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Looper exploded into a sea of success. Its North American opening weekend pulled in $44 million, blowing past estimates of $15–25 million. The Amazing Spider-Man, which opened on Tuesday to catch the July 4 wave, had a three-day weekend gross of $62 million.
Twitter was trending with Ryan v. Andrew, Not So Amazing Spider-Man, and Ryan Stone:
@hastellx: How did Looper almost catch up to Spider-Man? I mean, Looper is a way better movie.
↪ @lonestar: Garfield can't act the awkward teenager role well. He just kind of looks slow. They have chemistry, but he's just awful in it.
@mya12: I thought the movie was fine. I mean, the Lizard has some shitty CGI, but it was alright.
@lankaster35: I mean, Ryan's face had some terrible CGI on it. Couldn't take him seriously for the whole movie.
↪ @hastellx: That shows how good a performance Ryan gave, even with the CGI. I want to see CMBYN so bad.
Rebecca sat beside me, scrolling through her phone while the driver eased onto Sunset Boulevard. Morning traffic had already settled in, and I saw a bus in the next lane with a poster for The Amazing Spider-Man across its side.
I smiled and reached for my phone. I called Andrew, who I had saved as Oliver, and he answered immediately in his dry London accent.
"Hello! This press tour is something else."
"This is the biggest for me too. I feel like I've been promoting this movie my whole life." I let out a tired breath as the Chinese Theatre came into view four blocks ahead.
"Are you doing okay?" Andrew asked.
"Non così buono." (Not so good.)
He replied, "Perché?" (Why?)
I said in Italian, "I think me and Emma are done. And, you know, she's right."
Andrew lowered his voice. "Man..." He took a deep breath. "At least you almost beat me."
I laughed, and Rebecca turned to me and nodded. "Yeah. I'll leave you be. I have to go. Wait, can you come to my birthday family gathering in New York?"
He said, "Of course."
"Bye."
I asked Rebecca, "How long will this take?"
"About the same amount of time as Conan. About three hours."
I looked toward the car's ceiling. I thought about last night: the argument, the crying, and the sound her heels made when she left. How long had she held that in? Was there anything I could do?
A man dressed as Spider-Man posed beside two children while their mother held up her camera, and some people stood around the stars on the Walk of Fame. The driver turned into a narrow driveway beside the El Capitan building.
Rebecca said, "People are already outside?"
"For Jimmy?"
"For you."
I looked at her. "Sure."
A security guard stepped out and approached the window. Rebecca lowered it and handed him a printed pass.
"Ryan Stone."
The guard looked at the paper and then glanced at me. He said, in a Jamaican accent, "Man, that was a good movie. Took my wife to see it last weekend. Mi a tell yuh, the whole thing bad. Proper film."
"I'm glad you liked it."
He handed the paper back to Rebecca and pressed the button to open the gate.
Before I could open the door, I heard someone shout my name.
"Ryan!"
I looked out the window. Around fifteen college-aged women stood behind a temporary barricade near the gate. Some held posters for Looper, and some even had the GQ photoshoot I had done at the Chateau Marmont, the sight quickened my pace, and the vast majority had their phones out for a selfie.
Rebecca looked at her watch, but I had already headed to the barricade.
"Are y'all here for me? Is this some Kimmel prank?"
"Don't worry, it's not Halloween," one of the women said.
"Okay, I'm trusting y'all." I approached one of them and signed a poster. She had a wide grin and looked at me as if I was the only person who existed, washing away the argument from yesterday and the exhaustion of four hours of sleep.
"Can I get a picture?"
"I love Looper!"
One of the girls had a copy of The Hollywood Reporter. The cover had a picture of Andrew beside the words: Hollywood's New Leading Men.
I asked the girl holding the cover, "Which one?" as a joke.
She whispered, "Both. At the same time."
I stepped back and went to the other end of the line.
I signed all their posters and took photos with them, and at the end I said, "Andrew is coming tomorrow. What are y'all going to do?"
They all said in unison, "Booooo!"
I laughed so hard that I thought I was going to fall. Rebecca pulled on my shirt, and I followed her inside.
The hallway was plain, with gray carpet, and the only noticeable things were pictures of famous actors, politicians, and athletes in wooden frames. A PA wearing black pants and holding a cup of coffee said, "Hello, Mr. Stone. Please come this way."
"Just Ryan. Please."
She nodded. "Jimmy will come in a few minutes to give you a basic outline. And if you have any requests, you can talk to me."
"Umm. Nothing about my relationship."
She nodded.
"Everything else. My terrible acting. That's all free."
She smiled. "Here's your dressing room. Some breakfast and water are inside. Makeup will come soon."
Rebecca and I walked in and thanked her.
Rebecca looked at the mirror and said, "After this, you should get some sleep."
I sat in the makeup chair and pulled my hair back. "Soon. Soon."
"Are you sure nothing about Emma? It's a popular topic," she probed.
I looked straight at her, put my hands on the sides of the chair, and said, "No."
Rebecca nodded, and there was a knock at the door. A woman with a makeup case entered and placed it on the counter.
"Hi, Ryan. I'm Nina."
"Hello."
She wrapped a black cloth around my shoulders and began brushing powder across my skin.
"You from LA?" she asked.
"No. I wish."
There was a beat of silence.
"You don't look anything like you did in the movie."
I whispered, "Movie magic. I mean, I dyed my hair, and they put prosthetics on my face."
"They downgraded your looks."
"Anything for the check," I said.
She smiled.
"Yeah, that makeup was wild."
"Hopefully nothing like what they did for the movie will happen today. I mean, it was about three hours."
"We are already done."
