The second commercial didn't involve chocolate—well, not the way Nate expected. This time, Simon Greene's call led to a cereal ad. Chocolate-flavored cereal. With a jingle. And a tiny cartoon monkey named "Crispy."
Nate was both thrilled and mildly concerned. "So, wait... I'm supposed to high-five a monkey?" he asked Simon on set.
"Pretend to," Simon chuckled. "The animators will add him later."
Nate narrowed his eyes. "Will he look cool?"
"He'll have sunglasses."
"...Alright, I'm in."
The filming was smoother than the last time. He'd learned a thing or two about taking cues and finding his light. More importantly, he didn't eat a dozen spoonfuls of cereal like he had with the chocolate during the Cadbury shoot. One kid even puked last time. Nate had taken notes.
The commercial wrapped up in a day, and Simon gave him a wink on his way out.
"You've got a knack for this, Nate," the director said, ruffling his hair. "When you're a bit older, I might just steal you for a short film. Ever think about being a real actor?"
Nate beamed. "All the time."
As they drove back home, his mum looked at him in the rearview mirror. "You know you're very good at being charming."
"I just like being on set," Nate said, already dreaming of his future Oscar acceptance speech.
That night, after dinner (fish fingers and mash—his request), Richard sat down at the kitchen table with a stack of paperwork and an old brown folder.
"Alright, champ," he said, motioning for Nate to join him. "Time to talk about your money."
Nate perked up. "My Cadbury money?"
"That, and your cereal monkey money."
Nate giggled. "I want that on a shirt."
Richard smiled, flipping through some documents. "So, remember we said we'd save most of it for you?"
Nate nodded.
"Well," Richard continued, "your mum and I were thinking we'd open a Junior Stocks and Shares ISA for you. I'll manage it until you're older. But we can decide together where it goes."
Nate's eyes widened. "Really? Like real stocks?"
"Real stocks," Richard said. "But slow and steady. It's not a game."
That's when it hit Nate.
"Oh! Wait—" He dashed off to the living room, digging under the coffee table until he found the copy of The Times from the other week. It was slightly crumpled and smelled like old toast.
"Here!" he shouted, slapping it on the table. "BP! Look, their stock price is going up! It was £1.48 and now it's £1.62!"
Richard blinked. "You kept the paper?"
"I'm observant," Nate said proudly. "Also, I spilled juice on it and felt guilty, so I hid it."
His dad laughed. "Well, that's honest."
"Can we buy BP stock? Please? Just a little?"
Richard rubbed his chin. "Hmm. It's not a bad idea. They've bounced back well. Though, you do know stocks aren't magic money, right? You can lose money too."
"I know," Nate said solemnly. "I watched a documentary once where a man cried about his crypto."
"...What's crypto?"
"Nothing! Nothing, sorry."
After a bit more back and forth (and a lesson on dividends that Nate pretended to not understand), Richard agreed to use a small portion of the ad money to buy a few shares in BP. Nate bounced in his chair like a wind-up toy.
He was an investor now.
The second commercial hadn't aired yet, but the Cadbury one still hadn't died down. Kids kept asking if he had a secret stash of chocolate, if the girl in the ad was his girlfriend, and if he knew the Cadbury bunny (he didn't, obviously—she was animated).
Even Jack, his best mate, had started acting funny.
"You think you're all cool now 'cause you're in a cereal ad too?" Jack grumbled during lunch, poking at his beans on toast.
"I didn't even tell anyone about the cereal!" Nate protested.
"Well, Max's mum said she saw you getting filmed in town."
Nate shrugged. "I'm not doing it to be cool. I just... I dunno. I like acting."
Jack didn't respond, but a moment later, he offered Nate his last crisp, which in their friendship was practically a peace treaty.
Still, it bugged Nate. He hadn't meant to make anyone jealous. He just didn't want to be ordinary—not in this second life. He had goals now. Real ones.
Like not dying from a bad rope harness.
That night, he stared at his ceiling while Rusty lay across his feet like a warm, snoring footrest. He had stocks. He had two commercials. He even had a little local fame.
But what next?
He wanted to do more, but the school play auditions were coming up again—and the thought of playing a minor character didn't sound fun anymore.
He sat up in bed.
No.
Singing classes.
He remembered the jingle from the cereal ad. The producers had brought in a kid to sing it, but Nate had listened, quietly humming the notes under his breath. He wasn't a prodigy, but he could stay on key.
Plus, good actors could sing. Along with his stash of future songs he could really play into the role of a singer.
He needed to ask.
It was a Saturday, late morning. Claire was folding laundry on the couch while Richard read the paper with one sock on and one sock missing, muttering something about "where the devil it went."
Nate walked in, cleared his throat dramatically, and said, "Mum. Dad. I would like to submit a financial proposal."
Claire squinted. "Is this about sweets?"
"No!" he said, then softened. "Okay, maybe a little. But mostly—it's about singing classes."
Richard lowered his paper. "Singing classes?"
"Instead of doing the next school play. I want to learn. Like, properly. Not just shouty school singing."
Eleanor smiled. "You want lessons?"
"Yes. Real ones. Like, from someone who knows what they're doing. And I thought… maybe I could use a little bit of the money in the savings? Not all of it, promise! Just a bit. I'll treat it like an investment!"
Richard raised a brow. "An investment in your voice?"
Nate nodded earnestly. "Exactly!"
"Hmm," Richard said. "Well, singing is hard, you sure you want to sign up ."
"But it might get me famous," Nate said with a grin.
They both laughed. Claire shook her head fondly. "He's serious."
"I can look into weekend classes," Richard said, finally. "But only if your schoolwork doesn't suffer."
"Deal!" Nate cheered, throwing his arms in the air. "And I'll clean Rusty's bowl for a week!"
"You were supposed to do that anyway," Claire muttered.
Still, Nate was buzzing with excitement. He hadn't just made money—he was using it. For something he cared about. Something he wanted to do for himself.
It wasn't just about fame anymore.
Well... maybe a little or a lot.