.
The motel room was smoky, messy and occupied by several half-naked sleeping bodies. Yusuke Kitagawa lazily stretched; eyes still closed. Hand scratched at his tummy, lulling back into that half-lucid dreaminess, amidst a bed dappling in sunbeams, sheets tumbling in blinding shoals of hot white like some sun-kissed beach.
The other hand lazily trawled towards the sleeping figure next to him. Yusuke idly toyed with her nipple, enjoying the nub flicking. The feeling of her chest rising against his palm, sandwiched by the thin negligée fabric.
Rudely, the roar of some kind of guttural motor exhaust interrupted this tranquillity. Yusuke's dreamy smile was replaced with a frown. Stubbornly, he still refused to open his eyes, hoping the disturbance would go away.
#
Ryuji sat on the hot hood of his red Mitsubishi GTO, pondering the door number '16' in front of him. The sports car's dusty hood felt plenty warm against his cheeks. He inserted a toothpick into his mouth, gendering about. From one dusty corner, a gangly group was playing some Rastafarian music from a Bluetooth speaker. At another; shifty teenagers were buying cannabis from the local dealer. Five metres away from the drug deal, the motel receptionist was reading a Playboy 1999 magazine, a small fan rotating behind him. Twilight was settling in with the neon signage of 'Sundown Motel' glowing a diffusion of green and pink stripes beneath the first appearing stars.
Small wonder he was hard to find. Being this far from poshy posh Harleywood, thought Ryuji.
Ryuji double-checked the crumpled note passed onto him from his information broker. 'Room 16, Sundown Motel'. Yeap, the movie director Niijima-san wanted him to find, had to be here.
It took five minutes of knocking and a bluff that Ryuji was going to call the pigs, to get Kitagawa out. The door swung open with the lanky young man eyeing Ryuji irritably, red-rimmed at the eyes. Ryuji folded his arms.
"You're kinda underdressed," said Ryuji.
Yusuke looked down at his dick which was pointing at this intruder.
"Put some clothes on. I hafta' to drive you back for some movie they're making. Friend of mine called in the favour."
Movie? Oh shit, right. THAT movie, Yusuke realised. He blinked unsteadily.
"Is it already March?" asked Yusuke.
"It was March yesterday."
"Right."
Yusuke disappeared back inside the room. Ryuji followed in after, just to make sure this one did not escape like that last guy he had to 'remove'. Some husband who was finally caught by his wife. It was an occupational hazard in Ryuji's freelance line of work. Ryuji crinkled his nose at the strong smell of beer, spent sex and kush fumed from the glassy bongs lying about. The girls sleeping about barely stirred.
"Where'd you pick them?"
". . .I haven't the faintest idea, if I must be honest. You hungry?" Yusuke asked, picking up a woman's handbag. He took out a wad of cash, tossing the bag away, "-Let us grab a bite before we reach Harleywood. It will be my treat."
Next day.
Stage 22 lot – Atlus Productions.
There was a flurry of activity on the photoshoot stage as the green muscle car was rolled onto the centre platform. Final touches of wheel shine polish were applied to the Plymouth Superbird's wheels, as studio support staff industriously set up the panels of white LED contrast blow up. The car's convertible roof was folded back, putting a sheen shine on that 1970s-era black leather trim interior.
At the centre of the bustling, the photoshoot coordinator clapped her hands clucking, "C'mon c'mon! We need this set piece ready in five minutes! The actor and actress are already here!"
The garage backdrop was quickly assembled into place with a fictionalised replication of what real-life motor workshops were like. Red spanners were put into elaborate placement by a Set Decorator, an 18-volt air-tank compressor was lined next to a Toyota MR2 Mk3. Behind the MR2 dangled a HEMI engine with an excess shine to the chromium alloy parts.
Wardrobe trailer A
Ren nocked his jaw up, allowing the make-up artist to lacquer something at his jaw. It felt ticklish. From his view, Sojiro towered into view, looking down at Ren like Godzilla staring down a pedestrian. The talent representative's glasses reflected white in a creepy sort of way.
"Yo," said Ren.
"Are you ready for this? I know you've done the promotional shots routine before with Devil-One but it's not unusual to feel jitters since well. . .this is only your second movie," said Sojiro.
"I'm ready. When have I given reason for this doubt?"
