17. Staycation
Staycation
He read the script as Margo navigated traffic on their drive to the Ivy. Margo had handed it to him as soon as he slid into her passenger seat. It was sent to her specifically for him by a guy named "the new development guy" at Magenta Studios — Jesse.
Hunter explained the Jesse thing to Margo, who was flabbergasted he didn’t think to mention it earlier, and then began to read the ensemble rom-com script as Margo lectured him on how he needed to tell her everything all the time.
“I didn’t know anything would come of it. I was going to mention it, though. Eventually.”
“Hunter, if anyone from any studio or network so much as picks you to light their cigarette, I need to know about it immediately,” Margo scolded. “Now read.”
Hunter read. The script was called Staycation, and it was about three female friends who don’t have the money to go anywhere on their vacation, so they swap houses and act like they’re on vacation.
A slew of hilarious misunderstandings and romantic encounters happen for them.
Apparently, the role they want Hunter for is a hunky gardener who ends up falling for one of the women as he helps her battle a beetle infestation in the prize-winning garden of the house she swapped into.
Margo pulled up to the valet parking and plucked the script out of Hunter’s hands.
She tucked it in her bag and handed the valet her keys, and Hunter followed her inside to the table she’d reserved.
They sat down, and she ordered a bottle of sparkling water and two lychee martinis.
She reached across the table and tapped Hunter’s hand, which was gripping the table like he was a nervous flyer on a flight full of turbulence. “What are you thinking?”
“I can’t wait to tell Colby I might get another role.”
“So, you want to do this?” Margo asked with a cheeky smile.
“Of course! Anything that keeps me a working actor, I’ll do.”
“Honey, I think you get to be a little discerning now,” Margo chuckled. “And we should be. But this is a great opportunity. They want a chemistry read, but it’s basically yours.”
“Unless the actress and I don’t have chemistry.”
Margo rolled her eyes at his words. “Hunter, if I don’t think you could create chemistry with actresses, I wouldn’t rep you. You’ve got this.”
Hunter gave the waiter a grateful smile as he poured them both some water and left the bottle on the table.
“We’re cooking with gas now, Hunter. And things are only going to heat up once the movie airs,” Margo said, reaching for her water.
Her nails were short but blood red and perfectly manicured.
She was probably his mother’s age, but she looked younger.
“But it would also be helpful to your career in the ongoing run if you started giving yourself credit.”
“I mean… I know I did really great in that role. I could feel it in every take. I had great chemistry with Mikayla, and Eugenie was a breeze to work for as a director,” Hunter lamented as he reached for his own water and was thrilled to see he wasn’t shaking anymore. “And I learned so much from Chris.”
Margo smiled again. “Chris Westchester. I used to rep him. Well, I mean not technically. I was an intern assigned to his agent’s desk to help his agent’s assistant. But I got to be around him and meet him and even went to the set when he did that thriller in the late nineties.”
“That was like his last big project for a while,” Hunter replied, putting his water down and opening the menu.
He didn’t know why he bothered. Every time he went to lunch with Margo, she ordered for them both.
And she was never wrong about what he’d like.
She was like some kind of tastebud clairvoyant.
Margo nodded and sighed. “Hollywood is ridiculous when it comes to being queer. I mean, they’ll accept it, but you need to play by the rules, and Chris didn’t.”
“What are the rules?”
Margo kept her eyes on the menu. “If you want to be out, be upfront about it. From the get-go. Humility and honesty are key. And then happily accept the roles that you’re going to be designated to.
And that isn’t the action hero, the superhero, or the Rom Com lead.
It’s the best friend. The quirky brother. The hilarious sidekick.”
“That is absolute bullshit,” Hunter whispered, shaking his head. “It’s acting for God's sake, which means pretending. Why can’t queer actors pretend to be straight and get away with it?”
“They do. You just don’t know it because they’re closeted.
Because the old white men up in the glass corner offices have a hard time believing that the women and teenage girls that make up a big chunk of the demographic will be able to believe a guy who saves the girl and makes out with her on camera if he’s walking the red carpet with a guy and kissing him in paparazzi photos.
” Margo finally put her menu down and met his stare.
