Translator: Nyoi-Bo Studio
Editor: Nyoi-Bo Studio
“Hey, Mister.” A ravishing beauty leaned against the wall of the corridor in the hotel. Her hair shone gold under the light, her lips were glossy-red, and her lashes were dark and luscious. “Looking for a good time?” she said in a lazy, sexy voice.
Wang Yang clapped his eyes on her robust form, clad in a tight-fitting top and a miniskirt that glistened tantalizingly with the slightest movement of her body, and sheer black leggings that accentuated her svelte figure from her thighs all the way down to her calves.
“No, thanks,” he smiled and shook his head, then marched down the corridor to his room. As he reached into his pocket for the key, he sneaked a look at the blond woman from a safe distance. The eyes that stared back were desolate and empty. Behind those eyes could be a girl who was once bright-eyed and bushy-tailed who may have come to New York with a handful of cash and a heart full of dreams—who may have succumbed to the harshness of life and was left with no option but to go back to where she came from or sell her body.
As he glanced at the blond woman, his heart went out to her. She reminded him of a girl named Anne whose story he could not help associating with the blonde woman.
Upon noticing Wang Yang’s fascination with her, the blond woman’s lips curled into a foxlike smile. With her seductive prowess turned full-on, she motioned with her finger for him to come over, “You know you want me.”
“No, thanks,” Wang Yang declined again, smiling awkwardly. He opened the door as quickly he could, slid inside the room, and shut the door behind him, letting out a sigh of relief.
After taking a relaxing, hot shower, Wang Yang—dressed in his pajamas—sat down behind his desk where his laptop computer laid. He logged on to his company email and found replies from several New York talent agencies. He opened them up one by one and began reading them with keen interest.
The agencies had responded to him with recommendations of not only actors but also models. Wang Yang skimmed through the photos with his chin propped on his hand. “No. Not handsome enough. Not spunky enough…” he murmured flatly as he stared at the laptop screen, jumping from picture to picture. Suddenly, he gave an exclamation. Scrolling back a few frames, he arrived at the picture of a god-like hunk. Overtaken by the good fortune that had befallen him, he cried, “Oh, my God! He is the guy!”
He went through the hunk’s bio enthusiastically. Tom Welling. Born on the 26th of April, 1977. Presently 21 years old. 191 cm tall. He even used to be in his high school’s soccer team. After graduating from high school, Tom Welling did not go to college. Instead, he chose to work for a construction company. But it was not long before he got into modeling. Now he hoped to become an actor.
In his photo, Tom Welling looked incredibly stately and well-built. With his muscular body, prominent jaw, sharp nose, dark, straight eyebrows, and mysterious green eyes, he was a dreamboat. His smile had a sunny quality that conjured up images of beaches, athleticism, and sports. He was the guy!
“This is great,” exclaimed Wang Yang. Though he had only seen him in pictures, he had a hunch he was going to hire him. It had to be him! He went back and forth between the hunk’s pictures to corroborate his initial impressions, and the more he looked at him, the surer he felt about him. Tom Welling had all the right qualities. Of all the people he had seen in Los Angeles and New York, no one even came close.
Wang Yang was enraptured by his new find. He was beginning to think his search would never end, but now he could put his mind to rest. He searched his head for more information about Tom Welling. It turned out he would star in a comedy film called Cheaper by the Dozen, as well as a television series called Smallville. Wang Yang played the movies in his mind and was impressed by Tom Welling’s acting skills and the way he looked on camera.
However, Tom Welling was, at present, a no-name model without any experience in television or film. Wang Yang reserved his judgments about his acting abilities until the audition.
After browsing through his profile, Wang Yang picked up his cellphone and called Tom Welling’s agent, Larry Johnson. The call connected instantaneously. He smiled and said, “Hi, Mr. Johnson, my name is Wang Yang… Yes, Tom has just the right qualities for the male lead of High School Musical…” Larry Johnson was stoked, even more so than Wang Yang was. He told Wang Yang at once that Tom would be free for an audition tomorrow.