The hair dryer turned on, fluffing out the messier parts of Ren's curls. It switched off.
"I'm old, Ren but I ain't senile. It's still off how you suddenly jumped at this movie, after rejecting better scripts."
"I am here, aren't I? I've signed up for Beauty Thief Studio's flick."
"Hmph. You better give this your everything, boy. I'll know if you're sandbagging below your talent level," warned Sojiro.
The make-up artist felt her tummy do a warm somersault when Ren cracked that red carpet-worthy smirk at Sojiro. Even though she was old enough to be his mother too! The artist quickly turned to the side, pretending to rummage for something in her cosmetology suitcase – hiding her warming cheeks lest the men noticed.
"I am going to give this my everything, boss. The question is, will the stars align for Sugar Rock's success?"
"I don't know, kid. I ain't sure about the Platinum Pearl being on this project too," muttered Sojiro, stroking his beard.
After Slyfall, everyone's in a headspace to blame Takamaki if this movie fails, thought Ren.
Ren checked at the mirror, his expression unreadable. The hairstylist sure nailed the, 'I'm the fuckboy that will ruin your daughter's life' stereotype, for this photoshoot.
"-She's high maintenance too. Treat her carefully, OK? Kasumi is your age so she was fine with goofing around on set like children but this time you're dealing with a Harleywood icon. A lady. When optimising your screen chemistry, try to focus on the person Ann really is and not the persona she's representing on the outside," said Sojiro.
"You're saying Takamaki-senpai holds a part of herself back?"
"Of course. When you've been famous for as long as she has, everyone will want a piece of you. Admirers and enemies alike. They want to consume everything about who she is, what she's thinking. . .It's a bleeding blood vein to stardom. If you don't hide a piece of yourself back from being consumed, there won't be anything left for yourself. Your own inner peace and sanity."
"Small wonder rehab is a cliché in this town."
"You got that right."
"All right, all right. I'll be extra considerate to Ann. For the movie."
"You better be, considering what's in the script," said Sojiro.
Ren grinned. Right. He's read the script.
Wardrobe trailer B.
Ann on the other hand still has not read the script proper. She's still on page nine and her current plan was to read the relevant pages as the day of shooting the specific scenes came. The gig was just a racing movie; it was not going to be that deep.
This lazy autopilot headspace left Ann barely aware of her surroundings most of the time. Stylists and wardrobe technicians fussed around her in a dim-volume background. They got Ann, Makoto and Shiho into the studio lot in some big black SUV with the darkest tinted windows as a block against the paparazzi. Once in, it was a whirlwind of changing her into a dark green floral patterned off-shoulder crop top with a matching miniskirt. Then it became an argument between the stylists and the photographer on which hairdo they were going to go on with until the director, Kitagawa Yusuke barged in, choosing the 1970s 'flower child' image with a single thin braid and careless curls. Everyone agreed it was going to match the Plymouth.
The second unit photoshoot director came in and told Ann that she was going to meet Amamiya in five minutes. Ann nodded then made a motion to get up, saying she was thirsty. Immediately three production assistants sprang into action, mobilising to get a mere glass of water for the lead actress while her agent insistently pushed Ann back down on her seat, reminding her that she was an expensive asset in the movie now.
"Are they worried lightning's going to strike Ann out of a clear day?" asked Shiho.
"For the accountants and producers balancing one-hundred-and-twenty million dollars on this project, it's a likely risk," said Makoto.
Shiho's mouth rounded an 'O', befuddled.
"It's fine, Shiho. This always happens as soon as pre-production is on," said Ann, accepting the glass of water.
"Oh. . .who's that by the way?" asked Shiho, pointing across the studio lot space, by the mobile café. A handsome man in his mid-thirties was arguing with Haru Okumura whose body language showed someone with patience to hear his rant out.
"That is Tetsuya Ida. He's probably mad about losing the lead male role for Sugar Rock Derby. He was originally supposed to be your co-star, did you know that?" said Makoto, covering her mouth with a suppressed giggle.
Ann quirked the corner of her mouth, shaking her head by a slight.
"The inside joke is. . .?" Shiho prodded.
"He's a former lover. We met during the filming of Sakura Stormbreaker," said Ann.
"That over-the-top vampires vs. yokai movie?" asked Shiho.
