Page 6 of Starring Role

He hadn't been cast to play a closeted gay wolf pining after his partner, and he would probably never admit that was how he saw the role—and how he played the role. And if he took some of it far too much from his own personal life, his experience of being in the closet, ofwanting someone he couldn't have—well, he wasn't going to share that, either.

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The first episode wasabout them teaming up, learning to trust each other, and it touched on the massive insecurities of Seth. Lincoln's character, Travis Farmer, got to be the protective, steadying influence, calm and heroic, a rock. But Coop got to really act—maybe a little scenery-chewing, but overall, reallydelving into the vulnerable places and ripping his heart out all over the screen for everyone to see. It was a bloody mess, but the edits were making it into gold, showing his best bits and cutting out the worst.

The second episode was their first official case together on the force, meeting antagonists and friends and allies and finding their place in the department as they solved the case.Lincoln was a great cop character; he'd done this sort of thing before, and Coop bought it a hundred percent. Coop played his role unabashedly, with straight-up cow-eyed longing for his partner. He didn't share this interpretation with anyone, but he felt it; it wasn't difficult to pretend that Lincoln Canes was someone he'd always love, but who would never notice how he felt or feel the same.

The feeling of danger, forbidden desires, repressed longing—Coop put it all in his eyes and his acting, but he played the part as written otherwise: a man truly struggling to find his place, looking to his partner for guidance and trusting his judgment absolutely.

There was a funny scene involving food, and a couple of lighthearted moments to establish a happier tone for the show than pureangst. The murder they solved was total paint-by-numbers, so the story had to be sold by their personalities. He wished Lincoln would try a little harder to act as if he liked Coop's character, but perhaps because he'd gotten so far into the role (and knew that Lincoln actually liked him as little as Singh did), it would never feel like enough.

All that mattered was the story the camera wouldtell, and Coop spent himself without holding back, giving everything he had to the performance.

The third episode was the hardest and most emotional of them all. He knew for a fact that it was supposed to have taken place later in the season, after some more regular bonding and case-solving episodes. Instead, here it was, three episodes in and possibly his last. He could be replaced afterthis, if Singh found the right person to replace him. And if anyone could, it was Singh. He could move heaven and earth to get done whatever he wanted done.

Coop poured all of his sorrow about that into the role, too.

The convoluted plot involved a crime, an accident, and a hostage situation for Lincoln—captured by the villain. And Seth, thinking his partner was dead, going on an absoluterampage. Filled with sorrow and grief over losing the man he'd only just found in his life, the one he cared about most of all, the one he trusted more than anyone else in the universe—he lost his marbles. And then, of course, at the end, they reunited. Travis alive but heroically wounded (in a way that took nothing away from his gorgeous good looks but required some extra time in makeup to getthe effect right) and a tearful Seth at the end, looking at his partner, realizing he was alive after all, hope coming back into his eyes.

It was straight-up drama, emotional porn, and Coop loved every intense second of it. It was emotionally draining, but, oh, it felt good to pour it all out there, everything he had, every last drop. In a way, he was grieving for what this show might havebeen for him: a steady paycheck, respect in the industry, a part to play that he loved and working with a man he'd always respected. A true professional at last, but of course it wasn't to be. Oh, to be so close, and then walk away so soon. He let his real grief and pain flood into the role yet again, and it felt right to him.

The director had filmed shirtless scenes for him in every episode,sometimes more than one so he could pick and choose. That was a challenge, and unfortunately, even all his hard work at the gym hadn't been enough to make Coop's naked torso screenworthy. It required a lot of help from the makeup department to accentuate his abs and give him the sort of look that would make people not scoff at him.

He felt skinny and half-naked, but scenes were scenes; he'dtake the screen time. Really, if any of them made it into the final cut, he'd probably look back someday with wistful jealousy over his once-fit body. It seemed doubtful he would ever get stronger and more buff or cut than he was now, at age twenty-five, after working his hardest to get into the best shape of his life. It wasn't much compared to a lot of actors, but it was likely the best he'dever look.

He felt a lot of eyes on him during those scenes, which of course made him more self-conscious than anything else, but everyone was very professional. Omar even said he looked really good: strong, hot, and confident. The compliment was welcome. But he unfortunately didn't get to see the rushes for those scenes, as there often wasn't time in the day for him to be allowed that luxury.After all, it wasn't his decision what made it in and what didn't; he wasn't the editor or the director.

Sometimes he felt eyes on him, but when he looked around, no one was watching. He wondered if he'd imagined it. He caught the hot security guard's eye more than once, but usually the guy looked away quickly, as if he was embarrassed to be found as something other than a wooden statueor a robot. Coop could take a hint, so he avoided the guy as well. He hadn't meant to come across as pushy the other day, but fair enough; if the guy wanted distance, he could have it.

