Chapter Seven
Nash
Nash is pretty certain that this Christopher Calloway guy is the most annoying man he has ever met.
Perhaps being stuck in a tiny apartment with the world’s prissiest Englishman drinking tea awkwardly on a couch that’s definitely too small for the guy to sleep on is some kind of divine retribution for lying and running away from his problems.
And sure, Christopher is probably not going to murder Nash in his sleep, but unless Christopher gives him some space, Nash might take that option himself.
The only upside to being squished on the tiny couch is that Christopher also seems annoyed, which is quite funny. And at least the tea is good.
But what happens now? Do they both sit here until it’s time to go to sleep?
Nash could pretend to work in the bedroom, but he knows he’ll just lie there and stare at the ceiling listening to the quiet sounds of Christopher being tall and awkward on the other side of the door, which somehow feels worse.
He really is very tall and awkward. Far too tall for a place this small. It’s like seeing an elk in a stable. Nash swears he saw Christopher stoop to pass through the door. Why the hell would you buy an apartment with doors too short for you? Is everything in Britain built for hobbits?
This tense silence is excruciating, and so he decides to do the thing he’s been avoiding: he checks his messages. And there are a lot of messages.
Christopher looks over, but not like a normal person. He doesn’t turn his head and say hey you’ve got a lot of messages. He just side-eyes as he’s sipping his tea, looking like that meme of Kermit the frog.
Oh man, that’s who he reminds him of.
Kermit.
But English.
Most of the messages are from Kurt, his agent. A man who, if you met him, you’d be sure surfed professionally or ran a marijuana-dispensary-cum-wellness café, rather than being a hard-nosed talent agent. He’s been by Nash’s side since his career took off properly, and has never steered him wrong.
Obviously, Nash knows why Kurt is trying to get hold of him.
That’s half of why he ran away in the first place.
All he wanted was a bit of peace and quiet so he could think everything through and escape the industry for a few days – especially when it’s an industry that doesn’t care about the holidays, not when a deal is on the table.
A deal that might be the most important one of his life.
And he’s not sure he even wants it.
Sure, maybe if he’d acted like an adult and had a proper conversation with Kurt about what he actually wants instead of running away, he wouldn’t be here worrying about being locked into another multi-film contract playing characters he can’t relate to.
But he’s too chicken. So, he ran away to Wales.
He’s not ready to reply to Kurt. A pang of guilt shoots through his chest when he reads Tessa’s increasingly frantic messages. She deserves a raise when he gets home. That’s if he ever escapes the snowpocalypse.
Nash: Hey Tessa. Sorry for not getting back to you earlier. I made it to Wales safely, and just got internet. Happy holidays!
Next to him, Christopher shuffles awkwardly in his seat.
He’s probably just shifting to get comfortable, though given the height-to-space ratio, Nash is convinced this man has never felt comfortable in his entire life.
It’s almost as though Christopher is purposefully trying to remind Nash that he’s still there.
As if he could forget!
Before he can make a pointed remark about Christopher’s constant presence, another notification from Kurt comes through.
This time it’s a phone call. Now Nash knows he’s really in trouble.
But if he sends him to voicemail, Nash is just postponing the inevitable.
It’ll be so much worse to have to go through all those voicemails and then ring him back.
With a sigh, he gets up and walks to the bedroom, connecting the call as he does.
‘Hey man,’ he answers, in the most casual tone he can muster.
‘Dude! There you are!’ Kurt doesn’t speak so much as yell in the same cadence of a happily barking golden retriever. ‘I’ve been trying to get hold of you. I was three steps away from calling round the hospitals, or even your parents.’
Yikes, he must have been really worried.
‘You owe Tessa a raise, by the way. She was insisting you were fine but unavailable – are you on a hook-up or something? No, don’t tell me. Just let me know you’re okay?’
Nash feels immediately guilty about Kurt’s concern. He probably thinks it’s something really serious rather than I ran away to Europe.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,’ Nash says, pulling the door closed. ‘I’m fine. Just got some stuff going on.’
‘Oh yeah?’
Rather than implicate himself or come up with an elaborate lie on the spot, he just says, ‘Yep.’
After a pause, Kurt asks, ‘Are you safe?’
‘Yes.’
‘All right then.’ Satisfied, Kurt gets down to business. ‘Did you see the email from Chuck?’
