Lucas eyed his grandfather warily. Just moments ago, William had been urging him to drop the investigation, and now he was offering help. "What's with the sudden change of heart? You're willing to help me 'properly investigate'? What exactly does that mean?"
William's lips curved into a knowing smile. "It means, my boy, that your current approach is sloppy at best. If you want to take down someone of this caliber, you need to do it right."
He shook his head, continuing, "Now that the slicky guy is on alert, we need to be smarter."
"What do you suggest?" Lucas asked, curiosity piqued.
William leaned back in his chair, a glint in his eye. "First, we need to create distance between you and the investigation. Hire a reputable law firm to handle the legwork. They'll have the resources and discretion we need."
He ticked off points on his fingers. "Second, we gather evidence quietly. No more direct contact with potential witnesses. We use intermediaries, protect identities."
"Third," William continued, "we build a rock-solid case before making any moves. Financial records, testimonies, everything. Leave no stone unturned."
"And finally," he leaned forward, his voice low, "we time our strike perfectly. Wait for a moment when he's vulnerable, perhaps when he's facing other public scrutiny."
Lucas listened, impressed despite himself. This was a far cry from his own haphazard approach.
William concluded, "In Hollywood, timing is everything. We're not just after justice; we're orchestrating his downfall."
Lucas nodded slowly, processing the plan. It was clear his grandfather knew more about the dark side of the industry than he'd let on. "Alright," he said finally. "Let's do it your way."
William's grin turned predatory. "Now, while we're at it, why don't we also investigate your father and stepmother?"
Lucas's eyes widened in surprise, words failing him.
"Come now," William pressed, "surely you're not going to let them off the hook after everything they put you through?"
Lucas remained silent, memories flooding back. Being forcefully kicked out at 18 from the house his mother had owned. The constant neglect during high school, denied even basic allowance. His half-siblings, egged on by their mother, making his life miserable with their taunts and pranks. His stepmother's subtle cruelties, always making him feel unwelcome in his own home. Only Melvin had shown him any kindness.
Yet, despite it all, the thought of taking legal action against them made Lucas hesitate.
William, sensing Lucas's reluctance, pressed on. "What's holding you back? Your father might not be as bad as that grease king, but he's no saint. Underpaying his staff, cutting corners in productions. He's hurt more people than just you."
Lucas took a deep breath. "I... I need to think about it."
William studied his grandson, noting the conflict in his eyes. "I see this isn't an easy decision for you. But remember, Lucas, sometimes justice requires difficult choices."
Lucas nodded slowly, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. On one hand, the pain of his past cried out for retribution. On the other, the thought of legally attacking his own family, despite their flaws, felt wrong.
"Take your time," William said, his voice softer now. "But don't let misplaced loyalty protect those who never showed you any."
As Lucas left William's study, he felt the weight of his grandfather's words.
***
Back in the sanctuary of his home, Lucas slumped into his chair, his grandfather's words echoing in his mind. The idea of suing his dad and stepmom felt extreme, crossing a line he wasn't sure he was ready to cross.
Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Lucas decided to focus on something else. He opened his laptop and checked his email, hoping for a distraction.
His eyes widened as he saw a response from Marshmello. Clicking it open, he read:
"Hey Lucid,
Digging your sound, man. Always down to collab with fellow mask-wearers. Got some beats that might work with your style. Let's make some noise together.
- Mello"
A smile spread across Lucas's face. Marshmello, like himself as Lucid, was an independent artist carving his own path.
Lucas quickly typed out a reply to Marshmello:
"Hey Mello,
It's great to hear from you! I was wondering if we could discuss our potential project together. Just a heads up—my schedule is about to get pretty packed, so let's make the most of our time now. Looking forward to it!
- Lucid"
He hit send, then leaned back, satisfied. Keeping his identity secret while maintaining his Lucid persona was becoming second nature.
To his surprise, Marshmello's response came almost immediately:
"Packed schedule? What's keeping you so busy? Or... wait, are you really Lucas Knight like the media's been saying? 👀"
Lucas couldn't help but chuckle at the directness. He shook his head, amused by how his two worlds were colliding. Carefully, he crafted his response:
"Haha, good one. Nah, just a regular guy with a day job. Can't we all dream of being LK? 😉"
As he sent the reply, Lucas smiled to himself.
