**Chapter 75: No Spark**

On the chilly spring street, Jessica sat wrapped in a blue Winnie the Pooh blanket under a sunlit corner, leaning against a folding chair while reading a script. A cup of Starbucks coffee sat on a stack of bricks beside her, steaming in the sunlight.

Luca stepped out from the shadows into the sunlight, shivering slightly. So warm! 

"Hey, Jessica!" 

He greeted her softly.

Not far away, Jessica's bodyguard sat on a large concrete pipe, absentmindedly stabbing at an anthill with a knife. When he saw someone approaching, he looked up cautiously, his gaze shifting to Jessica.

Jessica's eyelashes fluttered slightly. Her deep brown eyes moved from the script to Luca's face. Seeing it was him, she tilted her chin up just a bit, the corners of her lips lifting into a sweet yet polite smile.

"Hey, Luca!" 

After the brief greeting, she lowered her lashes and lips again, her gaze returning to the script, as if the pages in her hands were more captivating than the handsome guy standing in front of her.

Luca felt a moment of awkwardness. "Jessica, are you reading your script?"

"Mhm," she replied without looking up.

Luca felt a little down. Since becoming such a good-looking guy, this was the first time someone had completely ignored him.

Glancing toward the director's area in the distance, he braced himself and asked, 

"Jessica, do you need help running lines?"

"No, thanks!" Jessica responded lazily.

"Alright!" Luca shrugged and turned to leave.

Jessica was 22 this year. Two years ago, she was nominated for a Golden Globe for Best Actress in a Drama Series for her role in *Post-Apocalyptic Black Angel*. Last year, she starred in *The Lover's Dictionary*, a film with some risqué scenes, but it didn't perform well at the box office.

In terms of fame, she was roughly A-list, but realistically only a B-list actress, not much higher than Luca, a supermodel.

There was no need to keep flattering someone who's not interested.

"Hey, Mr. Big, can you breakdance?" 

Not far from Jessica, a group of backup dancers was messing around on an empty patch of ground. Seeing Luca pass by, they all stopped and gave him challenging looks, their body language full of provocation.

Luca was used to it.

In this crew, over 80% of the people were people of color, and he was the only white guy among the main characters. Facing discrimination and provocation was a regular thing.

"Sorry, I can't." He waved them off and continued walking.

"Haha, how can you pick up Britney if you don't know how to breakdance?" 

One of the dancers, Benny, surrounded Luca with six other black guys. Benny was the crew's breakdance coach and one of the backup dancers. He was famous in the local black community.

"Come on, let's battle!" Benny waved, and the guys immediately started busting out moves like floor spins, Thomas flares, air freezes, and windmills.

These moves were from a style called Breaking, also known as breakdancing.

The moves were fast, intense, and looked incredibly cool.

Benny and the others circled Luca, spinning and jumping with all sorts of daring moves. The crowd cheered, and even Jessica looked up from her script and gave a light round of applause.

"How about it, Mr. Big? Can you do that?" Benny asked provocatively.

Luca shook his head and pointed to his temple. "I rely on IQ and EQ to pick up girls, not spinning on the floor. Got it?"

"EQ?" 

The group of black dancers paused for a moment.

Luca smirked, pushing past two of them and walking away.

"F***, white trash!" 

"Arrogant white boy." 

"Can't even breakdance. What a loser."

The six black dancers spat curses at his back.

Hearing all the racial slurs, Luca felt nothing. But after walking a few steps, he realized there were a lot of people around, and not responding might make him look weak.

"You guys are using racist language to insult me. I could take this to the Human Rights Court."

"Take us to court?" 

The group paused, then burst out laughing, and the crowd joined in.

Luca glanced at them, realizing they all looked like they'd just gotten out of prison. Clearly, they didn't care about the law.

He glanced at the ground and suddenly used his foot to flick up an empty drink bottle. The bottle flew into the air, and he quickly dropped to the ground, doing an inverted scissor kick. His foot lightly tapped the bottle, sending it soaring into a trash can six meters away.

"Can any of you do that?" he asked casually, dusting off his hands.

