Page 28 of Best Supporting Actor

Jay blinked. “Um, Bea, are we not”—he broke off, heat climbing in his face—“I thought we were just meeting to discuss thepossibilityof me taking the role.”

Bea looked shocked. “Oh,” she said. Then, visibly, she wilted, like a pin-pricked balloon, “Oh, shit.”

Jay stared at her, unsure what to say. She lookeddevastated. “I’m sorry,” he blurted. “I think there’s been some kind of misunderstanding. My mother said you wanted to offer me the part and asked me to meet you to discuss it. I didn’t realise…” He trailed off.

“I see,” Bea said, her voice very small now. “I, uh, I think there may have been some crossed wires then. I had the impression that you—well, that you’d said yes. I thought this, today, was kind of a formality.” She grimaced. “Is this where you tell me you don’t want the role?”

Jay felt terrible—and a little angry, suspecting his mother had a hand in this confusion. “Well,” he began, determined to yank off the sticking plaster. But when he saw Bea swallow, the vulnerable bob of her pale throat, and the real fear in her eyes, somehow, he just… couldn’t do it. Weakly, he finished, “I wasn’t sure I could do justice to the role.”

Bea’s troubled expression cleared. “Is that all? Jesus, Jay, you’re my dream casting. I love your work. You do restrained vulnerability—which is the core of this character—better than anyone. That period drama that went out last Christmas. God, you were good in that.”

Jay couldn’t help but smile. Rehearsing and filmingThe Year of No Summerhad taken up every spare minute between shootingLeechesseasons. It had been a gruelling year, but he’d been incredibly proud of that piece.

“What do I need to do to persuade you?” Bea said urgently. “Please, Jay. I don’t have anyone else in mind. My rehearsal space is booked. Henry’s agreed to direct—”

“Henry Walker?”

“Yes!” Bea nodded enthusiastically, perhaps sensing a breakthrough.

Jay had studied under Henry at RADA and had never felt more understood as an actor. In fact, he’d always wanted to work with Henry professionally, and back then, before Seb, he’d blithely assumed that one day he would…

“We’re so lucky.” Bea went on. “Henry’s doing it as a favour to my dad, bless him, and we’ve just cast the Owen role together. He’s Henry’s first choice—a fantastic young actor. You’ll love him. He’ll be here soon actually.”

“Bea, I—”

“Look, I’m not asking you to tour the play around the country after the festival—I know you don’t have time for that.” She tried to deliver a cheeky smile. “And I’ve kind of promised that gig to your understudy anyway. All I’m asking from you is the festival run. It’s just two weeks, and your mother told me you don’t have anyLeechescommitments over the summer, so the timing’s perfect.”

Fuck. Panic was building in Jay’s chest, his heart pounding now. How could he get out of this? Should he just admit the truth? That the thought of getting up on stage terrified him out of his wits? That was a secret he’d been determined to take to his grave.

He opened his mouth to speak—to say what, he wasn’t even sure—but was forestalled by Bea’s gaze shifting away from his own as she spotted someone over his shoulder. “Oh, here he is!” She lifted an arm to wave, beckoning the person over.

Jay turned in his seat.

When he saw the man approaching their table, his stomach plunged.

It was Tag O’Rourke, looking as sexy as ever, his gait loose and confident, his gaze fixed on Bea. He was wearing that gorgeous, open smile of his, eyes bright with pleasure, dark hair a little tousled from the wind. And then he spotted Jay, and his smile froze. For an instant, he looked shocked.

Bea gave a strained laugh. “Hey Tag,” she said. “I guess now you know who that big name is.” She turned to Jay. “This is Tag O’Rourke—we cast him as Wilfred Owen yesterday. Tag, this is Jay Warren. You’ve probably seen him on TV.”

For a second, they just stared at one another. It was probably only a couple of moments, but it felt ages longer. Jay saw Tag’s astonished disbelief turn to dismay, then something that looked almost like grief. He had an instant of savage satisfaction—regretting last night’s exit now, are we?—but swiftly on the heels of that came realisation. This role was thebig breakTag had been celebrating last night. And now he was sure he’d fucked up that chance.

Somehow, Jay found himself pushing back his chair and getting to his feet. Putting out his hand and saying smoothly, “Great to see you again, Tag.” He let his lips quirk into a smile. “It’s been too long.”

Tag just stared at him, wide-eyed. Then, after a hesitation, he reached out and took Jay’s proffered hand. They shook briefly. Tag’s touch was cold from being outside, and Jay tried not to think about its heat last night.

“You know each other?” Bea put in, surprised.

“A little,” Jay said. “We have some mutual friends.”

Tag was catching up now, scrambling his game face back on as he turned to Bea. “Um, yeah. I’m good friends with Aaron Page—Lewis Hunter’s partner.”

“Ah, aLeechesconnection,” Bea said. “Well, it’s a small world. Would you like a glass of wine, Tag?”

Tag shot Jay a quick, questioning look, and Jay gave a slight shrug.

“Sure,” Tag said carefully. “That would be nice.”

“Great.” Bea stood up, grabbing her bag. “Take a seat. I’m going to the bathroom. I’ll grab the waiter on the way and ask him to bring another glass and bottle. You two can catch up while I’m gone.”