Chapter 3

Kurt had opted to not enroll in classes during the summer session, choosing instead to take advantage of some extra hours offered at Vogue so Blaine hit the campus alone the following Monday morning. He was thankful for his "orientation date" with Kurt last week as he found his "Shakespeare in Literature and on Stage" and "Beginning Dance: Movement and Form" classes easily.

His last class of the day, "Introduction to Improvisation," was across the campus from the subway station entrance. He walked slowly out of the building after class, only now becoming aware of the persistent ache in his muscles. He knew the dance class would be demanding, but was surprised how much physicality would be part of improv. He stopped to shift his satchel and rub his neck, when a sign on a kiosk reading "Help Wanted" caught his eye. Blaine checked out the flyers posted on the board, taking note of street and neighborhood names to ask Kurt if they were logistically viable options. He reached into his satchel for a notebook and pen to write down a couple of the more promising possibilities, and noticed a man standing in the shade of the Student Union building watching him with interest.

Blaine looked away, glancing around to see if he might be mistaken. Maybe the man was looking at someone else? The quad was almost empty this late in the day, particularly with the sultry summer heat; there was no one else near him. He focused his attention to jotting down a few quick notes, sneaking another glance back as he reached to put his notebook back in his bag. The man, still watching, started to walk toward him.

Blaine turned away, heading toward the subway station again when he heard the man call out, "Hey, kid! Wait! Can I talk to you for a minute?" Blaine stopped and turned back, getting a good look at the man as he came closer. Tall, lean, with short-cropped sandy brown hair and a day's worth of beard scruff shading his cheeks and chin— dressed in tan chinos and a white button down shirt, rolled up at the sleeves.A little too old to be an undergrad student. Faculty or TA, maybe?

"Hi, I'm Pete," the man said cheerily, extending his hand in greeting.

Blaine's prep school training kicked in, and he responded with a firm handshake and friendly smile. "Nice to meet you. I'm Blaine."

"Handsome and charming," Pete grinned. His manner reminded Blaine of a car salesman, a little slick and over-friendly, with no qualms about invading another's personal space. "Are you a student here at NYADA?"

Blaine nodded. "Yes, this is my first day, actually."

"That's great," Pete said, leaning in closer to put his hand on Blaine's shoulder as if they were old buddies. "Listen, Blaine, I know this may seem kind of forward, but I happened to peek in on the improv class earlier, and I've got to say, you really have a great energy. After seeing you in action, I said to myself 'Pete, you gotta meet this guy—'"

Blaine took a step back, unnerved by Pete's brash demeanor. "Um, wait. I mean, thank you, but I don't think— not interested— I have a boyfriend." He stumbled over his words, feeling awkward.

Pete stopped short, realization dawning on his face, and then laughed. "Oh, no. No. I don't mean like that. You seem like quite a catch— your boyfriend is awfully lucky— but I'm not hitting on you. I'm a talent scout for an independent film company."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I misunderstood—" Blaine felt the heat of embarrassment rising in his cheeks.

"No worries. I'm sorry. I realize when I get excited, I tend to come on a little strong." Pete chuckled and reached into his pocket, pulling out a small, rectangular metal case. He flipped it open with his thumb and took out a business card to hand to Blaine. "I like your look, Blaine, and I like your style. I want you to come audition for us. You could have a great, lucrative career in film!"

Blaine's eyes grew wide and his breath caught in his throat as he took the card. Pegasus Films—Peter Johnson, Executive Recruiter, with a phone number and e-mail address below that. He looked from the card back up to Pete, who was grinning broadly. Pete pointed at the card as he nodded, "You call me, we'll set something up!" He chucked Blaine on the arm and turned to walk away. "Hope to hear from you soon!" he said over his shoulder.

Blaine stood in stunned silence staring at the business card for a full five minutes before shaking out of his stupor and pulling his phone out to call Kurt. It went straight to voicemail— Kurt likely out of range in the subway on his way home from work. At the beep, Blaine left a message, breathless with excitement, "KURT! You'll neverbelievewhat just happened to me!
I'll tell you all about it when I see you at home!"

***

"Blaine."

A muffled groan rose from the table, where Blaine had his head buried in his arms.

"Blaine!Come on, it's not that bad," Kurt chided, rubbing Blaine's hunched shoulders in an attempt to console him.

Blaine raised his head and caught sight of the business card lying on the table. A pained expression creased his face as he realized that the glorious promise the damn thing held earlier that afternoon was now mocking him with its harsh reality. "How could I have been so gullible?" he moaned. "I should have realized it was too good to be true."

"Well, in your defense, it is true— if you happen to want to launch your film career in the porn industry."

Blaine's head fell back into the cradle of his folded arms, a huff of disgust punctuating the move. "Peter Johnson. I should have known— even his NAME is euphemistically phallic, and probably not even his real one."

"Oh honey," Kurt said, his tone soft and sympathetic. "Mr. Johnsonhas a bit of a reputation on campus. He hangs out looking for bright young student actors, particularly those who might be down on their luck and need some quick cash. You just happened to bump into him on your first day, before Rachel and I could clue you in."

Another muffled moan prompts Kurt to pull out the chair next to Blaine and sit down, wrapping his arms around Blaine's waist and resting his cheek on his shoulder.

"You've got to remember, you're in the big city now, Blaine. You can't just naively trust that the people you meet don't have an ulterior motive." Kurt hugged Blaine close. "Stick with me, kid. I'll teach you my cynical ways, and we'll turn you into a savvy New Yorker in no time."

Blaine choked out a laugh, lifting his head to look at Kurt. "A year in this city has turned you into such a wise-old sage, Kurt. Anything else you want to teach me?"

The corners of Kurt's mouth tipped up in a grin. "Oh, I can think of few things, grasshopper. And a couple of them just might make you forget all your troubles for awhile."

Kurt stood, and held out a hand to Blaine. Blaine took it, raising Kurt's hand up to his lips in order to gently kiss his fingers. "My love is thine to teach. Teach it but how, and thou shalt see how apt it is to learn..."

At Kurt's questioning look, Blaine explained, "First lesson in 'Shakespeare in Literature and on Stage' class today— from Much Ado About Nothing."

Kurt smiled again, "See, you are a quick study. You're going to do just fine..."