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Since the incident three months ago, Ryland has thrown away his sim card, deleted his primary email, and sentenced himself into a hermit lifestyle—who knew he'd actually be subject to media harassment just for saying that water and the Goldilocks zone weren't shit in the grand scheme of evolutionary biology.
The only way people would actually be able to contact him right now was through his ancient telephone number, passed down from the previous tenant of his current apartment that didn't bother to cut the line when they left, and leaving Ryland unwittingly paying for a telephone bill. A blessing in disguise if he was being honest. Man is a social creature after all. That, and after a wellness check demanded by his brother, made him realize that maybe a singular phone number wouldn't hurt after committing what was essentially social suicide.
He's only told two people about that phone number so far:
Marissa, bless her heart, was away in San Francisco, promoted to a new position in the DOE. It wasn't like they could meet up any time soon while he was down in LA, of course she'd get his old-new phone number.
Colt more or less forced his way back into his life after his twin heard that he moved into some shit apartment in Los Angeles after Denmark. They haven't been in much contact since Ryland began university and continued onto his post-grad studies, and with Colt's messy schedule, the only semblance of connection they had in recent years were the occasional happy birthday messages, check-in texts, and memes. It slipped his mind to tell Colt that he was ditching his old phone number and email.
After almost two weeks of nothing from his brother, Colt prompted for a wellness check that turned into an embarrassing misunderstanding where Ryland thought that he was getting a warrant from Interpol for yelling what could be misconceived as a death threat to some high profile European biologist 2 and a half months ago.
When he finally cleared all that up with the officers that checked in on him ("No worries, officers. Totally my fault for not contacting my brother in so long, of course he'd be worried about me, haha."), he called Colt and argued with him for at least an hour, with Ryland eventually giving him the phone number he inherited.
A couple of job recruiters and agencies did have the number, but it wasn't like they were all that eager to call back some disgraced academic eyeing a retail position. ("The fuck do you mean overqualified? I'll just be scanning barcodes, degree or not, anyone can do that!" Ryland seethed as he checked another email that rejected his application.)
So when his telephone rang while he was eating a pathetic excuse for a microwave dinner, he knew who to expect from the other end of the line.
"Sup?" Ryland balanced the telephone between his cheek and shoulder. He carried his microwave dinner and took a bite as he waited for the other person to respond.
"Ry, you free this weekend?" He recognized his brother's voice on the other end.
Ironically, as someone in-between jobs, he's free all the time.
He swallowed and answered, "Yeah, why?"
"Nothing really, just wanted to hang out with you."
Ryland took another bite and chewed, "Sure. Where are we meeting up?"
"I'm picking you up at your place. I got a mostly free day this Friday, so I thought maybe you'd like to visit the set we're shooting at."
He wasn't really all that for the filmmaking scene, unlike Colt who was an absolute movie nerd. But it's been a while since he's gone outside for something else other than job hunting and eating cheap diner meals. Heck, he hasn't even spoken to anyone directly that week. If he was being honest, he does miss his brother…
"Alright, what's time are you coming here?"
"'Round 9 am-ish? Is that good to you?"
"It's cool," Ryland agreed. "I'll see you then, Colt."
"See you, Ry."
The conferences and symposiums Ryland attended before his banishment were full of people who identify as pretentious academic smartholes, passionate weirdos of a certain niche and everyone else in between that spectrum. While he saw many similarities between those people and the ones in movie sets when it comes to the spunk and passion, being on set still stunned him with awe. The movie people were like ants in an ant hill. Someone always seemed to be supposed to be somewhere, but everyone still knew what they're doing, what they need to do, how and when to do it.
It felt like walking into a dissection of an organism; Ryland was a simpleton when it came to the movies, but witnessing how one is made and getting a close up at the bits and bobs of a movie set…he supposed that he could now slightly understand his brother's fascination in films.
The twins were wrapping up their tour around the studio, courtesy of Colt who pulled some strings to get him out of the usual studio tour groups that weren't allowed to see the blood and guts of movie making.
"Too bad we're shooting in-house for this one," Colt sighed. "It would've been cooler if you got to see an off-studio shoot. In my opinion, the outdoor stuntworks are way more awesome to do."
"Yeah, and I bet they're twice as deadly, if your work could get even more dangerous than it already is," Ryland scoffed at his twin.
"D'awwww, is my brother worried about me?"
"For a reckless dumbass like you, I worry a reasonable amount, yeah," Ryland finished off his coffee cup. "Well, there goes the last good thing on this set. I'm gonna go get a new cup."
