Second Act (His Chance 1)

“It sounds like you have your work cut out for you with such a complex character.”

“No doubt, and there are a million ways to screw this up. If I do, I’ll be letting down so many people.” I recited the list to myself—my agent, the director, the studio, my costars, the author, the screenwriter, the millions of fans of the book. Myself. My parents.

“No pressure.” Riley exchanged his makeup sponge for a small brush and picked up an eyeshadow palette. I exhaled slowly, and he paused what he was doing and asked, “Are you okay, Will?”

“Yeah. Fine.” Okay, not really. I wondered if that was ever true when I said it. But this wasn’t the time to let my nerves get the better of me, so I met his gaze and said, “Please keep going.”

His dark brows creased with concern. “You sure? We can take a break if you want.”

I shook my head. “This is important. Show your boss what you can do.”

For the next few minutes, he concentrated on making me up. Then he swiveled the chair around so I was facing the mirror and said, “This was a rush job, but what do you think?”

The transformation was subtle but remarkable. I looked paler and younger. Thinner too, thanks to some skillful contouring. The biggest change was to my eyes, which looked wide and haunted, a trick accomplished with delicate shadows and a few other techniques I couldn’t quite pinpoint. In short, I looked just like I’d always imagined Alex.

As I pulled off the headband and fixed my hair, I told Riley, “You’re amazing.”

He smiled shyly, then snapped a few more photos as he said, “The lead makeup artist already had this all planned out, of course, based on her meetings with the director. I’d been practicing the techniques on myself, because I didn’t think I’d have the chance to work on any of the actors.”

“Well, you totally pulled it off.”

When his boss arrived, she started to lecture Riley about overstepping his role as her assistant, so I decided to play the diva card. “He was following my instructions,” I said. “I asked him to make me up, and I’m thrilled with the results. In fact, I don’t want anyone but him doing my makeup for the duration of the shoot. That won’t be a problem, will it?”

This woman had been in the business a long time and knew to pick her battles when it came to working with temperamental actors. She pulled up a fake smile and said, “Of course, Mr. Kandinsky. I’d just like to give him a few pointers, and then I’ll assign him as your makeup artist.”

I smiled too and said, “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

Riley was standing back with a surprised expression, but when she turned to look at him, he tried to look confident. They spent the next few minutes talking about their craft and trying a few different shades of makeup around my eyes, before she finally admitted they should go with his original choice. Before she left, she mentioned she’d be signing off on his work every day to ensure continuity, but she also said, “You did a good job, Riley. I’m impressed.”

Once the door closed behind her, he clamped a hand over his mouth to keep from yelling. When he was sure she was out of earshot, he blurted, “Oh my God, thank you! This is huge. Do you know what it’ll mean for my career to be able to list this on my resume?”

“I hope it helps, and I’m glad I get to work with you.”

Right after I removed the makeup, we were joined by the lead hair stylist. He rearranged my hair a few times before calling my curls ‘perfect for the character’ and instructed me to keep growing my beard between now and Monday. “It won’t be anywhere near full by then,” I told him, and he assured me he actually just wanted scruff. That I could do.

After he took off, Riley and I went and found Phoenix, who had a large envelope tucked under his arm. I asked him, “Is that all I need to do today?”

He said, “Actually, there’s one thing I’d like to show you,” before leading me to one of five trailers that were off by themselves at the edge of the production area. A plastic sleeve on the door held a hand-lettered piece of paper with two words on it: Will Kandinsky.

I murmured, “Holy shit,” as I reached up to touch my name. “I can’t believe I have my own trailer.”

Phoenix said, “Just so you know, I’ve asked them to replace this sign with a printed one, to match those of your costars. It’s good they took down Trent Chambers’ name, but they can do better than this.”

Riley asked, “Does it matter if it’s handwritten or printed?”