Dreams of Stardom (Hollywood SI)

Rihanna felt so tired after all the touring she had been doing recently. No one had told her how exhausting the life of a pop star could be, especially when you had to rely on these tours to sustain the lifestyle. She wasn't by any means poor, but the amount she had to spend on clothes, makeup, jewelry, fitness, and beauty treatments was entirely too much.

It didn't help that the six-album contract Jay-Z made her sign was just shy of being labeled predatory, with her getting only barebones as compared to what Jay-Z was earning off of her.

"You happy to be back in LA, Ri?" Nick, her manager, asked eagerly.

"As happy as I could be," she replied evasively. She didn't really like Nick but was forced to bring him along because he was the manager her record label had appointed to her. At least until her next album's release, she had to bear with him.

"It would have been a different matter if we were in London right now," Nick said, a knowing grin on his face.

Rihanna resisted the urge to slam her head against the side of the car she was riding in. She hadn't told him about her relationship for obvious reasons. No one really knew besides Troy's family. She could have told her parents if she wanted to, but she hadn't because she knew they were loudmouths, and sooner or later, someone would blab. Something like this coming out could be career suicide. If loyal fans started feeling manipulated by a celeb, they might stop following them as religiously as before.

As far as Troy was concerned, she liked him a lot. If things were different, they could have dated for real, too. But it was very difficult to make it work when he was in London, and she was here in LA.

"And we're here," Nick announced after pulling the car in front of Rihanna's apartment building.

Without wasting any time, Rihanna got out of the car and said, "Thank you, Nick."

"No worries," he smiled. "Have a great day tomorrow. It's not every day you turn 18."

Rihanna looked at her watch to see it was already midnight; technically, she was 18 now. Nonetheless, she didn't remind her manager of that and simply nodded before turning around.

As Nick drove away, Rihanna couldn't help but admire the beautiful yellow Audi convertible parked right behind where Nick had been moments ago. She didn't know who that car belonged to, but it reminded her that she desperately needed a new one. Her old Chevy was too old now, and she was sick of renting a car whenever she had to go to an award show or another promotional event for her music. The next thing on her list would be a new flat—or maybe even a house—but that would take a few years of work to save for the down payment, let alone the whole thing.

As Rihanna walked up one set of stairs to her floor, she was surprised to see a man in an official suit standing outside her door, while her roommate, Donna, was glaring daggers at him.

"…and I told you this is a terrible time to surprise someone. I won't let you in just because some hotshot actor sent you."

"Listen, miss—" the man began before Rihanna decided to take matters into her own hands.

"Donna? What's going on?"

Donna turned to her best friend, and her smile widened. "Thank God you're here, Ri. This guy says he's a lawyer and that Troy Armitage sent him. He won't tell me anything else."

"I can't tell anything else legally," the lawyer said condescendingly to Donna. "It's called attorney-client privilege."

"I know that!" Donna shot back furiously before turning around. "Whatever. Now that you're here, Ri, you handle him."

The moment Donna was gone, the man turned to Rihanna and smiled. "Joel Sullivan. It's nice to meet you, Ms. Rihanna."

"Likewise," she nodded. "Why are you here?"

"Steve Kloves sent me," he said matter-of-factly. "He said you had made him a promise of sorts that you'd sign a contract when you turned 18. Happy birthday, by the way."

"Thank you," Rihanna said reflexively, her mind racing to figure out why Steve might have sent a lawyer. It took her only a few moments to realize the reason—it must be about that NDA they wanted her to sign. The weird part was coming to her doorstep the moment she turned 18. "You couldn't wait until morning to get here?"

"I could," he agreed. "Steve told me to get this done this week, not today. But Troy is also my client, and he wanted to send you your birthday gift—at midnight, no less. I usually don't do this, but he's a good client, and he's paying me a lot to do this, so here we are. And since I'm already here, I thought I'd kill two birds with one stone. You are free to decline to sign that document right now, but I thought I'd mention it nonetheless."