"I'll come with—"
"SEAVERS!" A loud screech of radio feedback interrupted the person speaking. "Ack, son of a bitch—Seavers, get to make-up now, stat. We're shooting the next scene in 15 minutes."
Colt blew a raspberry, he picked up his walkie talkie and answered, "Copy. Be there in two." He shrugged his shoulders, "Looks like I won't be able to go with you. You do remember where the catering table is at, yeah?"
"I guess," said Ryland. "It's not like this set's large enough for me to get lost in."
"Oof, yeah don't eat your words later, Ry. Just flash your visitor ID and ask anyone for directions if you do get lost."
"I'm a grown man, dumbass. There's no way I'm getting lost, now go do your job."
Colt only rolled his eyes and jogged away. Ryland turned around and walked back towards the general direction of the catering table.
Three minutes later, Ryland found himself lost in the studio.
Ryland bit back a curse, because of course Colt had to be right about him getting lost in the studio. He reasoned that the set was just inside a large pimped up warehouse with two doors in and out, and anybody could navigate through a building with (technically) four walls. Man, his ego can't catch a fucking break. He was somewhere with a lot of lighting equipment and wires—wires he prayed weren't going to trip him, but knowing his clumsy streak, it'll be a matter of time—and nowhere close to the catering table.
Great. Fuck me.
Ryland licked his lips and turned around again, hoping to see someone who could point him to the right direction ("Fine, I'll swallow my pride this time," he grumbled to himself.) While he spun around, he managed to snag his head into a softbox behind him, the material temporarily blinded him when he instinctively turned to see what he bumped into. Then he felt the pole of the softbox tilt, and that would've probably cost him more than he could currently afford right now if someone didn't catch the fixture right before it fell.
"Whew, that was a close one!" It was a fair haired woman that came to his rescue. Knights in shining armors come in all types and genders, bless them.
"Would've dominoed all over the others if I didn't…Colt?" The woman paused and squinted at Ryland, "Aren't you supposed to be in costumes now? The shoot is in five minutes—!"
Ryland adjusted his glasses and quickly shook his head, "O-oh no, I'm not—Colt's already in make-up, if you're worried about him."
There was a pause as the woman realized that Ryland wasn't his brother, "Oh, bollocks! Right, Colt told me about his brother visiting—I am so sorry," she laughed. "I'm Jody by the way, camera operator and a good friend of your brother."
"I'm Ryland," he shook the woman's outstretched hand. He gestured at the light fixture, "That would've been a very expensive accident if you haven't caught the pole in time."
"Mmhmm. Good thing I was just around returning these gobos," Jody lifted up the disks she was carrying. "And I have a gut feeling that you seem to be lost, yes?"
Ryland flushed at the observation, but was relieved that he finally found someone—someone quite close with Colt apparently—to help him find his way back to the catering table.
"Yeah," he admitted in defeat, "I was supposed to be heading towards the catering but…" Ryland shrugged his shoulders.
Jody smiled at him, "Ah, it happens to everyone new on set. Tell you what, wait for me to sort these out, and we'll go to the catering together, yeah?"
After Jody stashed the gobo panels away, she and Ryland walked towards their destination. The pair chatted about anything to get to know each other, and of course, they talked about Colt and whatever embarrassing tidbit the other wasn't aware of about the man. Somewhere on set, the stuntman in question swore he could feel an icy crawl creep up his back.
"…he cried for like the entire afternoon and evening when we had to bury the hummingbird we rescued." Ryland chuckled at a certain childhood memory, to which Jody laughed lightly upon hearing about it.
"He's such a sap, but that's what I like about him," the woman sighed fondly, "Colt's all rugged and tough on the outside but he really is just a huge softie, especially towards the animals on set."
"Oooh, care to share any tales about that?" Ryland raised a cheeky eyebrow.
"I have several," Jody offered. "That brother of yours has a weak spot for dogs on set. After every shoot, you'll see him hanging around the animal wranglers and petting the pups like that was his job, not stunts."
"Of course he does, we weren't allowed to get a pet dog since dad was allergic to fur, but he grew up loving dog films. I did too of course, but he loves those films. We almost got banned from the video rental because of how scratched up the tape was from all the rewinds whenever we returned his favorites." The man grinned.
"Are you fond of dogs too?"
"Yeah. I mean, you could say that, but I prefer foxes more."
"Huh," Jody hummed. "I take it that The Fox and The Hound is a sensitive topic for the both of you."
Ryland cringed, "Oof, yeah that's a tender subject. Word of advice, don't mention that film to Colt unless you want him to get all misty-eyed out of the blue."
"Duly noted," Jody smirked, and Ryland knew that spelled trouble for his brother, not that he'd do anything about it anyway.
