Chapter 11 #2
“With pieces like this, actors sometimes make the mistake of playing the emotion super big when it’s more compelling to see an effort to control the emotion.”
“I don’t get what you mean.”
“The harder an actor tries to show pain, the less we believe them. We’re naturally interested in what people are trying to hide.
” Jason leaned back in his chair. “Conrad spends most of the story trying not to fall apart. It makes him compelling but also sympathetic. He’s trying so hard, and we want him to win. We want him to live. To choose life.”
“I know a lot about faking it.”
“That’s right. Which is why you’re perfect for this role. Do you remember what it felt like to be that helpless and afraid and have to keep it hidden from everyone?”
Marcus gave a short laugh that wasn’t really a laugh. “Oh, yeah.”
“With that in mind, let’s try it again.”
Marcus went through the entire piece, and this time it was impossible to look anywhere but at Marcus. By the end, Jason had tears in his eyes.
When he was finished, Marcus shifted from one foot to the other. “Was it bad?”
Jason shook his head, gathering himself. “No, it was good. Very, very good. You let yourself into the piece, using real emotion, and that’s what made it so powerful.”
Marcus blinked. “Really?”
“Yeah. You’re going to nail these auditions.”
“Will you film me? Maybe tomorrow?”
“I’d be happy to,” Jason said.
Marcus sat back down slowly, still looking uncertain. “I want this so bad. But I’m afraid it won’t happen. Then what do I do? I have no plan B.”
“You can’t think about it like that. Believe in yourself. Dream big. Okay?”
“And not stand just inside the doorway?”
“That’s right. You take center stage. Where you belong.”
“Thanks for doing this with me,” Marcus said after a pause. “I never thought I’d be coached by a real actor.”
“You have what it takes. Don’t let anyone tell you different.”
“I’ll try.” Marcus gave him a tremulous smile. “It’s kind of a weird thing if you think about it. All the energy we spend pretending to be fine or act like the person we think everyone wants us to be when it’s so much easier just to tell the truth. In life and in acting.”
“That’s right. It’s rare to understand that at such a young age.”
“Given everything with my mom, I’m about ten years older than my actual age.”
Jason got up to give his nephew a hug. “You have a great future ahead of you. I can’t wait to watch.”
“Thanks, Uncle Jason.”
They separated, and Marcus, perhaps shy after revealing so much of himself, bounded up the stairs to do homework.
Jason remained in the kitchen, watching the second hand on the decorative clock on the wall tick away and thinking about Hal and the courageous path he ultimately chose.
Was it time for Jason to do the same? And, if so, what did that mean?
Feeling restless, Jason decided to head into town for a workout at Roan’s gym. He had energy that had nowhere to go at the moment. A good workout would fix that.
Roan was finishing up a coaching session with a private client, so Jason stretched out on a mat in the corner.
He loved his brother’s gym. The smell of rubber mats, chalk dust, and sweat.
Black steel rigs bolted into the floor. Tractor tires stacked near the back wall.
Kettlebells lined up by weight in a rack.
When his client left, Roan asked, “What are you up to?” He crossed his arms over his muscular chest. “You want me to work you out?”
“Yeah. Be rough. I need it.”
“You all right?”
“Not really.”
“Want to talk?”
“Not now,” Jason said.
“Got it. Let’s start here.” Roan picked up the ends of thick battle ropes and handed one to Jason.
“Thirty seconds. Hard as you can,” Roan said.
Jason planted his feet shoulder-width apart and started snapping the ropes. Waves rippled down the heavy black cords, slamming against the floor with sharp cracks. Within seconds his shoulders burned.
“Harder,” Roan said.
Jason gritted his teeth and dug deeper. The ropes slapped violently against the rubber flooring, the sound echoing through the empty gym.
“Good. Now alternating waves,” Roan said.
Jason switched rhythm, one arm then the other, sweat already prickling at the back of his neck. But it was a relief to be doing something with his body instead of his mind. He wanted to forget everything for a few minutes and simply focus on the work itself.
“Now slams,” Roan said.
“You’re the worst.” Grinning, Jason lifted both ropes overhead and drove them down with all the force he had. Again. Again. Again. By the end of the set, he was breathless and fatigued. But his brother had no sympathy.
Roan nodded toward a rowing machine. “Five hundred meters. Sprint pace.”
Jason dropped onto the rower and strapped his feet in while Roan programmed the monitor. The flywheel whirred to life as Jason drove back hard with his legs. Roan paced nearby like a drill sergeant who enjoyed his job a little too much.
When the row ended, Jason bent over with his hands on his knees, chest heaving. “I hate you.”
Roan peered at the stats recorded on the machine. “That’s not a great time. You want to try again?”
“Not today,” Jason said, grimacing. “I think I need to lay down.”
“Nah, you’re good,” Roan said. “Now kettlebells.”
“This was a mistake.”
Laughing, Roan handed him a heavy kettlebell. “Twenty swings.”
