23 Breaking Bad

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30th September 1996 (Monday)

Ricky Stirling (POV)

"Forger, it's gonna start in an hour, where is everyone?" I asked him, as I offered a cup of coffee.

"They'll be here soon Ricky, 20 mins max. Is Mr. Stirling on his way?" He asked back, taking a sip from his cup, the steam hazing the view of his sweaty face, wrought with tension.

"Yeah, I just got his call, he'll come with a few friends of his, he's all set to reach in about a half an hour." I looked down at my wristwatch, "Don't worry. We've got time, and everything is ready. You did a fantastic job man, relax. Eat a sandwich, personally speaking… I'm a sucker for the tuna here."

He nodded earnestly, clearly trying to reassure himself, "Yes, we did a good job, everyone is on their way and we are ready. Just… how're you doing?"

…

"What do you mean how am I doing? I'm doing great! I'm gonna have so much fun today Mike."

"Of course you are, I'm not questioning that. It's just that… It's your first time. You're not worried? I mean, things could always go wrong at the very last second you know?"

…

This son of a…

"You know what Mike? No. No, I'm not worried in the least. I have made one scary ass movie, and I've got you and our team with me, we've done magic together Mike, the phases of our strategy that were marked pre-release… They were done to perfection. The results that were achieved exceeded all our expectations… and the most scary dude among the bunch of bigwigs we're about to meet is my dad, a man who I have lived with for over 13 years. No, I'm not worried in the least." I offered an earnest smile, shaking his shoulder lightly in an effort to reassure him.

Poor guy was clearly more worried than I was.

"That-that's good. I guess that answers that." He nodded his head, and then after a moment of silence spoke, "You know… we're essentially free for next few minutes. I'm going for a smoke, you coming?"

"Yeah, let's go. I've still got a pack with me. Hey, you don't mind Marlboro right?"

"Not at all, as long as it's gold. I never liked the weaker stuff."

"That's what I've got!" I replied enthusiastically, as we hurried out the doors of Sherwood Cinema, barely an hour before our special screening for critics to smoke a couple of cigs.

Yeah.

I know, I know.

Tobacco kills, it causes cancer, etc.

But look at it this way, I'm not addicted, I've never got a craving for it, and I never smoke alone. I started 2 weeks ago really, so I'm relatively new to the scene, and I found out that a shocking number of people in Hollywood are on a fast track to get Lung cancer. The extensive list, that the Soul Reaper undoubtedly possesses, has the name of every single member of my team.

For them, it's not a bad habit, it's not an addiction. They don't do it for the 'cool factor' or anything. For them, it's a form of break from their workloads, a moment to themselves, where they simply relax and focus on their inner thoughts.

But one thing I noticed is the relationship factor. A smoker I have found, is far more likely to trust another fellow smoker over a non-smoker. A non-smoker, while internally judging a smoker in the heat of the moment, has normalized the phenomenon, and thus, he does not discriminate. He simply… does not care.

And so, after thorough deliberation, which involved a screaming match with my father and Wyatt teaming up on me, a high-five by Trent, and an awkward stare by the manager of the gas station nearest to my house… I decided to become what society perceives as a social smoker.

In short, I'll carry a pack around, but will never smoke, unless and until someone invites me to have one with them.

To be honest, it didn't really impact my health in any way, courtesy of the 'Gamer'.

I get a 10 second status effect that induces relaxation and faint light-headedness, while smoking a cig.

But as stipulated, it vanishes pretty damn quickly, and yes, my lung capacity experienced a decrease of 0.56%, nearly inconsequential, undetectable by anyone else.

But, I'm pretty sure once my CON stat reaches a high enough level, I'll be effectively immune to any and all negative side effects of smoking. 

But really, I'm just trying to rationalize my decision, justify it by providing the overarching benefits, and ignoring the various consequences.

…

…

(An hour later)

"Okay ladies and gentlemen," I clap loudly to draw my team's attention to me, "We've got a great turnover, over 70 critics from major news publications including a few big names, I'm talking about Roger Ebert from Chicago-Sun Times. His reputation is legendary, and his words can have a great impact on our success. So anyone here who believes in God, any God truly, pray to them right now… for success, and more importantly, excellence."

Everyone collectively engaged in light claps, tight smiles adorned their faces, as they squirmed in anticipation.

"All right people, I'll go take my seat next to Wesley, you know him right? Best Selling author? Won a Pulitzer for his dystopian take on a horror classic? Ringing any bells?"

"Yeah I read that book, it was… pretty good I guess." Walter chipped in.

"Great, I'll get you an autograph in an hour and a half." I said before finally departing to warm my reserved seat in the second last row.

"Wesley!"

"Ricky! Oh, how I've missed you kiddo! We haven't met since last year, and all of a sudden, I get an invite in my mailbox… couldn't afford to drive to Pasadena or something?"