The pair arrived at the catering area and helped themselves to the drinks and concession items. Ryland didn't waste any time getting himself a new cup of coffee, feeling his nerves loosen (ironically) at the shot of caffeine in his veins. A new crew member joined them and Jody greeted him.
"Dan!" The woman exclaimed, "Hey, are the stunts ready to go?"
"Yeah, we already went through the shot list and I'll be following up on them in a bit. Just need a little pick me up." Dan held up the coffee cup in his hands. He glanced over at Ryland, who was occupied with stuffing his face with a powdered donut.
"Hey, you're Colt's brother, aren't ya?" He gestured at the blond man. "I'm Dan Tucker, stunt coordinator."
Ryland forcefully swallowed the donut in his mouth and dusted the powder and crumbs on his suit jacket, then shook Dan's hand. "I'm Ryland. Grace." The man inwardly kicked himself at the awkward pause during his introduction.
"Grace? I assumed you and Colt shared the same surname," Jody remarked.
"Yeah, we do, but apparently, 'Grace' wasn't 'flashy enough' for a stage name. I doubt his middle name could've saved his reputation either," Ryland said. Jody quirked an eyebrow at the mention of Colt's elusive middle name.
"Do tell," she prompted.
"Eh, he'll kick my ass if I do," the man hesitated, but it was only for show.
"C'mon, we won't snitch," Dan egged him on.
"Alright, geez," he laughed and sipped his coffee. "Angel."
"What?" Dan blinked.
"Angel. Colton Angel Grace. That's his full government name." Ryland's shit eating grin grew wider, "Now, if he went around with the stage name Angel Grace, I think he'd never hear the end of it."
"I'll be storing that fun fact for later," Jody mused.
"Oh noooo, don't blackmail my brother, that's not nice," Ryland feigned a pout, then fell into a fit of laughter together with the other two.
"It was nice meeting you Ryland, but I gotta bounce. We're shooting Colt's scene in five." Dan nodded at him and waved farewell to Jody, then he paused and asked Ryland, "Do you want to see your twin in action?"
"Oh, fuck no," the blond man crossed his arms into an X. "Pardon my french, but Colt's line of work already got my blood pressure rising to unhealthy levels, and actually seeing him do all that might just send me to the ER."
"It's bloody brilliant to watch though," Jody said.
"Not to mention, the science behind the physics of the stunts are real sick," added Dan.
Damn, he's right, Ryland thought. Stunt physics are sick as hell.
If anyone knew how to bait the man, it was through the promise of scientific phenomenon. Dan Tucker might not be aware of it, but he just managed to snag Ryland into watching his brother's stunt work live; hook, line and sinker.
He sighed, "Fine. Just have the medics nearby in case I faint."
"You really are Colt's brother," Jody shook her head. "He's as dramatic as you are."
Ryland glanced at his watch and checked the time, the shoot was starting in a minute. He stood behind the main crew manning the huge camera that framed the current scene, which was apparently "The best front row seat in the house" according to Dan. He preferred to have his seat in the sidelines, thank you very much. Scratch that, he'd rather be back at the concession stand gobbling up powdered jelly donuts and not having to witness his brother do what should be classified as an attempt on his life.
Okay, he's being too dramatic with his embellishments—Colt's obviously not suicidal, but he's definitely an adrenaline junkie that gets off on the high of danger and near death experiences. Somehow, that was worse.
The stunt they were about to shoot was relatively tame compared to previous stunts Colt had to do for movies before: A ten foot fall through a glass pane and right onto the hood of a car. Ryland knew that the glass wasn't really glass (it was candy fashioned to look like glass, "Willy Wonka type shit," in his brother's words), but he was more worried about the falling-onto-a-car aspect of the stunt. There weren't any mattresses to ease the fall, but Colt had mentioned before something about buffers that were used to ensure the stuntmen weren't hurt too bad, like that would soothe his anxiety.
The mumurs on set immediately ceased as the director held up his hand to signal the start of the shoot. There was a faint "Marker" from someone, and the distinct clack of a clapper, then the shoot began.
Oddly enough, he didn't hear the typical glass shattering sound effect when Colt jumped through the glass and fell ("That's the magic of foley, Ry," he heard his brother's voice in his head.) Then there was that sickening thud of a body hitting metal when the stuntman finally made contact with the car hood, the sound twisted Ryland's guts into knots.
After a few agonizing seconds of watching his brother's limp body lying there, the director yelled "Cut!", and Colt held up his signature thumbs up.
