Page 17 of Knox
"So." Ian clapped his hands together once. "Campton wants you to run lines for the son in the movie."
"Wait. One of the students was supposed to get a role." I shook my head.
"They are," Finn said.
"It's not like that, Josh. You look like you could belong to Sylvie and me. Not to mention, you can act," Ian said.
"What's the movie about?" I asked as Finn brought me a new pair of black boots with a pair of thick socks.
"It's about the old competition, and the ball," Ian said.
I nodded. "So, there's a horse race, and a romance."
"Yeah," Ian sighed.
Finn rubbed his back, and I looked from one to the other. "What's wrong?"
"I haven't exactly told Campton I'm not the romance," Ian muttered.
"Or that I don't want you to do any scenes where you're naked with Sylvie," Finn said.
Ian pointed at him. "You agreed on the pool scene, now."
Finn smiled. "I did. You aren't fucking her, Ian. Alluding to is not doing."
"I have to kiss her," Ian grumbled.
"Wait," I said, and they both looked at me. "I'm doing the sex scenes, aren't I?"
"Reading for isn't a guarantee," Ian said.
Finn rolled his eyes. "He's as good as you. Campton will hire him."
Did I want to be an actor? Hadn't thought about it in those terms. The play was fun, but I didn't think I was good enough for a movie.
"True," Ian murmured.
"I'll read." I shrugged. "Doesn't mean I'll get the part, no matter what you say, Finn. Campton could choose anyone."
"But he won't," Finn said.
"Are you riding with me?" I asked, looking down at Ian's bare feet. "I'm leaving in five and you don't have shoes."
Hadn't seen them go through this, whatever it was. Couldn't call it arguing. I could say that Ian wanted to do something and Finn said no. The situation made me feel weird, and I didn't want to be involved in the conversation anymore.
"You didn't have to make me rewrite it," Ian muttered as I held the door open for them.
Knox backed into the wall as they passed him, and I gave him the once-over. He wore joggers and a hoodie. Had I misinterpreted?
"You look really nice," he smiled as I went back for my coat. "I'm wearing this to the theater." He held up a backpack. "Got my clothes for after in here. When Ginger measured us, she ripped the button off my jeans. Not having a repeat of that."
I wrinkled my nose. "Ginger?"
He nodded. "She's got too many hands."
"Wait until the cast party," I muttered on the way down the stairs. "When she brings wine, she intends to get sloshy, and grows about four more pairs of hands."
"You'll have to hide me, then."