"Yeah."
"Huh."
"Ida's a good actor, either way. Three Golden Globe nominations, a star stud that hasn't failed to make a box office summer hit. On paper, he was a better choice than Ren Amamiya so I can understand why he might be feeling insulted. Big change too. The age gap between Ren and Ida is seventeen years," said Makoto.
"I'm sure Ann's capability as an actress will carry the movie if this Ren-guy is a dud. She has that amazing talent that made her famous," said Shiho.
"Talent – you mean these?" Ann arched her back, cupping her breasts.
The ladies laughed.
"Not just those! You've got an honest attrition for bringing magic to the character you play Ann. The script for Sakura Stormbreaker was weak in the third act but somehow you made your character work well, bouncing off nicely against Ida's style of acting," said Makoto.
"Ida also has an obsession for asses. And not just cupping them," quipped Ann.
"Maybe he's got a latent desire for men," remarked Shiho.
Ann frowned.
"You might be onto something. . .now that I think about it, he never seemed too interested in my talented boobs. Not that I can blame him. It's not as if there isn't a famous name in Harleywood that hasn't swung the other way at least once, right? Nanna's urn in our family altar has probably rocked the shelves a thousand times since I moved into this crazy town. All those things I've seen and done – I mean," Ann squeaked under Shiho's judgemental gaze, "-you know what, forget what I just said."
"Whatever pent-up homoeroticism he may have had, you and Ida Tetsuya had proficient on-screen chemistry. Even the tabloids agree the two of you topped Gosling and Stone in Crazy, Stupid, Love," said Makoto.
". . .true," agreed Ann.
"Johnny didn't top it?" asked Shiho.
"He never did. It's a famous hallmark in Ann's acting career for Harleywood. Or perhaps a curse. Every male lead after Ida is doomed to be in the shadow of the couple in Sakura Stormbreaker," said Makoto.
"Why'd you break up with Ida anyway?" asked Shiho.
"Too much of a party boy. All those private jets, Maxim supermodels and lines of cocaine around? It was like everyone in Harleywood wanted to sleep with him when the movie just came out too. I knew I was going to get hurt so I got out and in with Johnny. Fat good that did," Ann said bitterly.
Makoto and Shiho exchanged looks. The second unit director bobbed her head into the trailer's doorway.
"Photoshoot time. Everyone's waiting and it looks like Yusuke wants to try a guerrilla chemistry test right now with the leads."
Ann turned her head sideways, her lower lip trembling.
"We're coming," Makoto answered, after an anxious glance at her talent.
Shiho knelt to level with Ann, clasping their hands together.
"That was my fault, I'm sorry I should not have asked about break-ups," said Shiho.
It is your fault. It's everyone's. What did I do to deserve this! Ann thought, bottling inside her turmoil turbo'ed thoughts. Ann knew she was being petty yet at the same time, she was too mad at everything to care.
She exhaled.
"I was so dead wrong about Johnny. He didn't follow 'the script' for our movie. Our happiness. I never saw it coming too," said Ann.
"With everything else going on, it's not a big deal that you lost the perspective on marriage. I mean, check out what they're printing in the magazines, Ann. They write outlandish stories about the kind of underwear you wear. It's nuts! You've braved through this rough patch AND dealt with a professional life that gives you so much shit," said Shiho. Makoto nodded.
Ann internally deflated into dispassion at this. The spoilt actress wanted a pity party, not facts and logic about the misery she was going through. Switching on the actress, a chipper attitude masked over Ann. She was hiding now. Beneath her pretty face, hiding even from her talent agent and her best friend.
Ann clapped her hands once.
"Well, time to shoot a movie, I guess. I'm ready!" said Ann.
#
Sojiro nudged Ren.
"She's here," muttered Sojiro.
Ren perked up at the arrival of the lady entourage, with the lead actress in tow. When Ren arrived at the set, the chatter with the photoshoot staff dimmed down to murmurs and glances. With the Platinum Pearl here now, everyone on set went silent just staring at Ann Takamaki. One of the many indicative differences between the male and female leads' stardom power.
Ren himself was staring (He was allowed to, right? As the co-star). In his first movie, Devil-One, Ren had already known Kasumi for one year by the time they had started filming that spy thriller. With Sugar Rock Derby though. . .
