Page 58 of Best Supporting Actor

“We loveLeeches,” said the other one. “We’re, like, huge fans.”

“Yeah? Cool.” He glanced at Tag, who was grinning at him. “Want a picture?” Jay asked the kids.

“Ohmygod, yes!” said the bold girl, pulling out her phone.

“Come on then.” He beckoned them over, and they grouped together in front of him so they could take a selfie—several selfies.

And then Tag said, “Hey, give me your phone, and I’ll take a couple.”

Which resulted in a little impromptu photo shoot, with each of the kids getting a separate picture with him.

“Nice hoodie,” Jay said when it was the boy’s turn, and the kid laughed and blushed, and then grinned when Jay gave him a fist-bump just as Tag snapped the picture.

They were nice kids and thanked him profusely as he and Tag extricated themselves and headed up to the bridge. Jay knew, if they weren’t careful, a crowd might gather, so he didn’t want to hang around.

“That was fun,” Tag said as they ran up the steps. “I bet you made their year.”

Jay laughed, but it was a nice thought. It made him appreciate the importance of what he did inLeeches—the joy it brought to people, the small difference he made to their lives. There was a value to that beyond what his mother considered the significance of ‘the work’, and Jay honestly loved that part of the job.

“But you know those pictures are already all over Snapchat and TikTok?” Tag carried on. “Their mates are probably on their way already.”

“Yup, probably.”

After a pause, Tag said, “I’m still getting you that McMuffin, but maybe we should head back to the flat and get it delivered? No point in causing a scene in McDonald’s.”

Jay laughed. “You read my mind.”

“And we could run some lines after, if you like?” Tag added, almost diffidently. “Make sure we’re both okay for tomorrow.”

And that, Jay knew, was a kindness; Tag thought Jay was worried about being off-book and was offering to help. Touched, he said, “That would be great. Thanks.”

Tag didn’t reply, but his smile broadened, and somehow Jay felt its warmth deep in his chest.

* * *

Later that afternoon, sprawled on the sofa, Jay listened as Tag spoke the last line of the play. A quote from one of Sassoon’s later poems.

"All right then, Sassoon,” he said from the floor where he lay, his legs up against the wall—some kind of yoga pose, apparently. “Since you and I are one, Let us go back. Let us undo what's done.”

And that was it.

“Word perfect,” Tag said, smiling.

“Thank God.” Jay dropped his script to the floor in a rustle of papers and checked his watch. Half past six. He looked over at Tag, feet in the air, arms spread out crucifix-style, eyes closed. “Are you working tonight?” he asked.

Twisting his head to look at him, Tag hesitated. “I’ve got the night off.” He paused then, pulling his legs down and rolling onto his knees. “I was thinking… They’re showingThe Burying Partytonight at this independent cinema in town. Have you seen it? It’s about Owen’s final year.”

Stupidly, Jay’s heart began to slug in his chest. “I haven’t seen it, no.” His voice felt tight and too small.

Tag cleared his throat. “I was thinking of going, if you fancy it? Might be helpful for background.”

This wasn’t a date, obviously. Even so, Jay’s heart was racing, though he tried to play it cool. “You’re not afraid it might influence your performance?”

“I don’t think so?” Tag considered. “No, I knowmyOwen. I’m interested to see other takes on him, though. I totally get it if you don’t want to. Sassoon features too, and you might—”

“No, I’m in,” Jay said and tried not to worry about his eagerness to spend even more time with Tag. Christ, he was overthinking this. “When does it start?”

Tag looked pleased. “Eight-thirty. It’s not that long.”