Without much hassle, the time and place for the audition were set. Tomorrow morning, at 10 o’clock, at a café.
Seeing as his male lead was in the bag, Wang Yang could not keep from smiling from ear to ear. He hummed and danced his way across his hotel room and went to the balcony that overlooked the streets. Looking out of it, he burst into a bellow of laughter.
It was dark outside except for the lamps along the streets, which were very bright and yellow against the black sky. Wang Yang’s room was just above the streets and he could see all the pedestrians. He looked onto the streets, leaning against the railing of the balcony. Suddenly, an alarming frown flickered over his face. Down below, a blonde boy wearing a large coat was pacing back and forth like a lion circling its prey. Now and then he sat on a bench by the road, lifting his eyes at the hotel rooms above. There was something familiar in the way he kept his hands tucked in the pockets of his coat.
“Michael Pitt?” Wang Yang said to himself instinctively. He put his head out the balcony and stretched his eyes wide to get a good look at the boy. But that blond boy was going away. Wang Yang smiled and shook his head. It was probably a hallucination. Michael Pitt should be at New York University at that hour. What could he possibly be doing out there in the street by the park across his hotel? Wang Yang was being too suspicious.
Right at that moment, his cellphone was buzzing inside his room. Wang Yang glanced at the boy’s receding back, went back into his room, and picked up his cellphone from the table. Glancing at the caller ID, he answered with a smile, “Hi, Jessica.”
Jessica’s voice smiled, “Hi, Yang. How’s New York?”
Wang Yang sat down on the edge of his bed and said cheerily, “It’s not bad at all! I’ve been to all the tourist attractions. You know, the Statue of Liberty, Times Square… it’s a beautiful city, but I much prefer Los Angeles. Do you know why? There’s a sense of congestion here, as though the air is constantly calling out to you, ‘Breathe me, breathe me.’ And if you don’t breathe quickly enough, you feel suffocated…”
Jessica laughed inadvertently. After sharing his experience in New York, Wang Yang asked smilingly, “How about you? How’s your singing class coming along? Is Mrs. Roberts tough on you?”
The topic seemed to strike a chord with Jessica. At once she sounded enlivened and delighted, “Mrs. Roberts is a very nice lady and a wonderful teacher. She’s very patient. Right now, I’m learning how to breathe while singing. We’re working on increasing my lung capacity with various exercises…”
“Yes… I see… Sounds good.” Wang Yang listened attentively as she went on about the things that happened during her training, about how she and Rachel were praised for their talent, and about how Zachary once tore the dancing mat during practice. It was not until she stopped that Wang Yang had the chance to tell her something he had been meaning to tell her. “Jessica, I think I’ve found a partner for you,” he said enthusiastically.
His comment sounded odd to Jessica out of the blue. She enquired gently, “What do you mean?”
Smiling at the phone, Wang Yang replied, “I’ve found a promising candidate for Troy Bolton. He’s very sunny and very handsome. He has the right look and the right qualities for the role. We’re still going to test him in our audition tomorrow, but I think he’s the one.”
“Oh,” Jessica said half-humorously, “you mean Gabriella’s partner, not mine.”
“Sorry, my bad,” Wang Yang assented, feeling a fool about his choice of words. Jessica was silent for a moment. Suddenly, a knock on the door interrupted their somewhat awkward silence. “Hold on, Jessica,” said Wang Yang as he went over to the door and opened it. Standing at the doorway was the blond bombshell he had met earlier that evening. She was cupping her full, round breasts with her left hand and holding a cigarette with her right. Wang Yang was surprised at the site.
Wang Yang put his hand over the microphone, looked at the blond bombshell, and said respectfully, “Ma’am, I don’t require your services.”
“I know,” the blond bombshell laughed, then presented an item to him in her left hand. “Here, you dropped this,” she said.
In her hand was a brown, leather wallet that Wang Yang immediately recognized as his. A surprised shriek came out of him, “Oh, my God!” He must have dropped it earlier while trying to get his keys out of his pocket, and hadn’t noticed it because he was ogling the blonde bombshell. He took his wallet from her hand and said gratefully, “Thank you. You’re a live-saver.” Losing the money inside the wallet would have been bad; losing his identification document would have been worse. Wang Yang shuddered at the thought.