‘A new one, or the one from two days ago?’
There’s a small pause. The magical thing about Kurt is that he never lets Nash know exactly how annoyed he is with him, or at least he doesn’t think he does. Over the years they’ve worked together, Nash has learned to read it in his silences and the various intonations of ‘dude’.
‘The ones sent yesterday.’
‘No then, I haven’t seen those yet.’
‘Well look, it’s my job to know how to best represent you. I can’t do that unless I know what’s going on for you. So, can you read them, dude?’
‘Will do. But, you know, I really would like to think about this after Christmas, if that’s possible?’ He hears a car honk and Kurt swear under his breath. ‘Are you calling me from the car?’
‘Business never sleeps, my good dude. Especially in this town.’ Kurt laughs heartily, which makes Nash miss him and feel almost bad for not being honest. Kurt adopts his Serious Agent Voice, and adds, ‘I’ll try and stall them for as long as I can.
We can let them know that you’ve got some .
. . personal situation going on, which might buy us some time.
Just know that they’re getting twitchy over there, Nash. ’
Nash sighs, sitting down on the bed.
‘I don’t think they’re going to cancel the offer, but you know, it might be harder to get all the terms you want if we’re down to the wire, deadline wise. You can talk to me, you know?’
The swirling guilt in Nash’s stomach grows into a whirlpool.
‘They all think you’re holding out for more money. It’s not just money, is it?’
‘No, but—’
‘Well?’
This is it. Kurt is giving him an opener to just talk about it.
But the words just don’t come.
This happens to him sometimes. There comes a point where he just can’t think about something any more.
It’s not that he doesn’t want to – hell, it’d be easier if he could just explain all his thoughts to Kurt – and he knows that Kurt will have his best interests at heart no matter what.
But he’s just so tired. A whole situation that’s not been helped by this failure of a vacation.
He was supposed to have some time to think, to collect his thoughts.
A car door slams and he hears footsteps. He imagines Kurt walking to one of the really good taco trucks.
Right up until the point he hears a very familiar doorbell.
No one else has a poor recreation of the Parks and Recreation theme song as their doorbell, he’s pretty sure.
He set it that way once when he was a bit high and he’s never worked out how to change it.
But Kurt can’t possibly be at his house?
‘Kurt, where are you?’
The theme song plays again from the other end of the phone call.
Nash winces. This is about to get really awkward.
‘Kurt. Are you at my house?’
‘Obviously I’m at your house. I have come to stage an intervention. I brought the catfish tacos you like from Tacos Baja and everything.’
There’s a third ring of the doorbell.
‘And . . . you’re not here, are you?’
‘No.’
There’s silence on the line for a little too long.
‘Fancy telling me where you are while I sit on your doorstep eating these delicious tacos you’re missing out on?’ Nash can hear the strain as Kurt tries to remain chipper.
He could pretend their call is breaking up, but that would be the ultimate dick move. But also, he can’t tell Kurt. That would be . . . really embarrassing.
Plus, he’ll be back home in a few days. The weather will wear off soon, and he’ll just get a flight out early. Then he’ll take Kurt out for make-up tacos while they talk this all over. Kurt will never need to know he left the country. And continent.
‘Look, I know it’s weird but I can’t tell you right now. But I promise I’m safe, and I just need some help stalling them. Please. I promise I’m thinking about it.’
The word promise curdles in his stomach.
The thing is, signing that new contract isn’t just about him.
His deals are how Kurt gets paid, and there are all the other people who want to keep going.
Barbie, for one. He knows she’s already in.
That’s before he even considers basically everyone involved – the film crews, the directors, hell, the marketers at the streaming company.
If he doesn’t work out what he’s doing, all those people’s jobs are on the line.
That’s one hell of a lot to carry. His shoulders may be broad, but it’s a lot.
‘Okay, look, I know that you’ve got . . . something mysterious going on that I respect your boundary about, that’s fine. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. The only issue is that today the studio set a deadline for a decision on that contract for Christmas Eve.’
Three days, with a little extra thanks to the time difference. ‘Oh . . . shit.’
‘Yeah, I thought you might say that.’
‘Do you think you can stall them until after Christmas? Say my grandma is sick or something.’
‘Is your grandma sick?’
‘. . . No,’ he admits, immediately regretting that he did not take that wide open goal when he had the chance.