Big time difference, thought Ren.
In-person, Ann seemed springy and cheery on her step, those wavy curls bouncing as she shook 1st Assistant Camera's hand, being formally introduced. Sojiro himself went ahead to say hi (apparently, they met a few years ago at a gala).
Earlier in the week, Ren watched four of Ann's movies from her spangled filmography – live-action adaptation Danganronpa, Sakura Stormbreaker, James Bond: The Hildebrand Rarity and the recent box-flop of the headlines, Slyfall IV: Rise of Diablo. Now the filter of 25-frames-per-second was removed between himself and this actress-senpai. This was surreal.
"Ren?"
Sojiro waved at Ren. The others are waiting on him. Ann's attention was pivoted to him now. It was his turn to finally meet the actress. Sugar Rock Derby was to be her crucial bounce-back from the disgrace of her last movie's failure.
Ren masked himself in a friendly banter.
For himself, Ren dearly hoped Sugar Rock Derby was going to critically fail in every conceivable way. And he selfishly was going to do everything he could to make it happen.
#
"What do you think of him?" asked Shiho.
"Amamiya?"
"Yeah."
"Yawn. This is the first time I've had a romance co-star call me 'senpai'. I'm not impressed," said Ann, flipping her curls. She inspected her reflection on the reflective green bonnet of the Plymouth.
"That's harsh, Ann."
"It's valid though. Actors his age only want three things; fame, sex, more fame and lots of money. They arrrr-" Ann clucked her tongue, "-binary creatures. A lot of them were like that – Brad, Tetsuya, Leonardo, even Johnny went through that phase. Some don't ever leave it," said Ann.
"That's sorta four things. It's good he wants success though, right? That means he'll work hard on Sugar Rock Derby."
"Shoot begins in one minute everyone!" the call-out went.
"Of course. He'll be my training puppy, wrapped around my finger to control," Ann said smugly.
X
Ren sat at the driver's seat on the Plymouth, his dark curls blowing back from the large fan out of the focus shot.
Ka-chik. Ka-chik, went the Leica camera's snaps. The crew was quiet to a pin-drop silence – one of the many unspoken rules in the business where there was a shutter concentrating. The only crew members that were allowed to talk were the camera branch and the cast.
Kitagawa Yusuke prowled around his Director of Photography; arms folded.
"Aviators on," commanded Yusuke.
A production assistant hurried onto the set, handing Ren a pair of Ray-Ban sunglasses.
"Head a bit to the right, like you're checking the rear-view-" Ka-chik. Ka-chik. "-Fantastic. Now give me a shot where you're gripping the steering wheel tight, I want to see those veins bulge," Ka-chik. Ka-chik. Ka-chik. "-Excellent. Ann, time for you to walk in. Start from the car's tail end so the fan's stream is hitting you faceward. . ."
Ka-chik. Ka-chik. Ka-chik.
Ann sidled to the side on the Plymouth, dragging a finger coy on the panel side. The mechanical clicks of the Leica sped up, racking up a dozen shots and more to be sorted out later for the movie marketing materials. She stopped at the driver's side, turned on her heel and leaned forward sultry – staring at Ren in the eyes. Ka-chik.
Yusuke stood up from his director's chair, eyebrows raised. He stretched out his arms in that rectangular 'finger frame', vignetting the next sequence shot.
"We're starting the chemistry test now. Warm up the motion camera," announced Yusuke.
Watching from the corners, Haru picked up on the apprehension which rippled through the crew. Uh oh. Platinum Pearl's best screen chemistry had not been topped in seven years' worth of subsequent movies since Sakura Stormbreaker. It was not the biggest of deals, Haru supposed. All Ren had to do was somehow bounce it off decently with Takamaki for this movie, to make it worthwhile. She earnestly hoped her casting director's instincts were right. The squeeze of one-hundred-twenty million dollars being burned for a vision only tangible in words and storyboards today was a unique kind of stress.
"You two ready?" said Yusuke.
Ren and Ann nodded. The camera started its record.
"Sugar Rock Derby chemistry test – take one. Action!"
10 minutes later.
The 1st Assistant Camera powered down the Panavision camera. His shellshock eyes turned from the camera to the Plymouth. At the driver's seat, Ann was sitting on Ren's lap, holding him by the collar of his leather jacket. Then he looked to Yusuke who was weeping tears of joy. Then to everyone else in the filming crew. Lots of jaws were dropped.
