Page 41 of Best Supporting Actor

“We’ve been working hard today,” Jay said mildly, glancing at Tag, who was blinking his eyes open. They’d been concentrating on a tricky scene that Tag was finding especially difficult. Henry was keen for Tag to find his own way into it, and Tag was certainly trying—he was a hard worker—but today, he’d seemed to lack his usual focus. In truth, hehadseemed rather tired.

“Talking of late nights,” Rafe went on, “Bea and I are going to hit the Black Bear on Saturday night. Fancy tagging along?”

Absolutely not. Forcing himself to be polite, Jay said, “What’s at the Black Bear?”

Rafe pantomimed shock. “Only, like, the best gay bar in York. You don’t know it?”

“Why would I know it?” Rafe looked nonplussed, and into his silence Jay said, “Anyway, why are you going to a gay bar?”

“Research.”

“Er, for what?”

Rafe rolled his eyes. “I’m a straight actor understudyingtwogay characters? Obviously, I need to get the full gay experience to inhabit them completely.” He tossed his floppy hair. “It’s something we did alotat Julliard.”

From across the room, Tag said, “You’ll certainly get the full gay experience at the Black Bearon a Saturday night. Wear your tightest jeans.”

Jay glanced over and caught the mischievous sparkle in Tag’s eyes when they briefly met his own. “You know the place?” Jay couldn’t keep the surprise out of his voice. Maybe Rafe was right. Maybe Tag really had been out partying during the week.

But Tag just shrugged, then stifled a yawn. “I know a lot of places,” he said.

Jay wasn’t sure what to make of that.

Rafe, meanwhile, looked rather uncertain. And young. With all of his insufferable Julliard crap, and his frankly high-handed manner, it was easy to overlook Rafe’s youth and basic lack of experience. Both in acting and, Jay suspected, in life.

“Listen,” he said, putting a reassuring hand on Rafe’s shoulder. “You’re doing fine. You don’t need to hang out in a gay bar to understand Sassoon. It’s all there in the script. Just trust Henry. Trust the process. You’re an actor, remember? You’re portraying Sassoon, not impersonating him.”

It didn’t have the reassuring effect Jay had intended. Instead, Rafe bristled. “I suppose we all have our preferred techniques,” he said stiffly and walked away.

Jay sighed and from the corner of his eye spotted Tag climbing to his feet. Turning, he was surprised to see a small, puzzled smile on Tag’s face as he walked over to him.

“That was kind of you,” Tag said quietly. He looked over to where Rafe was talking—flirting—with Bea. “He needs to listen more.”

“He’s young,” Jay pointed out.

Tag huffed a laugh. “He’s the same age as me.”

Startled, Jay looked over and found Tag watching him wryly. Just then, a sudden flood of sunlight filled the room, catching Tag’s raven hair, highlighting hidden strands of copper. Jay’s heart gave a hopeless twang. Clearing his throat, he said, “Then I’d say you’ve made much better use of your time.”

Tag’s smile broadened. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” In a lower voice, he added, “You’re more talented than the Rafes of this world. As I think you know.”

Tag didn’t deny it, although his smile dimmed and he scrubbed a hand over his eyes. The sunlight dimmed too, as suddenly as it had arrived, and in the greying light Tag looked tired again, faint shadows gathering beneath his eyes. “It’s not just about talent or hard work, though, is it?”

“True, there’s always an element of luck.”

This time, Tag’s laugh sounded more brittle. “Yeah, and some people are born with more luck than others.”

Jay had no answer to that, because of course Tag was right. Bea was a prime example, as was Jay himself. And Rafe. In fact, now he thought about it, Tag was the only person in the room without the advantage of connections. He’d have thought that would make Tag feel even more proud of his achievement, but he only looked weary.

“Right, people,” Henry called, re-entering the room with a faint waft of cigarillo smoke on his heels. “Let’s get cracking. Tag, Jay—I’d like to go from, ‘Ah, now we come to it’.”

They returned to the table and two chairs that had been set in the centre of the room. An empty water bottle was standing in for the wine. Tag sat; Jay remained standing. They’d rehearsed this scene enough that they were both more or less off-book, although Tag’s script still sat on the table.

He performed that little roll of the shoulders he always did before they started, something Jay was determined not to find in any way endearing. For himself, he just closed his eyes for a moment, gratefully blocking out the sight of Rafe doing some kind of centring exercise in the far corner that apparently involved standing on one leg.

“When you’re ready,” Henry said quietly.