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By the time I was in high school, I started to fight back. I just wouldn’t come home until late every night so I could avoid those torturous study sessions. But I still found a way to hide it. I became the class clown. I made it seem like I wasn’t working because I didn’t want to, not because I couldn’t. It was the start of my acting career, and believe me, those years gave me all the experience I needed to make it in Hollywood.
In junior year, my parents gave up on the idea that I’d ever amount to anything, but Gershwyn always knew I was going places. He’d tell me all the time that there are thousands of great jobs out there that require very little reading at all, and that I was going to find my place in the world and be a huge success someday. And he was right. I’ve gone farther and made more money than I ever thought possible. I’ve certainly done better than my parents expected. It’s all thanks to him. The best brother anyone could have asked for. My best friend. Gersh has kept my secret all these years. No one in the biz knows that I can barely read because he helps me distract and redirect people, then he helps me prepare.
I never pick up a script in front of anyone. Instead, I pretend like I’ve got far more fun and exciting things to do than to read it right now, but I’ll get to it. And as soon as we’re alone, that’s exactly what happens. He records himself reading it over and creates a copy in a font that’s easier for me to read. I listen to the recording until I have the entire thing memorized and can follow along in my version of the script for table reads. It’s a hell of a lot of work, but it lets me go on pretending I’m just as capable as everyone else in the room. And yeah, I know there are a lot of famous people who are open about being dyslexic, but for me, it’s different. Too shameful to admit out loud. And I also know technically having dyslexia doesn’t make me stupid. But honestly, what’s the first insult people go to when they want to attack someone’s intelligence? They say, “I bet he can’t even read.”
By the time we pull up in front of In-N-Out, my stomach is growling. It’s only four in the afternoon, but I was so thrown by the conversation with Paul, I forgot to eat lunch. “Nice, it looks dead in there.”
“That’s cause we’re ‘old people’ early,” Gersh answers, opening his door.
I snort laugh, then scoop up Oscar and we go inside to order. I know I’m not supposed to bring him in, but I’ll hold him the entire time, and we frequent this location enough that the staff lets us get away with it. (Okay, it’s also possibly because of the whole fame thing, but I’d rather think it’s because Oscar’s so adorable and we’re friendly.)
Ten minutes later, we’re outside at a table noshing on our meals and sucking back milkshakes. I dip a hot fry into some ketchup and take a bite, letting all that wonderful grease soothe my nerves. “It’s not the end of the world. We can easily live on our investments, especially if we sell the house.” I pick up my burger and hold it up to my mouth. “We could move somewhere cheap, like Nebraska.”
Gershwyn’s head snaps back. “Nebraska? Are you nuts? There’s no way we’re moving there.”
“Hey, I’m just spitballing here. Trying to figure out what our next move is because clearly it’s not making this movie,” I say, taking a big bite of my double-double.
“Look, I know Paul’s got you rattled. Totally understandable. But you’re quitting before you’ve even given it a shot.” He has a sip of milkshake, then adds, “It’s a role, just like any other role. You memorize the script, you go spend a few weeks with those alien-hunting people, and you transform yourself into one of them just like you turned yourself into a bodyguard, a lifeguard, and a famous movie star.”
I give him a look, then say, “Come on, that last one wasn’t exactly a stretch.”
He shrugs. “Okay, yeah, but every other role you’ve had, you had to figure it out. There’s no reason you can’t figure this out too. You just have to put in the work.”
Wiping my mouth, I say, “Did you notice anything in common among the roles you just listed?”
“Nope.”
He does. He just doesn’t want to admit it.
“I’ve played a bodyguard, a lifeguard, a surfer?—”
“Surfing world champion.”
“Irrelevant. The point is, I’ve never played a lawyer, a doctor, a scientist, or an archaeologist. And there’s a reason for that.”
“It’s called typecasting.”
“It’s called reality,” I answer. “The reality is, I’m not one of those people. Those people were my bullies.”
“Sure, back in grade school, but they’re singing a different tune now, aren’t they?”
“Which is why I can’t do this movie,” I tell him. “I’ll be a joke, Gersh. A total joke. I won’t even last a day at that research place before some nerd sniffs out what’s really going on with me. And contrary to popular belief, nerds aren’t always these nice, gentle wallflowers waiting to be noticed. Some of them are really freaking mean.”
Gershwyn stares at me for a second. “You’re not that kid anymore, Hudson. You hold the power now. And those nerds are going to suck up to you and adore you just like every other person on this planet does. Because you’re famous and talented and you know how to make people love you. I promise, it’s going to be different than it was in school. It’s going to be easy, in fact.”
“Easy? What makes you think that?” I ask, my words coming out harsher than I intend.
“Because you’re going to have a whole team of geniuses at your disposal for six weeks. Think of how much you’ll learn. By the time you leave, you’ll practically be a radio astronomer.”
“Oh dude, don’t fall for our own hype. At the end of the day, we’re all just playing pretend on those sets.” A cute woman in a tank top and yoga pants walks by, flashing me a grin while eye-fucking me. I give her a little upward head nod and smile back. Huh, she certainly doesn’t think I’m washed up. “You know, maybe Paul’s wrong. Maybe I do have a few more years of being a leading man in me. Maybe I just tell Paul I’m taking a pass on this one and wait for something more in my wheelhouse to come in.”
I can tell by the expression in my brother’s eyes that he agrees with Paul’s assessment of the state of the union. He offers me an unconvincing smile. “That’s one way you could go, for sure.”
“But you don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“I think you’d only be putting off the inevitable. At some point, even if it’s not right now, you’re going to end up facing this exact same dilemma. This is an opportunity to get ahead of what’s coming your way,” he says. “It’s a great role, and it really could open a whole new set of doors for you. Redefine your career.”
“What if I don’t want to redefine things? What if I’m happy doing what I’ve been doing?” I ask, having another bite of my burger. I chew for a second, then swallow before saying, “I mean, look at Brad Pitt. The guy has a good twenty years on me and he’s still getting leading roles. And Tom Cruise? Hit after hit, and he’s over sixty.”
