The Stand-In(46)

“Because it’s pointless. Have you heard the one about the sheet of paper?”

“Sam, are you okay?”

“Actually, it’s pretty tearable.” With a beatific smile, he turns away, happy to have delivered two of the worst jokes in the world.

He’s a fucking amazing dancer, which I find out by accident one day when I try to figure out how to do a fad dance I saw on social media. He watched it through once and then repeated it flawlessly as I gaped at him.

He shrugged it off. “My mother says I have good bodily kinesthetic intelligence. From her, naturally.”

“There’s no way I can do that.”

“Sure you can. It’s all in the hips.”

Only after he spends a futile five minutes trying to teach me to do a body roll does he give up. Thank God, because if I had to watch him thrust his hips at me while tracing his hands down his distressingly toned chest one more time I would have exploded. He doesn’t notice the impact he’s having and sits on the couch. “What were you doing before trying to dance?”

“Watching The Pearl Lotus again.” I decided that it would be good to have another viewing now that I was a little more used to being Fangli.

“May I join you?” This Sam, too, is scrupulously polite compared to the old one.

“Sure, but you have to tell me the behind-the-scenes gossip.” I start the movie, then pause it. “Do you find it strange to watch yourself on-screen?”

“I never used to watch my own movies,” he says. “Do you want popcorn?”

“Yes.” He gets up to nuke a bag and I wait for him to continue. “Well?”

“Well, what?” Sam bends down to open a cabinet for bowls.

“Acting. Watching yourself. You never used to but you do now?”

“It’s an incredibly uncomfortable experience,” he says as sharp little pops come from the microwave. “Every scene can be improved but there it is, forever. My idiot expressions. How stupid I look in a costume. I couldn’t stand it for ages.”

“What changed?”

“My friend Chen pointed out that if I never see my own work, I can never improve. It made sense and it’s become easier.” The microwave dings and he grabs the bag, swearing when he opens it and the steam burns his hand. “That being said, it’s hard when I’m sitting with someone taking the mickey.”

“Taking the what?”

“It’s a term my tutor used. It means to make fun of someone.”

“I would never!” I’m affronted he thinks me that mean.

Sam brings over two bowls and hands me one. “A bit of a joke… I know you wouldn’t.”

We start the movie again, and a few minutes later, he pauses it. “Do you see that?”

I squint at the scene, which takes place in the throne room under a golden dragon with ruby eyes. “Is that a Starbucks cup?”

“No one would admit to leaving it there.”

“It was yours, wasn’t it?”

When he laughs, his whole face lights up with mischief. “That trended on social media for days. I couldn’t tell anyone. Too embarrassed.” Then he pats his pocket and pulls out his vibrating phone. His face hardens and he very decisively rejects the call.

He sees me looking. “My mother,” he says.

I do some rough mental calculations. “Isn’t it five in the morning or something in Beijing?”

“More like three but my mother is not limited by things such as time zones when it comes to trying to control my life.”

Hearing Sam has trouble with his mom hits me the same way it did when I saw my teacher in the grocery store as a kid—almost disconcertingly intimate. “What’s up?”

“Nothing.”

My nosiness knows no bounds. “I’ll tell you about my secret project.”

Sam quirks his eyebrow. “I don’t believe you.”

“It’s called Eppy. There’s a teaser.”

Sam gives in. “You know who my mother is.”

“Lu Lili. We used to watch her movies.”

“My father.”

“Ren Shu, the director.”

“Right. My mother is a force.” He grimaces. “I’ve been in twenty-three movies. I’ve been acting for over fifteen years. I’m one of the highest paid actors in China, and nevertheless, at the age of thirty, I feel the need for her approval.”

“Moms,” I say.

“Moms,” he agrees. “She wants me to quit acting and join my father’s entertainment company.”

“As an actor?”

“Groomed to be the CEO, like him. It’s my duty as a good son.”

“That sounds very dynastic.”

“It is.” He drinks with a closed face. “What Lu Lili wants, she gets. She has enough influence to prevent other companies from hiring me, and she would be confident it’s for my own good.”

“You don’t want to?”

“We’re different people,” he says with vehemence. “Different ambitions. She doesn’t understand that. It’s because she loves us, but she also has no boundaries.”

I lean back into the couch and pull my legs up. “What are you going to do?”