Page 112 of Best Supporting Actor
It was a fifty-minute drive to the hotel where the party was happening—longer if the traffic was bad—and Tag found himself wishing there was some sort of privacy screen they could put up because he really wanted to suck Jay off. His breeches had a very convenient little flap that you could unbutton and uncover everything, and Tag’s mouth was watering just looking at it. It had been a long three weeks, and those historical outfits really got him hot.
“We should have hired a limousine,” he said absently, and Jay looked at him like he had a screw loose.
“A limousine?”
Tag cleared his throat. “Doesn’t matter. So—who else will we see there tonight? Everyone fromLeeches, I assume.”
“Yup—we all tend to come to this party given it usually happens shortly after we start filming. And at least some of your lot should be there.” He smiled. “You must be looking forward to seeing them again?”
“Yeah, I am,” Tag said, grinning nervously.
Tag hadn’t seen theBow Streetcast or crew since filming the pilot, but shortly after the pilot was shown, it was announced that the show had been picked up for a full season. Aaron’s writing team was working hard on the scripts—including a much bigger and more significant role for Tag’s character, Bishop—and filming was due to start in the new year. In the meantime, he was touringLet Us Go Backwith Rafe playing Sassoon. Thankfully, they had a short break just now, but on Tuesday, he would have to head for Reading, where they were playing two nights before moving on to Nottingham. Touring a play was, he had discovered, a gruelling business—fun and satisfying, but definitely gruelling. And he missed Jay like mad. He’d been on the road for three weeks solid before this short break, and he’d have five more weeks to go after it. But then he’d be moving in with Jay, and they’d get two glorious weeks off over Christmas before they started filming their respective shows in the new year. And living together.
Life was pretty damn good.
Tag gazed at the fine, beautiful lines of Jay’s profile in the dark interior of the cab. Jay Warren, hisboyfriend—God, sometimes, the reality of that hit him and he couldn’t quite believe how lucky he was. Because of all the good things that had happened to him this year, Jay was the very best of them.
Feeling his gaze, Jay turned to Tag, his eyes gleaming in the darkness. “The timing could be better,” he said, “I was hoping to spend our first night together alone. But I suppose we don’t have to stay all night. Pity it’s another hour’s cab ride to get home.”
“Yes, about that,” Tag said. “I was going to keep this as a surprise but… I might have booked us a suite at the hotel?”
“A suite?” Jay echoed. “You did?” His grin was huge.
“Yup, so we can put in an appearance at the party for a while and then disappear upstairs for reunion sex whenever we want!”
Jay chuckled even as he cast an embarrassed look in the driver’s direction. God, he was adorable. Clearing his throat, Jay said, “That review in the Birmingham Mail was really good—I bet Rafe was loving the bit about himdelivering a poignant performance?”
That was a blatant change of subject but undeniably effective. “Oh, I haven’t seen that one,” Tag replied, excited. “Show me.”
Jay pulled out his phone. “I’ve got a message from Ronnie,” he murmured. “Probably about Mother’s birthday. Give me a sec.”
He swiped at the screen a couple of times, then blinked and started to scroll intently.
“Is something wrong?” Tag asked, noticing with concern the frown forming between Jay’s brows.
“You could say that,” Jay said and glanced up with an incredulous look. “But not for us. Check this out… Ronnie just sent me the link.”
He turned his phone towards Tag.
The screen displayed an article from one of the tabloid sites, a big splashy piece under the headline ‘My Gay Marriage Hell’ accompanied by a pouting picture of a pretty young man perched on the lap of Sebastian Talbot, both of whom were dressed in white robes and wreathed in flower garlands. Presumably a wedding photo?
“That’s Seb’s husband?”
“Soon to be ex, apparently.” Still intently reading, Jay gave a soft laugh. “Wow, listen to this—‘almost as soon as we’d exchanged vows, Seb became controlling and abusive,’ says Niccolò, Talbot’s estranged husband. ‘In bed, he was selfish and very dull. He made love like a man late for work—bored with the drive and only interested in reaching the destination as fast as possible.’”
Tag grimaced. “Ouch.”
“Accurate,” Jay said with an amused snort. Then his expression changed, growing more serious. “Oh shit. This is even worse. Listen. 'Obsessed with being upstaged by younger actors, Niccolò claims that Seb would frequently trade juicy theatre gossip with a prominent critic in exchange for favourable notices in his column.'”
“Jesus,” Tag said, horrified. “Do people really do that?”
“Seb does, apparently.” Jay looked thoughtful, his frown deepening. “I knew he deliberately tripped me up inThe Birthday Party, but I’d always assumed it was because he was pissed off at me. But what if…?” His eyes met Tag’s.
Grimly, Tag said, “I suppose it did make a good story.”
“It did, yeah. For Austin Coburn.”
For a moment, they just stared at each other.