The set immediately burst back to life as the crew prepped for the next scene in the shot list. Colt slid off the hood to let a medic check his body for any injuries, who eventually gave him the green light after seeing none. Ryland caught his attention and he jogged towards his twin, grinning widely from the thrill of a successful stunt.
"Hey, you saw that?" Colt asked.
Ryland rolled his eyes in annoyance, but his fond smile gave away his expression. "No, I had my eyes closed—of course I did, you reckless dummy. Nearly gave me a heart attack."
Colt only laughed at his brother's weariness, "C'mon, it wasn't that bad. It's vanilla compared to when I had to hang from a moving helicopter three years ago."
"Ugh, where's the medic? I'm feeling woozy."
"You're such drama queen."
"So, are there any more stunt shoots I have to prepare my poor old heart for after this one?"
"Unless Ryder demands for a re-shoot, I'm fine for the rest of the afternoon. Then it's one more scene in the evening, involving a bunch of fake guns, explosions and a car chase."
Ryland grimaced at the mention of a car chase, "You'll be totaling another car this time for your stunt, aren't you?"
"Oh no, I'm not driving," his brother assured him. "In fact, I won't be doing any dangerous stuff. I'll just be on stand by."
"That's…oh, thank God. I don't think I'd get any sleep tonight if I knew you were going to drive recklessly again."
Colt wrinkled his nose, "You make it sound like I'm some delinquent. I'll have you know I'm being reckless professionally, it's part of the job description."
"I better get used to that, huh?" Ryland laughed softly, "Who's the poor soul crashing the car this time if it isn't you?"
"Some guy who signed up a couple of days ago," the stuntman shrugged his shoulders. "Saw him work. He could definitely do pro racing if he wanted to, dunno why he's sticking to stunts."
Colt stretched his arms, "Anyway, let's head to catering. All that crashing and smashing got me the munchies, man."
The twins weaved their way through the set, talking with each other, and occasionally greeting crew members praising Colt for a stunt well done. They encountered Jody and Dan on the way, and dragged them along on their mission to the catering table once more.
For the next half hour, the four of them chatted and joked. Colt was mortified when Jody teasingly called him "Angel", feeling betrayed as he glared at his twin accusingly. Ryland grinned over his coffee cup and feigned innocence.
"That's so not cool of you, dude," Colt pouted.
"Oh, it's not that bad," Jody pet his cheek playfully. "It's adorable, Angel."
Colt blushed and tried to stop the giddy smile that threatened to spread on his lips. "M'not adorable, Jodes," he grumbled.
"Get a room," Dan whistled, causing the pair to awkwardly step back and idle shyly.
"What? You telling me you're not together yet?" Ryland teased the couple.
Colt gave his brother a warning glare, while Jody let out a sheepish giggle, her face blooming red like a cherry.
Ryland was feeling a little devilish and nudged Dan, giving him a knowing look. The man gave him a playful smirk, clearly on the same wavelength as he was.
"What are you saying, man? They're clearly already a thing, they're just shy about it." Dan doubled down.
Colt smacked his face and groaned. Jody however, tugged at his jacket sleeve and whispered, "Can I talk to you for a sec?"
The pair left the two men by the catering table.
Ryland blinked in surprise, while Dan just stared in shock at the two as they walked away.
"What do you think are they gonna talk about?"
"Dunno," Dan chuckled. "Talking body, probably."
Neither Jody or Colt returned after they left, but that was fine by Ryland. Dan's company was quite enjoyable, until the man was called back on set to start preparing for another stunt shooting scene.
"You gonna be alright here, man?"
Ryland shrugged his shoulders, "Yeah. I'm staying put this time, this studio's a fucking maze."
Dan laughed and waved goodbye.
For a few peaceful minutes, Ryland enjoyed his nth cup of coffee that day, complimented by a few donuts served by the catering.
"What the fuck are you wearing?"
The blond man choked on his coffee and snapped his head towards the voice in ire, "Pardon?"
A man stood before him, the first feature that caught Ryland's attention was the disdain in his unnaturally pretty face. He had his hands on his waist and carried himself in a way that screamed "huge dick, professional asshole" that he's very acquainted with from years of dealing with jerks in academia. He wore the same outfit that Colt was sporting, so Ryland assumed that the man before him was another body double for the star of the movie.
"Hey specs, I asked you a question," the double snapped his fingers. "What the fuck are you wearing, and why aren't you in costume? Shoot starts in ten minutes, I thought you were profesh, Seavers. Stop slacking, bro."
He elbowed his way towards the coffee machine, and poured himself a cup, sprinkling a generous amount of sugar and neglecting the cream entirely. Ryland watched the man incredulously, this asshole's audacity and lack of tact! Did he not see that he's wearing a bright neon yellow lanyard and an ID that had "Visitor" in bold black font? Was he blind? Those tinted glasses definitely obscured his vision enough.