“And yes, it is absolutely complete and utter bullshit. I personally don’t care who you kiss off camera.
It’s hot either way. My favorite genre of books is MM romance.
It’s all I read on vacation, which is the only time I get to read something other than scripts and contracts.
I want to see a dude make out with another dude.
It’s hot, and it’s safe, and it’s free of the stupid stereotypes women have to live with in media and real life.
But I am, admittedly, not a middle American Christian mom.
That demo, they aren’t likely to as open-minded or as forgiving.
Because they’re as dumb as a bag of rosary beads and about as useful.
Except they have money and they spend money, and so they matter to the industry. ”
Hunter stared at her, open-mouthed and at a loss for words. This was a side of Margo he hadn’t met yet. The blunt feminist liberal who read gay romance. Hunter liked her even more now.
The waiter came up, set down their martinis, and took their order.
Margo ordered for them, as he anticipated.
She got a Cobb Salad, and she ordered him the Lobster Club with a Cesar salad instead of fries.
When the waiter left, she turned her gaze back at Hunter.
“Look, honey, I have a feeling our business relationship is ticking down, and that’s okay.
I like you. I saw your talent, but I also like you, so I’ll be honest with you. ”
“I’m not dumping you, Margo. Why do people keep thinking I will?”
She smiled, but it was sad and placating as she reached for her martini.
“You won’t want to, but the big agents at the big agencies are going to come for you when that movie hits.
They’ll be banging down your door day and night and slipping cards in your pockets at every event and sending you gifts that cost them their whole fucking bonus that year. I know I would if I were them.”
“I said—”
“You’ll move on, and it’s okay,” Margo said quietly.
“I can’t do for you what they’ll do for you.
I don’t want to. I left a big agency because I wanted a quieter life.
I kept my agency small on purpose. I make very decent coin, kiddo.
I do. I hit the jackpot with you and a couple others over the years who have also moved on.
I’m a springboard, not a crash pad. Happily.
And when you move on, I can always be there for you as a mentor and a friend. Don’t lose my number.”
“You’re my agent, and I’m not moving.”
“Okay,” she said, and it was beyond clear she was amused by his loyalty.
But she changed the subject before he could argue more.
“So, let’s get back to the morally democratic but fiscally republican industry we live in.
That’s what it boils down to, Hunter. Surface-wise, Hollywood is all for gay rights and equality, and love is love, but if it impacts even a penny of their revenue —and an out, proud, open gay man as, say, James Bond or Superman would— then they aren’t having it.
Not even in the slightest. But they’ll always be the first to slap a rainbow on a side character.
Superman’s bestie can be as queer as he wants, but not the man in tights. So ironic it’s laughable.”
“Chris basically explained that to me too. He couldn’t get any role for over a decade, though, after he came out. Not even one of the sidekick ones.”
“Because he took those straight roles and came out after the fact.” Margo sighed and put her martini back on the coaster.
“Not willingly either. He was caught. People are angry because he duped them. I think it’s bullshit.
As I said, I still would have paid money to watch Chris Westchester read a grocery list, even after the outing.
But… It’s an unforgiving, archaic industry when it comes down to it, Hunter. ”
“So, there’s not one gay dude in Hollywood?” Hunter questioned, bringing his own martini to his lips.
“There are, and you know it,” Margo leaned closer across the table. “There’s a ton more you don’t know about. A-listers rolling the same dice Chris Westchester did and hoping they don’t lose the house like he did.”
Hunter put his martini back on the table a little too abruptly, and it sloshed, leaving a wet spot on the linen tablecloth. “I don’t think I realized how homophobic this industry actually is.”
“It’s not just homophobic. It’s equally as breathtakingly misogynistic,” Margo added with an overabundance of sarcastic enthusiasm. “Are you going to walk away? Give up everything that you’ve wanted your whole life, kill the dream, on principle?”
“No.” The word came easily, as did the strong feeling in his chest. He wanted this career no matter what.
Margo nodded without an inkling of judgment on her face. She pulled the scripts out of her purse on the banquette and dropped them onto the table. “Then let’s read the script and discuss. This is my last chance to make bank off you, honey.”
“Stop saying that.”
“Okay.”