“Why don’t you check it?” the blonde bombshell suggested and sucked her cigarette. Puffs of smoke rose into the air, forming rings like an Indian smoke signal. “I did open it up and take a peek inside, but I didn’t take anything,” she said with a shrug.
It had been a while since he’d come back to his hotel room. The blonde bombshell must have picked up his wallet right after he dropped it. With all the time she had spent with his wallet, she must have wrestled with the thought of taking his wallet. Yet there she was at his doorway, returning it to its rightful owner like an honest citizen. If she’d wanted to steal anything, she would have gone off instead. Wang Yang wagged his head with a smile, “Don’t worry about it, it’s all good.”
The blond bombshell was not impressed. “Just check it already,” she said impatiently.
“Okay, okay.” Wang Yang opened his wallet. It was all there—his money, his cards, his identification—not a penny was out of place. “Looks good to me,” he said.
The blonde bombshell nodded and bade him goodbye. Then, she turned around and sashayed down the hallway, her high heels clopping against the marble floor.
Wang Yang watched the woman’s back as she disappeared from view, leaving a trail of perfume and cigarette smoke in her wake. Feeling at once sorry and grateful, Wang Yang sighed. “Bye-bye,” he said to himself.
“Jessica, are you still there?” Wang Yang picked up his cellphone and held it to his ear.
Jessica spoke, sounding puzzled. “Yang, did I hear the voice of a woman?”
Wang Yang cursed the microphone and its outstanding sensitivity. He explained his story to her truthfully as he walked back to his room. “Yes, you did. I accidentally dropped my wallet in the hallway just now. Thank God an escort happened to pick it up. She was returning it to me.”
“An escort?” Jessica burst out.
“No, It’s not what you think. She’s just returning my wallet, that’s all,” he defended.
Wang Yang was so anxious to absolve himself of any sinful acts that it amused Jessica. She let out a giggle, seemingly pleased with his answer, and said, “Yang, you could’ve said it was a bellhop. Why did you have to tell me she’s an escort?”
“Why did I tell you she’s an escort?” Wang Yang repeated Jessica’s question. Strange emotions seemed to be hustling one another in his heart. At last, he said calmly, “I guess it’s because I wanted to tell you the truth. She’s an escort, after all.”
The next day, Wang Yang arose at the crack of dawn, as usual, practiced his kung fu, exercised, worked up a sweat, showered, ate breakfast, and surfed the internet. It was almost time for the audition when he’d finished his morning routine. He went out to the hotel’s parking lot to pick up his car. Tom Welling awaited him at a café.
Wang Yang heard someone calling him the minute he walked out of the hotel and into the street. “Mr. Wang!” The voice startled him. He turned around and found a blond boy wearing a grey coat running toward him. It was none other than Michael Pitt. He was wearing the very same clothes that he had worn yesterday except his face was even more sullen and pale. The skin around his eyes was dark and tender. It was evident that he had not been sleeping well.
Wang Yang was incredulous. “Was it you? Did you come here last night?” He noticed how disheveled Michael Pitt looked, with his damp coat and messy hair; and he was trembling in every part. A shocking thought came to his mind. “Did you stay out here the whole night?” Michael Pitt nodded candidly as though it was no feat. “Yes. It’s no big deal,” he stated.
“What?” Wang Yang exclaimed, taken aback by Michael’s naked expression of disregard. Wang Yang knitted his eyebrows. New York had been awash with rain last night, yet that kid stood outside waiting for him the whole time? He asked with suspicion, “How did you find me?”
Letting out a particularly forceful shudder, he answered, “The name and emblem of your hotel were on your car.”
Wang Yang put his hands to his forehead and yelled reproachfully, “Michael, what is the matter with you? What do you want from me?”
