Page 96 of Best Supporting Actor

“Sebastian Talbot was an abusive prick,” Phil said grimly.

“But he was right about that,” Jay said implacably, almost welcoming the stab of pain the admission brought. It was good to remind himself of this. Good and necessary. “Anyway, you didn’t see Tag tonight. He’s angry and disappointed in me, and he’s right to be. I mean, I’ve just shown him how unreliable and selfish I am. He’s better off without me, and now he knows it.”

Phil gave a huff of frustration. “Jay, you couldn’t be more wrong. You’reloveable. You’re kind-hearted, and you’re a good, loyal friend.” He shook his head, then gave a rueful smile. “And you’re a handsome, young devil. I’ll be astonished if Tag doesn’t feel just the same as you do, and if I’m wrong—if he really doesn’t—he’s a bloody idiot.”

Jay smiled sadly. “You’re biased.”

“I am,” Phil admitted. “But anyone who knows you would be.” He set his hands down on the table in a decisive gesture. “Right, here’s the thing, kid. You’re knackered. You’ve not been sleeping right, and when your sleep’s off, everything’s off. So here’s what you’re going to do.” He rose from his chair and headed for Jay’s suitcase. “You’re going straight to bed, and to sleep. No excuses. Everything else—everything—can wait till tomorrow. You can give me your phone, too, and I’ll deal with any urgent calls.” He made a face. “I dare say there’ll be one or two.”

Despite feeling guilty for the distress he knew he’d be causing Henry and Bea, a powerful wave of relief passed over Jay, and he nodded gratefully, so exhausted he could barely think. Phil was right. He’d deal with their disappointment in the morning. God knew that would be soon enough.

On leaden legs he followed Phil upstairs into one of the guest rooms, dug his phone out of his suitcase and handed it over, then collapsed into bed, falling straight into a deep and, mercifully, dreamless sleep.

CHAPTERTWENTY-FIVE

Tag

Tag woke up, again, for what felt like the tenth time in as many hours.

The flat was filled with the pallid light of early morning, which, at this time of year, was very early. Groping on the floor next to the sofa-bed he found his phone and saw it was 5:15 a.m.

Groaning, he rolled onto his back, phone in hand, and stared up at the ceiling through gritty eyes. He’d hardly slept, spending the night fluctuating between fury, panic, and something that felt painfully like grief. For the play, he’d thought last night, for all it might have been if Jay hadn’t thrown his toys out of the pram.

But in that grey dawn light, it was harder to muster his anger. Maybe because he was too tired, or maybe because the cool morning had washed away his hot temper. Now Tag felt … nothing. Flat.

Depressed.

In his palm, his phone buzzed with a notification. Tag’s heart buzzed too, jumping in his chest with hope that—what? Jay had changed his mind? That was hardly likely.

“...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. Well, now's your chance, Tag. The stage is all yours.”

All night, he’d been thinking about what Jay had said—first in irate indignation but later, in the darkest hours, grimly recognising a grain of truth in the accusation. Hewasfocused on his career, but he had to be. He’d had to fight twice as hard to have even half a chance at making it.

Not that Jay could ever understand that. And if he really, truly thought that all Tag cared about was being the star of the show, he wouldn’t be changing his mind about working with him, not now or ever.

Even so, Tag’s fingers were all thumbs as he swiped open his phone, and disappointment flooded him when he confirmed his suspicion that there was nothing from Jay. The notification had been for an email. He opened up his email app anyway, just in case, against the odds, the email was from Jay. But no, it was just spam.

There was another email, though, sent yesterday, which Tag stared at in confusion.

From: Geoff [email protected]

Re: Settlement - Rent Refund

Blinking sandy eyes, Tag opened the message. It was short and to the point. The dispute with his former landlady in York had been resolved. His security deposit and rent advance would be returned in full on condition that he did not pursue legal action against her. Hall Beaumont’s fees would be taken care of by Mr. Warren. Therefore, if Tag was agreeable to these terms, he should simply forward his bank details to Mr. Hall’s secretary and payment would be made forthwith, after which the matter would be considered closed.

It took a second for that to register.

Geoff Hall was Jay’s lawyer. With everything that had happened since they’d moved in together, Tag had forgotten that Jay had asked Geoff to look into getting Tag’s rent back. To be honest, he’d hardly even registered the offer at the time because it had seemed like such a throwaway comment, and at that point, they’d barely moved beyond the frenemies stage of their relationship.

Even so, Jay had done that for him, hadn’t he? He’d taken the trouble to ask his lawyer—at Jay’s own expense—to look into Tag’s little problem. And all for a guy who, back then, had been more antagonist than friend.

Why had Jay done it?

It wasn’t a difficult question for Tag to answer. Jay had done it because he was a kind, generous man. The sort of man who’d invite you to stay when you were in trouble even though he hardly knew you, the sort of man who’d agree to take a role in a play because it might help you get your break. The sort of man who’d celebrate your little triumphs with balloons and champagne…

Shit. Tag squeezed his eyes shut against that memory, but his heart was squeezing tighter, so tight it hurt.

Everything Tag had learned about Jay over the last six weeks told him that he was a caring and giving man. So why the fuck had he stormed out on the play—on Tag—last night?