Page 79 of Best Supporting Actor
Jay glanced back at him. “Didn’t I mention?”
“No, you bloody didn’t!” Tag whispered. Then, with a raise of his brow, he added, “Just like you never mentioned you and that journalist were playground rivals—thatisthe guy who was taking sneaky photos of us at the TV Best Awards, right?”
Jay sighed. “Yeah. He’s not exactly my biggest fan.”
“He sounds like a twat,” Tag said, wrinkling his nose. “But I’m more interested in Amanda Ffyfe—do you think she’d let me get a selfie with her? My dad’s had a massive crush on her since he was a teenager.”
Jay huffed a laugh, absurdly grateful for the change of subject. “Your dad and every other straight boy in the early eighties.” Mandy was best known for her very kitsch role as a model-turned-private-detective in a long-running American TV show calledFoxy PI.
“She’s an icon,” Tag said, crossing his heart reverently.
“Jools, sweetie!” Mandy carolled as she approached them. “It’s been forever!” She handed the two glasses of champagne she’d collected on the way to Dame Cordelia, then reached for Jay, pulling him into a tight hug. His mother immediately handed one of the glasses to Tag and sank half of the other one.
“I want a proper chat with you later,” Mandy said in Jay’s ear. “It’s been far too long!”
He hugged her back affectionately. Mandy had no children of her own and had always taken her role as his godmother seriously. When she finally released him, she turned to Tag and said brightly, “And who’s this handsome young man?”
“This is Tag O’Rourke,” Dame Cordelia said, sliding a proprietary arm around Tag’s waist. “He’s in the play with—” She broke off, then tipped her head in Jay’s direction and added, “Well, you know.”
Christ.
“Oh, wonderful,” Mandy gushed, clapping her hands together. Her gaze moved between Jay and Tag, and she added, “Don’t you two look cosy together? Are you…?” She trailed off meaningfully.
Jay didn’t so much as glance at Tag, not entirely sure what Mandy might detect in his expression but rather afraid she might end up seeing more than he wanted her to. Laughing, he said, “Stop trying to pair me off. You’re as bad as Mother. I can find my own dates, thank you very much.”
Even without looking, he was aware of Tag stiffening beside him. Poor Tag. This sort of speculation was exactly why he’d wanted to keep their involvement private.
“She’s right, though,” his mother said, with a wistful sigh. “You would be a scrumptious couple.”
God, they were excruciating.
Ignoring her, Jay turned to Mandy. “Um, Tag’s a bit of a Foxy fan.” It was an admittedly desperate attempt to change the subject, but he ploughed on regardless. “He was hoping to get a selfie with you, weren’t you, Tag?”
Mandy smiled kindly at Tag and said, “Of course, darling, but can we do that later? I can’t do photos under these lights, not at my age. I've got a nice little shadowy corner where we can take some lovely pictures.”
“That would be awesome,” Tag said earnestly. “My Dad and I love watchingFoxy PItogether—it’s kind of our thing.” He gifted her one of his killer smiles, sexy and modest at the same time. “He’ll besojealous that I’m meeting you.”
Mandy preened at that, even as she demurred. As for Tag, perhaps he sensed Dame Cordelia’s peevishness at ceding the limelight to Mandy, because he turned to her then, adding in a slightly breathless tone, “And I expect Jay’s already told you what ahugefan of yours I am. When I was at drama school, I saved up for weeks for front-row tickets to see you in Beckett’sHappy Days. You were… God, you were incredible. So much pathos, but humour too. I couldn’t stop thinking about that performance for days after. Years, if I’m honest.”
Dame Cordelia immediately thawed. Gripping Tag’s forearm, she whispered, “Bless you, darling,” her eyes glinting with emotion. Whether Tag knew it or not—and Jay suspected he did know it—he’d just said exactly the right thing, mixing fanboyish eagerness with professional admiration. The nicest part, though, was that he obviously wasn’t putting it on—he meant every word, and now he was waxing lyrical about that long-ago performance, recounting details that only a true devotee would recall, and of course, his mother was lapping it all up.
Jay’s heart melted a little at the sight of them getting on so well. Until he thought,‘What the fuck am I thinking?’He was acting like someone who’d just introduced his boyfriend to his mother! Christ, Tag would behorrifiedif he knew that Jay had been feeling all squidgy and warm just because they’d been smiling at each other.Jesus, get a grip.
Luckily, Mandy distracted him, tucking her hand into his elbow and tugging him away from Tag and his mother’s love-in. “Come and say hello to Philip,” she said. “He’ll be so pleased to see you.” Phil was Mandy’s husband and Jay’s godfather. He was also one of Jay’s favourite people, a quiet, intelligent man who was that rare thing amongst his mother’s friends: a good listener.
“Where is Phil?” Jay replied, as he let Mandy lead him away. “Hiding out behind some vegetation?” Like Mandy, Phil had worked in the entertainment industry until his retirement, albeit on the business side rather than as a creative. Unlike Mandy, though, he was no extrovert, usually finding a quiet spot to hide out at parties.
“Pretty much,” Mandy admitted with a grin. “He’s parked himself in his favourite chair looking out onto the garden… which just so happens to be hidden behind a lemon tree, where no one can see him.”
Jay chuckled. That sounded like Phil, and it certainly wasn’t difficult to find somewhere to hide here. The orangery was built on the back of the house and stretched across the full width of the building, creating a large, elegant space the size of several rooms that Mandy often used to entertain. The walls were exposed brick but most of the roof was glass, as were the huge doors that led out onto the garden. There were lots of chairs and sofas dotted around the place where guests could make themselves comfortable, and there was also plenty of room for people to stand around and mingle if they preferred to do that.
As Mandy led Jay towards the garden doors, a woman rose from a sofa they were about to walk past.
“Amanda,” she said warmly, leaning in for amwah-mwah. She was wearing a dress that resembled a shapeless, orange sack, but that Jay suspected was probably very expensive. “Quentin and I didn’t see you when we arrived—I wanted to thank you for inviting us to your little get-together.”
Mandy smiled genially. “Oh, you’re very welcome, Lisette. I’m glad you could make it.” Turning to Jay, she said politely, “Jay, this is my neighbour, Lisette Carter-Dunn—Lisette, Jay Warren.” She gestured then at a man in an oddly naval outfit, still sitting on the sofa Lisette had bounced up from. “And this is Lisette’s husband, Quentin.” Quentin gave an amiable wave but made no move to rise, and Jay nodded back.
Turning back to the woman, Jay shook her hand briefly. “Nice to meet you, Lisette.”