Page 2 of Bad Reputation

“It meant a lot to me too.” He left outI’ve never messed up so bad, and it made me grow up. People didn’t want that from him, he’d learned. They wanted him to smile, to be the good-time guy. They wanted him to confirm their experience ofCentral Square, not his own.

Trying to be that guy, the one the fan wanted to meet, Cole asked, “What’s your favorite episode?”

“Oh, the one where you propose to Madison.”

“The first or the second time?”

“The first time.Soromantic.”

A popular choice. Cole wasn’t going to ruin the illusion by explaining that back then, Lexi Harper couldn’t stand him. He’d made things better by apologizing, taking full and complete responsibility for being basically a frat boy with a TV contract. It helped that Lexi had moved on to bigger and better things, like acting in sad Norwegian plays. It was easy to be generous when you were winning Tonys.

Meanwhile, Cole made the streaming equivalent of direct-to-video movies involving explosions and drug kingpins and sand. So much freaking sand. Cole had gottenreallygood at looking concerned and running while holding a bazooka. At acting in front of green screens and with people in motion capture suits. There’d been commercials, too, and even supporting roles in kids’ movies. Cole had never gotten close to fatherhood in real life, but he’d played it on television.

They’d been lean, humiliating years, but Cole had stuck to Drew’s rules and developed his own too. Hand over hand, role after role, he’d made himself into a professional.

Cole wasn’t talented. But in this business, showing up, doing the work, and being gosh-darn disciplined made up for a lot. Drew had managed to convince everyone Cole was a well-meaning himbo who’d let youth and fame go to his head but that he was better now. That wasn’t far from the truth, but Cole was ready to leave the himbo designation behind and just be ... Cole.

This year, he was finally going to emerge from the hole he’d dug, andWaverleywas the ladder he was going to use to climb to the top.

“Well, if you like romance, you’re going to digWaverley.”

Waverleyhad burst onto Videon two seasons ago. It sounded likeMasterpiece Theatre, being adapted from the novels by Sir Something or Other. Pure class, at least before you got to all the sex. Sure, the show had an old-timey Scottish setting, and there were fancy speeches and poetry. But the characters fucked, and they fought with swords, and they plotted revolution. Add in a soundtrack that blended bagpipes with contemporary pop hits, and it wasn’t like anything else. Quite frankly, Cole had to stop himself from fawning over the showrunner during his auditions.

And this season, Cole was going to play Geordie Robertson, a nobleman turned smuggler and revolutionary, and his BFF, Tasha Russell, was going to play his lover, Effie Deans.

While Cole might’ve limped along on the B- and C-lists for years, Tasha was a verified movie star, and they’d basically stopped making those. Getting her to do the show was a big deal for Videon and a bigger deal for Cole.

The woman’s bright smile flash froze. “I saw that.” A strained pause. “I love the show. And you and Tasha Russell together again? That’ll be ... great. Tasha will be amazing.”

Oh.

Oh.

The blood went chunky in his veins. This woman, along with the jerks atVarietyand theHollywood Reporter, wasn’t sure ifColewas right for the show.

She looked almost as sick as Cole felt about it. “It’s just that it was a book first, right? And you haven’t done a lot of book shows.”

Cole had done more video-game-to-film adaptations than book-to-film ones, sure. ButWaverleywas going to be his new start. It had to be.

“You’re right,” Cole said gently. He wasn’t mad, not at the woman. He was annoyed with himself—that he had messed up so badly that, two decades later, people were still acting as if Cole might get grubby fingerprints all over anything classy if he touched it.

All Cole could do was stick to the rules, his and Drew’s, and do the part well. That was the only way to change anyone’s minds.

“Me wearing breeches? Country dancing?” Honestly, Cole was looking forward to those things, but he knew that wasn’t his reputation.

The woman barked out a laugh—a real one—which seemed to shatter both her fear that he was going to be mad and her cocoon of awe. “You’ll look good.”

Right on cue, there was the other thing people brought up at cons.

Cole wasn’t going to pretend that his face and his transverse abs hadn’t been the major driver of his career so far. Heck, if everything fell apart, his backup plan was to become a celebrity trainer. He’d certainly spent enough time working with one to qualify.

“Well, see, there’s that,” he said.

“And I bet you’ll have fun.”

But she didn’t bet that he’d begood.

Everyone trusted Cole to get the party started, but they thought he was about as deep as a mirror—all flash, all reflection, and nothing else.

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