November 20, 2024
All That Glitters
Chapter 1
Kyoko Mogami made the move to Los Angeles without regret.
Leaving Japan was necessary, she'd decided. She was beginning to feel like a plant who'd outgrown its pot. What had seemed impossible at sixteen was commonplace to her now. She was an established actress-popular, respected, sought-after. She'd been featured in dramas, movies; done a stint in live-action theater—Japan had been wonderful. But she wanted new challenges. New roles. New people. Though she knew she'd be homesick, she'd decided to leave with little hesitation.
At 22, she was unattached and unafraid, young enough to be the ingenue, too young to be a sure bet. She didn't have anyone or anything tying her down to Japan. Kanae and Chiori were busy with their own careers. There'd been the adolescent romance with Hikaru Ishibashi, the entanglement with Hidehito Kijima, and yes, even the time she'd agreed to fake-date Sho to boost both of their reputations. Sex had been lackluster; she couldn't understand what the fuss was about. It was frequently messy, often painful, and always awkward. All of those relationships had ended, one-by-one, without too much heartache or regret on her part. Lory hadn't wanted to take her out of the LoveMe section, telling her she'd never really loved anyone. But by then she'd had a number of roles under her belt, had made a name for herself. He didn't have a choice or a leg to stand on—LoveMe #1 was now Kyouko, in kanji. She was one of Japan's leading actresses. The idea of Kyouko being what amounted to a maid-of-all-work was absurd. And if all of her former lovers had felt like shoes that didn't fit, no one could really tell on-screen. It had been easy. Her romantic roles had featured young, innocent women falling in love for the first time. Most of the movies ended with chaste kisses; many of them hadn't even required an actual kiss on-screen because the camera shot the final kiss at oblique angles. The Japanese market was relatively undemanding in that regard.
She had doubts that she kept to herself, holding onto a certain good-luck charm made out of blue iolite. There were occasional long nights agonizing over a character, working on her inflection. She'd become famous for her work ethic: a one-take queen. She made sure that all anyone else ever saw was a veteran.
There was nothing she loved more than acting, not even Japan. Eltra had seen it, and so had Lory; both of them had blessed her move, even encouraged it. She knew where the next step was, and it wasn't in Tokyo.
If she wanted to conquer the world, she had to conquer Hollywood.
Arrangements were made. She kept a few commitments in Japan, roles that she could complete through trips back. But her intent was to focus most of her effort on establishing a career in the States. A work visa was conjured by LME's US division and off she went.
Lory saw her off at the airport himself, watching as she marched through security with her head held high.
She hopped off the plane at LAX with quite a bit more in-hand than most aspiring actresses making landfall in the City of Angels. She wasn't exactly a nobody, though she was far from being a somebody here. Her CV had a few notable names on it—a few of Leonard Herbert's features, a number of critically acclaimed movies by Shingai. And she was one of Eltra Duris's known protegees. She'd cultivated an easy outward confidence that gave people the impression that she was bigger than she actually was. For a girl raised to be invisible, she'd finally figured out that holding a room's attention was a skill to be exploited. She knew she was on her way. Kyoko knew how to work hard—whether as a server at the Darumaya or in her latest role. Why would Hollywood be any different?
Blinking up at the unfiltered sun, she could appreciate how Los Angeles expanded where Tokyo contracted, showing her expanse after magnificent expanse of sprawling hills and palm trees overlaid with a filigree of luxury and excess. It dazzled her. Hollywood had a unique perfume—the narcotic indolence of white flowers melding with car exhaust, the sour-tang scent of marijuana, fried things, urine in the gutters, money and air conditioning oozing from the doors of the Beverly Wilshire. She breathed all of it in and tried to breathe out her old life. After a month, she left the modest hotel Lory had booked and paid for, using the proceeds from her work in Japan to put down roots in America. Her first apartment was iin a low-slung box building in West Hollywood, air-conditioning up like a wall against the oppressive heat and the sharp smell of cleaning solvent on empty floors. She filled it with cheap minimalist furniture and a monstera plant.