The man drank his cup halfway and sighed, then he turned and poked Ryland's shoulder hard, "Dude, are you seriously not listening? Chop, chop, shoot's about to start!"
He felt the cup in his hands crinkle as he gripped it to ground himself, "I'm not Colt." Ryland said.
The man paused and sized him up, then guffawed, "Well fuck me sideways, nobody told me Seavers had a body double!" He downed his coffee and discarded the cup unceremoniously on the floor.
"The name's Tom. Tom Ryder, but I think you already know that, huh?" He reached out his hand, but retrieved it when Ryland made no move to shake it. Tom raised his eyebrow at Ryland, who stared down at the empty cup on the floor and scoffed, "That's not environmentally friendly."
"Psh, that's supposed to be somebody's job to clean up." The actor shrugged, "Anyway, what's a nerd like you doing on set? Planning on auditioning? You got the face, not gonna lie, just ditch the professor look, and maybe some casting director might give you a role in exchange of a blowjob or something."
Colt had ranted in his messages about how his boss was a jackass, and he was sure that his twin was just blowing shit out of proportion. But now as he stood before Tom Ryder—like the apostle Thomas poking the wounds of Christ, he finally believed his brother's testament.
Yeah, he didn't like Tom at all.
"Er, it's not my scene. I'm just visiting." Ryland laughed dryly, willing away the boiling irritation he was feeling towards this man in favor of civility.
"Oh," Tom looked at him over his sunglasses, and flashed a toothy grin. "Well, it would be poor manners if I didn't show a pretty little thing like you around set, no?"
"No thanks, my brother already gave me a tour."
"Aww, that's a shame." Tom clicked his tongue, "I bet you didn't catch the best places to see some 'action', if you know what I mean?" Ryland noticed that the actor had scooted closer to his personal space.
I should punch him, he thought.
No! What would Colt think? That's his boss! A voice reasoned in his head.
Nice swing, bro. Now give him an uppercut!
Ryland. No.
"I never caught your name," said Tom.
He really didn't want this man to know his name, but that would just be delaying the inevitable, so he begrudgingly said, "It's Ryland."
"Ryland…Seavers?"
Ryland wanted to eat his own face.
"Just Ryland."
"Ryland…" Tom tested his name on his tongue.
Ryland cleared his throat, "Shouldn't you be…I dunno, on set? You mentioned that shooting starts soon."
"Oh yeah," the actor hummed thoughtfully. Ryland hoped that would finally get the man out of his hair, but that seemed to only make him double down as he felt fingers tip-toe up his forearm. Tom's breath tickled his ear as he whispered, "That can wait though. Wanna see what real acting looks like, sweetheart?"
At that, Ryland made a noise of disgust that surprised the both of them. He weasled out of Tom's grasp and slammed his coffee cup on the catering table. He had enough of this douchebag, and he was going to peg him down a notch.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Ryder but you've been encroaching on my personal space for more than I could tolerate!" He jabbed a finger at the actor. "I simply need to let you know that no, I'd rather not see what real acting looks like and please, stay the fuck away from me and do your job, you sad excuse of an evolutionary disappointment!"
Oh did he blow up on Ryder's face, it was a shame nobody saw him dropping bars. It might've rivaled his meltdown in Denmark. He spat out things that were definitely unflattering about Ryder's occupation, unfairly roped the actor's innocent mother into his tirade, and insulted his bedroom performance (not that he'd be aware of that anyway) by comparing it to the reproductive activities of a bird.
Through all of that, Tom stared at him wide eyed and mouth agape, in a starstruck daze.
After Ryland huffed, done with his insults, Tom finally spoke, "I…didn't get all of that, but like…wow, your vocabulary is hot as fuck. Can I get your number, Ry-ry?"
Oh my God, can this man get any denser than the atmosphere of Venus?
Ryland covered his hands over his face and ran them up through his hair, skewing his glasses along the way. He refused to acknowledge the whimper Tom let out, and stared the man down coldly.
"Pretty please?"
Breathe in, 1, 2, 3…
"With a cherry on top?"
Breathe out, 4, 5, 6…
"C'mon baby, I'm on my knees here."
A memory surfaced in his mind: It was of him and Colt back in high school. His brother was teaching him a breathing exercise to calm his temper because Ryland found himself in detention for the fourth time that month. It wasn't his fault for being a smartass in situations that didn't require his sass, but growing pains weren't really doing his patience any favors.
