Page 45 of Best Supporting Actor
“Oh, umm…” A tell-tale flush rose into Tag’s cheeks. “Actually, I’m not all that hungry. I might just have a starter or something.”
Jay nodded. “They do look good,” he said, but he was thinking about Tag having given up his job as a barista, about Tag skipping lunch in favour of slightly stale custard creams, and about the modest sums they were both earning.
Suddenly, he felt like a bloody idiot. He looked around the table at the rest of the company, all of them complacent well-to-do theatre types, just like him. No wonder Tag had a bloody chip on his shoulder. It wasn’t even a chip. It was a genuine grievance.
He looked back at Tag, who was still chewing on his lower lip, and made a decision. “You know what?” he said, cutting across Bea’s monologue to address the table. “I think tonight calls for champagne, don’t you?”
A general murmur of approval followed, although unsurprisingly not from Tag, whose frown deepened.
Jay turned, summoning the waitress with a smile. “Could we have two bottles of your best champagne, please?” he said, pulling out a credit card and handing it to her. “And put everything on this, if you would, food included.” To the table, he said, “Tonight’s my treat. Order whatever you want and let’s celebrateLet Us Go Back!”
“That’s very generous of you,” Henry said, beaming his approval. Of course, it was exactly the sort of thing Dame Cordelia would do, so naturally, Henry approved.
Rafe said, “Well, in that case, I’m having a cocktail…”
“Ooh, good idea,” cooed Bea, practically climbing into his lap to look at the drinks menu. “What looks good?”
Tag said nothing but when Jay casually glanced his way, he saw immediately that Tag had relaxed, that his frown had disappeared, and that he was smiling slightly as he browsed the menu.
Bingo.
And when Tag ordered, it was pan-roasted scallops with peppered swede, followed by a 10oz chargrilled, Yorkshire-raised steak, with treacle tart and whipped creme fraiche for dessert. He ate every bite.
Jay was glad to see it, but at the same, he was mortified it had taken him so long to realise Tag was struggling financially. And it got him wondering how else Tag might be struggling for the sake of this production.
CHAPTERELEVEN
Tag
The day after the cast dinner, Tag was the first to arrive at rehearsal. He scarfed down three custard creams, poured himself a cup of the horrible coffee, and settled down to wait for the others.
It was a beautiful morning. The sun streamed through the window, making the utilitarian space look bright and promising. Or maybe Tag was seeing it differently because he felt properly rested for the first time all week. As much as he’d agonised over turning down a shift to go to dinner last night, it had been worth it. Not just for the chance to spend some downtime with the rest of the company, and to enjoy a slap-up meal at no cost, thanks to Jay’s generosity, but also to hit the sack before midnight for the first time in ages. As thankful as he was for his temporary bar gig, the hours were proving to be punishing. Last night's uninterrupted eight-hour kip had been glorious.
The only damper on the evening had been having to watch Giles Cox flirt with Jay all night. That had been weirdly irritating. Tag didn’t give a shit who flirted with Jay, or whether Jay flirted back, but yeah, watching the two of them making eyes at one another had left Tag grinding his teeth. Maybe it was because their whole conversation had been a roll call of all the famous people they both knew, or were related to, or who happened to be their fucking godparents. Christ, how many godparents could one person have? Whatever. One thing was undeniable—Jay had a lot more in common with Giles than he did with Tag.
Tag scowled into his coffee. Giles had spent most of the evening gazing into Jay’s eyes and asking him endless questions aboutLeeches, monopolising his attention ruthlessly.
Selfish twat, Tag decided. Not that he cared for himself, of course, but ithadbeen a company night out. Hadn’t it occurred to Giles that Jay might want to talk to anyone else? But then, maybe Jay had been quite happy being monopolised. He hadn’t seemed like he needed rescuing at any point. Tag remembered how the two men had looked with their heads bent together, one fair, one dark, laughing about their mutual friends—“Oh my God, you shared a flat with Annabelle Ryan? We were in the same year at RADA!”
Tag had found himself wanting to reach over and mess up Giles’s stupid pompadour hairstyle. Or ‘accidentally’ spill some red wine on his artfully creased linen shirt. Annoyingly, on the odd occasion when Giles had actually spoken to Tag, he’d been nice, all smiles and easy grace.
“It’s wonderful to have brilliant young actors like yourself coming to York, bringing your talent to the provincial stage.That’s exactly why I took this festival directorship on.”
Twat, Tag had thought when he’d said that, even as the more reasonable inner-Tag quietly pointed out that Tag wouldn’t be thinking that if Giles had been flirting with him, or at least, if he hadn’t been all over Jay.
The rest of the company started arriving in ones and twos, first Henry, then Bea and Rafe, then Jay. Jay looked as relaxed and well-rested as Tag felt, and Tag found himself wondering whether Jay had left the restaurant with Giles last night. Whether anything had happened between them.
His stomach soured at the thought.
“What’s up?” Freddie asked, plonking herself down beside him. “You’re glaring.”
“Nothing,” Tag said. “Everything’s great.” He flashed her a quick smile.
Perhaps he protested too much—she sent him an odd look but didn’t press further.
Henry decided to start the rehearsal with Jay’s opening soliloquy in the second act, meaning that Tag, thankfully, didn’t have to do much of anything right away, other than pay attention.
Jay walked into the centre of the room. He was wearing those horn-rimmed glasses that Tag liked so much. They enhanced the clean, elegant lines of his handsome face, particularly now that his customary facial hair was gone. Jay suited a beard, but that clean-shaven jaw accentuated his movie-star good looks. His hair was getting longer too, and Tag found himself imagining it longer still, brushing his shoulders. Maybe tied back in a messy ponytail. He’d suit it like that, Tag mused, but then Jay would suit pretty much anything.