“Same,” Sam laughed.
“Really?”
“Yes, my mom or my grandmother. And I feel like there are few things worse than being sex trafficked. Doing life for something I didn’t do thanks to lazy crime-scene investigation is up there.”
“I thought you were going to say some artsy shit like not living every day to the fullest.”
“Nah, doing a bid unjustly in solitary sounds way worse. Not that solitary is ever just.”
“Agreed. Okay. I’m coming in hot with this one. Are you ready?”
“I’m ready. Hit me.”
“If you could work on any project next, what would it be? This is a safe space. I will not tell your agent or your brothers or whatever. Just you and me. If you could do anything. Tell me.”
Sam took a deep breath and tried his hardest to access the truth. There wasn’t a clear answer that jumped to the forefront ’cause the truth was he didn’t live on Planet Black Actors Get Whatever They Want. He had to learn to manage his dreams a long time ago to stop from crushing his own heart and his passion along with it.
“Tell me. Speak it into existence. What’s the project?” Amanda said, urging him on.
“Okay. I’ll give you my top three—I should make you sign an NDA.”
Amanda laughed, playfully shoving at his knee. “Just tell me.”
“Okay. I don’t know if you’re familiar with Bill Pickett but he was one of the first Black bulldoggers. He paved the way for Black men, and women, to compete in the rodeo. I’d love to do his biopic. I wouldn’t have to be in it, but I’d love to produce it.”
“Okay. You should definitely be in it. If I had a ton of cash I’d write you a check right now. What else?”
Sam swallowed and dug a little deeper. He hadn’t been this honest with anyone other than Zach in a while. “You read comics?”
“I dabble.”
“Well, I’ve heard rumors that they are finally going to move on aBlack Deathmovie.”
“Sam!” Of course she’d heard ofBlack Death. The comic about the Grim Reaper who inhabited the body of Malcolm Vance, a Black Marine who had nearly died in Vietnam, had been around for decades.
“I’d love to play Malcolm. That shit would be fun as hell.”
“Okay, I know we are talking about wildest dreams, but have you told your agent?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“’Cause I’d be up against every Black actor in town and a few of the stupid white ones.”
“No. Nope. No way. You have to at least float your name. Do not shoot yourself in the foot and keep yourself out of the running.”Black Deathwas one of those projects he’d wanted since his grandpa had shown him his tattered copy of issue number one. But Hollywood was struggling to let more than one Black superhero shine. “But we’ll come back to that. What’s number three?”
“I want to be in a legit rom-com. Or a romantic period drama if I’m really going for it.”
Amanda leaned forward, resting her chin on her hands, on the back of the couch. “You would be an amazing leading man. A perfect Prince Charming.”
“I like to think so. Not in a cocky way.”
“Why not? Hell, be cocky about it.”
“What’s your big Hollywood dream?”
“Oh, just tons and tons of weird, sweeping, romantic epics in space. I want everything in space. With kissing. Pirates in space, with kissing. A murder mystery in space, with kissing.”