The big yellow Hummer rumbled up the driveway like it was trying to announce them from a mile away.
Samuel shifted in his seat as Turtle cranked the wheel with one hand, sunglasses sliding halfway down his nose, the sun turning the bright yellow paint blinding.
Ahead of them, the Chase house sprawled wide and perfect—white stone, huge glass doors thrown open, a pool glittering just past the hedge.
Turtle slapped the steering wheel, grinning. "Bro, this yacht? I'm tellin' you—next level. Vinny's gonna lose his mind."
Drama leaned forward from the backseat, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah, right before he kills you when he sees the bill."
Turtle waved it off like it was nothing. "Relax. I used his card. It's his birthday! You can't put a price on legendary memories."
Drama smirked. "You were supposed to stay under fifteen grand, Turtle. You went over thirty."
Turtle shrugged, unapologetic. "Bro... once I saw the three-deck option? How could I not?"
Samuel stayed quiet, watching the way they joked like this was just another day in their world. The chaos somehow felt normal. Even expected.
The Hummer jolted to a stop in the driveway. They climbed out, heat bouncing off the driveway in visible waves.
Turtle clapped Samuel lightly on the back as they headed toward the open front doors. "Stick close, kid. Legendary night incoming."
Samuel nodded, following them into the house.
Inside, the music was low but steady, a heartbeat under the expensive floors. The smell of chlorine and lemon cleaner drifted through the air.
And then—
Raised voices.
"...Ari sent the Medellín script, E," Vinny was saying, sharp and frustrated. "He sent it. Now Amanda's telling me it's not even available?"
Samuel slowed, instinctively holding back behind Turtle and Drama.
E answered, trying to stay calm. "I know, Vince. But you fired Ari. Amanda's good, but she doesn't have Ari's pull yet. If you really want Medellín... you might need to sit down with Ari. Talk."
Vinny paced across the big open living room, hands slicing through the air. E stood still, arms crossed, his jaw tight like he was trying not to lose it too.
Drama and Turtle both hesitated at the threshold, trading a look. Even they knew better than to jump in yet.
Samuel hovered silently behind them, the tension soaking into the air around him.
The tension in the room was sharp enough to make Turtle shift uncomfortably. But Samuel barely registered it.
His eyes wandered instead—across the wide-open living room, the soft spill of sunlight from the glass doors, the clean stone floors that looked too perfect to touch.
This is really nice, he thought absently.
Nicer than anything he'd ever grown up around. Nicer than anything he ever expected to stand in without being asked to leave.
Somewhere behind him, Turtle muttered about Vinny always being chill—except when it came to Medellín. Drama gave a low grunt of agreement.
Samuel only half-heard them. Mostly, he let the voices blur into the background, content to just exist there for a second.
It wasn't until he caught the names—E, Ari—that something flickered awake in his chest.
Ari.
A flash of memory—Ari Gold, suit half undone, storming through his agency with a paintball gun like a CEO going full John Wick. Assistants screamed. Interns hit the floor. He shot a guy in the back for saying "good morning."s.
Samuel almost smiled. He could practically hear the shouts, the chaos, the wild triumph in Ari's voice.
The way he'd laughed at that scene in his old life — the reckless, unstoppable energy of it.
For a second, Samuel let himself drift—caught between then and now, between fiction and whatever weird new reality he was standing in.
Then—reality snapped back fast.
"You gotta be kidding me," E said, striding over, voice tight. "You spent seventy grand already?"
Turtle blinked, caught. "Seventy?"
"Yeah, seventy," E snapped, holding up his phone like it was a weapon. "Got an alert from the credit card company. The plan was fifty. Fifty, Turtle."
Drama tried and failed to smother a laugh behind Turtle's shoulder.
Turtle threw up his hands. "Bro, come on! It's Vinny's birthday! Gotta make it epic!"
E didn't look convinced. Vinny stood a few feet away, arms crossed, jaw tight.
Before it could blow up any further, Turtle clapped his hands together in mock excitement. "Hey, hey—good news though!"
He slapped Samuel lightly on the back, shoving him forward half a step.
"I found free entertainment!" he said, grinning wide and pointing directly at him.
Samuel blinked, the daydream falling away instantly.
He barely had time to register the shift before both Vinny and E turned—and finally really noticed him.
The conversation froze for a half-beat.
All eyes were on Samuel now.
Vinny gave Samuel a once-over—curious, but still distracted, like part of him was pacing in his own head about Medellín.
E was sharper. He stepped forward, arms crossed, sizing Samuel up like a club bouncer spotting trouble at the door.
"You a friend of Turtle's?" E asked, voice tight.
Samuel met his eyes without flinching. "Something like that."
