Stranger Than Fanfiction(64)
“Care for a drink?” Cash asked.
Sam’s initial instinct was to deny the offer, but given his current state of mind, he thought he could use one.
“I’ve never had a drink before,” Sam said. “Will it help me sleep?”
“Like mother’s milk,” Cash said.
The actor poured whiskey into another Dixie cup for Sam and topped off his own. Cash threw his head back and drank his in one gulp and Sam copied him. Once it was swallowed, Sam coughed and gagged as if the actor had poisoned him.
“That tastes like battery acid!” Sam gasped. “How do you drink this stuff?”
“It burns at first but then numbs everything else,” Cash said. “And I could use a little numbing after today.”
The actor refilled their cups and they each took another shot. The second one was easier than the first, but still very unpleasant. Sam felt his cheeks getting warm and his mind started to slow down like he had taken too much cold medicine—it was a nice change. Also, words began spilling out of his mouth before he had a chance to think about them.
“I’m sorry the world won’t leave you alone,” Sam said. “It’s just cruel for everyone to analyze you like they are. It’s like everyone forgets you’re a human being because you’re on a television show.”
“I’m used to it,” Cash said. “You lose the right to humanity when you become famous. It’s just the way it is, but I’m not going to whine about it. It’s similar to how people treated monarchy back in the olden days; it’s all fun and games until a revolution comes, then they want your head. This week it’s my turn to be Marie-Antoinette, next week it’ll be someone else’s.”
“But that doesn’t make it right,” Sam insisted. “And for the record, I don’t care what the women of The Panel say. You’re absolutely going to work again. Any director or studio would be lucky to have someone as talented and popular as you in a project. It’s ridiculous for anyone to think otherwise.”
“Oh no, they’re right about that.” Cash laughed. “But it wasn’t a recent revelation—I’ve known that since season two. I’ll never forget the time a director wouldn’t let me audition for his reboot of Beverly Hills Chihuahua. If that’s not humbling, I don’t know what is. It doesn’t bother me, though. I mean, c’est la vie, right?”
The actor took a chug straight from the whiskey bottle and stared out at the city lights ahead. Sam didn’t understand how he could be so carefree about it.
“What does bother you, then?” he asked. “I don’t mean to pry, but if the world was saying or thinking half the same things about me, I’d be a wreck.”
Cash had to think about it and nodded when the answer came to him.
“I suppose being compared to something that isn’t real is what bothers me the most,” the actor said. “It’s a real mind fuck when you’re held to fictional standards. People have thought of me as a quantum physics expert since I was twelve, and every time I prove I’m not, they act like I’m doing something wrong—like I’m offending them by stepping outside the parameters of the character I play on TV. Does that make sense?”
Sam nodded, too. It resonated with him a lot more than Cash would ever have thought it could.
“I think so,” Sam said. “Because they’ve seen you doing it for so long, they don’t realize how much of a performance it is. So anytime they’re reminded it isn’t real—it’s a betrayal or an attack on something they love.”
“Right,” Cash said. “People get addicted to the fantasy you provide them, and then they turn on you the second you can’t give it to them anymore. You know, if I were a rock star, no one would be talking about me right now. The only reason it’s making such a splash is because my behavior is so unlike Dr. Bumfuzzle’s. You get what I’m saying?”
“Completely,” Sam said softly. “People give you the wrong expectations and then blame you when you can’t meet them. It’s your fault for not being the person they want you to be. You’re the freak. You’re the monster. When in reality, you’re just trying to be… yourself.”
He couldn’t tell if it was the whiskey or the conversation, but Sam was becoming emotional. He looked toward the city lights to hide his glistening eyes.
Cash was shocked by how much Sam understood. “Exactly,” he said. “Truthfully, that’s been the hardest part about being on Wiz Kids. Nothing is worse than having the whole world think you’re something that you’re not. It’s lonely, it’s frustrating, and more painful than anyone could ever—”
Sam suddenly burst into tears like a broken sprinkler system. They poured down his face so forcefully he couldn’t keep up with wiping them away. He sobbed so hard he could barely catch his breath and made little yelping noises like a small dog. The emotional release took Cash completely by surprise and he stared at Sam like he was a vase he had accidentally knocked over in his drunken state.
“Um… what’s the matter, Sam?” Cash asked.
“Nothing!” Sam sniffled. “I’ll be f-f-f-f-fine!”
“Was it something I said?”
“N-n-n-no,” Sam cried. “I just understand m-m-m-more than you know.”