Grinding his teeth and trying to fight the tremors, Michael Pitt declared with all his sincerity, “Mr. Wang, I didn’t mean to scare you. I just want to show you what I’m capable of before you pass up on me.” And then, scrunching his hair, with a little break in his voice, he went on, “Mr. Wang, I’m not a student at New York University. I was just visiting. But I did go to drama school for a little while.” What he really meant, and Wang Yang understood by “drama school”, was a diploma mill that would accept anyone as long as they paid.
“So I thought,” Wang Yang nodded. To him, Michael Pitt appeared to be one of those youngsters who’d given up their lives to seek their fortune in New York. Judging by the fact that he had no place to sleep last night, Wang Yang assumed he was still a long way from his dreams. Wang Yang was torn because there were no suitable roles for Michael Pitt in High School Musical. He could not offer him a part out of pity, or else everyone would come to him begging for a role. There was no way he could help everyone. “Sorry Michael, I really can’t offer you a role,” Wang Yang said solemnly. “You should put on some fresh, dry clothes or you’ll catch a cold. Why don’t you come up and take a hot shower?” he proposed, pointing over his shoulder at the hotel behind him.
“No, Mr. Wang. Please, let me show you what I can do!” Desperation flashed across Michael Pitt’s face and eyes. He was a drifter. It had been a year since he’d come to New York. At first, he’d worked as a delivery boy, sending packages from door to door in his bike. He had lived hand to mouth; only by sharing an apartment with nine other people was he able to make ends meet. After about a year, with what little savings he had, he enrolled in a drama school. A few months into his matriculation, however, he lost his job and was stricken by a serious illness. He could hardly make rent, let alone pay his tuition fees. So he made New York University his new home, sleeping on the streets around the campus by night and sneaking into classes by day.
But now he had come to the end of the road. Penniless and starving, he’d even stole a loaf of bread from a bakery a few days ago. He knew not what to do, but he knew he loved to act and he wanted to become an actor. He had wanted to become an actor since he was ten.
Incidentally, it was the episode of The Oprah Winfrey Show featuring Wang Yang that had given him the strength to carry on. He was moved by Wang Yang’s success story, and the fact that Wang Yang was only one year older than him made him idolize the man even more. Ever since he’d lain eyes on Wang Yang yesterday at New York University Tisch School of the Arts, he had been following the director everywhere he went, from New York University to his hotel. There was no motive in his doing so. He was a castaway clinging on to a lifeline as tightly as he could.
Before Wang Yang could speak, Michael Pitt started to perform. Like a strange animation sequence, his face morphed into a range of emotions—from a proud guffaw to a long, dispirited face; from the spasmodic grimaces of a rage-fueled man to the woeful frown of a tormented soul. For a long time, Wang Yang stood there and watched him do his thing, not wanting to dampen his spirits. When Michael Pitt was through with his routine, he fixed Wang Yang with his hopeful, bloodshot eyes and said, “What do you think, Mr. Wang?”
“Michael, that wasn’t bad. But…” Wang Yang’s feelings strangled him. He had no choice but to bite the bullet. “I don’t have a role for you.”
“God… F*ck!” Michael Pitt buried his face in his hands in agony. Sobs shook his shoulders. His breath drew in and breathed out again in a long sigh. “Why? Why isn’t there any role for me?”
His sobs shook Wang Yang too. He breathed through his nose, feeling as though his heart had been seized by a mysterious force, suffocating him. It was as painful for him as it was for Michael. He was doing to Michael what the film companies had done to him when he started out. Sadly, it could not be helped. Wang Yang gritted his teeth and consoled the boy, “Sorry, Michael. I’m really sorry.”
“It’s all right, Mr. Wang. I understand…” His hands dropped, his head drew backward, and his pink eyes flashed up. For a moment he stood tottering. Then, he wiped his nose with his sleeve and started backing away. In a fit of anger, his hands went out in a violent gesture and his voice became high and constricted. “F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! D*mn it! F*ck!” He looked at Wang Yang indignantly as he backed away, his eyes swimming in tears, and his face drowned in disappointment. “I won’t give up, Mr. Wang! I’ll become an actor! You’ll see!”
