Funny You Should Ask(3)

We talk about the bookshop. The one he bought for Lauren and his mom when he got his first big break.

“It’s a bookshop/craft shop,” he makes a point to say. “Lauren gets mad if I don’t include that as well.”

It’s called the Cozy. They have a website. Gabe recommends books on it, even though he’s said in past interviews that he was never much of a reader as a kid.

“My mom was an English teacher, so having a kid that didn’t like books was so embarrassing,” he says. “But I was just a late bloomer—I’m a big reader now. The bookstore was her dream. And Lauren’s always been good at making things—baking, crafting, that kind of stuff. She still knits me a sweater every Christmas.”

I bite my tongue to keep from making the obvious joke: “What are they made of? Boyfriend material?”

In case you’re wondering, he is single.

“Rumors,” he tells me when I ask about Jacinda. “We’re co-stars and friends.”

Jacinda Lockwood—the newest Bond girl for the newest Bond. She and Gabe have been photographed numerous times coming out of restaurants, standing close to each other on dark sidewalks in Paris, even holding hands a few times.

“She’s a sweet girl,” Gabe says. “But there’s nothing there.”

He orders a second beer. I’m a lightweight so I decline.

Remember this detail later, friends. Two roads diverge and all that.

I ask how he feels about taking on such an iconic part—about being the first American to step into the role.

“Nervous,” he tells me. “Anxious. I almost said no.”

That’s the narrative his people and the film’s producers have been pushing, and I was skeptical when I heard it. But Gabe’s entire demeanor changes when I ask. He’s been open and cheerful, answering questions eagerly.

Bond puts a somber hush on the conversation. He’s not looking at me, staring down at his napkin, which he’s twisted into a tight knot. He’s silent for a long time.

I ask if the backlash bothered him.

“I’m beyond lucky,” he says. “All I care about is doing the part justice.”

He shrugs.

“But do I worry that they’re right? Yeah, sure. Who wouldn’t?”

“They” are the fans writing angry articles and blog posts detailing all the reasons why Gabe is the worst possible choice for Bond. Because he’s American. Because he’s not Oliver Matthias. Because audiences are used to him playing hunky, dim-witted himbos.

And then there’s the whole Angels in America thing.

He orders a third beer.

“My publicist would have my head if she saw this,” he tells me. “I’m supposed to stop at two, but it’s Friday! Hey, what are you doing after this?”

Twenty minutes later, with puppy in tow, we’re on our way to look at a house in the Hollywood Hills.

I want to ask him more about Bond, specifically if he had anything to do with leaking the audition footage online, but it’s around this point, dear readers, where I embarrassingly lose control of the interview.

It’s the moment when Gabe starts interviewing me.

“You’re from here, right? Wow, that must have been wild. I can’t even imagine what it’s like to grow up in Los Angeles. It was Los Angeles, right? I know a lot of people say L.A. but they really mean Orange County or Valencia or Anaheim and I know that real natives don’t consider that to be L.A. at all. Right?”

He’s correct on both counts. That I am from Los Angeles and that we get very testy about folks from neighboring cities trying to claim residence.

“This place still feels magical to me,” he says. “Been here almost five years, made almost eight movies, and it’s all still magic. Bet that makes me seem like a sap.”

It doesn’t. It makes him seem inhumanly charming.

The puppy is asleep on his lap.

“I haven’t named her yet,” he tells me. “I’m waiting for it to come to me.”

We pull up in front of a gorgeous white-stone mansion.

Gabe lets the puppy explore the backyard while we get a tour of the amenities. The real estate agent is bending over backward trying to make this sale, but unfortunately for her, Gabe has decided that my opinion matters a great deal.

And although the house is beautiful, it’s not really my style. Which means that today, it’s not Gabe’s style either.

We bid the real estate agent goodbye and begin our own farewells. Gabe has given me several hours of his time and yet, I’m not ready to say goodbye. I’ve been fully charmed by the future Bond. That’s the only excuse I have for what happens next.

Gabe mentions that he has a premiere to go to the following night and as I hand his adorable sleeping puppy over to him, I somehow manage to finagle an invite to the after-party.





Chapter

1


I arrived early and damp. The blue cotton blouse that had looked professional and flattering in my apartment mirror was now stuck to my armpits in dark, wet half-moons. Lifting my arms, I blasted the AC in my car, hoping both to dry my shirt and shock the nervousness out of my system.

I’d interviewed celebrities before.

I’d even interviewed supernaturally beautiful celebrities before.