Page 5 of Best Supporting Actor
Tag let out a huff of helpless laughter and shook his head. “No, it’s not that.”
“Then what?”
Tag sighed. “I think he reckons I’m a bit of a waster. That I’m leeching off you and Da.”
His mum frowned darkly. “Hesaidthat?”
He had actually. Not to Tag himself, but Tag had overheard him saying as much to Caitlin at Charlie’s christening party.
“It’s about bloody time your brother got a proper job and a place of his own. Let your mum and dad downsize and get that mortgage off their shoulders.”
The worst of it was, Stevie was right. Tag’s parents had been struggling with their overpriced mortgage for the last fifteen years, but with Tag living at home, they had no other options, even though he was paying as much as he could to help out.
Tag couldn’t share what he’d overheard with his mum. She’d be pissed off at Stevie, and then there’d probably be an argument with Caitlin, who could be a bit of a hothead and was likely to leap to Stevie’s defence the second their mother said anything critical.
“Nah,” he said. “It’s not anything Stevie said. It’s just a feeling I get.”
His mum’s frown smoothed out. “Well, I think you’re being a wee bit sensitive. Sure Stevie’s a bit rough around the edges, but he’s a nice lad. I can have a word with Caitlin, though? Just to be sure.”
“No,” Tag said, giving a rueful smile. “You’re probably right. Besides, the next time I go over, I’ll be able to say I’ll be appearing in a real live TV show, won’t I?”
She smiled at that, and her eyes—the same colour as his own, whisky-gold—were warm with affection. “It’d be even better if you could tell them they’re making a proper series out of it that’ll give you a regular paycheck!”
And just like that, Tag felt like a punctured balloon. This was just a pilot after all. The chance ofBow Streetgetting picked up wasn’t that good, and Tag’s chance of getting a recurring role in any potential full series was even worse.
In that moment, all the joy and anticipation he’d woken up with went out of him with awhoosh.
It wasn’t even six a.m.
“Ah, Tag love—” his mum said, her voice regretful. His face must have betrayed him. Some actor he was.
He got to his feet and turned away, draining his mug, then opening up the dishwasher and stacking it inside. “I better get going,” he said, his voice determinedly cheerful. “I’m not sure when I’ll be home this evening. Don’t bother making me any dinner.”
And without waiting for a reply, he shouldered into his jacket and hurried out the front door.
* * *
Tag replayed the short conversation with his mum as he stacked the café’s display fridges in readiness for opening up.
It wasn’t that she wasn’t proud of him. Tag knew that. Both his parents were incredibly proud of him. Hell, they’d spent half their lives chauffeuring him around to all his drama and theatre activities when he was a kid, and when he got into drama school, they couldn’t have been more pleased for him. But he knew the thought of Tag living the life of a jobbing actor worried the hell out of them.
He understood their fears. They’d been stung badly when his dad’s first business had failed. After that, they’d had to borrow heavily on the back of the house to start up again, extending the life of their mortgage by a decade. That was when his mum had started working full-time at the care home. So yeah, he got why they worried about money so much. He got why they’d always impressed upon him and Caitlin the need to be financially self-reliant.
But sometimes… sometimes it was like that wasallthey cared about.
Tag had only been out of drama school for a year when they’d tentatively raised the possibility of him joining his dad’s business. But while Tag didn’t mind labouring for his dad when an extra pair of hands was needed, he had absolutely no desire to become a builder. He wanted toact. And he’d told them that was what he was going to do. He was going to give it his best shot. Except somehow in the course of that discussion, that resolution had morphed into him giving it his best shot… for a few years. If, by then, he still wasn’t getting anywhere, he’d promised to think again about working with his dad.
Two more years had passed since then, and the most he had to show for it was one TV commercial and his tiny role inBow Street.
Tag sighed and reached into the box again, grabbing another stack of breakfast paninis that he began sliding into the cabinet, next to the granola bowls.
He was almost finished when he heard a knock at the window. Looking up, he expected to see a customer. It was another fifteen minutes until the shop opened, but it wasn’t uncommon for someone on their way to work to try to persuade him to open early. Tag straightened, pasting a regretful expression on his face that he dropped when he realised he knew the guy standing at the window. Grinning, he went to the door, pulled back the chain, and yanked it open.
“Mason,” he said, beaming at his friend. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m on my way to a shoot near here,” Mason said. “So I thought I’d swing past to see if you were working and if you had time for a quick coffee.” He made a face. “But I see you’re not actually open yet…”
“I’m always open for you, babe,” Tag said, waggling his eyebrows. Then he laughed. “Seriously, it’s good to see you. Come in.” Ushering Mason inside, he locked the door behind them. “It’s a bit dim in here, but I don’t put the lights on properly till it’s time to open up.” He grabbed the box he’d been unloading and shoved the last two paninis onto the shelf, then began breaking up the cardboard as he headed for the coffee machine behind the counter. “Grab a seat. You want the usual?”