The black dancers stood there, stunned, looking back and forth between him and the trash can.

"Idiots," Luca sneered, turning to leave.

"Did he just insult us?" 

"I didn't catch it!" 

"He probably made up some new word. What a sneaky white boy."

The dancers grumbled, frustrated but helpless.

Not far away, Jessica smirked, then lowered her head to continue reading her script.

"All departments, get ready. Three minutes until we resume filming." 

Billy shouted through a megaphone. The crew sprang into action, actors got into position, and the lighting and sound teams took their places.

Luca sat down behind the monitor. They were only shooting a dialogue scene between two people this time, so there wasn't much to do.

"Scene 6, Take 1, Second Shot. Action!"

Filming started. Michael, holding a Nintendo console, played his game while glancing at the monitor. He chewed gum absentmindedly, looking totally distracted.

When the camera panned to him, he glanced at the monitor, stared for three seconds, then motioned to the crew to pause.

Haney grabbed the megaphone and called for a stop, walking over to ask, 

"What's up?"

Michael frowned, still playing his game, and said casually, "Hmm, your dance is missing something."

"Missing what?" Haney asked, confused.

Michael looked at the stage, frowning as he thought for a moment. "I don't know. It's just missing something."

He turned back to his game, walking away. After taking two steps, he turned back and commanded, 

"Fix it!"

"Got it!"

Billy stared at the monitor for a while, nodded in satisfaction, and replaced his previous body language with the game console, which better suited his style.

However, on camera, Roka and Jessica didn't exchange a single glance.

Whenever Jessica looked at Roka, he was either looking at his game console or the stage. And when Roka looked at Jessica, his expression was completely flat.

The performance was passable but stiff.

"CUT!"

Billy called for a pause, waved, and had the two actors come over.

"Is there a problem, Billy?" Roka asked as he approached.

Jessica also cast a puzzled glance his way.

"Take a look for yourselves," Billy said, pointing at the monitor.

Roka and Jessica rewatched the footage.

"Notice anything wrong?" Billy asked, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair.

Roka shook his head. "Nothing seems off."

Jessica shook her head slightly as well, unable to see the issue.

Billy stroked his chin, studying the two of them.

One was strong and handsome, the other hot and sexy.

Roka was supermodel Mr. Big, a presence that could rock Britney Spears' luxury tour bus.

Jessica was one of the most beautiful and sexy actresses in Hollywood.

They were easily two of the top faces in the global entertainment industry.

When he first saw this fiery duo, he was worried they might stir up some drama on set, possibly putting the Black male lead in an awkward position.

But unexpectedly, there was zero chemistry between them while filming.

Billy couldn't figure it out. How could two people like them not have any sparks?

Scratching his messy hair, Billy said, "The problem is your performance feels stiff. Especially you, Roka. Your character is not only greedy for Honey's dance talent, but for her as a person too. Your gaze should be more intense, to show your desire. It highlights both your greed and Honey's allure. If your eyes remain cold and distant, the audience won't see your greed, and they won't feel a sense of danger for Honey. Do you get it?"

Roka rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Billy, are you suggesting that Michael is really into Honey, but Honey doesn't like him and instead prefers a Black guy who cuts hair? The more Michael likes her, the more he can't have her, while the Black barber gets her easily, which would make Black viewers feel pretty satisfied?"

Billy was stunned. Did I really think that? It sounded kind of logical, but wouldn't that be pandering to the Black audience too much? Could that get him in trouble?

After pondering for a moment, Billy decisively chose box office success over the risk of backlash.

"Yes, Roka, you've got it. Michael is the villain. He loses something valuable that the protagonist gains, and that's the payoff. Emmm, it's just the villain's rightful comeuppance—it has nothing to do with race. Roka, let's not bring up race on set, okay?"

"OK!" Roka glanced at him. *You're a sneaky dog. I'm sure you're gonna get in trouble for this.*

Billy blushed, waved his hand, and said, "Get ready to shoot again!"

"Alright!" Roka glanced at Jessica, who smirked, and the two returned to their positions.

"Honey, Scene 6, Take 3, ACTION!"

(End of this chapter)