"…and after six, you breathe in again and repeat the whole thing 'til you feel your nerves chill out." Colt demonstrated the breathing exercise he picked up as an athlete.
"Anxiety and anger might be two different emotions, but they're both negative ones. Sometimes a remedy for one can be a cure for something similar, y'know."
Ryland mirrored his brother's breathing and let out a sigh, "You got smart advice for once, dummy. Thanks, man."
Colt grinned at him.
Back in the present, Tom pouted at him in an attempt to appeal to his emotions.
Now, Ryland had to admit that having someone as attractive as Tom Ryder beg for his attention was flattering. The thing is though…it's Tom Ryder. In the brief interaction they've had, the actor has proven to Ryland that he's not just an asshole but he's the shitbag extraordinaire, and the type of person who would gladly copulate with any hole—organic or not—that would let him. Gross.
He tried the breathing exercise again.
Tom took off his glasses and winked at him as he dramatically flicked his bleached hair. "Cat got your tongue, babe? I know, I know, people see me and bam! Speechless."
He's still pissed.
The actor was in his personal space again, and that stupid look on his face made Ryland want to do…something. He maintained his sharp glare at the offending man before him. Fine, he'll play his game.
"Oh no, that's not it," Ryland began. "I've just…been thinking." He made sure to skim his eyes up and down the actor in faux interest.
That stirred a reaction from Ryder. A smirk settled on the actor's lips as he lowered his voice, "Would that be about the digits I've been trying to get from you? Or perhaps…something else?"
"Maybe the former, maybe the latter," the man hummed in response.
"Fuck, baby, I didn't know you liked to play hard to get." Tom snaked an arm around him and gripped his waist, then pulled him closer. Yeah, whatever was poking him right now definitely wasn't a prop.
"H-hey now—" He cursed himself for stuttering because it only riled up Ryder even more. He felt the heat of the other man's hand as it traced over the back of his neck, down his spine and…for some reason that goes against his own logic, he enjoyed the thrill of capturing someone like Tom into his orbit.
Ryland couldn't take it anymore. Everything was becoming too much and he needed out, but Tom's hold was firm. It terrified him because why didn't he mind the pressure on his skin?
Fuck this.
In the heat of the moment, he slugged the actor in the face.
That seemed to break whatever spell Tom was under as he writhed on the floor, groaning in pain.
"AUGH! WHAT THE FUCK!? OW!" The actor screeched and cradled his face. Ryland's fist shook as he panted from effort and his overwhelming, confounding emotions.
"MY FACE IS OFF LIMITS, YOU FUCKING JERK!" Tom wailed as he held his aching jaw and spat out blood. "FUCK! You knocked out a teeth or something!"
"You're calling me a jerk?" Ryland scoffed, "I've been telling you I wasn't interested all this time, but it looks like you have no concept of boundaries!"
"Then what the fuck was that? You were leading me on!"
"I had to speak to you in a language you could actually understand because that amoeba-sized brain of yours couldn't comprehend my fucking point: I'm not interested!"
Tom tried to stagger onto his feet, but stumbled back down, "You motherfucker, do you know who I am? I can make your life a living hell with just a phone call, y'know!"
Ryland let out a mirthless laugh and flipped him off, "Try me, dipshit. I've got nothing to lose at this point!"
And that was technically the truth. Years spent at university, countless hours in labs and conferences, and toiling away at his dissertation, just for his entire career to blow up in his face because of a hot take. He wasn't afraid of an empty threat from some celebrity, because what else could be worse than being forced to coast along life, not knowing what to do next after the world was pulled out from under his feet? Fuck, was he tired.
Tom met his eyes, confusion and something unspoken gleamed across his gaze.
A few crew members noticed the commotion and approached the catering area, someone shouted for a medic and the man took that as his cue to get out of there.
Ryland stared at the actor blankly, a small flicker of hesitation made its way on his face, before he spun around and fled.
He had no regrets. The guy kept pushing his buttons, of course he'd respond accordingly. Maybe it was a bad idea to flirt back at Tom—a man notorious for his promiscuity—but it seemed like it was the only way the actor would actually listen to him.
Colt. Gotta find Colt.
He asked a few people he encountered where the stunts were hanging out on set, and he was grateful for them when he found his way around the studio. He saw some of the stunt crew chatting away in some corner, and spotted a familiar face in the crowd.
Colt noticed his brother approaching. He called his name out in greeting and noted the distress on his twin's face. He parted from the group and met his brother halfway.
"Hey man, what's wrong?" He asked his brother softly as he guided him back to the group, where he got him a chair to sit down on.
"I need a getaway driver." Ryland deadpanned.
