I picked up the glass of coconut water from the non-alcoholic section and took a sip, my eyes scanning the room, hoping to spot Leo somewhere in the crowd—but no luck.
"Are you sure you weren't imagining things?" Evan asked skeptically. "Because let's face it, people like DiCaprio probably treat people our age like kids. And why would someone intentionally invite kids to their party?"
I gave Evan a bored look. "Have you perhaps forgotten who I am? It might be mundane for you to talk to me, but not for others. Don't forget, I'm a producer too—and a successful one at that. I've lost count of the number of parties I've declined over the years where people just want to cozy up to me. I only accepted this one because I wanted to try it out once. And it's pretty safe to go with a man like Leo, who doesn't cause any major scandals."
At least not for a decade, when he'd become infamous for not dating anyone over 25.
Evan still didn't look convinced. "Whatever you say, man. I'm going over there to try some of the snacks. If you get any info about the party, just give me a call."
With that, the asshole left me alone at the party. I hated that feeling—being left alone in a place where you don't know most people, but they seem to know you.
"Hey man!" A guy I recognized greeted me politely. "I love everything you do. Especially loved [Little Miss Sunshine]."
"Thank you, Ryan," I greeted the Canadian actor, shaking his hand. "You were so good in [Half Nelson]."
Ryan Gosling had received a Best Actor nomination this year for his work in the indie film [Half Nelson]. For him to even get nominated when the film didn't do well at the box office just showed how good he was in the role.
"Thank you," he said.
Before we could continue the conversation, a girl stepped into my personal space and addressed me directly, acting like Ryan wasn't even there.
"Hey! Troy!"
I checked her out—solid 8/10. I didn't recognize her, but she was probably someone's arm candy for the night, judging by her ample breast size and the plunging neckline that accentuated her cleavage more than necessary. Her black dress had a slit running down from her upper thigh, showing off a smooth leg. She didn't look that old—probably 18 to 20.
"Hey," I replied politely. "Have we met before?"
"I wish," she said, swooning a little. "I'm Hayden. I'm such a huge fan of yours. When I saw you for the first time as a kid, I knew immediately that I'd marry you. Daddy agreed you were the only one right for me. And today, my wish seems to have come true."
The fuck? When did I agree to marry her? I revised my assessment—she wasn't arm candy. She was a spoiled brat whose daddy had too much money and not enough parenting sense.
"Why don't you get a photo with him, honey?" a man I hadn't noticed until now jumped into our conversation.
"Great idea!" she beamed at me before grabbing my arm tightly.
Before I could say no, the man whipped out a BlackBerry and snapped a photo of us together. I was pretty sure I wasn't smiling in it.
As soon as the man was done, the girl called out, "Thanks, Daddy! Now shoo! Troy and I were talking."
I resisted the urge to punch the girl in the face. I don't condone violence against women, but some girls were just begging for it.
"So, Troy," she batted her eyelashes at me, "how many kids do you want?"
Oh my fucking God. When I learned martial arts, I'd promised my trainer I wouldn't ever use it on a defenseless person, but today, I was seriously considering breaking that promise.
But before I could…
"Troy, darling," Ryan Gosling called out in an overly effeminate voice. "You promised me you'd show me a good time tonight." Then he stepped closer and draped his arm around my shoulders.
My eyes widened as realization hit me.
"Who's the girl? Will she be joining us?" Ryan continued his charade, turning to Hayden. "Let me tell you, honey, I only do anal. So brace yourself for the night."
If it had been any other situation, I would've been laughing my ass off, but I held it in—couldn't ruin the game.
"I'm sure she'll manage," I added. "She looks very flexible. What do you say? Heather, was it? Ryan's a real beast in bed. He'd give you exactly what you want. You'd love him."
Hayden, meanwhile, was imitating a fish, gaping between Ryan and me as if her whole reality had just imploded.
"You don't have a problem being tied down, do you?" I asked, taking it a notch high. "Or being suspended from the ceiling? See, the last girl we had wasn't good at it. Remember, Ryan?"
Ryan shook his head solemnly. "Poor Beth broke her hip. Last I heard, she had to get it replaced."
"On second thought…" Hayden immediately let go of my arm and stepped back. "I think we're moving too fast. We've just met, after all. Maybe next time?"
"Awww," I said with mock disappointment. "And I thought we were gonna have so much fun tonight."
"Yeah… bye." With that, she turned and practically ran in the opposite direction.
As soon as the coast was clear, Ryan and I burst out laughing in unison.
"Oh man," I said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I love you. You're my real brother."
"Glad to be of service," he said with a mock bow. "I hate fans like that too. And I know exactly what kills off their perfect image of me fast."
"I'll keep it in mind for similar future interactions," I grinned, then shifted gears. "So what are you up to tonight after this?"
"Nothing much. I'll just go home, sleep, and cry for my loss tonight," he said in a deadpan voice.
I laughed at his delivery before adding, "I'll probably have to do the same thing, I guess."
Leo was nowhere to be seen, so that seemed to be the case.
Just then, someone new came over—someone I'd worked with very closely for quite a while.
