Page 29 of Best Supporting Actor
And with that she strode off, leaving the two of them alone. Tag stared after her for a moment. He looked as though he wanted to call her back.
“You may as well sit down,” Jay said gruffly.
“Yeah,” Tag said. “Of course.” Shouldering out of his jacket, he made a bit of a production out of arranging it on the back of his chair before finally sitting down.
Underneath the jacket he wore a black, flatteringly tight City Beans t-shirt, and Jay realised he must have come straight from work. Why that should make Jay uncomfortable, he couldn’t say, except thathe’dspent the morning in bed, wallowing in his regrets, and that pointed up starkly the difference in their circumstances.
After a moment, Tag puffed out a breath. “So,” he said. “This is awkward.”
Jay sipped his wine and set the glass down carefully. He kept his expression bland. “Yes. I take it you didn’t know about my involvement?”
“I knew the Sassoon role was going to a ‘big name’,” Tag replied. “I had no idea it was you. If I had, I wouldn’t have…” He trailed off.
“You wouldn’t have what?” Jay asked, raising a brow. “Walked out last night? Blown me? Treated me like an enemy for the last few months?”
Tag winced. “Jay—”
But whatever he was about to say was swallowed as the waiter arrived, placing a fresh glass in front of Tag with a flourish before setting about uncorking the wine. They both watched in silence, Tag’s expressive mouth set in a tense and increasingly unhappy line.
He managed a smile for the waiter, though, when he poured Tag a glass. “Cheers, mate,” he said, flashing that heart-stopping grin.
And then they were alone again, or as alone as they could be in the middle of a slightly pretentious Camden restaurant at the tail end of the lunchtime rush. Tag sipped his wine without appearing to notice the taste—philistine—and Jay considered his options. The truth was, as humiliated as he felt by this situation, it could also work in his favour. Obviously, given the personal situation between them, they couldn’t work together. Which meant Jay had a legitimate reason to bow out of the production, generously standing aside to allow Tag to take a role he so clearly coveted. Dame Cordelia could hardly blame him for that, for allowing an up-and-coming young actor an opportunity at his own expense—it was exactly the sort of noblesse oblige she expected of all her family. And of herself.
He opened his mouth to say as much, but Tag got in first.
“Look,” he said leaning forward across the table and speaking in a low, urgent voice, “I know you can get Beatrice to recast the Owen role, and I suppose you’re entitled, but that would be really bloody unfair. I’ve worked hard for this, I earned it, and I bloody well deserve it.”
Tag’s passion, the fire in those liquid gold eyes of his, tripped something in Jay’s chest, setting his heart galloping. He hid the bizarre reaction behind the quizzical lift of one eyebrow. “I see that I’m still playing the villain in your personal drama.”
Tag said nothing, lips pursed.
“You’ll be pleased to learn,” Jay went on, “that I haven’t actually accepted the Sassoon role yet. And now—given the situation between us—I tend to think it would be best if I decline. Without wishing to sound conceited, the play is clearly more important for your career than mine, so I’m happy to stand aside.” He lifted his glass in salute. “You’re welcome.”
Tag, however, looked neither grateful nor pleased. His expression only darkened. “You’re kidding, right? You’re going to storm off in a huff and ruin everything?”
“I—what?”
“For fuck’s sake,” Tag hissed, “you’re the big name. Beatrice is counting on you. The success of this project is built around you. But I suppose you don’t care about any of that.”
“You have no idea what I care about,” Jay shot back, startled by his own vehemence. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“I know you’re willing to screw us all over out of pique!”
Through gritted teeth, Jay said, “Would you rather I asked Bea to recast Owen, then?”
“No!” That was rather loud and set a couple of heads turning their way. Tag hunched down, lowering his voice. “I’dratheryou behaved like a professional and agreed to work with me.”
Jay just stared at him. “You—you can’t possibly imagine that we can work together.”
“Why not?”
“You know why not!”
Tag shook his head, looking frustrated, and clenched a hand in his thick dark hair. With a startling flash of clarity, Jay remembered the silken strands running through his fingers while Tag had been—
“Shit,” Tag sighed, slumping back in his seat. “It’s such a great fucking play, as well.”
After watching his crestfallen expression for a couple of moments, Jay conceded, “It is, yes.”