Strictly Business

Chapter 2

Brandon desperately clung onto his additional application forms he brought with him. For all he knew, the call he'd gotten could've simply been a rejection.

A lady came to take him to Jackson Moore, the executive producer of the film that he's auditioning as a stunt double for, called "Guns and Shades." It has a lot of action in it, so this was a big break for Brandon. Not making it as half of the character Cash West would leave him jobless for the rest of the year and possibly the upcoming years; and he didn't need that.

The lady that came to assist Brandon led him through the building and into a room with clear glass doors, leather chairs, and a large black marble desk in the center with a swivel chair facing the window behind the desk.

"Sir, the stunt double for James Carlton has arrived."

"Thank you, Paige," the man facing away from Brandon in the chair said, twisting his chair around so he was looking right at Brandon's face. He stood up with a grin and a glee-filled laugh. He came out from behind the desk and pat Brandon on the back. "Look at you. You're even better than in the pictures."

He awkwardly coughed, standing up straight. "Are you Jackson Moore?"

"I am, I am. But you can call me Jack."

Brandon could already tell that the guy was just an expensive gimmick; his brown hair was slicked back and he wore a black suit with a blue tie, his whole outfit pressed crisply and neatly. Black sunglasses were over his eyes so Brandon couldn't make direct eye contact with him or read his emotions. Moore had three cell phones clipped to his belt, all of them on silent; the screens were flashing like crazy, but Moore made no move to answer any of them. Typical business man, Brandon thought.

Since no reply came from Brandon, Moore backed up to sit on the very edge of his desk, gesturing to one of the leather seats in front of it. Brandon sat into it.

"Brandon Ellis," Moore said slowly.

"That's me. I have these forms--"

"There's no need for those." Shaking his head, Moore took the packet of papers Brandon was holding and tossed them in his wastebasket. Before he could react, Moore took his shades off and directed his astonishingly bright blue eyes on Brandon, a small smile creeping onto his face. "I'm sure you know why you're here, kid."

"This is the part where you tell me whether I made the cut or not, right?" he guessed.

Moore shook his head. "Nope. You're here for me to assure you that you made the part! Of course you made it! Have you seen yourself in the mirror lately? You're basically James' clone."

"I get that a lot, Jack. But did you take a look at any of my qualifications while you were looking at the pictures?"

"What, why? I'm sure you're perfectly fine doing this job. The most important thing though, is that you can pull off as a James look-alike. This'll be one of the only movies that we can focus the camera in on the character's face during a stunt and no one will think it's a different person!"

"I'll still get credit though, right?" Brandon asked wearily. If he didn't get recognition for it, then how will his career ever take off? He'll just be known to the world as James Carlton, the guy convincing everyone he was born with stuntman-type abilities.

Moore, ignoring Brandon's question, finally answered one of his cell phones and had a 15-second conversation with whoever was on the other line, then hung up. His eyes landed back on Brandon.

"James said he'd be up in a few more minutes," Moore told him.

Gee, how I can't wait for that, Brandon thought sarcastically. He'd seen how James was on TV; camera hog, conceited, non-compassionate towards the women he dates, gives his fans the cold shoulder, etcetera. He was a terrible human being.