Page 44 of Anxious Hearts

She slapped him hard across the face as soon as he opened the door. Finn stumbled backwards and Ashley followed him into his apartment.

‘You fucking arsehole!’ she screamed.

Finn held his stinging cheek with one hand and raised his other as a defence between them. ‘What the hell?’ he cried.

‘You trashed my apartment, you fucking junkie.’

Finn paused. Thought for a second. Then he laughed.

Ashley’s jaw dropped. She stared, wide-eyed. ‘You think this is funny?’

Finn had forgotten all about ransacking her apartment yesterday.

But that was the hilarious part. How do you empty the entire contents of someone’s home onto their floor and then forget you’d ever done it?

So he couldn’t help chuckling, but he held his hands up apologetically.

‘Mea culpa. I’m so sorry. I meant to come back and clean it up but totally forgot. ’

‘You totally forgot? Are you high now?’

Of course he was high. The only other option was to be low and it was only six o’clock at night. He’d come off a long day of successful shooting and was planning on hitting the town, with or without Ashley. ‘Not high. Just ready to party.’

Ashley’s eyes teared up. ‘My God, Finn. You’ve turned into a monster.’

Finn laughed. ‘Better believe it, baby!’

Ashley made a kind of choking sound. ‘Give me my key.’

‘Come on, Ash. Don’t be like that.’

She held out her hand. The muscles in her jaw twitched and she spoke from between clenched teeth. ‘Give me my fucking key.’

Finn retrieved it from his key bowl and placed it in her hand.

‘I don’t ever want to see you again. If you come near me, I’ll tell the magazines everything.’

Finn wasn’t going to be intimidated by that bluff. ‘Including how you’re a coke and benzo dealer?’

Ashley shook her head. ‘I’m sorry. I’m truly sorry. You need help, Finn. Get it before it’s too late.’

She was dressed in her signature black. Pants that fit snugly around her buttocks but flowed loosely down her legs.

A delicate silk shirt unbuttoned enough to reveal the prize of what lay beneath.

When she turned and walked out of his apartment, she was so hot she could set the place on fire. Finn was sorry to see her go.

But she was right about one thing. He needed help.

The stash he bought from Cam would soon run out and he needed a new supplier.

He wasn’t worried, though. He’d just done two lines so he knew he could bend the world to his will.

He was a famous TV star who could get into any club in the city with any girl he liked on his arm.

How hard could it be to find someone to supply a little coke?

***

Finn’s agent, Esme, had a love of eating in hotel dining rooms. Finn didn’t understand why she would want to eat somewhere she wasn’t staying but he’d sat at just about every identically white linen–covered table in the city to humour her.

Today, it was breakfast. A buffet – she loved that shit as well.

Esme went for the cooked breakfast while Finn settled for a croissant and orange juice.

He’d decided not to do a line before meeting with her; Esme was the most astute and observant person he knew and if she didn’t immediately recognise he was high, she’d circle round him like a sniffer dog until she confirmed the scent.

They exchanged a little small talk, mainly so Esme could enjoy her eggs and sausages, but when she moved on to her breakfast coffee, the tone quickly changed. She sat back in her chair and stared at him, not saying a word.

‘What?’ Finn asked, suddenly nervous. The longer she watched him, the sweatier his palms grew. ‘What?’ he said again, forcing a laugh to hide his discomfort.

Esme narrowed her eyes. ‘I’ve got good news and I’ve got get-your-shit-together news. Which one do you want to hear first?’

Finn’s mind went into overdrive trying to predict which news fell into these two categories.

The good news had to be about his audition with Jessica Meadows.

But what about the get-your-shit-together news?

Could that mean lift his game for a callback, or was something else going on?

The coke had helped to quell the anxiety he felt after Monica had told him he seemed a little off, but he couldn’t escape it entirely.

Especially not between hits. His right knee started to shake.

‘Give me the good news,’ he said.

Esme smiled. ‘You got a callback.’

The weight of dread drained out through his feet in a torrent so powerful, it brought immense physical relief.

His leg stopped shaking. His body temperature began to right itself and the thorn of an undefined future catastrophe was plucked from his mind.

He was so relieved and excited, he could barely speak. ‘That’s so good,’ he whispered.

‘It’s fucking amazing,’ Esme said. ‘You’re almost there, Finley. They loved you in the audition. Thought you had great chemistry with J-Med.’ She stopped talking.

‘But,’ Finn said.

Esme rested her elbows on the table. ‘But the feedback from the set of Henderson Springs isn’t so glowing.’

Finn couldn’t speak. He sucked in a deep breath through his nostrils. Exhaled. Tried to stay calm. Tried not to walk to the edge.

‘The producers told me you’ve been off your game for the past month. Showing up late, forgetting your lines. You’ve lost weight and the bags under your eyes are bigger than mine. What’s going on?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Don’t bullshit me.’

‘I’m not.’

‘Drugs or alcohol?’

‘Neither.’

‘Why has Ashley Quinn deleted all her Instagram posts of the two of you?’

‘What? Already?’ This was bad. Complete tabloid fodder.

‘That’s not an answer.’

‘We broke up last night.’

‘No shit. Why’d you break up?’

‘Different lives. Different expectations. Nothing more than that.’

‘Amicable, then?’ Esme said.

‘Yes.’

‘Bullshit. You don’t delete every picture of your ex-boyfriend within hours of breaking up when it’s amicable.’

Esme was closing in on the truth. Finn had to throw her off the scent. ‘I cheated on her.’

Esme shook her head in disbelief. ‘Will she talk?’

Finn wanted to wince at her coldness but could hardly justify it, given his own duplicitous behaviour. ‘Ashley won’t.’

‘And the other girl?’

‘Absolutely not.’

‘How can you be so sure?’

Finn had to think fast. ‘Because she doesn’t know who I am. It was at a nightclub. Really late. Really dark. Really drunk.’

Esme narrowed her eyes. ‘You don’t know who she is, either.’

‘No.’

‘So I can’t possibly make sure she stays quiet.’

‘No.’

Esme took a sip of her coffee and placed the cup back on its saucer.

Slow, deliberate movements. ‘I’ve been your agent for six years and not once in all that time have you done something so reckless.

So out of character. So I’m going to ask you again, and this time I want you to tell me the truth. Drugs or alcohol?’

Finn wilted under her gaze as he tried to calculate his best play.

He trusted Esme completely; she had given him a shot straight out of acting school, helped him land his breakthrough soap role and consistently advocated for him with casting agents and producers.

But if she knew what he was doing now, would that all end?

But if he didn’t ask for her help, would it all end anyway?

‘I had a falling out with Kelly.’

Esme screwed her face into an expression one part shock, three parts horror. ‘That’s impossible.’

‘That’s what I always thought.’

Esme reached across the table and held his hand. ‘Oh, darling, no wonder you’re acting like an arsehole and look like a steaming pile of horse shit. That girl is your bedrock.’

Finn nodded. Whispered: ‘Yes, she is, Esme. Yes, she is.’

‘Well, you can’t go on like this. You have to make up with her. What was the fight about?’

‘My weakness,’ Finn whispered.

‘What?’ Esme said impatiently.

‘I was a burden. Too much of a burden.’

‘Is this your mental stuff?’

‘Yeah. My mental stuff.’

Esme sat back in her chair and nodded. ‘You need to get help, Finn.’

‘Yeah.’

‘But you’re not going to, are you?’

He didn’t respond.

Esme stood up. ‘Well, if you won’t, I certainly will. I didn’t invest the last six years in you to watch you throw it all away now. This is your time, Finn, and if you won’t fight for it, I sure as hell will.’