She didn't want the American dream. Her own dreams were bigger.
=.=.=
Five months after arrival and she was frustrated.
She knew the transition would be hard. It was one thing to come over from Japan for specific projects and another to audition for new roles on her own. She had achieved some modicum of success in Japan, but she was relatively unknown here. The big names on her resume opened a few doors, but the roles LME USA had found for her were…predictable. She felt trapped. There was a box made for women like her: Asian, petite, reasonably acrobatic. Ninja girls and geisha girls, ninja-geisha-girls, snarky superheroes wearing straw "Asian" hats with stylized dragons on their costumes, the occasional math nerd. Stereotypes. Stereotypes she could make her own, of course, because wasn't the trick in subverting them? But she hadn't come over to play in a box. She'd just left one. And though she recognized the fact that the roles being handed to her were the roles always handed to women like her, she refused to accept it.
Women like her were more than capable of being leading ladies.
Which was the reason she was here, sitting for an audition that both Lory and Yashiro had counseled her not to do. Eltra alone had been for it, telling her that the part was too visible, too important to not try for. It was award season fodder. If she could star in a remake of Breakfast at Tiffany's, she would have it made. It was legendary-the kind of film people still talked about years after its release. Never mind that she was an unlikely choice, and one likely to inspire accusations of 'woke' Hollywood playing fast and loose with its golden-age icons. Never mind the fact that Max Jackson, the director in question, had never particularly liked her. She didn't care about awards or accolades, but Holly Golightly was a role for the ages. And though she knew she was no Audrey Hepburn, she knew she was something else: Kyoko Mogami.
Things weren't going well.
"Look, Kyoko," Max Jackson was saying, "I've got my executive producer here rooting for you. But I have to say...I just don't see you in this one." He shrugged. "Sorry."
Disappointment pooled in her belly. Jackson had rejected her before she'd even started to act. But rejection was something she was used to and she wasn't about to give up. She knew she could do it. The updated script was about two people wanting to be together and yet choosing to be apart, all because of money. But at its heart, this movie, just like its namesake, would about the nature of true love—though the new version would address the darkness that had only been alluded to in the first film head-on. The character Holly Golightly was an escort, explicitly and without apology in the remake. Kyoko had been excited—the role was so complex, so interesting. She'd read the script, she'd read the book, she'd watched the older movie. And she felt she knew where he wanted to go—"Mr. Jackson, let's discuss your vision for the role, then. I'm sure I can..."
"Not sure how to say this so I'll just say it bluntly."
Kyoko saw the look on his face and braced herself.
"You're cute," he said. "Cute, and fresh. Scary as hell when you want to be, athletic as fuck, pretty, and innocent." He sighed. "But that innocence in you? That's real. You're not exactly what I'd call a sex bomb, Kyoko. You look like the last person in the world who would ever suck a dick for cash. That's not who my Holly Golightly is. You're Audrey Hepburn, and I want a Marilyn Monroe."
"But—"
"On top of that," Jackson continued, "I can't say I've ever seen a single one of your movies where you've been a convincing romantic lead."
She froze for a second.
She hated it when Lory was right.
She'd expected a myriad other reasons for why she couldn't be Holly, but this hadn't been one of them. She'd thought her love acting was as good as any other actress of her generation, and she'd told Lory so. "I never knew you to be OK with acting 'as well as any other actress,'" Lory had said. "I happen to think most love acting is quite terrible, and your acting isn't an exception. I've always held you to a higher standard, Kyoko-chan. You'll need to be better than everyone else to land this role. You'll need to be better than yourself. And this role won't be sanitized like the first Breakfast at Tiffany's was." He'd been quite emphatic the last time he'd been in LA.
She'd scowled at him. "I always try to be better than myself, Shachou."
"You know how to make this character shine," Lory had told her. "But I don't know if you know how to make her bleed. And this later part of the movie? This love story? Look at what they're asking for. 'Passionate. Voluptuous sexuality.'" Lory scoffed. "I mean, voluptuous sexuality is just about the furthest thing from your wheelhouse. I just—I won't support it. Bad idea."