One of the stunt crew raised his hand, and the others stared at him. The guy awkwardly scratched the back of his neck and cleared his throat. He looked away, toying with the toothpick in his mouth.
"Woah, what—? What happened, Ry?" Colt asked. Did his brother break a prop or something? The man tugged at the hem of his coat, then buried his face in his hands.
"I…Imayhavepunchedyourbossintheface." Ryland rambled through his palms.
"What!?"
He looked up at his twin sharply, "Don't make me say it again."
"I heard you, I heard you," Colt let out a disbelieving chuckle. "But like…holy fucking shit? For real?"
His brother gave him a withering look, and rubbed his eyes in exhaustion. "He deserved it, don't make me apologize."
"Oh no. No way. That was gutsy of you, man!" The stuntman laughed.
A couple of the stunts whistled and clapped in approval. Ryder was a known dickwad on set, and it was only a matter of time until somebody set him straight. They just didn't expect for it to be done by a tourist.
The jovial atmosphere of the stunt crew turned sour as three security officers approached the group.
"Colt Seavers? That your brother?" one of the officers pointed at Ryland.
Ryland never expected for his weekend to turn out like this: an overnight stay in jail for the physical assault of an a-list actor on a movie set. He knew he was permanently banned from ever visiting the studio, but he wasn't all that disappointed. At least that meant his and Ryder's paths weren't likely to intersect again in the future. Good riddance.
After filing and sorting out his records in the station, his brother met him in the lobby as he was let go. He felt bad for letting his brother be the fall guy. Colt was definitely getting fired for his impulsive behavior.
Colt handed him a vending machine coffee and they sat for a bit in the lobby, watching people pass by silently.
"I'm sorry," Ryland apologized after a minute of silence, he fidgeted with the coffee in his hands. "You're probably in a lot of trouble because of me. I should've—"
"Hey now," Colt interrupted. "Don't blame yourself. Tom deserved that shit anyway, so I'd gladly take the fall for whatever consequence that's coming."
"C'mon man, I probably cost you your job. I know how much stunts mean to you, despite being the reason why I get three years off my lifespan every time you jump off a building or get set on fire."
"Psh, so what? I could always get another deal doubling for another actor. There's a bunch of stars out there who'd kill for a stuntman like me, y'know."
Ryland couldn't help but laugh, and Colt was glad to see him smile.
"Yeah, you're probably right," Ryland opened his can and drank.
A young lady approached the twins. She carried a bunch of folders in one arm, while her other hand was busy typing on her phone. She glanced between the two men and cleared her throat, "Colt and Ryland?" she asked.
"Uh, yeah. Can I help you?" Colt raised an eyebrow.
"I'm Alma, Mr. Ryder's PA," the woman introduced herself. "I'm here to discuss with you what my boss has planned for the aftermath of the…incident."
Ryland felt his blood freeze in his veins. It was the same sensation he felt back when he sealed his fate in the conference a few months ago.
"Mr. Ryder is currently in recovery at the moment, so any message you might want to give him can be said through me," Alma continued. "Firstly, my boss isn't going to press charges against you, Mr. Ryland, nor does he plan to sue for damages. He admitted that it was partially his fault for your reaction, and is apologizing for overstepping boundaries."
Colt couldn't believe his ears. Tom Ryder was apologizing? Did his brother give the man permanent brain damage when he punched him?
"Second, due to Mr. Ryder's injury, filming for the movie has been postponed for the next three days. Here is a copy of the updated call sheet and schedule for you, Mr. Seavers. My boss expects you to show up on time for filming once it resumes." She handed the stuntman one of the folders she carried.
Ryland blinked. His brother wasn't fired? He didn't sabotage Colt's career because of a stupid decision?
"Lastly, Mr. Ryder would like for you to have this, Mr. Ryland. Compensation for his impolite behavior." Alma produced a white envelope from the folders in her arms and handed it to Ryland. It didn't have any markings on the outside, but he knew well enough what this was: hush money.
"I don't want this," Ryland tried to give the envelope back, but Alma shook her head.
"I'm afraid I can't do that. Despite this being…morally dubious, Mr. Ryder has insisted that you accept it," she said firmly.
Ryland looked at his brother, but he looked just as helpless as he was. Alma pocketed her phone and said, "It was nice discussing business with you, gentlemen. Unless you have a message for my boss for me to pass on, I'll be on my way."
Neither brother spoke, and the young woman took that as her cue to say goodbye and leave.
The two of them left the lobby shortly after, getting into Colt's car and driving away from the police station.
They stopped at an intersection for a red light.
"I don't want this, Colt." Ryland said.
