Chapter 155 – Contractual relationship
Seeing Ryan’s dumbfounded expression, Renly stepped forward, patted him on the shoulder, and said with a grin,
“Four o’clock this afternoon—don’t forget the time. If you don’t show up on the red carpet, I’ll absolutely tell the reporters about you and Michelle.”
Buried was hardly a high-profile film. Even though Toronto was the first stop for its world premiere, they weren’t given the star treatment. Landing the coveted 8 p.m. slot was nothing but wishful thinking. Instead, their premiere was slotted for 4:30 in the afternoon, with the red carpet starting at 4. Once the screening ended, the reporters would rush off to the main venue for the North American premiere of The Town later that evening.
Without hesitation, Ryan flipped Renly the middle finger—he was dating Michelle, after all—and snapped through gritted teeth,
“You’d better not get the time wrong, or don’t blame me for what happens.”
After seeing Ryan off, Renly walked over to the mini-fridge in the room. His throat was parched after talking all morning.
“How’s the trip going? Everything smooth so far?”
“Smooth enough. It’s only Toronto,” Andy said as he tried to find a spot on the sofa. He looked left, then right, finally picked up a bathrobe, and only then found some space to sit down.
“Your life here in Toronto has been quite the whirlwind. It’s only been four days, but I already feel like I can’t keep up.”
“What?” Renly opened a bottle of water and took a big gulp.
“Oh—you mean Ryan? Just a friend I stumbled into. Long story, really. I thought he was a stiff, uptight guy, but after talking with him, I realised Canadians are more fun than I’d imagined.”
“Sure, Ryan’s one thing. But he’s not the main issue.” Andy thought back to the earlier phone call. There had been a lot to digest, so he organised his thoughts before asking,
“You’re certain there’s nothing else?”
Renly sat down on the nearby sofa. His hand holding the bottle paused mid-motion, his expression puzzled. He thought carefully, but still came up empty.
“The past few days I’ve just been watching films,” he said. “Nothing else has happened.”
Andy studied Renly’s face carefully, then prompted,
“Here’s a hint: Natalie Portman.”
Renly froze. First, a flicker of realisation crossed his face, but it quickly gave way to confusion.
“I only met her once, that’s all. She doesn’t even know my name.”
“Really, just that?” Andy’s smile carried a trace of amusement, clearly doubting Renly’s words.
Renly thought hard again, but still drew a blank.
“Did she say something?”
When he left, he had casually thrown Natalie under the bus, but judging from the news over the past three days, it hadn’t worked at all. It was possible the reporters hadn’t even picked up on the deeper meaning of his words. One journalist had been tailing his schedule nonstop these past three days—if Renly hadn’t known the man was a reporter, he would have thought he’d run into a stalker. So Renly still couldn’t think of any reason why there should be any connection between him and Natalie.
“She did say something,” Andy admitted, his smile now genuine. “But what I’m even more curious about is—what did you say to her?” This time, he didn’t drag it out with suspense; instead, he laid the answer bare:
“Her agent called me. Natalie wants to date you.”
Francis Parker—Natalie Portman’s agent.
Such explosive news should have been startling, but Renly remained unmoved, as if it was about a complete stranger. Andy felt a little deflated and had to continue explaining:
“To be precise, it’s a contract relationship.” Without waiting for Renly to ask, he elaborated:
“That means, to the media, you two are ‘dating.’ We’ll arrange for certain reporters to photograph your outings. There’ll be a schedule: when to hold hands, when to kiss, when to walk her home, when to stay overnight, and eventually, when to break up. Of course, once the doors are closed and no reporters are watching, you don’t need to put on a show. On the nights you ‘stay over,’ you can do whatever you want—there’s no need for anything real to happen. But in public, it would be best if you could spark a little chemistry. Reporters these days aren’t easy to fool.”
Renly’s brows furrowed slightly.
“You’re saying… she’s asking me to fake a relationship with her, but to fake it so convincingly that we can deceive both the press and the public?”
“Yes.” Andy nodded firmly. “From September until next March—that’s the preliminary plan. With the two of you, I don’t think the acting will be a problem. But if the fake turns real, at least give me a heads-up first, so I’m not caught off guard.”
So—was this what it meant? That life itself was all about acting?
“Why me?” Renly wasn’t surprised. Instead, he let out a quiet chuckle.
Andy studied the subtle amusement in Renly’s smile and suddenly realised—Renly might know something he didn’t.
“Exactly. Why you?” When Francis first called, Andy had been the most shocked of all.