Pedestrians twisted their curious heads and watched as Michael Pitt went all to pieces. At a distance, Wang Yang watched the broken shell of a boy receding, causing a spectacle along the way. His hands clenched. The pain he felt for the boy was so real it stung his heart. How could he be so cruel? How could he be such an a*shole? “D*mn it!” he said to himself. The pain was too much to bear. Finally, he shouted, “Michael!”
Michael Pitt was trembling in every part. He stopped in his tracks and looked at Wang Yang as if about to speak. But suddenly, they saw a policeman a few yards away heading toward them in quickening footsteps. He was looking Michael Pitt’s way and seemed to be zeroing in on him. Panic seized Michael Pitt and he began to run away from the approaching officer.
“Hey, Michael! Dude!” Wang Yang called out to Michael Pitt’s back. The boy ran quickly down the street, went around a corner, and was out of sight in the blink of an eye. “Did that kid commit a crime?” Wang Yang thought to himself as he looked the policeman’s way. The policeman was strutting casually and did not seem to have noticed Michael Pitt. Wang Yang scrunched his hair and sighed resignedly.
Wang Yang stood waiting for a good while, but Michael Pitt did not come back. It was getting late, and he had to go. Wang Yang hurried around the street to the parking lot, hopped into his car, and drove off to the audition.
It was nearly ten o’clock when Wang Yang arrived at the café where the audition was supposed to be held. Tom Welling and his agent, Larry Johnson, were already there. When Larry Johnson saw Wang Yang come in, he stood up and waved at him from his table. “Mr. Wang, over here,” he said smilingly. Tom Welling stood up too and acknowledged Wang Yang with a friendly smile and nod.
Wang Yang went over to them and shook both their hands. Greetings and introductions were exchanged. Then, Wang Yang sat down, ordered a cup of coffee from a waiter, took a look at Tom Welling, and remarked jovially, “Wow, nice muscles!”
Tom Welling was wearing a tight-fitting t-shirt, which made his muscles look all the more prominent. He was strikingly handsome that day, and Wang Yang was pleased with what he saw. Tom Welling took the compliment with a smile, “Thanks,” then added with a shrug, “Mr. Wang, you don’t look too bad yourself.”
“Call me Yang,” Wang Yang said smilingly. He looked Tom Welling up and down as if estimating his weight. “Tom, if you please, could you stand up and let me take a good look at you?” Tom Welling nodded and rose from his chair. “Okay, now turn around and show me the other side,” said Wang Yang, making a twisting motion with his hand as if he were manipulating an action figure. He had seen Tom Welling in Cheaper by the Dozen in his mind and was impressed by how he looked in that movie. But that was in the future in 2003. He wanted to see how Tom Welling would look on camera now when he was 21 years old.
Very good. Nice physique. Beautifully chiseled face. Radiant smile. Great energy. Wang Yang noted in his head and said, “Tom, give me the most dazzling, sunny smile you have.” Tom Welling obliged. His smile was indeed dazzling and sunny, possessing all the qualities one would expect from a captain of a basketball team. He also had the warmth and innocence of a boy-next-door. Wang Yang was visibly impressed. “Wonderful!” he said, taking his coffee from the waiter and sipping it. “Now Tom, let’s see if you can act,” he continued with a smile.
Tom Welling nodded and sat down. “Okay, what should I do?” he asked.
For the next few minutes, Wang Yang put Tom Welling through his paces with various acting prompts. At that time, Tom Welling was just a fashion model. Though he was passionate about acting, he’d never had the chance to do so professionally. He had taught himself everything he knew, and it showed. His performance was amateurish and lacked finesse, but he personified so many of Troy Bolton’s qualities that, save for the occasional smile and acting cool, he hardly needed to act.
Although his acting was amateurish, it was not disastrous. All he needed was more time and patience. And more film. Besides, there was no one even remotely qualified for the part except for Tom Welling that Wang Yang did not even care if he could sing. Even before he came to New York, he had decided to forego the singing part of the audition. It was not vital that the actors sang well from the get-go; the plan was to train them or hire a professional to sing in their stead.
With that, Wang Yang looked at Tom Welling and smiled, “Tom, I think girls are going to fall heads over heels for you soon.”