"You even old enough to be here?" E pushed.
Samuel gave a small, almost amused shrug. "Old enough to recognize a financial disaster when I see one."
Turtle snorted out a laugh he tried to turn into a cough. Drama muttered, "Kid's got jokes," half impressed.
E didn't laugh, but his mouth twitched like it wanted to.
Vinny finally exhaled, shaking his head. "Relax, E. It's my birthday. Let's not haze the guests yet."
He clapped a hand on E's shoulder, then turned fully toward Samuel.
"So what are you, man?" Vinny asked, a little grin slipping through. "Turtle says you're the entertainment. You juggle? Breakdance? What?"
Turtle jumped in, grinning wide. "Kid's a singer, bro! Voice of an angel. You gotta hear it."
Samuel blinked once, slow, like he was processing the insanity. Then corrected, voice dry as the California heat:
"Not really a singer."
Everyone paused.
Samuel let it hang for a beat, then added, casual as anything: "More of an archer, honestly. Turtle just happened to catch my most embarrassing video."
Drama cracked up. Turtle threw his hands up. "Bro! It wasn't that embarrassing!"
Vinny laughed — real this time, low and easy — the kind of laugh that broke the last of the tension hanging in the room.
Even E looked at Samuel a little differently now.
Vinny looked ready to move, but E narrowed his eyes again.
"Hold up," E said. "You're not even a singer?"
Samuel shrugged, casual. "Somebody filmed me singing once. Without asking. Posted it online. It blew up. Teachers, neighbors, randoms at the grocery store... apparently Turtle too."
He tucked his hands deeper into his hoodie pockets.
"I didn't ask for it. And I'm not big on attention."
E studied him longer than before.Then nodded, like he got it—or at least decided it wasn't Samuel's fault.
"Alright," E said. "Appreciate the honesty."
Then he jerked his thumb after Turtle."Now excuse me—I gotta go stop that idiot from bankrupting Vinny."
He stalked off, already pulling out his phone.
Drama, who had been bouncing on his feet like a kid waiting for recess, saw his opening.
"Bro," he said eagerly, turning to Vinny, "you still got that bow upstairs, right? The one from Viking Quest?"
Vinny chuckled. "Yeah, I think it's still in the case."
Drama grinned wide, already hyping himself up."Perfect! I'll show this kid some real battle-tested archery."
Samuel raised an eyebrow but said nothing, amused.
Vinny clapped his hands once."Let's find that bow."
He headed for the stairs, Drama already muttering about "longship formations" and "tactical quivers" as they followed.
Samuel just shook his head slightly and went with it.
Because today was already weird—and weird wasn't looking so bad right now.
They followed Vinny upstairs.
The hallways looked like they belonged in a museum—marble floors, ridiculous art, spotlights like every painting was expecting paparazzi.
Vinny strode ahead without even glancing around, casual like this was just Tuesday.
Drama, meanwhile, prowled the hallway like he was on a sacred quest, muttering about "weapons caches" and "strategic positioning" under his breath.
Samuel stayed a few steps behind, hands still buried in his hoodie pockets, half-listening, half-wondering how his life had gotten this strange so fast.
Drama finally stopped in front of a tall black case tucked neatly against the wall.
He yanked it free with a grunt, cradling it like a holy relic.
"Bro," Drama said reverently, "this... is the blade of the North."
Samuel peered at it.
It was a decent compound bow. Nothing ancient. Nothing legendary. Probably bought off Amazon.
But Samuel nodded seriously anyway, because honestly? Drama deserved to live in his own fantasy world.
"Impressive," Samuel said, deadpan.
Drama beamed, chest puffing up like he'd just claimed a throne.
Vinny caught the look Samuel shot him and laughed under his breath.
The backyard stretched wide and perfect, the pool gleaming in the sun, the air thick with the low hum of heat and chlorine.
Drama was already bouncing on the balls of his feet, bow in hand like he was about to headline an action movie.
"Alright, check it out," Drama said, pulling the string back dramatically. "Years of battle training, bro. Viking precision."
Samuel leaned against the patio rail, arms folded, watching without a word.
Drama let the arrow fly.
It sailed a solid ten feet—then veered wildly, thunking into the grass halfway to the cans.
Turtle howled, nearly doubling over. Vinny clapped slowly, grinning wide. E just shook his head, deadpan.
"Yeah, real Viking stuff," E muttered.
Drama huffed and started making excuses about "wrong tension" and "modern bows being garbage," but nobody was really listening.
Vinny tossed the bow lightly toward Samuel."Alright," he said, still chuckling. "Let's see what you got."
Samuel caught it one-handed, adjusting his grip without ceremony.He weighed the bow for a second, testing the pull with a slight tug of the string.
