CHAPTER 181: THE SPECIAL ACTORS

- What idiot gave this man a film lead role?

- They don’t care about anything else, huh? As long as he can act, it doesn’t matter to them the awful things he does.

- So, you can get away with committing crimes now? Good to hear.

- No, no, you have to be famous, or else, it won’t work.

- Is Josephine acting in this film? Man, that asshole Averie Quinn Auclair better not screw up.

- Don’t get your hopes up, it’s a supporting role or something.

- This guy and his fans, I can’t stand either of them.

- I’m bringing out all my voodoo stuff, going to curse him so bad.

- There’s no way this random hooligan is going to do a good job. Dude fit the douchebag roles for BSPH and Long Live the Quinn perfectly. The game had his face covered, so there was nothing to act. And the cameo in The Color Spectrum is completely forgettable.\

- For a hater, you have done your homework. What dedication to hating.

Ari was impressed by the amount of hate a few simple and inoffensive articles had generated.

She looked up.

In a salon chair, a few feet away from her chair, sat her cousin—the ever-controversial Averie Quinn Auclair.

His entire attention was devoted to the script in his hand.

’Is he always like that?’

Even when he passed by her, he only spared her a glance. It was as if he didn’t even recognize her.

’What, is he embarrassed by me?’

Hyerin didn’t seem to think so.

’What do you mean ’don’t disturb him?’ I came all this way, and he can’t say hi?’

She watched the hairdressers and the makeup crew buzz around him.

’Do they really need that many people for one actor?’

The lady doing Averie’s hair turned to the man behind her.

"Is it fine?"

While playing with his goatee, he took a step closer. "Part it like the Red Sea, darling."

"How about now?"

"We don’t want a single strand awry."

Hyerin, who had been away, returned. "Everything alright?"

"Yes." Ari nodded. "By the way, is it always this crowded?"

"Artistic directors are usually fussy. It’s not like this normally."

While the makeup was being done, nobody disturbed the good actor—even though many wished to.

Two of those people were Ari and Josephine Petite.

’So, that’s the man?’

Josephine, who was sitting only a seat away from Averie’s, chewed on a chocolate bar.

She studied him as her pristine teeth shattered the hard surface of the black chocolate.

’Looks good, I suppose.’

He had the looks, but his attention to his script was something to wonder about.

’What’s the point of doing a last-second review? This isn’t a written exam. Everything in the scene should be in your head already.’

She wondered if he was nervous.

’Why even bring on a rookie?’

This is why she hated the artistic directors’ obsession with fresh faces.

’They always want to make sure the critiques don’t lose sight of the essence of the film and their directing because of a known face.’

She didn’t like it.

’Why take a chance on someone who has to cram in the last minute?’

But the scene Averie was reading was not the one that was coming up.

Josephine looked around, wondering where the woman playing the female lead was.

"Is she still not here?" she asked the girl doing her hair.

The girl awkwardly laughed. "We can’t talk about it, sorry."

Josephine’s eyes narrowed. ’What’s going on? Did she ditch or something?’

Ari, while observing Josephine, turned to Hyerin. "Can I ask you something?"

"Huh?"

"That episode of Long Live the Quinn—the racing one—was it authentic?"

"You mean, did he really race?"

"Yeah."

Hyerin looked like she did not want to talk about it. "Yeah, he did."

"Really?" The girl perked up. "When we heard the news about him getting arrested, I thought it was fake. But then it came up on the news."

Hyerin’s brows rose. "Did it?"

"Yeah. Patricia Kim had just died, and then the news came that Averie was arrested in the UK. So, they ran them together. Nobody wanted to say it, but they were clearly insinuating that the guy everyone suspected was not the killer."

"That’s good, isn’t it?"

"Once the news about the murder cooled down, it all became about Averie. How he was committing crimes and embarrassing himself internationally."

Hyerin felt guilty for not having stopped him.

"Only when the episode dropped did everyone change their tune. Everyone in my class was talking about it. What’s up with boys and their obsession with cars?"

Hyerin took a seat beside the girl and handed her a bag full of snacks.

"It’s going to be a long day."

She knew how tedious film shoots were compared to the drama shoots.

"Each scene takes longer to shoot. A lot of effort is put into quality, and unlike dramas, films don’t have to meet unfair deadlines. There are a lot of takes of the same shot, done a little differently each time."

This was all news to Ari. She was never that interested in acting and the film industry until her cousin became a part of it.

She took a juice box and poked a hole in it with the attached straw.

After a satisfying sip, she asked, "So, what are the roles? You said there are two, right?"

"Oh, you’ll see."

Just as Ari was about to ask another question, the first AD came into the makeup room and called for Averie.

"Please stay on standby."

"Let’s go ahead first," said Hyerin, taking the girl’s hand and dragging her along.

They settled in front of the prepared set of a high-class bar.

It was precisely five minutes later that Averie, done with makeup, stepped out.

He was dressed in a faded, yellowish-white shirt with brown suspenders. Resting heavily on his nose were golden-rimmed spectacles. Parted in the middle and tied at his nape was long auburn hair.

Loose strands of his wavy hair tickled his cheeks, but the man seemed devoid of any intention to fix them.

The good director stood in front of Averie, quietly scanning the figure he cut.

’Perfect.’

The man looked thin, almost sickly. But Director Groux could only admire him.

He was just like he had envisioned him to be.

The bit of black underneath his half-closed, lazy eyes seemed to bring out the weight shouldered by this character.

He gave Averie a pat on the shoulder and moved away to his seat.

He addressed the crew.

"Wonderful, everyone, please settle down."

As the noise from the crew faded away and the steps halted, he put down his speakerphone. If he could avoid it, he preferred not to use it.

"This will be the first shot, so we’ll start with something less demanding, something light. Let’s make it auspicious."

He gave a nod to the actor, and they moved to their marked positions.

Ari admired his cousin’s transformation and the golden and brown bar.

’So, it’s open from two sides?’

"It would be too crammed to shoot in an actual bar," Hyerin whispered, as if she had read the girl’s thoughts.

Averie, who had been quiet so far, took a seat at the counter of the bar.

Manning the counter was an older actor he had heard of.

In his early fifties, yet still more handsome than most twenty-year-old actors, was Benoit Durand.

He was a great actor, and Averie knew it.

His elegant bearing, greying hair, and gentle appearance had often earned him praises from fans and the general audience alike.

He was a respected man, but an even more respected actor, the complete opposite of Averie.

Yet he was the man Averie was paired with for his first shot.

They shared a quiet glance.

Everything that needed to be said was said in it. If there was something that was not relayed, it did not need to be relayed. There was no need for introductions and greetings.

Both were lost in their roles, and nothing else seemed to matter, not even professional courtesy or each other.

Actors were selfish like that.

’Is he that desperate to act, or did he see the art that the director and I saw?’

It wasn’t a lead role he was part of, and most definitely, he had more central roles available to him.

Why had he taken on such a role, then? For some quick cash?

He certainly wasn’t poor, nor was the production offering a hefty contract.

In Averie’s eyes, Durand was one of those senior actors who had aged like wine. The color and the scent of his portrayals had evolved as he grew older.

He certainly knew the restrictions that came with old age, and he had learnt to accept and live with them.

’Yet you want to be a part of something new, something different.’

Even if he couldn’t play a more central role, the man had certainly been attracted to the production.

Averie respected him for that.

As the rest of the actors settled into their seats, Ari asked, "Is it always this quiet before shoot? They are not even nodding at each other."

"No. It depends on the actors."

Her voice became quiet.

"This group is special."