Page 36 of Best Supporting Actor
Rafe, obviously taken aback, glanced at Bea for support. “Of course,” he said defensively. “Like I said, I had a late one.”
“And I sincerely hope you made the most of it,” Henry said drily, “because for the next two months, we’ll be doing nothing but eat, sleep, and breatheLet Us Go Back.” He clapped his hands twice. “Now, we have six weeks until we open, ladies and gentlemen. Let’s begin.”
There was a general rustling of papers as everyone turned to the first page. Jay dug his glasses out and popped them on while Tag, who was sitting across the table from him, shrugged out of his jacket and rolled his shoulders. Jay looked away, disturbed by how distracting he found the sight of Tag’s bare arms and the intricate curls of the tattoos winding across his skin. His palms tingled with sense-memory, Tag’s smooth, muscled biceps warm beneath his hands, Tag’s lips—
“I’ve never had to work so bloody hard at a blowjob in my life.”
The remembered words slashed across his memory, and Jay sucked in a breath, looking down sharply at his script, face heating.
Fucking hell. He needed to get that night out of his head, or he was going to make a right hash of this.
“...and I’ll read the direction,” Henry was telling Bea when Jay managed to tune back into their conversation. “I’m sure you’ll want to make notes. Table reads are such a vital tool for refining dialogue, aren’t they?”
She nodded, looking as if she wasn’t sure whether he was doing her a favour or stealing the limelight. Christ, she really was very young.
“And are we ready?” Henry asked, glancing around the table.
Jay murmured a yes and prayed that it was true. Tag just gave a brisk nod, fingers flexing, bottom lip caught between his teeth. Nervous, Jay realised with surprise. He’d never seen Tag nervous before.
Well, he wasn’t the only one. Jay’s own stomach was in knots.
He wondered what Henry would make of him today. Would he think the promise Jay had shown at RADA had matured or atrophied? He was afraid it would be the latter. It had been a long time since Jay had done a table read with anyone but the familiar cast ofLeeches,and he was out of practice. Longer still since he’d had to perform with someone he’d gone to bed with. In fact, after Seb, he’d vowed never to make that mistake again…
So much for good intentions.
Then there was no more time to worry about anything else because Henry cleared his throat and started to read. “Act One, Scene One. The stooped figure of an old man, bent double and hobbling with a stick, appears from the dark, making his way towards a blinding white light centre stage. From far away comes the wail of an ambulance siren. As he walks, the man begins to transform. The siren fades into the dull thud of distant guns, and the figure slowly unbends until he is no longer an old man but a soldier, his stick becoming his rifle, his stooped back his pack. He stands in the light and looks up. Now, he is somewhere else. A bar. There are tables and chairs, a piano in the corner, its cheerful music not quite masking the distant thud of the guns. Another soldier sits alone at one of the tables, writing in a notebook…”
Henry looked over at Jay, who took a breath and began. “Owen?” He made the accent clipped and precise. “I can’t believe it. What are you doing here, old boy?”
“Inever left.” Tag looked at him across the table, but it wasn’t Tag. Not exactly. The transformation was subtle, exciting. He sounded different, too, his natural London accent replaced by something soft and lilting. Slightly West Country, perhaps. “You’re the one who got lost, remember?” He smiled, engagingly shy. “But I’m glad you’re back, Sassoon. I’ve missed you. Here…” He reached out as if to pass Jay something. “What do you make of this?”
And so they went on, working through the scenes with Jay reassessing Tag almost moment by moment. He was agoodactor; that was the first thing Jay recognised. Bea had been right about that. From what Jay could tell, Tag was generous, receptive, and instinctively responsive to Jay’s performance. Impressively well prepared, too. Henry might consider himoverprepared, but Jay knew to leave that kind of conversation to the director. By the end of the first couple of hours, though, Jay knew that he and Tag would be able to work together despite their…awkward personal history. It was a huge relief.
He glanced across the table while Henry and Bea discussed the next scene, watching the concentration on Tag’s face as he studied his script. The scene was a big one for Owen, and Jay was curious to see how Tag played it.
“The dreaming spires!” Tag began when Henry cued him in, eyes full of awe and excitement. “Or maybeI’mthe one dreaming. I can’t tell you how often I’ve—”
A loud gurgling rumble cut him off, and Tag slapped his hand over his belly. “Oh God,” he said, Tag once more. “I’m so sorry!”
Henry laughed. “I think perhaps it’s lunchtime? We’ll tackle this next scene once we’re all refuelled.”
“I’m fine to keep going,” Tag protested, although his stomach gave another betraying grumble. He laughed, flashing that brilliant smile of his, and Jay felt a sharp stab of attraction.
Damn it.
“No, no.” Henry was already pushing to his feet. “I could do with stretching my legs anyway. But good work this morning.” He looked between Jay and Tag, nodding. “Very good work. If I didn’t know better, I’d suspect you’d rehearsed together before. I’m sensing a real chemistry between you, right off the bat. It’s marvellous.”
Tag’s slightly strained smile was no doubt a mirror of Jay’s own.
“What did I tell you?” he said to Bea as he passed behind her chair.
“You were right,” she said, smiling. “Theyareperfect together.”
At her side, Rafe cleared his throat pointedly.
“Oh, and you will be too, Rafe.” She squeezed his arm in apology. “I’m just so excited! I can’t tell you how amazing it is to have you all reading my words.” She pressed her hands to her chest. “Such an honour.”
Jay smiled. “I’m glad you feel we’re doing justice to the work.”