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‘Physical things. Like –’
‘No.’ I cut him off before he can finish.
Zayan nods, like he’s filing away this information for later. ‘Not an issue.’
‘Yes, an issue. We’re not in a relationship.’
‘But we should be,’ he argues. ‘Let me explain.’
‘Please,’ I say with a wave of my hand.
‘You saw the response we got to that photo from the other day, right? It was huge. I haven’t had this much positive publicity since The Fairbanks. The public loves you –’
‘Uh, no. They don’t. Didn’t you see the hate?’ I interrupt, thinking of the comments people posted about my looks, my outfit, my skin. They hurt unexpectedly, despite being written by random people I’ll probably never meet.
He shakes his head dismissively, leaning in, his tone all analytical and calculating. ‘Those are just trolls. Most of them love you, and they love seeing us together. I’m thinking we should capitalize on it.’
The bulb of the kitchen light throws a golden hue over his expression, illuminating the curve of his cheekbones, the brown of his eyes, the sharpness of his jaw. I swallow nervously as he leans forward, but he doesn’t notice, too lost in his speech.
‘Look, if I’m being honest, I need you. You’re aware of how badly I’ve been doing since my TV show got cancelled and The Fairbanks ended.’
I wince, remembering my harsh words at the cafe. ‘I’m –’
‘No need to apologize. It was a terrible series. I shouldn’t have agreed to do it, but I did. You may not believe me, but I tried to leave, but I was tied up in a contract for at least six episodes. Either way, a bad TV series followed by my girlfriend breaking up with me pretty much shoved me to the bottom of the social-status ladder. And the mistakes I’ve made mean more because of who I am.’
I falter, confused. ‘Who are you?’
He sighs, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands. ‘I’m Zayan Amin. I’m the child actor who got adopted by Hollywood. Who starred in everyone’s favourite wholesome family TV show, who got chosen to do Oscar-nominated movies because of said TV show. But more importantly, no matter how many accolades I pick up, I’m still Pakistani. I’m still brown. And that means I’m not allowed to fail like a white actor is. I won’t be forgiven as easily. People already believe I get roles because there’s such a call for diversity nowadays.’
His words are dripping in weary frustration. I want to ask him why he took the role. Was he trying to ignore his culture? Erase it? The words to probe him with are on the tip of my tongue, but I don’t say them. It doesn’t feel like my place to ask such things, and it has nothing to do with his offer.
‘I’m not sure I’m the right girl,’ I reply tentatively. My brain is screaming, Don’t trust him. There’s no way to know how genuine Zayan’s vulnerability is – whether this is another side of him or an act he’s using to convince me. ‘Seriously, I’m not some big influencer or something. My swift rise to popularity is already dwindling.’
Zayan nods quickly. ‘It is. But I know how to stop it. Plus, there are benefits for you if you agree to this.’
He leaves that hanging in the air, waiting for me to take the bait. I sit back in my chair, hands gripping my cup tightly. This is some major Shakespearean-level ridiculousness. I can’t believe I’m even entertaining his idea, but I can’t help the intrigue I feel. I glance at Zayan; he’s waiting, watching me with imperceptible eyes. We face one another like we’re negotiating a business deal.
‘What do I get in return?’ I ask, giving in to my curiosity. I tell myself it’s best for me to know all the details before saying no.
‘Whatever you want,’ he replies, the vulnerability from before dissolving so quickly I’m half convinced it was never real. But I can’t tell. Not really. ‘I was thinking I’d go ahead with the deal Lacey set up. Me being a part of your play. It would mean you guys would get great publicity, I’d fund the entire thing and you’d definitely stick it to the LSDOGS, or whatever they’re called.’
‘CATS,’ I correct. ‘LSDCATS.’
My mind conjures up the donation link, and the snail’s pace at which donations are coming in. I want to do the play with The Tragedies, I want to help them ruin the LSDCATS, but I know we don’t have the same prestige as them. And I want to be on stage again so badly. If we pull it off, I can prove to myself and the LSDCATS that I am a good actress. That I belong in their world. And if I can do that, then my dream of making acting my career won’t be so unrealistic.
The want is like a desperate ache in my chest, leaving me hollowed out. There are only dregs left at the bottom of my teacup now, and no matter how hard I stare at them there’s no fortune to be read from the black specks.
When I look up, I find Zayan staring at me, his eyes flinty and determined. ‘I know it seems unthinkable, but you’re golden, Farah,’ Zayan says, and my heart throbs in my chest. This doesn’t sound like the other compliments; there’s no teasing tone lurking in the words. Just sheer honesty that makes my entire body blush. ‘You’re a social grenade waiting to explode into the world. I need you. I’m one public blunder away from losing it all – my career, my status, everything.’ His eyes shut briefly, and I finally see the desperation lining his expression. I see a boy sitting at my table, asking for help. He lets out a shaky breath, as if showing me how he’s really feeling has terrified him. ‘Please, Farah.’
I swallow roughly, thinking over my choices.
What option gives you the better chance of getting on stage? Which road leads you under the spotlight once again?
I know it’s Zayan’s. He has better insight into all of this – the publicity, the popularity – and he has the money. Although I’m terrified of going through with it, my fear quiets when I think of The Tragedies.
They deserve to have their dreams come true.
The thought of letting them down pierces that terror, shoves it back down and fills my bones with determination.