"Then don't support it," she shot back. "I'll audition anyway."
"You know there'll be nude scenes," he'd said.
She'd blushed but she stood her ground. "Had to happen sometime," she shrugged.
Lory had leaned back into his divan, giving her a long look as he puffed on his cigar. "Go, if you have to," he sighed. "But don't say I didn't tell you so." She'd shaken her head at him and stormed out of the room before he could launch into another one of his "your love acting sucks because you've never been in love" rants. She hadn't wanted to hear it.
Well.
She was hearing it now.
And yet she wasn't willing to give up. She'd been reinventing herself since she was sixteen. She'd learned how to do backflips off a roof, for goodness' sake. She could learn how to be sexy. She could learn how to be a proper romantic lead.
She raised determined eyes to the director. "Let me do a screen test," she said. "Please."
Max Jackson held her gaze. For one agonizing minute she had hope. But he shook his head and sighed, adamant in his refusal. "No," he said. "Even if Eltra Duris himself says so. You're just not it. You don't have it. I'm sure you're a great actress. But you're not a fit for this role."
"But—"
"OK. Fine." He gave her a cold grin. "Come over to my house tonight and show me a good time. And maybe I'll let you audition for this part."
She stood frozen in shock, blanching white and then blushing—had he just said that out loud? In front of the casting director? Her agent? The associate producers?
"Excuse m—"
But she was interrupted by raucous laughter. "See?" The director shook his head. "Wrong for the role. You react like a virgin. Or a grandmother."
Her younger self would have jumped up, enraged. The prompt hadn't been fair—was she supposed to be in character? But today she curbed her impulses. Auditions were never fair. She should have known to be in-character from the start. She should've walked in in character. Wasn't that how she'd won the very best of her roles? Instead, she glared daggers at him, clinging to her pique. Anger she could handle. Anger was preferable to the gnawing sense of failure crawling up her spine and threatening to dim her fire. "I was…just surprised," she said. "At your inappropriate demand. Surely you don't cast all your movies in such a predatory manner…?"
He rolled his eyes and waved her off.
She swallowed the imprudent words on the tip of her tongue, turned on her heel, and walked away.
Some things simply had to be left as they were.
=.=.=
She answered Lory's call with a heavy sigh. She'd spent the rest of that day huddled in her apartment, poking small holes into a hastily constructed Max Jackson doll with the anger she'd tricked herself into feeling. She wasn't quite ready to dissect this particular defeat.
"Don't say 'I told you so,'" she told him. "I know someone's told you about it by now."
She'd expected laughter from him. Some gloating.
But instead, Lory's voice was gentle. "That's not why I called you, Kyoko-chan," he said. "But you're right, I did hear about it."
"He didn't even give me a chance."
"He didn't have to. I told you it wasn't a good idea."
"I know that!" she exclaimed. "I know…" She faltered, her shoulders slumping. "It's just…"
"You should know as well as I do that it may not have even mattered how good your acting was, romantic role or otherwise. I know he wanted to cast a Marilyn Monroe-type. If he wanted a look more than he wanted an actress, he could've easily hired some blonde bimbo—"
"Do not call Marilyn Monroe a blonde bimbo, Shachou, I swear—"
"I wasn't. You're obfuscating my point—"
"And even if they wanted a blonde bimbo, I could have looked the part."
"Even movie magic has its limitations," Lory said quietly. "You're truly a chameleon, Kyoko, but you're not the blonde bombshell type. You can't win them all, kiddo."
She was quiet for a long time after that. "Yeah," she said finally.
"I know," Lory said softly. "You've made walls tumble down from the sheer force of your will alone."
It was the cruelest thing he could have said. What good was all of her will if she couldn't break through here? She held back the urge to cry.
"Kyoko-chan," Lory continued. "don't take this so personally."
"I wasn't," she muttered angrily. "And I'm not giving up. As if I would ever give up—"
"I know, I know," Lory soothed. "I know you won't give up. There will be other auditions. Better parts."