The thrill of keeping Lucid a secret added an extra layer of excitement to Lucas's life. The fact that even Marshmello was curious about the Lucas Knight rumors brought a smirk to his face every time he thought about it.
***
Over the next few days, Lucas found himself engrossed in Skype calls with Marshmello. Their cameras remained off, preserving their masked personas even in the digital realm. The anonymity seemed to fuel their creativity.
"What if we start with a slow build?" Marshmello's distorted voice suggested. "Then hit 'em with that drop at the chorus?"
Lucas nodded, forgetting for a moment that Marshmello couldn't see him. "I like that. Maybe I could come in with some falsetto right before the drop?"
They bounced ideas back and forth, outlining the structure of their song. Lucas found himself impressed by Marshmello's production skills, while Marshmello seemed equally taken with Lucas's vocal range and lyrical ideas.
As their collaboration took shape, Lucas reluctantly had to shift his focus to his upcoming project.
Lucas arrived at the Paramount building for the "Arrival" project meeting. He was greeted by the producers, including Shawn Levy, whom he knew from their work on the upcoming "Stranger Things" series. Also present were Dan Levine and Aaron Ryder from 21 Laps Entertainment, and David Linde from Lava Bear Films.
The team dove into discussions about the project, covering the script, scheduling, and Lucas's role in the film.
***
Meanwhile, anticipation for "Whiplash" was reaching a fever pitch. The trailer had set social media ablaze, with one moment in particular capturing everyone's attention.
"Did you see Lucas Knight get slapped?!" one tweet exclaimed. "That looked way too real!"
Another user chimed in: "I replayed that slap scene like 20 times. The sound! The way his face moves! Either it's incredible acting or someone's got a hell of a lawsuit coming."
Even celebrities were weighing in. Ryan Reynolds tweeted: "Note to self: Never play the drums around JK Simmons. #WhiplashSlap"
As the screening date approached, ticket pre-sales were skyrocketing.
It seemed that one powerful slap had struck a chord with audiences, transforming what could have been a niche music drama into a must-see event.
***
A week passed, and while Lucas was immersed in his role as Ian Donnelly for "Arrival," "Whiplash" kicked off its Thursday preview in New York.
Damien paced nervously outside the preview theater, his stomach in knots. This was it - his directorial debut was about to face its first real audience. The success or failure of "Whiplash" could make or break his career in Hollywood.
As people filed into the theater, snippets of conversation reached his ears. "Lucas Knight" seemed to be on everyone's lips. Damien's anxiety spiked. Sure, having a star like Lucas in the film was great for publicity, but would the audience appreciate the film as a whole, or were they just here for a glimpse of their favorite actor?
The theater packed quickly, the excited chatter of the crowd growing louder. Damien couldn't help but wonder: Would they understand his vision? Would the intensity he aimed for translate to the screen? Or would they walk out, unimpressed or, worse, bored?
As the lights dimmed and the film began to roll, Damien slipped into a seat at the back, his heart pounding. Everything he'd worked for came down to the next two hours. He held his breath, waiting for the first reaction, the first laugh, the first gasp.
As the opening sequence began, Damien scanned the darkened theater nervously. To his relief, the audience fell silent, captivated by Lucas's portrayal of Andrew at the drums.
The scene shifted to Andrew's imagination, where Fletcher lavished praise on him. Damien noticed several audience members drawn into the moment.
Then came the snap back to reality, Fletcher's actual indifference a stark contrast to Andrew's daydream.
A collective soft "Oh" rippled through the crowd as they realized they'd been fooled along with Andrew. Damien felt a small thrill - they were engaged, feeling for his character already.
Near him, hushed conversations broke out. Damien strained to listen.
"I get the feeling that Fletcher will be the bastard here," one viewer whispered.
"Heh, no doubt," their companion replied.
Another voice chimed in, "He reminds me of my calculus teacher from hell."
Damien suppressed a smile. They were picking up on Fletcher's character exactly as he'd intended. The audience was connecting, relating the film to their own experiences.
As the film continued, Damien settled back slightly, allowing himself to breathe. They were hooked - for now. But he knew there were still many crucial scenes ahead. The real test was yet to come.
---
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