***
A stage manager wearing a headset stood beside the curtain with one hand raised toward me. Jimmy's monologue filtered through the speakers backstage, followed by waves of laughter that sounded much louder from behind the curtain. The band settled into the opening riff, and one of the camera operators rolled his camera along its track until it stopped a few feet from the stage. The stage manager looked at me, held up three fingers, then two.
He gave a quick nod.
"My first guest tonight is the lead of the highly acclaimed sci-fi film Looper. The film opened last weekend to $44 million." He turned toward the fake elevator. "Please welcome… Ryan Stone."
The applause came early, and everybody was clapping their hands before I had even stepped through the door. The band played a short riff while Jimmy stood beside his desk, smiling toward the entrance.
I took one slow breath and walked out.
The lights were much brighter than I remembered from when I was on Conan. I could barely see the audience beyond the first few rows.
Jimmy met me halfway and pulled me into a quick hug.
"Congratulations."
"Thank you."
"Take a seat."
I sat down, and the applause slowly faded.
Jimmy looked toward the audience. To the audience's right was Jimmy's desk: rich wood slats on the front, a simple office nameplate, and behind him was a nighttime view of Los Angeles in a sleek black-and-white look.
"I don't know if you guys know this, but this young man had quite a weekend."
Another round of applause echoed through the studio.
"Forty-four million dollars," Jimmy said, looking back at me. "That's got to feel pretty good."
"It feels like a dream."
"You expected... what? Ten?"
"I expected to call my mom and tell her nobody watched it."
The audience laughed.
"So your expectations were very healthy."
I leaned in and whispered, "Only if the $44 million went to me?"
Jimmy and the audience roared with laughter.
He responded, "Do you want to go to Sony Studios and steal it?"
"50/50?"
"Of course."
"You're too young for that. Are you only 20?"
The audience gasped.
"Yes. And I want to say that Guillermo offered me tequila." I pointed to him, and he had his hands up.
Jimmy said, "What do you have to say for yourself, Guillermo?"
The camera pointed to Guillermo, who had a bottle of Don Julio. "I would never lie. But he did offer me the money first for some alcohol. I'm innocent."
The audience laughed, and the camera panned back to the host.
"When I was twenty, I was working at a radio station making almost no money."
"I wouldn't be here if it weren't for Rian, Bruce, Emily, or the whole cast."
"Yes, the cast is incredible. But—"
The audience was already giggling.
"You know, me and Emily are neighbors and in the midst of a prank war."
"Yes, Emily told me."
"She told you? Which side are you on?"
Some people chuckled.
"Yours. Emily, on set, kept making funny faces and distracting me. I need my revenge."
"So, in the last scene"—Jimmy brought up a picture of me as Young Joe—"a very emotional scene that decides the fate of the movie, she was making you laugh?"
"Yes, she's a horrible castmate."
Jimmy changed the topic, mindful of the time.
"And you just finished a movie with your rival Andrew Garfield, right?"
Jimmy pulled out a picture of The Amazing Spider-Man, and I responded, "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but Andrew will not be wearing a spandex suit in this new movie."
Jimmy chimed in, "And this new movie is based on the novel Call Me by Your Name."
"Yes, directed by Guadagnino, who's just terrific."
"And Andrew is playing someone his age, right?" Jimmy said.
"Yes. Not an awkward teenager, even though he's like 30 years old."
The audience burst into laughter again.
Jimmy said, "And I have to ask, how is it dating the Horror Queen, Emma Roberts?"
For a split second, I was too surprised to speak, but I recovered quickly. Before, I couldn't see the audience at all, but now I could see each of their expressions, and they all seemed closer. I thought that one of them could grab me by the shirt and pull me into the darkness.
"Going well. She's such a great actress and supports me through everything. I would not be here without her."
The audience collectively said, "Aww," and Jimmy had a wide grin.
"If she is the opposite of the roles she plays, then you can sleep with both eyes open."
"Yes. And I do need some sleep."
I smiled to myself and tried to control my breath.
"We'll leave you to that."
Jimmy flashed the widest grin he could muster to the camera.
"That's all the time we have. Everyone, Ryan Stone! Watch Looper, starring Bruce Willis, Emily Blunt, and this handsome performer."
He pointed both hands toward me, and I stood up and waved.
I was too mad to say anything to Jimmy, so I just shook his hand and walked backstage.
Someone clipped the microphone pack off my belt while another crew member hurried Jimmy toward the next segment. Within seconds, the applause had stopped, and everyone had already moved on.
Rebecca came up to me and whispered, "I'm sorry. I did not know."
"It's all right. Let's leave," I said, almost to myself. "I feel like I'm going to faint."
Rebecca did not hear me, or maybe she did. My mind was already somewhere else. I thought of that bike path in Crema that was completely devoid of people, surrounded by endless fields of corn and apples, and how the sun beamed off my sunglasses onto the old, navy-blue bike.
I got into the car after avoiding the much larger crowd from before, at least 50 people stood there waiting for a photo, and lay across the back seat while Rebecca sat up front. I reached for my phone.
There was a message from Mark.
I put it down and dozed off.
The driver woke me up.
"Sir, we are home," he said with a Bostonian accent.
"Thank you."
Rebecca said, "I freed up your schedule tomorrow. On Wednesday, some photoshoots and magazine interviews. After that, you're free."
I murmured, "Thank you."
I opened the car door. I must have looked crazy to some people; my hair was a mess, the makeup was ruined from the car ride, and my tie was so loose that it almost touched my knees.
I walked to my apartment and saw a woman on the floor. She looked up at me as she held the black tote bag close to her. Her eyes looked darker than usual, and I had a bizarre urge to cup her face, as if I could somehow let her see the blackness I had experienced onstage.
"Hello."
"Hello."
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