Simple bow. Not bad. Definitely better than whatever Drama had been blaming earlier.
He glanced once at the cans lined up across the yard, then let his gaze sweep farther—past the pool, past the patio furniture—toward the big oak tree at the very edge of the property.
Yeah. That was doable.
If he was going to shoot, he might as well show them what a modern bow — and a little practice — could really do.
Samuel raised the bow, smooth and steady.
No speeches. No theatrics.Just a breath—and a clean shot.
The arrow flew — fast, clean — slicing across the backyard and thudding deep into the thick trunk of the oak tree nearly a hundred yards away.
Drama frowned. Turtle squinted.
"Uh... you missed the cans, bro," Drama said, sounding way too relieved.
Samuel didn't answer.
He nocked a second arrow.
Drew.
Released.
The second arrow screamed downrange—and slammed dead into the shaft of the first, splitting it clean.
For a moment, the backyard froze — like someone had hit the mute button on reality.
The only sound was the faint hum of the pool filter.
Then:
"Holy—" Turtle's voice broke the silence. "Did you see that?"
Drama stepped forward like he needed to confirm it with his own eyes. "No way. No way. You Robin Hooded it!"
Vinny blinked, frozen mid-step, like his brain was still catching up.
Even E uncrossed his arms, eyebrows climbing. "That... was a trick shot."
"A real one," Turtle added, still staring at the tree. "That's not beginner stuff. That's stuntman-level precision."
Drama was already off. "You don't just do that. That's not 'weekend hobby' skill — that's battlefield form. Viking Quest would've killed for that kind of accuracy."
Vinny finally laughed — low, amazed — and shook his head.
He looked at Samuel, eyes sharper now. "Okay. Now I believe you about the singing thing. If you're willing to do that in front of people, then yeah... that video must've actually been embarrassing."
Samuel gave a dry smile, lowering the bow.
"Exactly," he said.
Vinny grinned wider, motioning toward him. "If we ever need someone like you in a movie — badass, quiet, deadly accurate — the part's yours. No audition."
Samuel didn't even blink.
"Pass."
The air shifted again.
Drama gawked like he'd just confessed to hating pizza. "Wait — what?"
Turtle blinked. "Dude. That wasn't a suggestion, that was a golden ticket."
Vinny raised an eyebrow, more amused than offended. "You sure? You'd crush it."
Samuel shrugged, unbothered.
"Not my thing."
Drama threw his hands up. "That's a stuntman origin story! Craft services, trailers, slow-motion walk-ons—people dream of having a moment like that!"
Turtle shook his head. "Man pulls off the cleanest double-shot I've ever seen and acts like he just found a parking spot."
Even E was watching him differently now, arms uncrossed, curiosity replacing the usual edge.
"You're really passing on that?" he asked. "Most people would sell their soul just to be seen."
Samuel met his eyes without flinching.
"Some people like being watched," he said. "I don't."
The words landed soft, but solid.
Vinny gave a slow nod, then clapped him lightly on the shoulder.
"In a city built on ego," he said, "you're kind of refreshing."
Samuel nodded slightly, letting it roll off him like dust.
Before anyone could start up again about acting, he tipped his head toward Vinny.
"You were talking about that movie earlier..." he said, voice easy. "Medellín. Is that the Pablo movie?"
Vinny blinked, caught off guard for a second.
Before he could answer, E jumped in, sharp.
"How do you even know that?" E asked, eyebrows raised. "That's not public yet. Only execs and people close to the project even know it's about Escobar."
Samuel shrugged again, calm.
"I like the story of Pablo Escobar," he said. "Heard you guys talking... just made an educated guess."
Turtle looked impressed. Drama scratched his head like he was still catching up. Vinny chuckled again, shaking his head.
"Smart kid," he said.
Samuel smiled faintly, hands tucked into his hoodie pockets.
He remembered how it played out on the show:Medellín burned bright, then crashed hard.Overbudget. Overhyped. Tanked at Cannes.
He wondered if they knew that.If this version was headed for the same wreck — or if there was still time to change it.
The thought lingered, heavier than expected.Not because he cared about the movie —but because he kind of liked these people.
Loud. Messy. A little too obsessed with yachts and appearances.But still trying. Still chasing something real.
Maybe, Samuel thought, if he was caught in their orbit anyway...he could help steer it. Even a little.
He exhaled slowly.
So he asked, casual but curious:
"So why Escobar?" "What makes Medellín the one you're chasing?"
Vinny turned, surprised — maybe because Samuel wasn't fawning over him like everyone else.
For a second, he looked like he might brush it off. But then he sighed and leaned against the patio rail, the California sun bouncing off the pool behind him.
