Taken

Chapter 3

Bright marveled at the luxury vehicle coming around the corner. He'd seen it from a distance during some of their script readings, but never this close. The gleaming white sports car was a sight to behold.

It pulled up in front of him and Win stepped out, his over six foot frame unfolding from the low car. 

"Uhm, hey," he greeted, pulling off his shades.

Bright stood up from the curb where he'd been sitting and put his camera back in his sling bag. He'd taken the opportunity to get a few shots of the landscape in the failing sunlight while he'd waited for Win to pick him up.

"Hey." He reached out for a handshake and Win's hand landed in his. He was surprised to find it slightly smaller. The kid was taller than him. "So, we can head straight to the arcade or get something to eat-"

"Food!" Win cut him off, rubbing his stomach. "I'm so hungry. I had the breakfast my nutritionist planned out for me this morning, but it's not enough."

Bright nodded. He'd forgotten Win was losing weight for his role. "Nothing too heavy, though," he warned. "I don't want to be the reason your diet gets messed up."

Win clapped his hands in excitement. "Good. Get in. And don't worry. I'll just increase my workout tonight. It'll be worth it."

The guy was practically drooling so Bright made no more protests. He couldn't help running his hands over the seats and dashboard when he got in.

Win noticed him admiring his car and starting chatting about it's build and Bright tried not to zone out. The guy was clearly into whatever he was talking about, but Bright got lost somewhere around the production history and something about imported pistons.

When they got to the mall, they headed straight to the food court. Win was clearly restraining himself when he ordered a small chicken combo and watched the crew member with hawk eyes while they prepared his food. Bright laughed a little and apologized for his coworker's intensity.

Bright looked down at what he was wearing and was glad he hadn't overdressed. He'd thought Win might take them to a more expensive restaurant when he'd suggested dinner, but he didn't want to pretend to be someone he wasn't, so he wore jeans and a white t-shirt. Win had done the same.

They hovered near the counter until their food was ready, Win didn't seem to want to leave the delicious smells and looked like he was floating on a cloud as they brought it to a table near the edge of the food court.

"You come here often?" Bright asked, then realized how much of a pick up line it sounded when Win laughed.

"Yes. I do," he chuckled, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "It's a nice mall. Has everything. Especially food."

Bright tried to cover his embarrassment by focusing on his food. "We didn't get to talk much before the series started filming. And you were so kind to me when I was sick. I don't think I'll ever forget that. You didn't ask me if I was on drugs or anything, you just tried to help."

"And you still haven't figured out what was wrong?"

"No, and I'm just going to forget about it. Or maybe if our series is a hit, I can make enough money to get a health checkup."

Win nodded and Bright was glad he hadn't offered to pay for it or asked him why he couldn't just find the money. He had a few wealthy friends who had no concept of what an average working class citizen went through. Maybe Win didn't either, but he didn't give off that impression. He'd felt a little off that Win had just offered to pick him up, assuming he knew he didn't have a car because of his wealth, or lack thereof. But setting before him now, Bright realized he was just being nice.

"What are you going to do if the show is a hit?" he asked, loosening up a bit.

Win shrugged. "I don't know. I haven't thought that far ahead. Keep acting of course."

He tilted his head and studied Win for a moment. "Why did you decide to act? I don't mean to be rude, but you're obviously rich and could be doing other things with your time. Things that you want to do, you know?"

Win was silent for a moment, then smiled a little. "This is what I want to do. And my parents are rich. I'm not. The only wealth I have to my name is the gifts they bought me and my allowance." He waved to his food. "I've spent most of my budget this week on food. I'm tired of feeling like a little kid. I want to earn money myself."

"Your dad didn't have a job for you?"

Win sighed and propped his chin on his hand. "I've sat through years of economics courses and interned at a number of different businesses to be ready to take a position in my dad's company. Sitting all day and crunching numbers and graphing and signing documents is boring. I have a few years until I have to do that, so until then, I'll do what I want."

"And you want to be an actor?"

"You ask a lot of questions," Win said, sipping at his drink. "What about you?"

Bright shrugged. "It's a way to make money. Faster than most jobs...well if you're lucky."

"Has it become your dream? To be an actor?"

He rubbed at his face and sort of wished he hadn't started this line of questioning. "I don't know. I wouldn't mind it."

"What do you like to do more than anything?"

Bright smiled. "Sing. Play guitar. If there's a chance for me to do more of that, I'd be so..." He couldn't think of a word good enough to suit.

Win seemed a little wistful when he looked at the light in Bright's eyes. "That's great. More people will get to see you singing now because of your role."

"Yeah. I need this show to be a hit," he said a bit desperately, thinking about his mother who still worked a lot more than she should at her age to keep herself afloat and pay for things he couldn't cover. He wanted to be more independent and he wanted her to rest. She deserved it.

Win reached across the table and briefly laid his fingertips on the back of Bright's hand. "We'll do our best." He started piling his empty containers together and even brushed the crumbs up and put them on the tray. "Now let's get to the arcade."