Wang Yang’s generous remark filled Tom Welling and Larry Johnson’s faces with rapture. Larry John reached his hand out to Wang Yang and said, “Mr. Wang, thank you for giving us this opportunity.”
Galvanized, Tom Welling added, “Yang, thank you so much!”
Wang Yang reached out his hand to shake Larry Johnson’s. The agent said jokingly, “You know, Jamie’s going to kill me for turning her boyfriend into every girl’s fantasy.” Tom Welling smiled. His smile was like that of a young man falling in love for the first time.
Wang Yang saw his expression, and his eyes lit up. There were many scenes in the movie where Troy Bolton had to appear shy in a deep, subtle way. There were also scenes where he had to blush and act bashful. Tom Welling’s expression was perfect for those scenes. “How I wish I could shoot the movie right here and now.” Wang Yang said breathlessly.
Wang Yang could not have been happier with Tom Welling, but he did not commit to choosing him as the leading man after the audition at the café. Instead, he told the actor and his agent that he was a priority candidate. He wanted to see what other actors were recommended to him by the New York actor’s guild and the other talent agencies before he made his decision. Nevertheless, Tom Welling was pretty much a shoo-in. He ticked all the boxes, including affordability.
After the audition, Wang Yang resumed his tour of the city and visited several attractions. At dusk, he rode his car back to the hotel.
He took a hot shower as he had done yesterday, went to the balcony, and looked out onto the streets. There was that familiar figure again wandering back and forth on the street with his hands jammed down in the pockets of his worn coat and his shoulders slumping.
“Sh*t!” Wang Yang took a deep breath and cursed as soon as he saw that figure. He hurried inside, slung on his clothes, and ran downstairs.
Wang Yang came in a short while to the street outside. He dashed straight to the bench, yelling at the blonde figure who sat on it, “Michael, is that you?”
On the bench, Michael Pitt twisted his head and saw Wang Yang coming at him. He stood up, reeking of failure and desperation. His face was gaunt and putty-colored like a dying man.
“Michael.” Wang Yang slowed to a halt before Michael Pitt. “Are you just going to stay out here all night?” he asked with a frown. Michael Pitt said nothing. Wang Yang frowned even harder. “Have you had dinner?”
Michael Pitt moved his lips but made no sound. He produced a creased pack of cigarettes and tried to extrude a cigarette but failed. He put it back into his pocket, shaking his head. “Mr. Wang, I’ll be fine, so get off my case,” he said.
“Get off your case?” Wang Yang laughed incredulously. Hot with sudden outrage, he waved his fist threateningly at Michael Pitt and yelled at him, “You think I’m going to stand here and watch you get soaked in rain and go hungry? F*ck you! Get out of my sight before I punch you in the face!” Wang Yang hunched over, catching his breath and watching Michael Pitt’s pale white face. “Come with me. The weatherman said it’s going to rain tonight,” he said, feeling slightly better.
Wang Yang walked on a few steps toward the front door of the hotel and then stopped. Michael Pitt was still standing by the bench, looking hesitant. Wang Yang beckoned to him and hollered, “Come on! Don’t worry, I’m not gay!”
Michael Pitt smiled. He followed Wang Yang back to the hotel. Inside the room, having taken a hot shower and dressed in Wang Yang’s clothes, he scarfed down a plate of food. Loud gulps were heard now and then as his throat could not keep up with his mouth.
“Dude, take it easy,” said Wang Yang. He was sitting beside Michael Pitt, watching in awe as he polished off his plate with a ravenous appetite. Clearly, the boy had not eaten in days. Curious, Wang Yang searched on the screen of his mind for the name, “Michael Pitt”, but there were no movies or news associated with that name. But he knew his mind did not contain all the movies in the world. For instance, it did not contain even a single documentary, and biographical films were limited to those of a few famous historical figures. It could very well be a coincidence that Michael Pitt was not part of any of the films in his head.
Wang Yang let out a sigh. Remembering what had happened that morning, he asked, “Michael, why were you so afraid of that cop? Did you do something wrong?”
