The restructuring at Stardust was in full swing. As I entered the studio, it was buzzing with activity, with employees running around and phones ringing. Everyone was busy with something.
I was absent from this whole affair as I had been busy writing and preparing for traveling the country with Matt to promote Invincible. I made my way through the busy building to Sam and Dave's new office. They were promoted to share the position of the head of Stardust Studios. Chris was now the CEO of Stardust Entertainment, while Henry had become the chairman. Chris was also tasked with selecting a new head for Stardust Animations, and Buddy had mentioned that he would choose the leader for Nebula once it was integrated.
The merger would take about six months to complete, and until then, things would be hectic. Chris had even considered moving to a whole new building but decided it would be better after a few years when they were bigger.
Entering the still-unfurnished office of Dave and Sam, I saw the two men sifting through pages of documents.
"Hey, guys," I called out.
"Ah, Daniel, good, you're here. We have a casting to get to," Dave said, looking up.
"Who are we casting?" I asked, a bit confused.
"Check your emails," Dave replied, shaking his head.
"Didn't you say you were getting a PA?" Sam chimed in.
"I was going to…" I began, pulling out my phone to check the emails. Sure enough, there was one from Dave and Sam from two days ago. It stated that Pedro Pascal was coming in today for a screen test.
"This is the third time this has happened Daniel," Sam said.
"I know I'm sorry It won't happen again" I said embarrassed.
"As you can see, Mr. Pascal is coming, and we are going to do a screen test," Dave said, handing over some documents.
"Alright, let's do it," I said.
"Let's go," Sam said, walking out the door. Dave and I followed him, making our way to the room where we were setting up a model set for 12 Angry Men.
"So, what do you guys think of Pedro as Juror #6?" I asked as we walked down the hallway.
"Not bad, but we haven't seen much other than the tapes Mr. Pascal sent us," Sam replied.
"I think he will be good," I said confidently.
"Is this the 'Adler hunch' talking?" Dave asked with a grin.
"The Adler hunch?" I asked, confused.
"Oh, it's something we call your superpower—always picking the perfect thing, like casting Scarlett or the other suggestions you've given," Sam explained.
"Huh, Adler hunch, eh? I like it," I answered with a smug smile.
We reached the room, which was set up like the room from 12 Angry Men. Sam turned to his assistant, who was waiting for us. "Could you bring in Mr. Pascal?" he asked.
She nodded and walked to the door on the other side. After a few seconds, Pedro Pascal entered the room. I couldn't deny I felt a bit starstruck; Pedro might not be a big star here yet, but in my eyes, he was.
Pedro greeted us warmly, shaking hands first with Dave, then Sam, and finally me. "It's great to meet all of you. I was surprised when my agent told me I was asked to come and read for this movie."
"Daniel here recommended you," Sam said, gesturing to me.
Pedro turned to me with a curious smile. "How did you know about me?"
I quickly replied, "I saw one of your plays. You were incredible."
Sam then asked Pedro, "Are you ready?"
Pedro nodded. "Yes, I'm ready."
"Let's do it," Dave said, as we all took our seats.
Pedro walked over to the table on the set, where Sam's assistant stood with a script in hand.
"Alright, Pedro, Jane will read the lines of the juror you interact with, and you will read the lines of Juror #6," Dave said.
Jane, Sam's assistant, read the first lines: "That's your privilege. How about you?" This was a line from the foreman.
Pedro took a moment to fully immerse himself in the character before delivering his lines. "I don't know. What convinced me was the testimony of those people across the hall. Didn't they say something about an argument between the father and the boy around seven o'clock that night? I mean—I can be wrong," he acted, his voice filled with uncertainty and conviction.
"That's good, Pedro," Sam called out, and Pedro gave a grateful nod.
Sam then asked Jane to read the lines from Juror 8. After she read the lines, Pedro responded with Juror #6's response.
"Well, I'm not used to supposin'. I'm just a workin' man. My boss does all the supposin', but I'll try one. Supposin' you talk us all out of this, and, uh, the kid really did knife his father?"
"Nicely done," Dave said, clearly impressed.
"Adler hunch strikes again," Sam added with a smile, glancing at me.
They continued with more lines, refining each scene. Finally, Dave said, "Alright, final line from Juror 3."
Jane then delivered the line by Juror 3: "You keep coming in with these bright sayings! Why don't you send 'em into a paper? They pay three dollars apiece!"
Pedro then acted out his response with conviction: "What are you talkin' to him like that for? Guy talks like that to an old man really oughta get stepped on, you know. You oughta have more respect, mister. If you say stuff like that to him again... I'm gonna lay you out."
"Great," Dave said, getting up from his seat. Sam and I also stood.