"Man... I don't know. Pablo was complicated," Vinny said. "Monster. Saint. Killer. Folk hero. Depends who you ask."
He shook his head slightly, eyes distant.
"It's messed up... but it's real. Raw." "Most scripts they send me? Surfing comedies. Romcoms where I'm the 'pretty but sensitive' dude." He gave a dry chuckle. "This one? It's different. It's heavy."
Samuel nodded once, thoughtful.
"Makes sense," he said casually. "You want to be seen as real. More than the Aquaman guy."
Vinny smiled faintly, like he appreciated that Samuel got it without judgment.
"Exactly."
Vinny looked back at him, serious now.
"It's the best script I've read in years," he said. "Like... actually good."
Samuel let it hang for a beat. Then, voice calm, not mocking, just honest:
"Pablo's story's... huge, though." "Trying to fit all that into a two-hour movie? That's tough."
Vinny blinked, caught off guard.
Vinny didn't get defensive — he just looked thoughtful. Like maybe no one had ever said that before.
E showed up then, arms folded tight, catching the tail end of Samuel's comment.
He narrowed his eyes slightly, curious.
"What do you mean it wouldn't work as a movie?" E asked, voice tight but not angry — more like he wanted to understand.
Samuel stayed relaxed, casual.
"You think you know better than the people who picked this?" E added. "Ari fought hard to get that script before you guys let him go. Amanda's trying to close it now. I read it — it's amazing."
He didn't sound mad.More surprised. Trying to figure Samuel out.Like he wasn't sure if this was cocky kid talk — or if Samuel actually saw something they didn't.
Vinny stayed quiet, watching both of them carefully now.
Samuel met E's gaze without flinching.
"I'm not saying it's a bad script," Samuel said evenly. "It probably is a great one."
He paused for a beat, then added:
"But the thing is... either the script is incredible, or the shoot's going to be hell."
He shifted his weight slightly, tone easy but clear.
"It's just too much story for one movie.Pablo Escobar didn't just make a fortune — he built an empire, reshaped an entire country."
Samuel glanced out toward the pool, thinking aloud now.
"Probably make an incredible TV show, though," he said. "Give it room to breathe. Let people love him, hate him, love him again before it all falls apart.Show the police side too — the investigation, the pressure.Maybe even bring in rivals, other drug lords trying to carve him up once he starts slipping."
He let it hang in the sun-warmed air.
Vinny was still looking at him — but now the curiosity in his eyes sharpened, flickering into something closer to impressed.
Even E seemed to hesitate, arms still crossed but no longer as sure of himself.
Samuel shrugged lightly, no pressure in it.
"Two hours just isn't a lot of time to show that fall.Not in a way that sticks."
For a moment, nobody said anything.
Then Vinny exhaled slow, rubbing a hand through his hair.
"You're not wrong," he said finally, voice low.
E didn't jump to defend it either. He just stood there, frowning slightly like he was seeing the project with fresh eyes.
Vinny turned back to Samuel, more serious now.
"You gotta read the script," he said. "You're not just guessing. You get it."
He looked over at E, then back at Samuel.
"We'll talk to Ari tonight.But you — you should read it too."
There was no challenge in it.Just a decision.
Samuel didn't argue.
He nodded once, feeling the shift settle between them.
Not just between him and them — but between them and the thing they thought they had already figured out.
Vinny gave a small, final nod, almost smiling to himself.
And with that, he turned toward the house, gears still grinding behind his easy walk.
Samuel stayed a beat longer, the late sun pressing warm against his shoulders.
E lingered for another beat, his face unreadable. Then he followed, slow and silent.
Samuel stayed behind.
The sound of the pool filter hummed in the background, a breeze tugged lightly at his sleeves, and somewhere inside, someone turned the music up again.
He stared out across the water, letting the quiet hold him for just a second longer.
He hadn't meant to shake anything up. But honesty didn't always ask for permission. It just... landed where it landed.
And now?
Now there was a party waiting. Crowds. Lights. Strangers who'd probably ask what he did, why he was there, maybe even try to shove him into the spotlight. The kind of attention he usually dodged without thinking.
He exhaled slowly, rolled his shoulders back, and smirked faintly.
You wanted out of your comfort zone? Here it is.
Turtle, Drama, Vinny — not bad company for crashing into a world you barely understood.
Maybe he wouldn't even have to sing tonight.
Just another face in the crowd.
For once, that sounded just right.
The noise, the laughter, the low thrum of Hollywood madness waiting inside.
Tonight, he'd step into it.
Even if it wasn't perfect. Even if it felt strange.
At least he was here.
And for the first time in a long time, he was ready to see what happened next.