Noah
Chapter two
Present Day
The cork gives with a satisfying pop, releasing a small stream of pale, fizzy liquid. Jim and Brent laugh good-naturedly when I hastily slurp the excess off my knuckles.
Six months. This deal has been in the works for six fucking months.
Six months of back-and-forth emails with the studio.
Of last-minute flights to Toronto of all places to sweet-talk the casting director.
A nationwide talent search. Three rounds of auditions.
Two rounds of call-backs. A chemistry read.
And then six months of painstaking negotiations to ensure that Kim Yong-rae is the star of Edward Ash's next blockbuster.
I think I earned a small lapse in my table manners.
"How's it feel, son?" Brent asks as he claps Yong-rae on the back. Yong-rae nearly spills the too-full flute I just handed him, but returns Brent's smarmy smile with a practiced one of his own.
"It feels like I'm still dreaming, sir," he answers.
I try not to bristle. All this "son" and "sir" shit pisses me off, mostly because I've never seen the partners do it with any other clients but mine.
Yong-rae immigrated to the US just four years ago after graduating from Dongguk University's film program.
In that time, he studied with a diction specialist to be able to speak English without a Korean accent.
He built impressive followings on both Instagram and TikTok for his fitness content.
He waited tables and worked as a spin instructor, all while going on countless auditions.
And now he's set to star in what the studio thinks will become a billion-dollar franchise.
He's nobody's son.
I clink my glass against his, drawing his attention away from Jim and Brent's phony congratulations. I know it's killing them that one of my so-called "diversity clients" snagged the deal of a lifetime. And he didn't even have to change his name.
"What are you doing to celebrate, Yong-rae? Are you buying a Rolex with your bonus? Hitting the clubs? Meeting some friends for drinks?" I elbow him with a knowing grin. "Whatever you do, just keep it out of the tabloids. Pinnacle takes their conduct clauses very seriously."
Yong-rae worries his lip between his teeth.
"Honestly? I have no idea. None of this has really hit me yet." He's silent for a moment, considering. "Maybe order double what I usually get from Calexico and then go for a run along the Brooklyn Promenade? It'll be too cold for it soon."
Jim, Brent, and I exchange bewildered looks.
"You're going to celebrate landing the lead in 'Forced Proximity', a role that could very well turn you into the next Tom Cruise, with takeout and a run?" Jim asks incredulously. Yong-rae's smile frays a bit at the edges.
"Of course not!" I jump in, coming to my client's rescue. Given the size and stakes of this contract, I'm sure I'll be doing that quite a lot.
"Yong-rae, I can't believe we both forgot," I say, making a big show of remembering plans I'm only just now putting together. "I'm taking you out for a night on the town. We're starting with SILO and hitting every stop on the L train." It's going to be a long night.
Jim and Brent chuckle, and I see Yong-rae's shoulders slump with relief. Poor guy's been so focused on "making it", he didn't leave room for an actual life. Luckily, I'm an expert in that area. Going out and socializing are at least fifty percent of my job.
"That's more like it," Brent says, his grin approving. "Just don't forget that conduct clause."
The rest of the meal is full of laughter, rich food, and way too much champagne. Jim, Brent and I drink most of it, while Yong-rae nurses his one glass.
I'll make sure he loosens up once the other partners aren't around. This is a momentous occasion. Yong-rae achieved what most actors would kill for; now it's time to reap the rewards.
"Oh my God!" Yong-rae shouts over the music. "Why have I never been here before?!"
Despite a disgusting amount of drinks between three clubs, two bars, a hole-in-the-wall falafel joint, and a hookah lounge, his words are barely slurring.
Oh, to have the metabolism of a twenty-six-year-old.
I, on the other hand, had to switch to club soda three stops ago.
It was around the time I started to worry I might have opened Pandora's box.
After lunch, Yong-rae waited for Jim and Brent to get into their cars uptown, then turned to me, expression uncertain.
"Thanks for the save in there," he'd said, "but we don't really need to have some crazy night on the town. I'm not much of a drinker; it's hard to run a CrossFit class hung over." Behind his worried eyes, I'd seen my brother.
But I have class tomorrow had been Henry's excuse for bailing on many a night out freshman year in college, but I'd persisted. He was wound so tight and missing out on the best part of college: the parties.
Well, the second-best part. Hooking up with girls definitely held the top spot.
But despite looking like he starched his boxers and signing up for so many extra classes I worried he'd grind his teeth to dust by second semester, my brother never had any trouble in that department.
A fact I learned against my will, since dorm room walls are about as soundproof as tissue paper.
So when Yong-rae stood on that sidewalk and looked at me like a scared baby bird, I took it as my duty, as a seasoned veteran, to show him the ropes of a city that plays just as hard as it works. Now I feel like I gave this kid a driving lesson without explaining the brakes.
"Probably because you were busy signing big Hollywood deals," I answer with a smirk.
"Wooo!" he yells, lifting his arms above his head. "I'm gonna be a movie star!"
That's been his response any time I mention the deal, and I can't help but laugh. Too often, nepotism and backstabbing win out over genuine talent and hard work. It's refreshing to see a nice guy come out on top for a change.
Maybe a little na?ve, too, but I'll be here to keep him out of trouble. I'm probably stressing over nothing. He's an adult; he can handle it.
"I'm hitting the restroom," I call out, already moving towards the back of the club.
He gives me an upward nod before he's swallowed by the crowd. For someone who doesn't party, he's really putting me to shame.
I finish washing my hands and sneak a peek at the clock behind the bar.
2:48 AM
Damn. I didn't realize it'd gotten so late. I glance over at Yong-rae and sigh. He's grinding on a cute brunette and showing no signs of slowing down. Meanwhile, I'm stifling a yawn. How much longer is he going to be?
Standing clear of the dance floor, I take out my phone.
Council of Bros
Is anyone up to join me to celebrate a big win with my client?
Drinks are on Luxe Partners!
I hit send and wait, ignoring the date of the last text in the thread. The group chat has been noticeably quiet since my brothers started settling down.
Our youngest brother, Adam, was actually the first of us married.
Henry, the oldest and my twin, is engaged.
Cory went from being the biggest player of all of us to practically living with his girl, Denise.
And Damon, the middle child, is bringing a woman to Thanksgiving dinner for the first time ever.
I've only met Kendra a few times, but she seems nice, and she definitely keeps my brother on his toes.
That just leaves me, the odd man out. But that's how I like it. All my brothers know I prefer to travel light.
Five minutes later, my phone buzzes.
Council of Bros
Damon: I assume since you used a phone to text that you know it's almost THREE IN THE FUCKING MORNING?!
I bark out a laugh. Maybe I should feel bad, but I miss my bros.
Council of Bros
And?
You're clearly awake, so why don't you come hang?
Damon sends me a middle finger emoji, and I laugh again. OK, so hanging out this late was a long shot.
When I survey the throng of dancers, I see Yong-rae has finally chosen a partner for the evening. He and the brunette are practically glued to each other, and quickly approaching the bounds of propriety.
I'm considering finding some company of my own when another yawn comes over me. I'm beat. I need to pay the tab, put Yong-rae and his "friend" in a cab, and crash. Production starts in less than two weeks.