STS Ch-52

“Well?” Bobbie prodded gently after a few seconds of silence. Julie hadn’t said a word, her hands folded tightly in her lap under the lights.

I decided to answer for her. “I don’t know about Julie, but my father was furious when he found out.”

Bobbie turned to me, curiosity flickering across her face. “Because of the nudity?”

I shook my head. “Not really. Dad doesn’t like acting in general. He doesn’t think it’s a great profession. Or at least that’s what he used to think until I starred in a movie of my own.”

“And how does he feel now?” she continued, completely unperturbed.

“He’s more accepting of my career choices now. After all, he’s had a year to get used to it. He’s still not fully on board with the profession, but he’s more supportive than he was last year. That’s for sure. The rest of my family is thrilled to see my first movie at the premiere.”

Bobbie inclined her head, then turned back to Julie. “What about your folks? I assume it would be different for a girl’s parents than it is for a boy’s.”

Fucking bitch just couldn’t let it go.

Thankfully, this time Julie looked ready. She straightened slightly in her chair, drew in a deep breath, and met Bobbie’s gaze without flinching.

“My parents love me dearly,” she said calmly. “And like any parents who love their daughter, they worry about me. So, of course, when they found out about the film and its themes, they weren’t happy. But I like to think that’s changed since then.”

From the tight curve of Bobbie’s smile, I could tell she was lining up another counter. I decided to step in before she could.

“With all due respect, can we skip this line of questioning?” I asked, keeping my voice as even as possible. “She’s clearly not comfortable with it. Let it go.”

Bobbie gave me a long, scrutinizing look, her jaw tightening as if she were ready to snap back. Then she seemed to remember the red light on the camera. She lifted her hand and mimed a pair of scissors toward the lens before turning back to us, her practiced smile sliding neatly back into place.

“I believe that shooting a sex scene would be more difficult than shooting anything else,” she said smoothly. “Even many established actors don’t do scenes like that. Yet you both did it at 18. What do you have to say about that?”

Of course she’d come back to sex. To her, it was like the entire movie revolved around nudity and nothing else.

Julie didn’t hesitate this time. We’d been drilled endlessly on questions like this.

“I don’t think they should be called ‘sex scenes,’” she said, lifting her fingers to make air quotes. “They’re love scenes. What our characters feel for each other is more than just pure lust. They’re meant to truly love each other. Or at least that’s what my instructions were.”

I nodded in agreement. “True. Watching the replay of those scenes felt more sensual and tender than erotic. The focus was always on the little things, like me caressing your face or sharing soft, gentle kisses. Never the actual sex part. I’ve got to give it to Randal Kleiser, our director, for not turning it into some cheap sexploitation movie and instead focusing on the love at the heart of the story.”

“But weren’t the instructions too technical?” she prodded. “Did the director choreograph the scenes?”

“Sometimes,” Julie replied. “Although most of the time, it was just us improvising.”

“Improvising?” Bobbie leaned forward eagerly.

“Yeah,” I said. “What I love about Randal Kleiser is the way he lets us do our thing after explaining the scene once. Then we just do what comes naturally.”

“What comes naturally, huh?” She raised an eyebrow. “So would it be safe to say you two fell in love naturally as well?”

Julie and I exchanged a look before bursting out laughing.

“I love Julie,” I said once our laughter died down a little. “But as a friend. My best friend.”

“Aww, I love you too, Noah,” Julie shot back, leaning closer and looping her arm through mine. “And yeah, he’s my best friend too. I know almost everything there is to know about him, and vice versa, but it’s not romantic love.”

The interview dragged on for quite a while, and at times it felt like a full-blown Spanish Inquisition. Still, I thought Julie and I handled ourselves pretty well for our first interview.

The moment it ended and Bobbie finally left the room, Julie and I both let out long sighs of relief.

“What a bitch,” she said, exasperated. “And she was supposed to be the good one.”

I shrugged. “Some old fogies just like looking down on younger people. Marcus was the same, and so is Bobbie. I bet if we had bigger star power, like Al Pacino or Barbra Streisand, she wouldn’t dare treat us so pathetically.”

Before we could keep venting, our next interviewer walked in, forcing Julie and me to plaster on another set of polite smiles.

(Break)

Frank Price studied the report on his desk for the next film they were planning to start shooting in less than two weeks.

Risky Business.

The script really was risky, pun fully intended. Still, Noah had written it with such nuance and insight into the teenage psyche that Frank knew it could be a major success if it was handled carefully.

He signed off on the projected expense report without much hesitation, then moved on to the next document on his agenda. This one outlined the marketing budget for their latest release, The Blue Lagoon, a film scheduled to hit theaters in less than two weeks.

He frowned slightly at the marketing budget of $3 million, but it made sense. They didn’t have much else working in their favor. No established star. No built-in controversy. Nothing that would automatically draw audiences in.

That meant they had to market their two young leads relentlessly.

“Hey, step-pops.”