Generally speaking, for the sake of promoting a commercial film, it’s quite common for the male and female leads to sign into a contract relationship. From the very start of filming until the promotional period ends, every step is carefully staged so their “feelings gradually heat up.” This way, the media and the audience feel involved, producing the most direct and effective publicity.
But now, in the internet age, celebrities’ lives are under a microscope. The risks of a contract romance are huge—slip-ups are far too easy, and both film studios and PR companies are reluctant to orchestrate them unless the leads genuinely spark together, or the promotional campaign is running so dry that they desperately need a gimmick.
Yet here were Natalie and Renly—two people with no connection whatsoever—suddenly being thrown together. Worse still, Renly was a complete newcomer. In other words, in this contract romance, Renly was clearly the one “benefiting”: he would be quickly introduced to the public, with his visibility and name recognition skyrocketing. The whole situation reeked of strangeness.
Andy, however, wasn’t particularly impressed by that kind of notoriety. At this stage, Renly was the very definition of a serious actor, and talent—not tabloid gossip—was the best way for audiences to get to know him. A scandal pairing an A-list woman with an unknown man could too easily box him in as nothing more than arm candy.
What Andy found far more curious was why Francis had proposed such a plan in the first place. Francis, of course, hadn’t been willing to say much—only asked if Andy might be interested, then dangled a tease, suggesting they could talk further after the Buried premiere that afternoon.
“That’s not something I can answer,” Renly said with a bemused chuckle, the whole thing striking him as absurd. “Natalie’s dating Benjamin Millepied right now.”
“Benjamin Millepied?” Andy repeated the name, turning it over in his mind before exclaiming in surprise, “The choreographer for Black Swan?”
“Yes.” Renly nodded, then briefly recounted the encounter from the other day.
He left out the minor clash between them—partly because it wasn’t worth fussing over, and partly because it hardly seemed relevant. Andy, however, wasn’t about to let it slide. He pressed for every last detail, digging all the way back to the very first moment of their meeting, and only then fell into deep thought.
“Give me a little time.” After mulling it over, Andy pulled out his phone, plugged it into the charger, and began making calls.
Seeing that this no longer involved him, Renly turned to his own tasks, looking as unconcerned as ever.
Andy kept at the phone for more than ninety minutes. The final call was to Francis—nearly forty minutes of back-and-forth that still ended without consensus, but at least he had pieced together the lay of the land. Francis still hadn’t told the whole truth, but for Andy, it was enough.
Rising to his feet, Andy looked around for Renly and finally found him out on the balcony. Renly was sitting there reading, at ease and unbothered. The sight made Andy laugh despite himself.
“Even if you’re not interested in Natalie Portman, you should at least be preparing for the premiere this afternoon. It’s your first film, and your first time in Toronto, isn’t it?”
Renly shrugged.
“There’s no end to ‘first times.’ Instead of celebrating every single one, why not treat every future moment as if it were the first, and truly enjoy it?” He lifted his head and flashed Andy a smile.
“Besides, there’s really no way to prepare for a premiere, is there? The best preparation is simply to relax.”
“I can’t argue with that.” Andy sat down across from him. He hadn’t been present during the original incident and couldn’t know exactly what had happened, but he could guess. Clearly, Natalie’s current predicament had a lot to do with the trap Renly had set. Yet here Renly sat, calm and unruffled, obviously not someone easy to deal with. The thought left Andy oddly satisfied.
“Natalie’s relationship with Benjamin can’t be exposed—it could affect Black Swan’s Oscar campaign. So they need a shield. And from the way things stand, you’re the best candidate. After all, just three days ago, the two of you already made headlines with a ‘scandal,’ didn’t you?” Andy summed up the situation with a relaxed smile.
“For them, it diverts the media’s attention. And for us…”
He paused briefly. But since Renly showed no sign of taking the bait, he went on,
“…for us, it means plenty of exposure. Not only will it help Buried, but it will also boost your name recognition. So it’s a win-win. And since they’re the ones asking for our help, we can negotiate terms. Maybe secure some promising scripts for you. This is Toronto—there couldn’t be a better moment. If you agree, today’s premiere could serve as the starting point.”
“Are you asking for my opinion?” Renly noticed the pause in his words.
“I thought decisions like this were always made by the agent.”
“And if I were to agree to it,” Andy countered, “would you be willing to go along?”
Renly raised an eyebrow, his smile touched with a hint of irony.
“I don’t think so.”
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