She wanted to do exactly that, but in the end, she didn't mind signing the NDA. She had no intention of telling anyone about the reality of her relationship, so what did it matter if she signed it?

"Give it to me," she said impatiently.

He handed it to her but asked, "Shouldn't we go inside for this part?"

"No," she said decisively. "I'm tired after a long flight from New York. Just get this over with so I can rest."

"Very well," Joel agreed, letting Rihanna skim through the document. As expected, it was a standard NDA about their relationship status. After borrowing a pen from him, she quickly signed it and handed the signed copy back.

"Thank you," he said after checking the document. "As for your gift, here it is."

He took out a small box from his pocket, wrapped in intricately designed gift paper. A beautiful red bow was tied on top. Rihanna had half a mind to open the gift later—most likely, it was jewelry she could examine properly tomorrow. Yet, curiosity got the better of her, and she opened it nonetheless.

She was more than a little confused to see a small black box inside. She wouldn't have guessed what it was until her eyes landed on the four interconnected circles, revealing the brand that key belonged to. "R8" was written boldly on top.

"Happy birthday," Joel said again. "It's the latest Audi R8, just released in the market. You might have seen the yellow car parked outside. Don't worry, you won't be taxed for this gift—that has been taken care of, or rather, it will be by Troy's accountant during tax season."

Rihanna could only stare at the key in shock, unable to say anything. That beauty was now hers? When she saw the lawyer earlier, she had been damn sure the car belonged to him.

"My work here is done," Joel announced. "Have a good night." He turned away, leaving a still-stunned Rihanna behind.

As soon as the lawyer was gone, Donna peeked her head outside. "So what was it? Are you in trouble or something?"

Rihanna could only shake her head silently, pulling the key from the box. "Troy sent me a birthday gift."

"Oh yes!" Donna said excitedly. "I almost forgot. Happy birthday! What did he send?"

"An Audi R8."

"Oh," Donna said dismissively for a moment before the realization hit her. "Did you say R8?"

The two girls grinned in unison before running outside to check out Rihanna's new car, all their fatigue forgotten in the excitement of the new vehicle.

In that moment, Rihanna couldn't help but love Troy more and more for being so considerate. When they had gone out for their first drive in a Lambo, Rihanna had told him how much she liked convertibles. And now here she was with a convertible of her own. And not just any convertible, one that costed nearly $150k. Sure, it probably didn't mean anything to Troy, but it meant a great deal to her.

(Break)

"You didn't have to come here, Roger."

Roger Ebert looked up at his wife, Chaz, who had been adamant about him not coming to Berlin in his condition.

"I'll be fine, hon," he said with a smile. "At least let me do this one last time before I won't be able to speak next month."

Chaz nodded reluctantly. They both knew that now they were here, it didn't matter what she said—he would attend the premiere for which he had received special VIP tickets. The reason he had agreed to come to Berlin was simple: the one who had invited him was none other than his favorite actor, Troy Armitage.

Roger had seen countless films over the years. He had watched superstars rise and fall like tides, but there was no one quite like Troy Armitage. Troy had come to the world's attention in 1998, and within two years, he was widely regarded as the greatest child actor in history. Every performance of his was nothing short of perfection. He put so much heart and effort into his roles that even his critics couldn't call him a bad actor.

From [Sex Education] to [Harry Potter], Troy ruled the cinematic world with his craft. But nothing lasted forever, and there were bound to be bumps in the road. Roger Ebert, like everyone else, thought Troy's magic would eventually fade. Children's charm only lasted so long, after all, and then they grew up. Roger could count on one hand the number of actors who had managed to transition successfully from child stardom to adult careers.

But Troy made the smartest move of his career—he took control of his future. By founding his own production company, he released not one but three films in quick succession, each in a different genre but all universally appealing: a mystery thriller, a coming-of-age drama, and a romantic musical. All three films were masterfully crafted, reflecting a deep commitment to quality storytelling.