"Hey!" Scarlett Johansson came over and hugged me. "It's so great to see you here." Then she turned to Ryan. "And you too, Ryan." She hugged him as well.
"You two know each other?" I asked curiously.
"Yeah," Ryan nodded. "We've met a few times at events like these."
Scarlett turned back to me. "I was looking for you for so long but couldn't find you anywhere. Leo told me to bring you along to the party. He left a little early with some of his other friends."
"Oh, you're going to a party?" Ryan asked. "Don't let me spoil your fun, then." He took a step back.
I turned to Scarlett and silently asked if it was okay to bring Ryan along. She shrugged, as if to say it was up to me.
"Ryan!" I called out. "Wanna join us at the party?"
He seemed like the kind of guy who wanted the invite but didn't want to ask for it himself. Not that he wasn't cool—just kind of surprising that someone as good-looking and funny as him didn't already have an invitation to another party.
"Are you sure about that?" he asked.
"Yeah," I nodded. "You're cool. Don't forget you just helped stop me from committing public acts of violence."
He cracked a grin before nodding. "Alright then."
I turned back to Scarlett. "How do you know, Leo?"
She shrugged. "I know a lot of people. Come on now, we're getting late." Then she grabbed my arm and led me toward the exit, Ryan following close behind.
On the way, I called Evan.
"We're going to the party. Where are you?" I asked as we reached the door, motioning for my two companions to wait.
"You go without me," Evan said on the other end. "You won't believe it, Troy—I just found the hottest girl. We got talking, and we're totally vibing, you know? I'mma ask her back to my hotel room."
"Fine, don't come," I said teasingly. "Just don't do anything I wouldn't."
I hung up and turned to my two companions for the night.
"So, where is this party?" I asked Scarlett.
"It's at a mansion in Hollywood Hills," she said eagerly. "Pretty secluded, so no one will complain about the noise."
"Alright then, let me call my security team. They'll drive us there." I pulled out my phone.
"No need," Scarlett said, just as a Cadillac Escalade pulled up to our location. A valet stepped out and handed her the keys. He was visibly starstruck seeing the three of us together—but thankfully didn't linger after I handed him a few $100 bills.
"Come on," Scarlett insisted. "I don't like driving that much. So, which one of you wants to drive? I call shotgun."
I turned to Ryan, who motioned for me to do it. I shrugged and grabbed the keys from her.
"I'll just give my security team a quick call," I said. "What's the address again?"
As she read it out, I quickly excused myself for a minute to call Paolo, my head of security. Ever since I became a billionaire, my parents had constantly reminded me to take my security seriously, and I had no intention to not follow through.
"Alright, let's go. My team will follow us from a distance." I got into the driver's seat. Scarlett sat up front, while Ryan took the seat behind me.
As I started the car, I couldn't help but notice that Ryan seemed amused by something.
"Someone's in a good mood, huh, Ryan? Especially when you're going to this party solo without your girlfriend."
Scarlett turned to glance back at him, but he just shrugged. "I haven't been to a Hollywood party in a while. I'm just excited. As for Rachel—she and I are taking a break at the moment. Otherwise, I wouldn't have agreed to come with you guys."
"Fair enough," I said, pulling out of the lot. It was late enough that the roads were practically empty. I did notice a few lingering paparazzi snapping photos of the car as we exited, but I didn't mind. The windows were tinted enough that they wouldn't know who was inside.
"Can you put the location into the navigation?" I asked Scarlett. "I don't know the way."
"Don't worry about it, I'll guide you," she assured me. "Take a left at the next turn."
I followed her directions for a while before I noticed something. "You're out of petrol."
"Oh, you mean gasoline?" Scarlett asked. "Forget it. I'll get someone to fill it up tomorrow."
I shook my head. "It's dangerously low. We need to fill it up before heading to the party."
"Alright, I know a place nearby where we can get it filled. Take the next right."
As I drove, I realized we were looping back to where we had passed a few minutes earlier. Thankfully, there was a gas station there. How did I miss it the first time?
Now, here was a little conundrum: I had no idea how to pump gas. I never had to. I rarely drove long distances, and even when I did, someone always made sure the tank was full beforehand. I felt like I should remember it from my past life, but even if I did, I definitely wasn't familiar with how American gas pumps worked. So, I turned to the Canadian sitting behind me.
"Can you take care of it, Ryan?"
Both Scarlett and Ryan gave me confused looks.
"I've never filled gas here in the States," I admitted.
"I would," Ryan said slowly, "but I don't have my wallet on me. I gave it to my mom to keep in her purse—it was bulky and didn't go well with my suit. And forgot to get it back."
Scarlett laughed. "Don't worry about it." Then she reached around the car, searching for her purse. "Fuck! I think I left my purse at the Governor's Ball."
Immediately, I pulled out my wallet and fished out my credit card. "Don't worry about it. I've got mine right here. Come teach me your ways, master," I joked.
Ryan and I got out of the car, leaving Scarlett inside. He explained how to attach the pump to the car—something I already kinda knew—but I was still confused about the payment. Was it made directly at the pump like a vending machine or inside at the counter?
Just then, as we walked toward the store, a guy in his twenties came jogging up to us.
