him that way. “I want to act,” he whispered. “I want to make it on that big screen, and show arseholes like Newcomb they can’t scare me off. I want to do this for myself even if…even if it means letting him keep his reputation. And then after…after the film’s out, I want to tell the truth. I don’t want to let him kill my chance before I’ve even grasped it. Not when he could make sure I never work again.”
“And if I decide to pull out of the film because I refuse to work with a director who assaults his cast and crew?”
Cillian swallowed. “That’s your choice and I can’t…I can’t stop you. The film would fall apart without you, though.”
At that Brendan smiled a strange, bitter smile that hardened his soft-lipped mouth into stone. “It really wouldn’t. My role in this is disposable. Yours is not. It all hinges on you. So if you want to do the film…” One long, golden-brown hand, all geometric lines and square strength, braced to Brendan’s knee as he levered himself up and turned away from Cillian. “…then I suppose we’re doing the film.”
Cillian’s mouth just…hung open, letting him suck in the breaths he’d rather forgotten, before he blurted, “Just like that? You won’t say anything?”
“Not if you don’t want me to,” drifted over Brendan’s shoulder as that slow, casual, arrogant lope took him toward the door. “It’s your business. Your choice. Your right.”
“Oh.” It came out quite faintly, Cillian the mouse, squeaking away. He frowned, something hot sparking in his chest. “I don’t understand what just happened, but I…I’m grateful. I also, um…I think you may be quite infuriating, Mr. Lau.”
“That’s fine.” Brendan stopped at the door, hand curling against the knob. “I’m not the one you have to pretend to be in love with.”
He pulled the door open, then, leaving Cillian rocking forward quickly, dropping the empty water bottle, reaching out a hand. “Um! Had…you actually wanted to see me about something…?”
One sharp brown eye turned over Brendan’s shoulder. “It doesn’t matter,” he said, before murmuring, “Drake” like a summons.
Mr. Anderson let out a long-suffering sigh—and to his credit, took his sweet time about standing up, dusting off and straightening his slacks. He gave Cillian a long look, then turned to trudge after Brendan.
“…are you sure we should leave him alone?” Mr. Anderson asked Brendan’s back.
Brendan cocked his head, then turned to face Cillian again, a deep frown creasing his lips. “Go home,” he said bluntly.
“What?” Cillian recoiled. “But the table reading—”
“I’m not attending today. Neither should you. It will, at least, make a point about what we both know, and keep Newcomb on his toes.” Brendan turned away once more, one hand lifting idly, then dropping as he stepped out into the hall. “Tomorrow. Fresh start. Sleep it off.”
Then he was gone, and the room suddenly seemed just that much larger with only Cillian and Mr. Anderson in it.
“R-right. Fresh start. Okay.” Cillian knotted his hands together, frowning at Mr. Anderson. “Is…is he always like that?”
Hovering near the doorway, Mr. Anderson quirked a brow. “Like what?”
A million words ran through Cillian’s mind. Not all of them were polite.
But finally he settled on, “Intense.”
“…yeah.” Mr. Anderson offered a tired smile. “Don’t let him get to you. He can kind of…I don’t know. He doesn’t realize or take notice of how much space he takes up or just how people respond to him, so he ends up unintentionally bullying people.” A slim finger leveled at Cillian. “Don’t let him. The first thing you learn with Brendan Lau is how to tell him no.”
“…what’s the second thing you learn?”
“How to tell him to stop being such a massive wanker,” Mr. Anderson said, and grinned. “I’m still working on that part. Maybe you can do a better job than I can.”