Jason grabbed the handle and drove through his hips, the kettlebell swinging chest-high. The movement hit everything at once—glutes, core, shoulders, lungs.
“Now, fifteen goblet squats.”
Jason held the kettlebell against his chest and dropped low into squats while Roan counted. By the time Roan sent him to the pull-up rig, Jason’s T-shirt clung damply to his back.
“Ten pull-ups.”
Jason jumped up, gripping the cold steel bar. His muscles protested immediately. After the tenth rep, arms shaking, Jason dropped from the bar and flopped onto the floor. “You’re a terrible person.”
Roan tossed him a towel but didn’t let up. “Sled pushes.”
“Oh, come on.”
“Thought you said be rough?”
At the far end of the gym sat a weighted sled loaded with plates.
Groaning, Jason got up and leaned into the vertical bars and drove the sled forward.
His shoes squealed against the turf strip while every muscle in his legs lit on fire.
Halfway down, emotions roared to life inside of him.
He was afraid. Afraid to lose Mauve. Afraid to lose his career.
The helplessness of his situation made him angry too.
Why couldn’t he have fallen for someone in the business?
Someone who would understand that he couldn’t walk away from the craft he’d spent the last two decades honing.
He let his frustration out with every movement of his tired body.
He gave it all to the workout, turning the sled around and shoving harder this time, breath ragged and the metal runners scraping across the turf.
When he finally stopped, he braced his hands on his thighs, sweat dripping onto the floor. Roan handed him a water bottle. Jason tried to catch his breath while his pulse hammered in his ears. When he could breathe somewhat normally, he sank onto the floor, his sweaty back against the mirror.
His brother sat a few feet from him. “You ready to talk?”
“There’s nothing to say. As Mauve said, we’re at an impasse. She won’t go, and I won’t stay.”
“Okay, we’re going to dissect this. Just brother to brother,” Roan said. “I love you—and I say this with love. You and Mauve need to get your heads on straight.”
“What does that mean?”
“You’re making this much too complicated. You can’t tell me that actors who make the kind of money you do don’t have multiple homes. One in L.A. and another one for times when they’re not working. Why can’t that be here in Sugarville Grove?”
Jason bent his legs, wrapping his arms under his knees and resting his forehead against sweaty skin. “Mauve said she doesn’t want to raise a family with a guy who’s gone all the time.”
“And she’s not willing to compromise?”
“She doesn’t trust me enough to give up her job and her life here.” Jason grabbed the towel and scrubbed his face with it, feeling like he could cry at any second.
“What could you do to get her to trust you?”
“I suggested we get married.”
“Um, okay. What do you mean by ‘suggested?’”
“I kind of blurted it out. I told her I couldn’t stand the idea of leaving her behind. I invited her to go to Prague with me.”
“And she thought that was a terrible idea?” Roan asked, nodding like he understood exactly.
“She did, yeah.”
“I guess the question is—what are you willing to give up to be with the woman you love?”
“I have a contract. I can’t get out of the movie. Nor do I want to. This is the role I’ve been waiting for. It’s going to change my whole career.”
“And Mauve feels like her work is important too.”
“That’s right.” He set the damp towel aside. “I’m so frustrated. Why can’t she just agree to come with me? She could have a great life. Exploring Prague and doing whatever she pleased.”
“But that’s not what drives her.”
“Obviously. She gets a lot of satisfaction from her work,” Jason said. “And so do I.”
“Listen, you have to do this the right way. Get her a ring. Buy a house here. Whatever it takes. Prove to her that taking a risk on you will not end with a broken heart. Promise her you’ll spend the majority of your time here.”
“But can I really do that? Because I don’t know if I can spend a majority of my time here. The show shoots four months of next year. And then, hopefully, I’ll have another movie.”
“There are weeks between shoots. Movies wrap in six weeks for the most part. You can be here when you’re not working.”
“And she’s just here without me during those times?”
“Unless she wants to go with you,” Roan said. “All you can do is try.”
“Buy a house, huh? And a ring? Then it’s all miraculously solved?”
“Yep.”
“You know it’s not that simple,” Jason said.
“You know what isn’t simple? Finding the person you feel like you can’t live without. Don’t waste this. Give it everything you have and, if she still says no, then you’ll have to accept it. But you’ll know you tried as hard as you could.”
“Yeah, okay. So how do I find a house in the next two weeks?”
“Actually, I have an idea about that. What if you build one on our family property? Not far from Reese and me. That way, Mauve has us for when you’re away.
She won’t be alone because she’ll have her family here.
I have a friend who’s an architect. He could put something together for you to wrap in a box for a Christmas gift. ”
“A house plan for Christmas?” Jason asked. Had his brother lost his mind?
“And a ring. Maybe a ring and the plan in the same box?”
Jason didn’t say anything, taking in his brother’s idea, weighing options and the likelihood that Mauve would agree to it. Was Roan right? Should he try?
Then, suddenly, he knew. He must try. He must convince her that they could build a life together without having to give up too much for the other. The question was—would she agree?