Page 48 of Best Supporting Actor

“Giles,” Henry said, more clipped than usual. “How nice to see you.”

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” Giles said from behind them. “Rafe showed me the way in.”

Jay let out a slow breath, opened his eyes, and for a moment, his gaze fixed on Tag. He looked rueful and slightly embarrassed. Tag didn’t know how to react. He didn’t know what the fuck was going on, or why Jay had blown up like that.

One minute they’d been flying, connecting eye to eye and mind to mind as they’d played the scene together. Acting could be like that when it was good, when it was flowing—like you were in an altered reality. That was when you knew it was working. And ithadbeen working. Really fucking well. And then—

“That’s a stupid idea.”

It was so unlike Jay. At least, it was unlike the man Tag had come to know over the past few weeks—generous, collaborative, and creative. But itwasmore like the Jay he’d thought he knew before they’d come to York. Maybethiswas the real Jay?

Behind them, the others were talking loudly. Bea laughed, saying, “I’m so glad you came, Giles! We’re just working on a new idea, actually…”

“Wewere,” Henry said drily. And then, to Tag and Jay, “Excellent work, you two. I want to explore this further.” He made a face. “But I suggest we take a short break before we carry on.”

“Good idea,” Jay said tightly, although he was all smiles as he turned and strolled past Tag to greet Giles. “And hello to you! I didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”

“Did you think I’d wait when I had a personal invitation to drop in and see how things are going?” Giles was all but batting his bloody lashes. “Please, carry on as if I’m not here…”

Tag had to make an effort not to snort.Not likely, he thought sourly. He wasn’t about to carry on baring his soul while Giles stood in the corner drooling over Jay.

Rolling his shoulders, trying to relax, Tag watched Jay, casual and handsome with his glasses pushed up into his dark hair again, one hand in his pocket. Laughing easily, as if schmoozing with Giles Cox was exactly what he wanted to be doing today. And perhaps, it was. Clearly, Jay had invited him here last night. Or this morning, Tag thought with a sour squirm in his belly.

Maybe Jay had left Giles’s bed this morning, inviting him to drop in later.

There was no reason that thought should feel so uncomfortable, so much like…what? Betrayal? That was fucking ridiculous.

“Great work,” Henry said, walking over to where Tag still lingered next to the chair in the middle of the rehearsal space. Henry glanced over his shoulder and then said in a low voice, “Listen, don’t worry about Jay. I’m sure he didn’t mean to sound so…”

Henry waved a hand, searching for the right word, and Tag supplied, “High-handed and entitled?”

“Right.” Henry gave a rueful smile. “It’s tough, I know, dealing with people of Jay’s…pedigree, shall we say? There’s always a sense that the rules are different for them.”

Tag snorted softly. “It’s more than a sense.”

“I know how you feel, believe me. But in this case it really isn’t what it seems.” Again, Henry glanced back to where Jay was chatting with Giles before adding even more quietly, “Jay has a particular sensitivity around blocking. I wouldn’t normally tell you this, but given that Jay probably won’t… I understand from Ronnie, Jay’s brother, that there was an incident during the opening night of Jay’s West End debut. You may have heard about it?” When Tag shook his head, Henry carried on. “It turns out that another actor deviated from the blocking they’d rehearsed. It threw Jay so badly that he couldn’t recover. He blanked, suffered a panic attack on stage, the poor sod, and couldn’t go back on for the rest of the run.”

“Jesus,” Tag said softly.

“Yes. So, you see, Jay’s very particular about blocking and people sticking with what’s been rehearsed.”

“I wasn’t suggesting that I didn’t—”

Henry put a hand on his arm. “I know you weren’t. I’m just giving you the context—I’d hate to see this little upset damage the incredible chemistry I saw between you two today.”

Tag felt a swell of emotion at Henry’s praise, professional pride and… something else. Personal satisfaction?

“That information isn’t widely known, by the way,” Henry went on. “So please keep it to yourself.”

“Of course I will.” After a moment’s thought, Tag added, “What did you mean when you said you know how I feel?”

Henry shrugged. “Only that my background is closer to yours than to Jay’s, or Rafe’s for that matter. My dad was a postie for forty years. My mum worked in the local sorting office. Of course, back when I was fighting my way into the business, there were more opportunities for people like us, kids with nothing but talent, ambition, and a shovel-load of grit.” He grimaced. “These days, it’s all kids like Rafe with pushy parents and fancy educations.”

Tag laughed softly. “Tell me about it.” Then he said, “But I didn’t realise that about you. I mean, you talk like you’re…”

“One of them?” Henry laughed. “Must be all that Shakespeare, darling. And sometimes it pays to fit in.” He clapped Tag on the shoulder. “The truth is there’s ten Rafes to every one of you, Tag, and that’s a bloody shame. But don’t let it stop you—this industry is crying out for your talent and perspective.”

Pleased, embarrassed, Tag said, “Thanks. And I’ll keep in mind what you said about Jay.”