Page 84 of Best Supporting Actor
“Well, thatiswhy Giles dragged me all the way up here,” Austin said with a supercilious smile. Glancing around the others, he said, “Do you mind if I borrow Mr. O’Rourke for a few minutes?” As an aside to Tag, he added, “I’ll be reviewing the play, of course, and I’d love to get your insights into your character, if you have a moment?”
It was clear from the offhand way he said it that there was no question in his mind that Tag would have as many moments as Austin wanted, and Tag supposed that was true. At this point in his career, Austin had all the power, and it would be ridiculous for Tag to give him the cold shoulder just because Austin and Jay had been rivals in the school drama club. Besides, Bea was beaming at Tag, delighted that Austin was showing such interest.
Dame Cordelia smiled graciously at Austin. “Of course you may. I’ve been monopolising him for far too long.” Then, to Tag’s surprise, she leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “Now, don’t you leave without saying goodbye.”
She gave him an encouraging little shove in Austin’s direction, then turned to Bea and Giles, launching into conversation. Austin was already strolling away, and Tag hurriedly followed him to a quiet corner of the room—sorry, ‘orangery’—where a couple of deep armchairs sat together, a low table placed cosily between them.
A discreet waitress appeared with a tray of champagne just as they sat, and Tag helped himself to another glass. “Thanks,” he said, giving her a smile.
She looked surprised—Tag knew from experience that most people didn’t acknowledge the staff at parties like this—but she smiled back and murmured, “You’re welcome.”
Austin, predictably, ignored her as he dumped his half-empty glass on her tray and took a fresh one, saying to Tag, “Don’t you just hate warm champagne?”
Tag gave a non-committalhmm, sending the waitress a discreetly apologetic glance as she glided away.
“So,” Austin said, settling into his chair, legs crossed, champagne flute dangling from one languid hand, “this is an exciting opportunity for you, Tag. Can I call you Tag?”
“Why not?” Tag said, trying to exude his usual playful warmth, even as his skin crawled with dislike. “It’s my name.”
Austin gave a wintry smile. “Tell me, how did you come to be cast in the play?”
“The usual way, by auditioning.”
Austin’s eyebrows rose. “Oh,” he said. “I rather thought…” He trailed off.
“What?” Tag said, keeping his expression neutral, his voice pleasant.
“Well,” Austin said, drawing out the word, as though considering what to say next. “I don’tthinkI’m wrong in saying that you and Jay Warren are friends, am I?”
Tag felt his own smile harden and grow wary. “What does Jay have to do with this?”
Austin laughed. “Oh, come on,” he said. “Everyone here knows that Jay’s playing Sassoon. I must have been toldin complete confidenceat least three times now.”
Shit.Jay was going to freak out when he discovered the news was out. Perhaps he already had? He was certainly looking tense when Tag had last seen him.
“So,” Austin prompted with an arch look. “You two are…?”
“Friends,” Tag agreed, disliking the insinuation behind Austin’s question. “But we didn’t really know each other before we started working together. Like I said, I auditioned for the role.”
Austin lifted a single sceptical eyebrow, a studied move. Tag wondered how long it had taken him to learn the trick. “You didn’t know Jay before your audition?”
His incredulous tone and knowing expression suggested he remembered Tag leaving Jay’s hotel room that evening. Widening his smile, Tag brazened it out. “Not really, no,” he said. “We’d met a couple of times, but we certainly weren’t friends, just acquaintances.”
“I see.” Austin took a sip of champagne, then said, “I’d assumed it was because you were friends that you decided to take the risk.”
“The risk?” For a moment, Tag didn’t understand. Then he got it. “Oh, you mean because it’s a new play by a debut playwright? To be honest, I don’t consider it a risk. I loved the play as soon as I read it. I think the audience will, too.”
“Bea’s very talented,” Austin agreed smoothly. “But, actually, I meant the risk of performing on stage with Jay. Given his…history.”
Tag stared. “His history?”
Now both eyebrows went up. “You must have heard ofThe Birthday Partydebacle? It’s infamous.” Tag didn’t know how to respond, and Austin didn’t wait for him to gather his thoughts. “I was there that night, and let me tell you, it was a car crash. Jay completely froze, forgot his lines, forgot his blocking. They had to bring the curtain down and put the understudy on. Poor Seb—Seb Talbot? He was playing opposite him—was mortified.”
PoorSeb? And then Tag realised: Austin was talking about the play Seb Talbot had dropped Jay from when they were together.
“Sounds like a nightmare,” Tag said lightly, although from Jay’s sparse description, he hadn’t realised it was anything like that bad. “Itwasover ten years ago, though, and Jay wasn’t very experienced.”
“Oh, sure,” Austin agreed. Then, curiously, he added, “But youdoknow he hasn’t been on stage since, right?”