“Oh,” Michael Pitt stopped chewing and answered embarrassedly, “A few days ago I was so famished that I stole a loaf of bread from a bakery…”
Stole a loaf of bread? Wang Yang chuckled, but his heart went out to the boy. It took him back to the meagerness of living on an empty stomach. There were days when he had only a few dollars in his pocket and he had to stretch his meals. Michael Pitt made it sound easy. But Wang Yang knew how hard it must have been for him that he had to steal a loaf of bread to get by.
Wang Yang stood up, patted Michael Pitt on the shoulder, and consoled him, “Dude, don’t worry about it. I don’t think the bakery reported you to the police. That cop didn’t even notice you this morning. He was just passing by.”
“Really?” Wang Yang nodded. Michael Pitt breathed a huge sigh of relief. He melted into his chair, shut his eyes, and said with beatitude, “Oh, thank God!” Then, he continued to carve away at the mountain of food before him. With a stuffed mouth, he said, “This incident has been keeping me on edge for days. Every time I see a cop on the streets, I get the feeling they’re after me. I’m so worried about possibly going to jail, I think I’m losing it!” The food went down in a satisfying gulp, and he said merrily, “D*mn, that’s good eating!”
Michael Pitt, clothed, fed, and reassured, burst into volubility of speech. He was much more animated and cheerful now than Wang Yang had ever seen him. Wang Yang was not quite sure how he felt about him stealing bread. As he stood leaning against the wall and looking at Michael Pitt, he was reminded of Anne, of that blond bombshell he’d met yesterday, and of himself. Why would a man put himself through such misery? Suddenly, he asked, “Michael, why don’t you go home? At least at home, you’ve got a warm bed, your Mom, and all the delicious, homecooked meals you can eat.” Then, he shrugged with a smile, “Don’t tell me—you’re an orphan.”
“No. I have three brothers.” With a half-eaten burger in his hands, Michael Pitt lifted his eyes and fixed them on Wang Yang in questioning or rebuke. “Didn’t you say it yourself on The Oprah Winfrey Show? You said we should stay true to our dreams. You said we should find our purpose in life. Yours is making movies; mine’s becoming an actor. I’ll never give up on my dream, even if it means having to sleep on the streets.”
“Did I say that?” Wang Yang asked, furrowing his brows. Then, he smiled and answered himself, “Oh right, I did say that. So does that mean you’ve become a hobo because of me?”
That comment got a few good chuckles out of Michael Pitt. But then his face slowly turned somber, and he retorted in a serious tone, “Why should I go home? I’ve promised myself I’d become an actor since I was ten. I came to New York, made a living, went to drama school… everything’s going fine! I’m working toward my dream. All I need is a chance. So why should I go home?”
“Yeah, why go home?” Wang Yang smiled. After all, staying true to his passion had paid dividends for him. If he had given up in the first place and went back to his warm bed and delicious, homecooked meals, he would never have been so fulfilled. There would always be a cold void—a pang-like hunger. Without that spark in his life, his body would be comforted but his soul would be deprived. “It’s for the sake of your dream, isn’t it?”
Michael Pitt nodded silently. “For the sake of my dream,” he said.
There was a long silence. Wang Yang stroked his beardless chin ruminatively and looked into Michael Pitt’s haggard face. Suddenly, he said, “Say, Michael, there may be no roles for you in High School Musical, but we could always use some help on the set. Besides, I’m adding a minor role to the movie and I think you’ll be a great fit. You’ll get a couple of seconds of screen time with dialogue. Are you in?”
Michael Pitt looked up at him and said flatly, “Are you doing this out of pity?”
“No,” Wang Yang shook his head and said with a sincere smile, “No, not pity. I’m just helping a dreamer a little along his way, that’s all.” He could not help everyone but he could help the boy easily. He smiled and said, “Think about your dream. What do you say?”
For a long second, Michael Pitt stared at Wang Yang unblinking. Then, suddenly, he took a big bite out of his burger. A brilliant smile took over from the haggardness of his face, and with a quaking voice, he answered, “I’m in!”