7. Take care of him, okay?
Take care of him, okay?
“Thank you for coming in, Hunter.”
“Thank you for having me. Have a great rest of your day.” He smiled at the two middle-aged women with disinterested expressions, turned, and left the room.
It was very rare, since Covid, that auditions were in-person events, but this callback, for a new Netflix thriller, was.
He was up for the role of the boyfriend who was accused of killing his girlfriend, but his brother actually did it.
Hunter used to love in-person auditions.
He felt he did better at them than the self-tapes, but he didn’t feel confident about this one.
The minute he walked in, they looked startled, like he wasn’t what they were expecting, even though it was a callback, so someone, somewhere had seen his original self-tape and pushed him through to this round.
Maybe he was overreacting? He’d done an okay read.
Better than okay. He’d nailed it, he thought.
But they didn’t smile once, so he was feeling less than confident as he made his way back to his car.
The casting office was on Doheny. The street was notorious in Los Angeles because one side was zoned Beverly Hills and the other was zoned Los Angeles.
The casting office was on the West Hollywood side of the street in a storefront that used to be a dry cleaners and still smelled like one.
He’d parked around the corner on a cracked side street.
His car was roasting when he got there because he forgot to put up the screen that blocked the sun from seeping in through the windshield.
So he opened the door, turned on the engine with the AC on full blast, and leaned on the door while it cooled down.
He decided to light up a smoke while he waited.
He didn’t smoke often, not anymore. Leandra hated it, so he’d cut back a ton and now only did it if his nerves were fried.
That usually happened because he was fighting with her, but over the last several weeks, he’d found a new cure for the rawness fighting with Leandra created—Colby Keaton.
Spending time with Colby chilled Hunter right the hell out.
Since that night he’d found Colby in the pool, he’d hung out with Colby quite a bit.
A few nights, he’d invited him up for dinner when Leandra had worked a night shift or gone out with friends.
A couple of other nights, Colby had invited Hunter to go see him play.
At first, Hunter had wondered if Colby was inviting him just because he needed a ride, since Hunter drove them to the first show when he agreed to go.
But at the second show last night, when Hunter accepted the invitation, Colby told him his friend Briar would be picking them up at seven.
Briar was a short, gorgeous girl with smooth tanned skin, long neat braids, and a fiery personality.
She was a makeup artist on a network sitcom that Hunter hated, but so did Briar.
She was so fun and interesting that he couldn’t help but wonder why Colby wasn’t dating her.
He didn’t ask, though. Just like Colby didn’t ask what was going on with him and Leandra, which Hunter appreciated.
Even if Colby asked, Hunter wouldn’t have an answer. He had no clue.
Leandra was definitely pulling away from him.
She spent more and more time out of the apartment.
Mostly, she said she was working, but when she did say she was going out with friends, she never invited him.
She used to always invite him. So much so that Hunter had stopped hanging out with his friends and always hung out with hers.
It was just easier than trying to get her to hang out with his friends, who were mostly unemployed actors.
Hunter knew in his gut that they were on the verge of breaking up.
He just… wasn’t sure he cared enough to fix it.
Leandra was still bitching at him to take more restaurant shifts.
What he didn’t know was why. Why was she suddenly so unimpressed with dating a guy who was trying to be an actor?
She used to love how creative he was and how he was chasing a dream.
Was it because she was two years older than Hunter, so she was growing up faster and wanted something more substantial than living paycheck to paycheck?
It’s not that Hunter loved living this way.
He hated it too, but he hated the idea of working full-time in a restaurant more. Or doing anything other than acting.
“You do realize there are men your age who aren’t one set of bald tires away from not paying rent.
” Leandra had said in a particularly biting fight a couple of nights ago.
“Jeff was only twenty-five when he bought his first home. It was only a studio in Sherman Oaks, but he owned it. And still does. He rents it out. It’s an investment. ”
“Who the fuck is Jeff?”
“Estelle’s son.”