"Mr. Pascal, we will call your agent with the details of the contract," Dave said.
"Thank you," Pedro said, looking visibly relieved. He turned to me and added, "And thank you, Mr. Adler, for this opportunity."
"Please, call me Daniel," I said, shaking Pedro's hand warmly.
After Pedro left, I turned to Dave and Sam. "I have two other choices for Juror 11 and 12," I said.
"Well, tell us. The Adler hunch has worked so far," Dave replied with a grin.
"For Juror 11, I think Christoph Waltz would be perfect," I suggested.
"Who?" Dave asked, looking puzzled.
Sam nodded in recognition. "I know the actor. He's German, and I saw him in a play once. He's really good."
"The next choice is for Juror 12," I continued. "I think Jon Hamm would be good."
"Ah, from Mad Men," Sam said. "Yes, he would be a good choice."
"Or," Dave interjected, "Justin Theroux?"
I nodded. "Yes, he would be good as well."
"We'll look into these," Dave said, making a note. "Good. Now, gentlemen, I have to go see Chris."
.
.
.
Haley: I have to make forty cupcakes for the fundraiser at school, and I haven't even told my mom yet. 😫
Daniel: Why not ask her to make them for you?
Haley: You know how she will never let me forget this. 🙄
Daniel: What can you do?
Haley: Could you buy them for me?
Daniel: Babe, just tell your mom. When she tells you to make them, act like you don't know a thing about cooking in front of her.
Haley: But I don't know anything. 🤷♀️
Daniel: Well, that makes it easier. When your control freak mom sees you struggling, she will just take over and do it for you.
Haley: 😲 I love it when you get devious. Going to try this! 💕
I put my phone away and laid on my bed. After a while, I decided to go downstairs. I found Mom with Alice in the living room. I went over to her and sat next to her.
"You look tired," Mom said, concern in her voice. "And you're looking a bit thin as well."
"I'm fine, just been a bit busy," I replied, trying to brush off her worries.
Mom's face grew serious. "If your health is being affected, then you should take some time off."
I shook my head. "No, I have so much to do."
She gave me a stern glare. "Why don't we go somewhere next month?"
I sighed, knowing she wouldn't let this go. "Okay, that sounds like a good idea." But Mom did not look satisfied with my answer.
Just then, Nathan came in, and Mom suddenly got up. "Nathan, take Alice," she said, handing Alice over to him. She then turned to me. "You, come with me. We haven't had some mother-son time in a while."
I stood up, a bit confused. "Where are we going?"
"Just come with me," she said, heading towards the front door.
I turned to Nathan, who just shrugged at me. I followed Mom out of the house and into the car.
We drove for a while, talking as we went. I told Mom about what I was doing lately, and it felt good. I missed spending time with her. We hadn't been able to do this much since Alice was born, and I had been so busy.
After a long drive, we arrived at a very familiar place—near our old apartment, the one I had woken up in almost seven years ago. She parked near a small diner she used to take me to.
The diner had a nostalgic charm with its retro décor. The exterior was painted a cheerful yellow, with a classic neon sign that read "Eddie's Diner." Inside, red vinyl booths lined the walls, and a long counter with swivel stools ran along one side. The walls were adorned with black-and-white photos of the town from decades past, and a jukebox in the corner that was broken.
I laughed when I realized where we were. Mom turned to me with a smile. "Come on, I'll buy you your favorite."
We entered the diner, and she ordered my favorite food—pancakes with extra syrup and a side of crispy bacon.
As we talked, a woman interrupted us. I initially thought she might be one of my fans, but it looked like Mom knew her.
"Oh, hello!" Mom greeted me warmly.
Curious, I asked, "Who is she, Mom?"
Mom introduced her as Clara. "She works for a company that helps people in the movie industry. She came by our house a month ago."
Clara began talking with us, and the more she spoke, the more unsettled I became. The terms she was using reminded me of a documentary I had watched a long time ago, before waking up here.
I thought hard for a while, listening to her speak. Then it hit me.
'Scientology,' my mind screamed at me.
Holy shit, how did I get on their radar? A knot formed in my stomach as Clara asked if they could schedule an appointment with us.
I quickly and rudely said, "No," and grabbed Mom, pulling her out of the diner.
Once we were outside, Mom was visibly upset. "Why were you so rude to that nice woman?" she demanded.
"Mom, she's a Scientologist. They're not nice people," I said, my voice tight with concern. "They are like a cult—very dangerous."
Mom looked confused. "But she was so nice and helpful."
I shook my head. "Mom, they're dangerous. They target people in the industry. Come on, let's go."
The nice day we were having was ruined. I now had to deal with the fact that a cult was potentially on my tail.