Colt glanced at him, "I mean, it's scummy of the guy to pay you to be silent, but," he tapped the steering wheel nervously. "I know you're in a tough spot, Ry. And…you know you can always ask me for help, right? But this might help you out for a bit 'til you get back on your feet, y'know?"
Ryland bit his lip, "I don't wanna cause you any more problems than I already have, Colt. My honor's been dragged through the mud, and this just rubs more salt into my wound." He glared at the envelope in his lap. He was curious about what was inside, but he refused to open it.
The light turned green, and they spent the rest of the drive in silence.
When they pulled up to Ryland's apartment building, neither of them made a move to get out.
"I don't care about whatever you decide to do with that, Ry," Colt glanced at the envelope, "but taking the path of the lesser evil is sometimes necessary to get to the good part, even if it's something we don't wanna do."
Ryland gave him meaningful look, "Since when did my twin become a philosopher?"
"At some point during senior year, actually," Colt chuckled.
"I'm betting a dollar that you stole that quote from a movie, but I don't know which one you're referencing because I'm not a cinephile."
"Hey! That was a Colt Seavers original, don't downplay my skill in prose, you dick."
They shared a laugh, then Ryland opened the door on his side and stepped out.
"Wanna come up?" He asked his brother.
"As much as I'd love to, I can't," Colt gave him an apologetic smile. "Filming was rescheduled. I gotta talk with Dan and the other stunts about our gameplan once we're back on track."
Ryland's face fell at that, but his brother assured him, "We'll hang out again soon once filming wraps up, yeah? I gotta thank you nudging Jody and I to the right direction."
"Oh, when's the wedding?"
"Shut up," Colt's ears turned pink. "We're taking things slow right now."
"Alright," Ryland laughed. "Looking forward to our next hangout."
"No more movie set visits, though."
"Hell no," he agreed. "I'm never stepping foot in a studio for the rest of my life."
Colt smiled at him, "I'll see you later, Ryland."
"Yeah, see you later, Colt."
Ryland watched his brother's car through his window as it disappeared behind the corner at the end of the block.
He was alone again, and while that would've been a liberating feeling, a weight was sitting on his shoulders. The envelope in his hand was light, and it didn't seem like it had anything inside. He had a feeling that a check was in there, and while that might've been counterintuitive considering this transaction was supposed to be under the table, he figured that Ryder had a bunch of off shore anonymous bank accounts that would make the paper trail confusing enough for the evidence not to point to him.
He wondered how many people the actor has paid off to keep their lips sealed.
The thought disgusted him.
But curiosity gnawed at his guts.
Lesser evils, Colt had said.
Ryland carefully pried open the envelope, afraid but eager to find out what was inside.
What he found was both perplexing and definitely not what he expected.
There were two tickets to a movie that was currently showing in some theatre downtown, and a folded up sticky note that had a short letter addressed to him. He pulled out the note and read it's contents:
Ry-ry,
After some thinking, I think I came onto you too boldly, sorry abt that :(
As an apology, why don't you treat yourself to a movie with your brother or something idk. You'd probably hate my ass even more if I gave you something like cash, so I guess this is the next best thing. I'd never give you coupons or gift cards tho, I'm not that tacky.
If you wanna hear me apologize like fr, call me:
+1 (***) ***-****
T. Ryder✩
Ryland stared at the sticky note. He read it again. Then one more time.
What?
Tom was definitely the kind of guy who held grudges. Ryland already knew that he was on the guy's shit list after punching him, so why the hell is he holding a sincere apology in his hands? It might've actually been better if a check or money was inside the envelope, at least that would've been more straightforward.
At least that would've justified the anger he had for the man.
Was Tom really that high up on his horse that he didn't even dignify Ryland a proper bribe?
That just pissed him off even more.
Why the fuck did that make him angrier?
He moved to tear the note and the tickets, but found himself unable to do so. His eyes stung, his hand shook, and his pulse hammered in his ears. It just added more fuel to his frustration.
Ryland chucked the note and tickets somewhere across his living room. He didn't want to deal with those right now. He wanted nothing more than to crawl into his covers and pass out.
He stomped towards his bedroom and stripped his shoes and coat, then he roughly tugged off his tie. Placing his glasses on his nightstand, he laid down and curled up in his bed. There was something heavy in his chest, but at the same time he felt nothing.
He was glad to feel relief when he managed to lull himself to sleep.
Ryland eventually watched the film the tickets were for. It was a good film. Tom somehow knew he'd like it.
The tickets sat in his drawer, untouched.
The yellow sticky note became a bookmark for a book he never had the energy to finish. It sat in his shelf, not really forgotten. It's just there.
He never called.