This focus on excellence became Troy's hallmark. None of his films to date had been "bad." Sure, [A.I. Artificial Intelligence] had been divisive at the time, but over the years, audiences had come to appreciate it. Subtly but powerfully, Troy cultivated a reputation: if he was in a film, it would be excellent. Roger, like so many others, had internalized that belief—and it was what had brought him to Berlin. Even if, by some miracle, the new film turned out to be disappointing, Roger knew that watching Troy perform before anyone else would make the trip worthwhile.

As Roger and Chaz walked toward the theater, he noticed how much Troy's fanbase had grown since the release of the musical. Hordes of fans stood outside with posters, DVDs, records, and other Troy-themed merchandise in hand. And it wasn't Harry Potter-themed merchandise, as one might expect from the face of the biggest franchise in the world—it was Troy-themed, a testament to the actor's ability to transcend his iconic role.

Without waiting long, the old critic and his wife walked inside, where someone quickly ushered them forward after checking their tickets. A few people recognized Roger, as often happened, but no one approached him. Moments later, it became clear why.

Troy Armitage entered the venue, and every conversation ceased as heads turned to take in the young star. From young to old, male to female, everyone was captivated by the teenager who commanded attention effortlessly. Following closely behind him was the cast of [Little Miss Sunshine].

"He's…" Chaz began, searching for the right word. "…something."

"He sure is," Roger agreed. "He has this aura around him. I've never met him in private to know what he's like when alone, but he's mastered how to navigate public attention. That's what separates superstars from normal folks like us."

As Roger observed, Troy greeted numerous attendees, shaking hands and engaging in small talk. Slowly but surely, the young actor made his way toward the VIP seating area—right where Roger was standing.

When Troy's eyes met Roger's, his face lit up instantly. "Roger!" the teenager called out warmly before embracing the older man in a hug. "How are you?"

"Meh, as good as I can be, given everything," Roger replied evasively.

"Just say the word, and I'll arrange the best doctors in the world for you," Troy said with utmost sincerity. Then, turning to Chaz, he added, "I owe so much of my career to this man. I was just a little kid back then and didn't fully grasp how much of a difference a positive review—especially one from Mr. Ebert—could make for a film. I still remember what he said about my performance in [The Sixth Sense] word for word. He was the first person to suggest I could win an Oscar someday, so I think I owe your husband a great deal for my success."

"You don't owe me anything," Roger insisted. "I was just doing my job. And I've already consulted the best doctors out there—some things are simply beyond our control. This will be the last film I review before I lose my voice completely. I can only hope I'll have the strength left to write down any future reviews."

Troy placed a reassuring hand on Roger's shoulder. "Whatever you need, just say the word."

Although Troy was only 17, Roger felt as though someone much older and more experienced stood before him. In that moment, Roger truly believed that Troy would help him with anything.

"Thank you," Roger said with heartfelt gratitude.

"Don't worry about it," the young man smiled warmly. "Come now, we have a film to watch. I'm sure you'll love it, because I sure do."

Troy led Roger and his wife to their seats before settling into the row in front of them. Shortly after, Troy's family and co-stars joined them in the VIP section and the movie began.

The film opened with a scene of a young girl with an overly padded belly watching a beauty pageant on TV, mimicking the mannerisms of the winners.

Greg Kinnear's character appeared next, delivering a lecture on winners and losers to a lackluster audience, barely keeping their attention. The following scene showed Troy performing a bench press, skipping rope, doing push-ups, and engaging in various other exercises, all set against the backdrop of a portrait of Friedrich Nietzsche.

Meanwhile, Alan Arkin's character was snorting drugs, and Toni Collette's character was shown picking up her brother from the hospital, played by Steve Carell. Carell's character sat in a hospital chair with bandaged wrists, a subtle but clear indication that he had attempted to end his life.

As the on-screen doctor gave Toni Collette's character advice on how to support her brother, Roger Ebert was already captivated. This was some of the finest direction he had seen in years. The film masterfully introduced its characters, giving each one a distinct yet equally compelling presence. It was clear that no single character would overshadow the others; each had their moment in the spotlight.

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