She clung to her phone and the voice on the other end of the call, gathering all the comfort she could from its familiarity. For a second, she indulged herself in a wave of homesickness-would it be so bad to run back to Japan? Today had made her feel more alone than she had in a long, long time, and Lory was the closest thing she'd ever had to a parent. She knew he was right, but it didn't make that horrible sinking-falling-screamy feeling go away. Coming to Hollywood had made her confront how truly magical her success in Japan had been. Until she'd come to the US, she'd never been turned down for a part she'd auditioned for.
"I don't want you to dwell on this," he said. "Listen, Kouki's having a party tonight—"
"A party is the last thing I want to do right now, Shachou," she said.
"No doubt."
"Then why—"
"Because you need a little change of pace," Lory persisted. "You've been working hard."
"I've been working hard at not working at all!"
"Hush." Lory's voice was full of gentle reproach. "That's not true. Ask any other struggling actress-slash-model in your neighborhood and they'll tell you how lucky you are. You have the little jobs we've been booking for you, and you're coming back here for Sunshine Happy next autumn. Maybe you don't have every second of every day scheduled to the hilt, but that's not nothing, Kyoko!"
She sniffled and hoped he hadn't heard it. "I'm grateful," she told him. "And I know I'm being impatient, but—"
"You are being impatient. Listen, you know what my criticisms have always been," he said. "You need to figure out how to act these romantic roles—"
"Shachou, please, not right now—"
"That's my point. Not right now." Lory sighed. "I won't kick you when you're down. But you aren't good at letting things go, Kyoko, and normally I'd encourage you to go back and fight for what you want. But this one—well, I don't think you're going to get this one."
"And a party is supposed to make me feel better?"
"It'll get you out of your head," he said. "How much of the city have you actually seen since you've been there? How much networking have you done?"
"Isn't that what my agency is for?"
"Doesn't quite work that way over there, dear."
"Shachou—"
"You don't know who you'll meet at Kouki's," he interrupted. "It could be a casting director. Some producer. Some showrunner. My point is that so much of your success over there depends on who you know as much as it does on your own talent. Eltra and I can only do so much for you. I haven't been pushing you as hard on this but I think it's time you take this more seriously."
"Someone in the crowd could be the one you need to know…" she sang, off-key and off-kilter on purpose.
"Pffft. You loved La La Land," Lory said accusingly. "And it's not wrong."
Kyoko sighed.
She knew he was right, but the audition had been exhausting. She didn't particularly want to spend the rest of the night making small talk with strangers. "Maybe I could go to the next one," she said tremulously. "I just…I don't know. I'm not sure I'm up to it tonight—"
"What, Kyoko Mogami doesn't want to put on a pretty dress? There was a time when you were so thrilled just to have your makeup done."
"I was sixteen years old."
"And you're twenty-two now. Hardly an old woman."
"I feel old," she said.
"And that's the problem," Lory said. "You're not old. You need to go out and live the best years of your life. If you won't go out there and find someone to fall in love with, you might as well go out there and make them all fall in love with you."
Kyoko shut her eyes and gritted out her reply. "Fine," she said. "Where is it?"
She could almost see Lory's grin.
"Where else?" he said. "As if Kouki would ever live anywhere other than Malibu."
"Of course." She imagined it: a Takarada mansion transplanted into California's hillside, uselessly ornate, over-the-top-something to make Cinderella's castle look like amateur hour. Kouki's neighbors probably hated it. She opened her closet door, picking through dresses and finding the one she kept for these occasions: a princess-cut dress with a halter top in a bright pink.
"I'll text you the address."
"OK."
"Have faith, Kyoko-chan."
"Thank you, Shachou," she said.
She sighed. She knew he'd call her tomorrow just to find out how the party had gone.
=.=.=.=
Author's Note: Well, here goes another 'blind alley' strategy. I've been writing this one in one form or other since RenKyo ShipWeek 2023 (it was my response to 'Trick/Truth,' if you must know) but it never felt quite ready. Hold me accountable for future chapters. Hope you enjoy. Yes, there will be smut. This one will be posted on Ao3 in parallel.