Frank looked up from his desk to see Noah standing right in front of him, a lopsided grin spread across his face.

“Noah!” Frank rose from his chair, crossed the room, and pulled the young man into a tight hug. “When did you get here?”

“Just this morning,” Noah said once they separated. “You’d already left by the time I reached your place. Mom’s outside talking to your secretary. That’s why they let me in without telling you first.”

Frank nodded, then gestured to the chair across from him. “Come, sit. Tell me about the promotions for your first film. Are they going well?”

Noah grimaced as he sank into the seat. “Yesterday was awful. Back-to-back interviews that just wouldn’t end. And everyone seems hung up on the fact that Julie and I got naked and shot sex scenes. It’s like that’s the only thing that matters to them.”

Frank resisted the urge to flinch. He hated that he had to play this role with his own stepson, but he didn’t have a choice. He might be the CEO, but he didn’t control everything. If word got out that Noah was his stepson before the film proved itself, the investors at Columbia would tear him apart over nepotism.

What made it worse was that Columbia wasn’t just invested in one of Noah’s projects, but three. The Blue Lagoon, Friday the 13th, and Risky Business. If all three failed, Frank might as well start packing his office.

The Blue Lagoon had to succeed, no matter what. That was why he’d given the marketing department free rein to push it however they saw fit. They’d built an entire strategy around sexualizing the two leads, simply because it was the film’s strongest selling point.

Which meant most of the questions those reporters asked weren’t accidental at all. They were planted by Columbia’s own executives.

“And now there’s this magazine cover shoot I’ve got to do with Julie tomorrow,” Noah went on. “I don’t even get why they want that when they already have so many stills from the movie they could use.”

Frank offered him a reassuring smile. “Teen magazines are all the rage right now, Noah. We need something fresh to sell the film, and this photoshoot can do two things at once. It promotes the movie and turns you into a recognizable face.”

He placed both hands on Noah’s shoulders, his grip firm but encouraging. “Believe me when I say this. When I’m done with you and Julie, you’ll both be household names. And that’s the first step toward becoming the kind of stars who sell tickets just by being in a movie. The ones who are paid millions for each of their film appearances.”

Noah still looked doubtful, but he nodded anyway.

“Good lad,” Frank said, settling back down on the couch beside him. “Now, as happy as I am to see you, I get the feeling this isn’t the only reason you came to talk to me. Especially not in the middle of a press tour.”

Noah nodded. “It isn’t. I’ve finished making the movie you rejected. I named it See You Yesterday. Now I’m looking for distributors. Would you watch it once and give me some advice on how to proceed?”

Frank narrowed his eyes, his thoughts drifting back to the script. The concept had been brilliant, the central idea strong and inventive. He’d only turned it down for one major reason. Noah had insisted on directing it himself. If Frank had allowed that, accusations of nepotism would’ve followed before pre-production even wrapped.

“Are you asking me as the CEO of Columbia Pictures,” Frank said after a moment, “or as your stepfather?”

Noah shrugged. “Whichever gets me better advice.”

Frank nodded slowly. “As the CEO of Columbia, all I can say is that I can’t even think about buying that film until after The Blue Lagoon and Friday the 13th are released. If both your first films are a success, then I can consider your next one. If not, I’m sorry, but you’ll have to take it to a different studio.”

Noah nodded, clearly expecting that answer. “And as my stepfather?”

“As your stepfather,” Frank said honestly, “I’d say good job, son. I’m proud of you for hustling and making the film on your own, even after a big studio executive turned you down. I’ll watch it and give you more detailed advice later. Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” Noah said, nodding again. He glanced at Frank’s desk, where stacks of paperwork were piled high. “I can see you’ve got work to do, so I’ll leave you to it and get ready for my own promotional tour around LA.”

Frank smiled. “Let’s meet tonight and make it a movie night. You, your mother, me, Zach, and Daisy.”

“Sure.”

(Break)

As I walked out of Columbia’s headquarters, I couldn’t help thinking about how much my life had changed in just a year. Before I’d regained my memories, I was determined to become the best swimmer in the world. After I did regain them, that goal didn’t feel like much of an achievement anymore, especially with my unfair advantages.

Without any real technical knowledge to give me an edge, I’d felt almost lost. The Blue Lagoon gave me the direction I desperately needed. Who would’ve thought I’d discover a new passion in the movie business of all places?

“Now that’s something you don’t see every day,” Mom said from beside me, tilting her head back to stare at the huge-ass billboard looming overhead that was barely covering my bare ass, if I was being honest. “Though I could do without seeing so much of my son.”

The billboard featured a still from The Blue Lagoon. I remembered shooting that scene during the early days of production. Julie and I were stretched out on the sand, our bodies completely naked against the pale shoreline, with blue waves curling at the top of the image. Her head rested against my chest, her knee carefully positioned to hide my crotch. My arm was wrapped around her back, coming over to cover her breast with my hand. The two of us shielding each other in a way that looked intimate rather than crude.