Hunter had been confused as to why her dementia patient’s son was suddenly the bar for success, but he never got to ask because she stormed out of the apartment to go teach yoga because “someone has to work,” ignoring the fact that Hunter had worked at the restaurant four nights in a row and gone on two auditions already that week.
Also, her tire statement wasn’t entirely true.
Last time they’d had a massive, unexpected expense was when the brakes went on his car.
His mom had wired him cash to fix them, so he could still make rent and have enough for gas and food.
He hadn’t paid his mom back yet, but he would.
Hopefully before the end of the year… maybe?
His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out.
Speak of the devil. He bent to ground out his cigarette on the pavement and then opened his car door, sliding into the passenger seat and dropping the butt into a half-empty, long-forgotten bottle of Fanta before hitting Accept on his mom’s call and putting her on speaker.
“Hey, Ma.”
“Hi honey! Is this a bad time?”
“No, I just got out of an audition,” Hunter explained. “About to drive home.”
“Oh. So, it is a bad time,” Catherine Gibson said. “I don’t want you talking and driving. Did you know distracted driving, even just when it’s talking, not even texting, is essentially like driving drunk? Very similar.”
Hunter smiled. “I’m not driving yet. It’s fine.”
“Oh. Well, I wanted to know when you might be coming home to visit. I was hoping you’d say Christmas.”
“Mom, tickets are insane at Christmas, and last time I talked with Leandra she wanted to go to her parents’ place in Oregon,” Hunter told her, trying to keep his tone gentle. “What about… Canadian Thanksgiving?”
Flights would likely be cheaper.
“It’s just called Thanksgiving, Hunter,” Catherine scolded lightly. “An early October harvest makes sense. A late November one is ridiculous.”
“So then how about if I look into flights for Thanksgiving?” Hunter suggested. He could hear his credit card whimpering at the idea of it. He was already precariously close to his limit, and charging a flight would definitely max him out.
“That is probably better since it’s sooner,” she replied. “I miss you. Your dad misses you. We’ll pay for half the ticket.”
“You don’t have to do that.” The words flew out of his mouth with zero conviction. It would be great if they could pay half.
“We talked about it, and we both agree. Although Thanksgiving might be riskier for your dad,” Catherine surmised, and then she sighed. “If it’s what works for you, then he’ll have to figure it out.”
Figure it out was code for deal with his new family.
It wasn’t until Hunter was in his late teens that he figured out Greg Law had cheated on Catherine.
Greg married the mistress because she’d been pregnant.
That had been like vinegar in an open wound for Catherine, who had fertility issues, hence adopting Hunter.
They tried hard to make it a non-issue in front of Hunter, which actually made it more of an issue.
But he didn’t tell them that. “Okay. I’ll look into it later this week. ”
“How did the audition go?”
“What? Oh today? Yeah. Okay. I think.”
He could hear the frown in her voice as she replied, “There’s always the next one.”
She was trying to be supportive. She never asked him to quit or told him to give up.
Though he knew she dreamed of him going back to school for something more stable.
But she tried. It was more support than many creative kids got.
For example, Colby’s parents didn’t support him at all.
Hell, even Leandra’s parents didn’t like her being a yoga instructor.
They’d wanted her to concentrate entirely on nursing.
“Yeah. How are you? How’s Zeus?”
“Oh, he’s the same. Freeloading like a champ. If he wasn’t so warm and cuddly, I would kick him to the curb,” she announced, and Hunter laughed. “But he keeps me warm during the frigid winters.”
The only thing Catherine loved as much as she loved Hunter was her nearly twenty-pound black cat, Zeus.
She’d gotten him a couple years after the divorce, and he was now pushing sixteen, but he was in great shape because he only ate organic food that his mom cooked herself.
The cat literally got poached wild salmon and free-range chicken.
“Well, give him extra pets from me. Tell him I’ll see him in October.”
“I love you, honey. Give Leandra my best.”
“Will do.”