Page 10 of Starring Role

"Just a bit. There aren't even any security guards." Coop waved a hand casually to the side.

"I think you'll find my security is very up to date."

"You'd need a hacker for the heist, no doubt," Coop said, taking a sip and hiding his grinas best he could. It was fun to wind up rich people; he should do it more often.

"And probably someone to start a distraction," agreed Swindon, who was refusing to take offense. "I suppose it would be something clichéd, like a smoke bomb or a staged fight?"

"That was old in Sherlock Holmes's day, wasn't it?"

"Oh?" Swindon said with the indulgent air of a man giving you enough rope to hangyourself. He was looking at Coop full-on now, and Coop had the desperate feeling that he was no longer the one in charge of this conversation, even though he was still talking and apparently couldn't shut up.

"Yes. You know, in—oh, which short story was it? I forget. 'Scarlet in Bohemia,' or something like that. The one with the woman who outsmarted him, anyway. You know, sometimes I forgethe wasn't real." Good lord, why couldn't he stop talking? The man was staring at him now, and he'd gone very far off-piece. But maybe this was weird enough to do the trick as well, and it wasn't as though anyone had it on camera. He was just embarrassing himself in front of one of the industry's richest and best-connected producers, that was all.

"Do you?" More rope.

"Sometimes I think,'That portrayal's nothing like the real man was!' And of course he wasn't. But shouldn't you be an honorary real person if there's been more written about you than most real people of that era? I mean, if you didn't know he wasn't real, you would think he was just a famous genius from the past."

"Even in the past, people thought that," agreed Swindon. "A lot of people didn't want to believehe was imaginary." He took a drink and turned back to the art, then studied it as if he really did know what it was all about.

"They wanted him to solve their problems, I suppose," said Cooper. He wished he hadn't finished his champagne. Was he close to being drunk? He didn't think so. But why couldn't he shut up?

"What are your opinions on Dracula? Should he count as a real person too?"Swindon was teasing him, but Coop gave him a disapproving look.

"There was a real Dracula, you know. Anhistoric figure," he enunciated disapprovingly. "He just wasn't a vampire."

"As far as you know." Swindon looked a bit vampiric himself when he smiled like that. "So, you don't like art, but you like literature." It wasn't a question.

I don't like any fucking thing except acting,and nobody will let me do it. At the rate my life is going, I'll have to stand on the streetcorner in gold paint and pose for photos as a living statue.

"No, I'm not very literary. I should go."

"Wouldn't you rather tell me your opinions on Dorian Grey?" Swindon suggested mildly.

Now, what was that supposed to mean? Was it a dig about actors and vanity, not wanting to age—or a sly wayof asking if he was gay? Sure, the character wasn't explicitly gay, but come on. He was very gay. Plus, Oscar Wilde.

"I'd rather not, no."

"I've never met a young actor who didn't want to play Dorian Gray. There's a viciousness to the role, and of course, being thought of as perfectly gorgeous, captured on film forever as the perfection of youth, however corrupt."

Good lord, he's clever.It sounds like he could give a lecture.Except his voice was smoother and nicer to listen to.

"Really? Then, that's sort of like the same motives as the character, isn't it? To stay young forever?" He looked at Swindon, amazement dawning through him at the realization, which was probably only profound because of the champagne. "Does everyone really want to play him? I can't say it everoccurred to me."

Swindon was watching him. "Maybe you're more modest than most."

Coop snorted inelegantly. "I doubt that. I have met myself."

Swindon snapped his fingers lightly, pretending to have just caught on to something. "Now I know where I've seen you. All of that hoopla about playing a wolf in one of those tawdry cop shows."

"Just what I want to be known for: controversy," Coopsaid, rolling his eyes and trying not to grit his teeth. He could feel a truly bad mood descending on him, a mood of savage sarcasm. It was better than wallowing in sadness, but not by much, especially if it led to burned bridges and hard feelings. He couldn't afford to hurt anyone's feelings—and, to be honest, he almost never wanted to. Coop was soft clear through, and anyone who got to knowhim could see it pretty quickly.

Maybe that was why Lincoln hadn't liked him. Cooper was soft, and a tough guy could find that repulsive. Plenty had. Even someone who played a tough guy could think he was disgusting for being so different.

"It's not that tawdry, really." He found himself defending in his next breath. "There's a lot to work with in the script. It's not all bad guys andcar chases."

"Very deep, no doubt," Swindon said in a humoring sort of voice.

Coop looked at him then, narrowing his eyes and opening his mouth to defend the show. Even if he wasn't going to be on it anymore, it was a damned good show for what it was. Certainly better than the last movie Swindon had produced, a dull, highbrow waste of space vehicle for his bleached blond boyfriend, the onewith the nose job.