Both our eyes were closed, as if we were asleep. Sand clung to our skin in uneven patches, catching the light and somehow making the image look even more striking.

Where Julie’s butt would’ve been visible, the title THE BLUE LAGOON was splashed across the poster in bold blue letters, followed by the words, Introducing: Noah Hunter and Julianne Moore.

If I were being completely objective, I had to admit that Julie and I looked hot as fuck in that poster. My muscles were on full display, glistening under the harsh island sun, with my abs, pecs, biceps, and thighs standing out the most.

Julie looked incredible too, even though most of her best assets were carefully hidden behind either my hand or the title card.

“What sort of wild things did you do on that island?” Mom asked. “I hope my other two aren’t that eager to shoot films like this.”

“I was trying to save up for your other two kids’ college tuition,” I shot back. “I had no idea you were loaded, or I wouldn’t have had to.”

Mom looked properly chastised and turned away, staring straight ahead. Guilt hit me almost instantly. I’d been trying to move past everything, but moments like this reminded me that, no matter the circumstances, she’d still chosen to leave me.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” I said quietly. “I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“It’s fine,” she said, waving it off. “Let’s just go home. Zach and Daisy will be back from school soon, and you can finally meet them before you start those interviews again tomorrow.”

I nodded stiffly and followed her toward the car. We were almost there when a sharp screech cut through the air and stopped us both in our tracks.

“Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. Are you, like, Noah Hunter from that poster?”

I turned toward the voice and found two girls practically vibrating with excitement. They were pointing back at the billboard we’d just walked past. I blinked, more than a little stunned. Were they really this excited just to see me? The movie wasn’t even out yet, and I was still a nobody.

Still, I kept my manners intact and smiled. “I am. And who might you two be?”

“I’m Chrissy, and she’s Beth,” Chrissy said, answering for both of them. “We’re, like, your biggest fans. I’ve followed all your modeling gigs for as long as I can remember, and hearing that you’re making your big movie debut was crazy. It’s such a coincidence that we ran into you right after buying posters for The Blue Lagoon.”

“Thanks?” I said, half unsure. “Sorry if I sound a little awkward. This is my first real fan interaction, so I’m not exactly sure how I’m supposed to react.”

Beth nodded solemnly, as if I’d just said something profound. “We get it. Could you please just sign our posters? Then we’ll be on our way.”

It felt bizarre that they already had my poster. If this really was a coincidence, it was a massive one. I kept that thought to myself and let them carefully unroll their posters, each a smaller version of the same naked image of Julie and me looming over the street.

I took the marker they handed me and signed my name in a stylized flourish, one I’d practiced countless times over the past few weeks. I hadn’t wanted to, but the PR rep Columbia hired for Julie and me had insisted. Until recently, I hadn’t even known there were rules around autographs.

Apparently, you were supposed to include your full name. It had to be legible and distinct from the signature you used for banks and official paperwork. And, if possible, you were encouraged to add a short message for your fans.

So I wrote:

For my very first fan, Chrissy.
Love you!
Noah Hunter

Then I did the same for Beth.

“Aww. Can I hug you, Noah?” Chrissy asked after reading the message.

“Sure,” I said. I didn’t see any reason to say no to my very first fans.

The moment the word left my mouth, both girls rushed forward and wrapped their arms around me in unison, nearly knocking the wind out of me. Their hands pressed against my chest and back as they laughed and squeezed tighter. I froze, unsure of what to do. If our genders were reversed, this would’ve crossed a serious line.

“Ladies,” Mom called out sharply from the car. “Noah has to go. Now.”

They immediately pulled back, looking disappointed, but they stepped away all the same. I wasted no time bolting toward the car, moving faster than I ever had, and slid into the passenger seat just as Mom pulled out of the parking lot.

“Thanks for the save,” I said with a nervous chuckle. “I had no idea how to get out of that. That’s never happened to me before.”

Mom shot me a stern look. “You need to learn when to say no, son. For all I know, if I hadn’t been there, those girls might’ve dragged you off to one of their houses and had their way with you.”

I shuddered at the thought. I didn’t mind casual hookups back at Harvard, but sleeping with a fan was a completely different thing. Fans build idealized versions of you in their heads. Some of them practically worship the stars they follow, especially in an era where being a star actually meant something and not everyone was a social media influencer.

“I’ll keep that in mind, Mom,” I said honestly.

She nodded, satisfied, then softened. “So tell me about the film we’re watching tonight. What was it like making it?”

As the car rolled through the streets and our conversation grew more animated, I realized just how genuinely excited she was about my film career, in a way Dad never had been. I didn’t even notice when we pulled into the driveway.

As she stepped out of the car, I called after her. “Mom?”

She paused and turned back, a curious look on her face.

“I’m glad you chose to come back into our lives.”

Her eyes filled almost instantly. She looked away toward the house, blinking hard.

“Me too, son,” she said softly. “Me too.”