Page 32 of In Love with Lewis Prescott
My mind flashes back to the footage I saw of Lewis telling the paparazzi to fuck off when they refused to leave him alone at Chateau Marmont. And that was after a string offuck yous doled out to interviewers who crossed a line with him.
“Good for you for having the composure I’m lacking to tactfully tell people off instead of just yelling profanity at them like I do.” He grunts as he loosens another floorboard.
“I wish I were as ballsy as you to cuss people out.”
“Well, I wish people took me as seriously as they take you.”
“People don’t take you seriously?” I ask.
“I get cast as the pretty boy or the bad boy. A lot. It gets tiring after a while.”
This time when he grunts, I think it has less to do with the physical labor he’s performing and more to do with the frustration in what he’s told me.
“Have you tried to branch out into different roles?” I ask, feeling foolish for assuming that he enjoyed always playing the hot guy or the bad boy.
“Yeah. For a long time, actually. But the pretty boy/bad boy work is what pays the bills. It has for a while now, and I think casting agents, producers, and directors are hesitant to let me do something meatier, even though I’ve been dying to.”
“What does your agent say when you bring it up?”
“He’s not much of a risk taker when it comes to my career. Trent tells me it’s best to stick with a sure thing. That it’ll help me build a solid name for myself, then maybe in a few years I can think about branching out.”
I scoff. “That’s such bullshit.”
He starts to laugh, but I reach over and touch his arm. He goes quiet instantly.
“I’m serious, Lewis. Your agent works for you, right? I mean, he may help get you parts, but you’re the one who does the actual work. Without you, he’d be nothing. And for him to dismiss your goals and dreams for his own ‘sure thing’ is pretty upsetting.”
When I feel the muscle in his forearm flex, it suddenly registers that I’m still touching him. I let go and place my hand in my lap.
“Sorry, I don’t mean to tell you what to do,” I mumble. “I don’t have the faintest clue what it’s like to work in the entertainment industry. I’m sure it’s a lot more complicated than I’ll ever know. But you’re a talented actor. You’re so invested in every role I’ve seen you in. It’s like you’re embodying the character, not just reciting the lines. And I have zero doubt that you’re going to knock your first serious role out of the park.”
His eyes widen the slightest bit, like he can’t believe what I’ve just said. “That means a lot. Thank you.”
“What’s your dream role?”
He leans up on his knees, resting his hands on his denim-clad thighs. “There’s this script I read last year. A friend’s friend wrote it, and it’s so incredible, I read it in one sitting. It’s a coming-of-age teen romance with a nonbinary main character. There’s a supporting role in that—the main character’s older brother. He’s been in and out of jail and comes off as a questionable character at first, but he’s the main character’s biggest supporter. And as the movie progresses you learn that deep down, he’s a truly good person. His support for his sibling never wavers. He openly calls out people who bully them. And he’s the one person the main character knows they can count on to accept them, no matter what. Yeah, he’s been to jail, but for petty stuff here and there. When it comes to what matters—standing up for what’s right—the older brother always delivers. I’d love to play that part, to show that people can be flawed and still be good.”
There’s a fire that lights behind Lewis’s eyes when he talks about this role, this movie.
Passion.
I’ve never witnessed him talk about anything with as much passion as he showed just now.
“You’d be amazing in that role. I would watch the hell out of that. Loads of people would.”
His shoulders hunch forward slightly, almost like he’s deflating. “Yeah, well, my agent thought it would be a pretty risky move for me, taking on a gritty indie role, so I passed on it. Last I heard, a couple of smaller studios were thinking about developing it into a series. I’m sure they’ll cast someone great as the older brother.”
As I watch him work to remove plank after plank from the floor, it dawns on me just how insecure he is. It’s a strange realization—how can someone so handsome and famous and successful harbor so much doubt about himself? It’s not something I’ve ever noticed him display in any of his interviews that I’ve seen. Even when he’s pissed off, there’s this air of confidence about him. And I certainly haven’t noticed it over the past week, as he moves with complete confidence and know-how through each physical task he approaches.
But then it dawns on me: maybe he’s letting himself be vulnerable right now because he feels comfortable—because he doesn’t feel like he has to be on like he does in his LA life.
It feels so special to see him so raw, so honest.
“Hey.”
He glances up at me.
“I hope you reconsider, because you’d be perfect for that role.”