"Oh my God!" he gushed. "Troy Armitage and Ryan Gosling! Can I please have a hug? Just one?"
I gave a small shrug and smiled before obliging. It was always a bit awkward hugging grown men in public, but hey, that was my life now. Ryan followed suit.
"Wow. I can't believe this is happening," the guy said, still buzzing with excitement.
Ryan took the lead, "We're in a bit of a hurry, so if you don't mind…"
"Sure, of course," the guy said, backing away and heading toward his car.
As we entered the convenience store, Ryan pointed out, "We make the payment here. Just remember the pump number."
I handed my card to the cashier, who surprisingly didn't recognize either of us. Honestly, a small blessing.
He handed the card back, and I reached into my pocket to return it to my wallet—but then paused.
I couldn't feel the wallet.
"What's the matter?" Ryan asked, noticing my change in expression.
"I think I dropped my wallet somewhere," I said, patting all my pockets again.
"Maybe it's in the car?" Ryan offered. "Come on, let's check."
We rushed back and searched everywhere—the seats, the floor, the glove box, even under the mats. Nothing.
"Don't worry," I said, trying to keep calm. "It didn't have that much cash. It's okay."
"It was that bastard!" Ryan suddenly snapped. "He stole your wallet when he came in for a hug!"
"That guy?" Scarlett pointed toward the car parked across from us.
There, in the driver's seat, was the same fan—grinning as he waved at us. Then, like the asshole he was, he pulled out of the station and drove off.
"I'll kill that motherfucker!" Ryan growled, already diving into the driver's seat.
"Let it go, Ryan! It didn't have much in it!" I yelled, but it was too late.
I didn't even have the chance to get in before Ryan slammed the gas pedal and peeled out of the station, tires screeching.
In his haste, Ryan had forgotten to remove the fuel nozzle from the car. As he sped off, the fuel hose stretched taut—then tore free from the pump.
"Ryan!" I shouted in panic, realizing what had just happened. But it was already too late.
The hose ripped away with a loud snap, followed by a sudden burst of sparks and a blast. I instinctively stumbled backward, heart hammering, expecting a full-on explosion. It thankfully didn't happen, but there was fire. A lot of fire.
Thankfully, Ryan slammed the brakes as soon as he heard the bang, probably realizing what he'd done.
"Oh my fucking God," I groaned, running both hands through my hair. "Why the fuck is this happening?"
Ryan and Scarlett were back by my side in moments—turns out they hadn't actually left the station yet.
"Are you okay, Troy?" Scarlett asked, visibly shaken.
"Am I okay!?" I snapped, then turned furiously toward Ryan. "What the fuck were you thinking pulling a stunt like that?"
Before Ryan could answer, a police car rolled up to the gas station. One officer got out, his partner flanking him, both already sizing up the scene.
"What's going on here, folks?" the officer asked, hand resting on his belt.
The cashier—who clearly still didn't recognize us—stormed out of the convenience store and pointed straight at me. "It was him! He's the one who caused the explosion. I've got it all on the security cameras. He told that guy to drive away with the nozzle still attached while he stood here and watched! Arrest them both! And the girl too—they're all in on it!"
The cops exchanged a glance, then nodded grimly. The first officer pulled my hands behind my back and cuffed me, while the second did the same to Ryan. I didn't resist—I'd seen enough cop shows to know better.
And just when I thought the night couldn't possibly get any worse, the pickpocket from earlier drove back into the station—holding his phone up and recording with a big, shit-eating grin on his face.
As he filmed us getting cuffed, rage surged through me.
"It was him!" I shouted, pointing at the grinning idiot. "He stole my wallet! Arrest him! Not us!"
The guy just laughed and kept filming. "Oh, this is gold. This clip is gonna earn me thousands. You two? You're done."
"I'll fucking kill you, you asshole!" Ryan thrashed against the cuffs. "When I'm free, I'll make sure you die slow and painful."
The man said something else, but I couldn't even process it anymore. I closed my eyes in complete defeat.
This was it. The story was going to be everywhere by morning—video of Ryan Gosling and me getting arrested at a gas station after some kind of half-assed explosion. There would be endless rumors. What were the three of us doing together? Were we high? Drunk? Planning a heist?
It didn't matter what the truth was. The headlines would write themselves.
And just when I had given up all hope of getting out of this scot-free, I heard a commotion from the parking lot.
A camera crew sprinted toward us, lights already on, lenses pointed right at my face. I blinked, confused—until I saw the man leading the pack.
Ashton Kutcher.
Smiling like a devil and holding a mic, he came to a stop a few feet from me, pointing dramatically.
"Troy Armitage…" he said, drawing it out for full dramatic effect, "you just got Punk'd!"
__________________
AN: I know this is not what you expected. Even I didn't expect this when I started writing this, but then someone sent me this idea over DMs, and I couldn't get it out of my head. Initially I wanted DiCaprio to pull a prank at the party, but he's notorious for not doing TV appearances, so I settled for Scarlett and Ryan.
Also, if you wanna see how the prank was pulled off in real life, check out Kim Kardashian's Punk'd episode on YouTube.