Who: Tony W and a NPC What: Tony needs a distraction from his woes, and a phone call from an acquaintance with a new opportunity provides just that. When: Thursday, May 9, 2019, early afternoon. Where: Nat's house, Snowcap. Warnings: Depressed Tony self-medicating with cookies. Otherwise tame.
Tony had dragged himself back into work today to find his desk covered in new paperwork and his coworkers dying to hear the real story of what had happened on Tuesday. He hadn't told anybody but his family and Cate and Kent, but somehow everyone just knew... something. The sheer number of rumors, most of them nowhere near the truth, that had sprung up surprised him, though it shouldn't have; he was one of the keenest partakers in office gossip under normal circumstances, so he knew the kinds of things that got around in a place like this.
He'd brushed all their questions away. The bigshot lawyer he'd seen in Deseret yesterday before going to the Aurors with Jesse had advised him not to talk about what had happened with anyone who didn't already know, and anyway, he didn't want to talk about it. He'd kept his head down, done his paperwork with uncharacteristic thoroughness, actually managed to clear out his inbox, volunteered a coworker to take over his afternoon school-group tour, and had gone home early to the empty house.
He was lying on the couch in the dark with a plate of Stevie's impossibly good cookies and Claudia Quest reruns playing on the TV, but even those normally-excellent mood boosters couldn't distract him from the questions in his head, the gnawing fears he couldn't quiet, the anger he hadn't figured out how to tame. Most of all, he just felt... depressed. Like what was the use of doing anything, if the biggest goal he'd ever had in his life, succeeding in the sport he'd poured so much blood and sweat and so many years into, had been out of his reach the whole time?
His phone rang, and he almost didn't even look over to see who it was. He just wanted to wallow in his pain and shove sugar into his face right now. But Nat and Stevie had been keeping tabs on him every step of the way, and Cate and Kent were both so concerned about him, and if he didn't answer somebody would probably apparate over here in a minute to make sure he was okay, so he paused his show and picked it up without bothering to see who it was and without turning on video. Nobody needed to see him like this, baggy-eyed with his shirt full of cinnamon-sugar bits.
"'Lo," he said dully into the phone with a mouth full of cookie.
"Tony?" a barely-familiar voice came through the speaker. "Hi, this is Orrin. Hope you didn't think I forgot about you!"
Tony almost choked on snickerdoodle crumbs in surprise, and hastily sat up, brushing bits of cookie guiltily away from his mouth like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Or his whole head, maybe. "Oh, uh... hey! How's it going?"
"Great, Tony, it's going just great. Say, can you come down here tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow?" Tony blinked, and tried to think if he had anything going on tomorrow, and absolutely failed to remember anything on his calendar, which probably meant it wasn't important. "I guess, sure. Does that mean--"
"Oh, we're not filming anything, it'll just be screen tests with Max, Griffin, and Betty, introducing you to the set, getting you in wardrobe, signing contracts, script readthrough, a little bit of blocking, yada yada. I know this is all new to you, but we're professionals around here, we'll get you into the swing of things fast. Now, it's two episodes, but we'll shoot most of your scenes back to back while we have all the extras and the set pieces up, so we'll need you here three days next week, Tuesday through Thursday, and then another day or so the next week for promos and reshoots. My assistant will get you set up with all the details. We're on a bit of a schedule, Tony, is the thing. The script's written, everybody's onboard, and we've got some really exciting plans for your character, but I'm going to need a firm commitment from you right now, or I'm gonna have to call my second choice in about five seconds. Just the way the sausage gets made here in Wizzywood, Tony. Are you still in?"
Tony clutched his phone, and for the first time in the past couple of days his heart pounded with something more like excitement than panic and impotent anger. "To play Rafe?" he said, just to be sure he had this right. Maybe he'd cracked under his current stress and was imagining that he was on the phone with the Art & Soul showrunner. That was possible. "Rafe DiAngelo on Art & Soul."
"Yup, that's the one." Orrin didn't sound the slightest bit ruffled. "Was that a yes? Tony?"
Tony smiled, which grew into a grin for the first time in what seemed like forever. "Yes," he answered clearly. "Yeah, I'll be there. I'm in. I want to do it. Yes."
"Wonderful! That's great, Tony, really great. Daisy will send you all the details. Really looking forward to seeing you on set. Rest up tonight, darling, we're going to put you through your paces tomorrow."
Tony didn't put the phone down and barely even breathed until he heard the soft tone of the call disconnecting, and then he laughed out loud, disbelieving and joyful. "I'm gonna be a TV star," he said to the empty house. "Oh my god."
He looked down at himself, swept away the crumbs from the front of his shirt, and waved his wand to raise the blinds on the window to let in the late-afternoon sunlight. The first thing he had to do was text everyone the news. The second thing he had to do was put the lid on the snickerdoodle box and hustle to the gym. And the third thing he had to do was watch every episode of Art & Soul again.