Page 92 of Best Supporting Actor
“Faith in what? That you wouldn’t take the pillsI saw you taking?”
Jay flung up his arms in exasperation. “I didn’t take any! And I wouldn’t even haveneededthe sodding things if you hadn’t outed me.”
“Outedyou?”
“It was that fucking article that set me off today! The one thing—theonlything—I asked for when I agreed to do this stupid bloody play was that my involvement be kept secret until we opened. That was it. But none of you could keep your bloody mouths shut, could you? Not you, not Giles, not Bea.” Acidly, he said, “Andyouwere happy to sell your soul—or, rather, mine—for a mention in Coburn’s shitty column.”
“Oh, screw you,” Tag snarled. As if Jay had ever had to worry about making a name for himself. “What does keeping it secret matter, anyway? It’s not like people won’t recognise you when you walk on stage.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Then explain the fucking point!”
“It’s—” Jay cut himself off, both fists clenching in his hair. Stiffly, as if the words were being dragged out, he said, “If no one knows I’m in the play, there’s always a—a way out.”
Tag stared for a long moment, floored. “A way out?” Then, as the truth finally dawned, “Oh my God, you were never planning to go on, were you?”
Jay rubbed tiredly at his temples. “Of course I was. But keeping my involvement secret was a sensible precaution—like the pills, and making sure Rafe was ready.”
“All that fuss over Rafe! Fuck, I thought you were beinggenerous, giving him plenty of chances to rehearse, but that wasn’t it, was it?” A flush rose in Jay’s cheeks, and with it, Tag’s anger. “You knew all along that you wouldn’t be able to go on, or that you’d be too fucking high. You knew Rafe would have to step in at the last moment, but instead of letting another actor—another name—take the role, you strung us all along. You let me think that all that work we did together was going to make it onto the stage, when the truth was, you always planned to leave me to get by with Rafe.”
“I didn’t,” Jay said, his grey gaze bleak. “I was just trying to ensure that if—”
But Tag was on a roll now, his temper up, and he spoke right over Jay. “Jesus, don’t you see how much this damages the production? How much it fucks up my chance of getting a break in this industry? Or maybe you just don’t give a shit.”
After a silence, Jay said quietly, “I can’t say I’m surprised that’s your opinion; you always did enjoy thinking the worst of me.”
“Yeah,” Tag shot back, “and it looks like I was right.”
Jay’s nostrils flared as he sucked in a deep breath, but his expression sank into the cool, haughty mask Tag had hated back when they’d first known each other. He recognised it now as one of Jay’s ‘social performances’, the one he hid behind when he was feeling defensive. One that concealed every trace of the sensitive, vulnerable man Tag had come to know. “Well, in that case,” Jay said, stalking over to the bed, “I might as well live down to your expectations.”
Crouching, he yanked his suitcase out from under the bed and tossed it onto the mattress. Flinging it open, he began to empty the dresser, throwing his clothes haphazardly inside.
Tag felt a flash of panic. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like? I’m leaving.”
“You can’tleave. We open tomorrow night!”
Jay didn’t even look at him. “Why can’t I? You’re right. I’m a selfish fraud and a shitty stage actor. Seb was right; I’m not cut out for theatre. The production—you—will be better off without me.”
“Better off with Rafe?”
“Rafe’s fine. He knows the part inside out.”
“Yes, Rafe’sfine. But he’s notyou. He’s not the Sassoon I want to play opposite. I want to perform the playwerehearsed,ourcharacters.”
Jay glanced up, a squally look in his eyes. “Think of it like this: Rafe will be fine, and you’llshine. And that’s all you want, isn’t it? To be the star of the show, to get all the good notices, to launch your bloody career.” He slammed shut his suitcase, heaving it off the bed and heading for the door. “Well, now’s your chance, Tag. The stage is all yours.”
“For fuck’s sake, that’snotwhat I want, Jay!” To Tag’s horror, his voice broke on the final words, and just for a second, Jay’s step faltered. He turned, and his expression was regretful.
“You probably won’t agree right now, but honestly, this is for the best. At least this way, I’m not leaving halfway through Act One.” With that, he grabbed his keys and phone from the ledge by the door, shoving them into his bag before swinging it over his shoulder. “Use the flat for as long as you need,” he said as he pushed open the door. “I’m sorry, Tag. I really am.”
Hardly believing what was happening, and too furious to consider his words, Tag yelled after him, “Fine! Flounce off like a fucking drama queen. I always knew you were a selfish dick!”
But Jay didn’t turn around, and when the front door swung shut behind him, Tag was left alone in the ringing silence of the flat.
Fuck.