The show had enough action to require stunt doubles. Coop had a stunt double who actually was a wolf shifter, Clark Curtis, whose work was necessary in every episode (unless that got cut, as well). Coop hadbeen nervous upon first meeting him, but the guy was as friendly as could be, and utterly professional. Not a hint of jealousy about the role. He was older than Coop and had done a lot of stunt work in the past, most of it not as a shifter. He said he relished the chance to actually shift on camera, and he didn't seem bothered at all by the whole "they didn't cast a real wolf" issue. He had thesort of confident walk that Coop was trying to portray, and a handsome, lived-in face. He was really kind of amazing—and he could eat more than Coop had ever known was possible.

He seemed to take a liking to Coop, in his own way, sitting with him while they waited around between shoots, trying to teach him to juggle. Coop was embarrassingly all thumbs, of course, but he appreciated the inclusionso much. It was nice to feel accepted, especially since Lincoln's loathing for him was starting to become a tangible, ugly thing he could no longer convince himself he was imagining. It felt like jealousy sometimes, like disgust at others. It was true Coop had most of the really good lines, but Lincoln was the one who had a steady job, so why should he care?

Lincoln didn't look at him thelast day, the day they were doing some final close-up shoots where they didn't have to be in the same shot. He said all his lines without Coop on set, and walked past him without saying goodbye in what was probably the last time they'd see each other. Trying not to let it affect him, Coop went through the motions and re-did a few of his own close-ups as well, speaking off-camera to his acting partnerwho wasn't there.

Apparently, Coop had fucked it up, because the director walked down to see him and told him quietly to stop phoning it in just because it was his last day. "You need to sell this. We didn't get what we needed before, so put on your big boy pants and fucking act."

Coop cringed inwardly. The director hadn't actually yelled at him before. It had been a long shoot, and he kneweveryone was tired and grumpy. He felt lower than an ant, holding everyone up, fucking things up right and left.

He got through it at last, almost in tears by the end from sheer exhaustion and the emotional drain of doing and re-doing some of the most dramatic and wrenching moments of all three episodes, alone and feeling exposed and judged. He felt shaken and raw, without a friend in sight.

Clark wasn't even there, since his stunt work was done and he was off to work on a movie somewhere. Too bad; it had been nice to feel like he had a sort of friend on the set.

At the end, everyone still around was polite enough to clap. It partially healed his bruised ego, and the director even gave him a single thumbs-up.

Walking towards his car after that long, long day, after "that'sa wrap" and handshakes and hydrating and changing out of his wardrobe for what was probably the last time (he'd have loved to keep that jacket—it really showed off his ass!), he felt tired down to his bones. A steady sadness settled in his middle: the knowledge of the march of time, and the draining of his bank account, auditions to be tap-danced through, work to be hunted for, the never-endingactor's quest to stay in a job. He would, as always, try his best. But how long could he go without another lucky break? Everyone had a breaking point, some people much sooner than others.

What if there's no big break, no way to really get ahead? Just parts like this, promises that don't come true, a few days of work and having to make the money last for months, then years, then somedaynot even getting those?

"Cooper? Er, Mr. Hayes?"

He stopped as someone ran to catch up with him. Oh, it was the security guard—the hot one. A smile reached Coop's face, though probably not his eyes. "Hi. What is it? Did I forget to turn in my badge?"

"Er, no." The big man reached up and scratched embarrassedly at his eyebrow. "I wondered if you'd give me an autograph."

"Um. Sure.Thanks." He almost laughed aloud. Asked for his autograph! And just when he was thinking such low thoughts.

"You're really great in the role," said the man, Jimmy, his voice earnest and his eyes searching Coop's, looking for...something. He seemed worried somehow, like he needed Coop to believe him, needed it very much. "You really are good. I hope you come back. But you are the best."

Cooper smiled. "You're very kind." He sighed the slip of paper Jimmy had given him. "Thanks for making my day."

The guy looked down into Coop's eyes with a mix of tenderness, concern, and something oddly inexpressible. "I really mean it. Your work is wonderful. You're going places—and I'll watch everything you make, I promise."

Coop was aware he was blushing and had a silly grin on hisface. Not many people had been so effusive about his work. If anyone ever had been. It touched him. The guy had avoided him for so long, he'd thought there was nothing remotely warm between them. Yet this compliment was earnest and from the heart—and it meant the world.

"Thank you." He didn't know what else to say. He hesitated a moment, then clapped the security guard on his large, musculararm, gave him a nod, and walked away. Out of the studio, out of his orbit, out of this life.

But he took the compliment with him like a soft warm light to fill some of the empty despair, like a candle to cup in his hands, a tiny warmth and comfort to accompany him into the wider world.

It was time to leave behind Seth, this character he'd come to love, and find another niche for himself,if he possibly could. Time to become someone else for a living. He wanted to act, didn't he? Well, of course he did. It was the only thing he was good at. But, damn, it was hard to walk away and leave all of this behind, knowing he might never have such a good role again.