Holy. . .shit. What was that? thought Shiho.
"That was wonderful!" came a shout from the back. It was the movie's producer, Okumura Haru, punching her fist triumphantly into the air.
Ann herself had lost some of the seniority cockiness she oozed at Shiho earlier. Out of professionalism, the actor and actress were keeping their final pose of the screen test until the director formally called it off. She looked down at this younger man beneath, her blonde curls waterfalling around Ren's tousled crown. His long eyelashes were lowered to the steering wheel. As if nonchalant about what he just unlocked with Harleywood's screen siren.
This take was so much rawer than anything I've done with Ida, Ann thought, a little baffled herself.
Ren lifted his head then, like a cat sniffing the breeze. To meet her eyes as they slid open. Those grey eyes glinted. Ann contained in herself starburst feelings of confusion and something else; smashing and colliding under her ribs in a pandemonium.
It was here that Ann realised that Ren was not the actor she thought he'd be. He was something much more deviant. A black mirror to her arrogance, which selfishly wanted what it wanted, no matter whatever else got destroyed.
Ren ignored the photoshoot crew that was in a mini-celebration, speaking only for this small space between them. His hands slid down her hips, tingling a spark in her loins to hear the following poison:
"It does seem true that you're a high maintenance actress, senpai. Did Johnny feel the same about you as a lover?" said Ren.
Ann's mouth went dry. Her grip loosened from his collar, fingers dropping to curl around his neck. The corner of Ren's mouth twitched at that. He leaned closer to her, whispering:
"Or maybe he left you because he knew it's all downhill from here on for your career. A box office failure with Slyfall. What will Sugar Rock be – a troubled production all because of its diva actress?"
"Bastard," whispered Ann.
Come on. Flip out. Lose your shit, Ren willed. Please be half the problematic actress the rumour mills said you were. Ren threw in another tinder.
"Ooh. There she is. The shallow woman that sunk her relationship," he said.
Ka-chik!
"Love the intensity, you two! This was the best snap!" said the photographer.
Ann and Ren blinked, snapping out of their perfervid tête-à-tète.
One hour later.
Sojiro's office – Leblanc Creative.
"How did it go?"
Ren popped the cherry cola can, plopping himself onto the plumply couch. He took a long sip, wiping at his mouth.
"You were there," Ren pointed out.
"Sure, I was. I meant, how did you feel? Do you think you can make this movie work?" asked Sojiro.
Ren faked his hesitation.
"I. . .hope so. As you saw boss, I am giving this movie my everything. It's just-" Ren swallowed. He took another sip of the fizzy cola, carefully etching vague worry in his expression. Sojiro bought it completely, believing Ren's acting, "-Takamaki-senpai seems to be under a lot of stress. I hope she will be OK and not hinder the movie's production."
"I can understand that. Just hang in there, kid."
Ren nodded with large innocent, puppy eyes.
"I'll try, Boss."
Takamaki's mansion.
Ann chucked the recliner cushion in a fit of rage and cracked pride. It splashed in the saltwater swimming pool.
Shiho winced at that.
"I think you're being paranoid, Ann. Ren seems to be a nice guy. You guys had such a good chemistry test too," said Shiho.
Ann whirled around, wild and savage like she wanted to strangle Ren. Her manicured nails clawed at empty air. She was coming off a little schizophrenic to Shiho, right now.
"No. Ren is trying to sabotage the production," hissed Ann.
I almost wish you were telling me the Earth was flat. Or some other cracked conspiracy, thought Shiho.
"That doesn't even make sense. Why would he want to do that, to his own movie?"
"I don't know! But he's trying to set me up to bring the whole thing down!" Ann insisted.
"It's OK, Ann. You're just stressed and perhaps a little delirious from everything that's been happening-"
"I-am-not crazy! Ohhh, I'm going to get that fucker. He's not getting under my skin. . ."
Author's Note
This chapter was dumb. I spent a month being indecisive on what car they were going to model with (in the copies I initially lost, it was a 1969 R/T Charger) and three days for the actual writing itself.
[Yes, it's the same asshole Tetsuya Ida from 13 Sentinels: Aegis Rim]