Page 11 of Script
“Harry?”
Atlas snorted. “I’m sorry, but what?”
“The potter. Was it Harry?”
“No, Finn, the potter was a man who makes things with clay.” Oh sure, yeah. I knew that. “The point being that he’s not been heard from in Hollywood for over two years. Last time he was spotted by anyone it was in some tiny seaside theater. Is that what you want for your future? Do you want to end up performing for free to people who reek of lobster?!”
I didn’t want to lose my career over who I loved, or wanted in my bed, not when it hadn’t even happened yet. I mean, yes, I’d slept with guys over the years, one-offs, mostly here in LA, people as scared as me to keep their secrets, but I’d never met anyone worth losing my career over.
It hurt to have to hide myself, made me tense even considering that maybe Finn Corrigan, hero of theRapidmovies, coming out as gay, might be a positive thing to any kid out there struggling.
But it was the part I’d signed up for and I hadn’t known any different; sometimes, I wished I hadn’t been a child actor, sometimes I wished I’d had time between my last appearance on that stupid popular kids’ show on that stupid popular kids’ network and filming forRapid1.
Maybe I could have grown up properly then.
“What if I don’t want to keep it a secret? What if I want to be the real me?”
“Not this again, Finn.”
“Well, it’s all up inside me and I can’t help it,” I snapped at him.
“I know. Iknow. But do you love what you do, Finn? Because you could lose everything if you position yourself too far away from the character we created for you to live.” Atlas was trying very hard for reassurance laced with patience.
Worry rolled through me, washing away any tentative idea I might have had over the past year or two of coming out. It wasn’t like I needed any more movies—hell I had enough money to last me five lifetimes—but I was an actor in my heart and soul, and what if I lost that? What if I couldn’t even get a role in a fourth-rate theatre for a bit part because my lies blew up in my face?
I chewed my lip, and Atlas continued his lecture about talking to him first before I did anything stupid, and I tried to listen, but it was just noise and a lot of things he’d said before.
“… agreed?” he finished. “Finn? Do you agree?”
“With what?” I asked. There was no way I was going to be fooled into agreeing to something I hadn’t even heard. That was how I ended up eating a gallon of ice cream when I was ten and losing the lot over my teacher at the school nativity.
“Dinner with Natalie Hager, somewhere in the spotlight, somewhere up market. Okay?”
I sighed. He cursed me out.
Natalie was lovely, another one of Atlas’ actors, a veteran of daytime soaps like me, and now entrenched into a string of superhero movies. She was gay as well, so it was a mutual thing to be each other’s backup, but at the previous public dinner to show how straight we were, she’d admitted she was tired of hiding.
Iwas tired of hiding.
Only I didn’t know how to explain that to anyone, or for it to be in a safe space where what I said wouldn’t leak.
“Sure,” I said, “text me the details, and I’ll pick her up.” I’d arrive at the restaurant, step out of my bright yellow Lamborghini, wearing designer stuff, the right watch, my hair would be screen-perfect, and I’d be the faultlessstraightgentleman I needed to be.
The call ended, and I stared at my cell for a few moments, replaying all the highs and lows of a shitty conversation.
The studio wantedmeforLadybug2.
I wasn’t allowed to tarnish my reputation if I had any hope of making it to a level where my sexuality be damned.
But most of all… had Ireallybeen staring at Cameron as if I could eat him?
I opened theTMZapp, something I avoided doing unless I could help it, scrolled past stories about Tom Cruise, Cameron Diaz, a soap star in rehab, and a TikTok of Miley Cyrus and a squirrel, and then there I was, fifth one down.
Finn Kerrigan and unknown man in exotic dancer showdown.
“Man? He’s not just a man; he’s CameronfreakingChavkin,” I muttered, then scrolled the story.
According to the journalist, I’d gone from salivating over naked women, straight through to making eyes at Cameron. All while refusing to sign autographs, telling people to leave me alone, and being a diva by ordering champagne they didn’t have.