"Ah no, not at all Wesley, just been busy. I graduated, you know, and got started right away. Frankly I would've made the trip if your cousin was there… and hopefully divorced?" I said, turning my reply into a question at the very last second.

Now normally, anyone else would've been supremely offended by my words and insinuations but Wesley? A man after my own heart, treating life like it's one big ass joke.

"Martha? Oh no, she's still going strong with that contractor, you know? But hey, fingers crossed, and if I hear a whiff of a marital dispute… I know exactly who I am sending to… 'console her'." He ended with a wink, his expression not changing a bit, set in its deadpan for all eternity.

It just made me laugh harder.

"Haaaa, oh man… you crack me up Wesley, seriously. How do you do it? You gotta tell me someday buddy." I chortled, as I swung my arm around his shoulder.

After a few back and forth remarks, we eventually settled down in our seats.

…

…

(1 hr 45 mins later)

"Th-that was…"

"Good?"

…

"No Ricky, actually I found several scenes unsatisfactory and-"

"...Really?"

"NO!"

"So you liked it?"

"Well… like is the wrong word to use here Ricky."

"Wesley, you've been talking in circles for the last couple of minutes, now every single critic I met was congratulating me for this. Gene Siskel shook my hand, thanking me for making something so 'ingeniously unconventional' he said. So tell it to me straight buddy, what did you think?"

"...It was good! Ricky, it was awesome okay? Genuinely scary, and no stupid jump scares… god I fucking hate that cliche." He started in a false cheery tone and finished with a whisper.

And finally we have one. Someone whose expectations weren't blown out of the water, someone who found genuine flaws in my production, someone who has got honest critique on my first project.

I sigh lightly. "Wesley… we've known each other for 2 years. You still can't be frank with me? Come on now, I know exactly what you're thinking, I just don't know why. So tell me. Where do you think I went wrong, and which scenes did you consider… as you so very often say 'wasted potential'?" An easy grin painted my face, as I looked him in the eyes.

"You're always so… insightful kiddo, you can read people like a fucking book." He said, shaking his head at my question.

"Fine, here we go. Now… it was scary, scary as fuck. The way you utilized a massively unpopular filming technique, to create a more realistic feel… I don't really have words for it, that's just how impressed I am at that. But your plot, your storyline… now take my next few words with a pinch of salt, I am a novelist after all, I know zilch about scriptwriting. But… the pregnancy plot-device, I believe it… kinda bogged down the plot. Because a horror movie is supposed to be scary. You attempted to make this more relatable I feel but… by giving an emotional journey for the audience to invest in. But that's the thing, it can backfire kid. It could leave people outraged by the end. Cause... let's use an analogy. You got them hooked on crack cocaine, coke being the male protagonist's character development… only to snatch it away, and abruptly stop supplying it. You best believe, people will hate that. You get me?"

"They might, in their outrage… go online and share what a terrible movie they just saw, cause let's be real. The subtle undertones in their marriage, their gradual descent into resentment at their hand in life, it creates expectations Ricky. And subverting them is good, but not in the way I feel you should've done."

A moment of silence followed his thorough dissection of my film.

"But h-hey, it was still petty good! It was… really scary! And just cause I feel like this, doesn't mean others are gonna do the same! I'm sure of it Ricky," His false cheery tone was back, as he swung his arm around my shoulder this time, "This film is definitely gonna put you on the map Ricky, I feel it… in here." he continued, pointing at his heart.

"Honestly, I know you kiddo, and I'm sure you could've made it way scarier, if you had a bigger budget. Way, way scarier." He concluded, and this time I felt it. His last few words were genuine.

"Hey, thanks Wesley, no really, thanks a lot. I tried juggling too much in an hour, 30 minutes, with too small of a budget. You made me realize that, and you have my gratitude." I smiled sincerely, my tone containing a hint of respect for the man, who finally dared to criticize my movie in front of me.

"No problem kiddo, no sweat off my back. Anyways, I had fun. Thanks for inviting me and don't worry, if Martha and Ernie fight… I'll give you a call." He said, cracking a joking grin, as he exited the premises. He walked towards the exit, waving his hand while looking back, before turning around and walking away.

And for the first time in this life, I realized the importance of 'Not' surrounding myself with yes-men. People who would praise my every single move, ass licking their way to success.

You know what?

I think… that Wesley deserves a ticket for the premiere.

Yeah, I'll mail him one. I could say it was a form of thank you for his honest critique, but then I would be lying to myself now, wouldn't I?

No, I just want to feel vindicated, I want him to know exactly how much the audience will love the movie, people who don't view every single frame under a fucking microscope, people who've genuinely come to derive some much needed entertainment… oh how the tables will turn then.

Don't get me wrong, I value his input a lot, and I respect him for his sense of humor, but no matter what anyone says, people don't like to face their shortcomings. Humans will never take genuine criticism with a 'pinch of salt', least of all filmmakers.

Oh, they'll act all goody two shoes about it, but the more praise one receives, the more bitter a hint of criticism will sound, especially if it's genuine in nature.