Page 4

JACKSON

In my head, London is a mystical place filled with red telephone boxes and men walking around in top hats. In reality, the London I’m in is a large hotel next to a motorway near a place called ‘Uxbridge’.

My assistant Eric came recommended by Danny, and he assured me that this is the best place for me to stay. Close enough to the film lot and away from the hubbub of the city.

I did want to tell him that I wouldn’t mind the hubbub but I figured that was an argument that wasn’t worth the effort.

Instead, I gaze out of the floor to ceiling window and look over the gray landscape of tower blocks and terraced houses.

I wonder, not for the first time, where she lives. How big is London anyway? Can I see her house from here? Maybe she’s in one of the tower blocks on the horizon, or one of the houses dotted along the motorway.

After the wedding, she made it very difficult to approach her.

As soon as Danny and Anya escaped on their honeymoon, I tried nearly every door in the chateau hoping I ended up at hers.

No luck, but I did spend at least thirty five minutes listening to Anya’s mother relay every aspect of the ceremony, reception and after party as if I wasn’t also there.

I should let it go, let her go. It was one hook up almost two months ago, but I would be lying if I said that it didn’t have some sort of impact when my agent finally got this latest action movie over the line.

Six months of shooting, a combination of stunts, location and studio filming.

I told my agent and PR team that I’m mostly excited for the stunts and typically that’s true.

There’s nothing I love more than getting harnessed to a rig and flipped around a few times over a green screen mat.

But if I’m being honest with myself, I’m most excited to be in the same city as the girl who walked away from me in France without a second glance and an order to forget it ever happened.

Resting my hands on my hips, I finally admit that I’m probably not going to be able to sense where in London Rosie currently is just from standing at the window.

I have already scoured social media for any hint of her.

I pull up Anya’s profile and scroll to my favorite photo, one from the wedding of Rosie and Anya before the ceremony, Rosie’s dark dress hugging all the curves that felt so delicious under my hands.

But it’s her face that I linger on, the dazzling smile that she shows her best friend and the shiny blue eyes sparkling with joy.

I’ve done this multiple times but I tap the picture, desperate to see if maybe Anya has tagged her since.

No luck. I can’t blame her. Anya has a very small follower list now, with only a few hundred personal contacts and she doesn’t tag anyone anymore.

I’m just glad that she’s allowed me in enough to be able to keep returning to this picture.

Even though she has so few followers, I’ve already maxed out every account desperate to find Rosie’s.

It’s getting stalker-ish now and I am almost ready to admit I have a problem.

I’m almost positive it’s a private account with a tiny picture of a girl who’s almost Rosie shaped but it’s too vague to tell for sure and the last thing I want is to accidentally follow a random stranger.

Collapsing on my bed, I fall back onto the sheets with a sigh. I need to see her again. I have to. I haven’t flown half way across the world to give up now.

I have to see her, even if there’s no chemistry (impossible), even if she doesn’t want to be with me (possible). I have to know.

Call it closure or call it obsession, I have to know.

A knock on my door disturbs my musings and I cross the room to answer.

Eric is about half my size and always wears the same button down shirt.

I’ve only really met him in person a handful of times.

Maybe he has many of the same shirt. Maybe he doesn’t wash it between wears.

Maybe he washes it every night. My sister Tara would lose it if that’s the case, what a waste of water.

“Hello, Mr Harper,” Eric says, puffing his chest up.

“Jackson, please.” I open the door wider and allow him in.

“The car is downstairs when you’re ready to head to set.”

I nod. “I’ll just grab my shoes and I’m good to go.”

As I tug on my sneakers, I glance up at him. Eric is politely staring at the floor by his feet.

“Hey, would you be able to do something for me?”

He looks up. “Of course Mr Har–Jackson. What can I help you with?”

I rub my beard, “I need to get in touch with someone, but I don’t have her number. ”

Eric looks at me suspiciously. “Uh?—”

“Not in a weird way,” I assure him in what I hope is a convincing tone. “It’s the Maid of Honor at Danny’s wedding. I uh—I have something for her that she left at the wedding.”

Eric looks doubtful. “Wasn’t the wedding in June?”

“Yeah, I completely forgot until I was packing my suitcase and then figured I could just deliver it in person.”

He purses his lips before nodding to himself. “Yeah…yeah I could probably find some details for her.”

I stand and cross the room to him, clapping him on the shoulder as I grin. “Perfect, her name is Rosie Taylor, she’s Anya’s best friend and she lives in London. Is that enough?”

Eric nods nervously. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll see what I can find.”

“Excellent, now let’s get moving.”

Today is a prep day and I spend most of it in costume fittings.

Unlike Starseeker, this film is pure action.

I’m an ex-spy just trying to get by working construction before my old partner pulls me back into a conspiracy.

Basically, I just get to fake punch a lot of people and shoot some fake guns. Excellent.

Sometimes this job feels like what I wanted when I was a kid.

I wanted to be a hero, fighting bad guys and saving the day.

My dad used to pretend to be a villain, sneaking in the house to press a kiss to my mother’s cheek, and I used to hide behind doors and prepare to tackle him.

He would go down pleading mercy as I climbed over him, pretending to be bested.

Then one day he didn’t come home. In real life, bad things don’t happen to bad people and good guys don’t save the day. Sometimes, a father of three trips in the street and smacks his head open on the curb.

The play fighting stopped, replaced by rugby and then an acting class that my mum was convinced would help me process my feelings and the panic attacks that would grip me. I don’t know how many feelings were processed in the class but at least I found something I was good at.

It was when I started stunt work that I fell head over heels.

The adrenaline that would race through my body when I was suspended by a high wire or when I threw myself onto the crash mat would get my heart pounding in my chest. My body felt like it was jumping off a cliff though my brain knew I would land safely.

The contradiction was addictive and I’ve spent the rest of my life chasing the high.

I’m crossing the lot to the craft services when I hear a familiar accent. “Jackie.”

I look up with a grin as Tony Butler saunters towards me with open arms.

“Get out of here,” I laugh as I return his hug, slapping his back for good measure. He’s got a slimmer build than me, better suited to the type of gymnastic stunts he’s known for. “Are you working this one?”

I’ve known Tony for nearly fifteen years on and off. We started out together back in Wellington but he pivoted to being a professional stunt double whereas I was more than happy to have my face on the big screen.

“Nah, bro. I’m booked on a couple of TV dramas.

I’m just here as a favor to Marky, he wanted my eyes on the plans for some of the rigs.

This is going to be a big one.” He wiggles his eyebrows at me.

His face is slimmer than I remember, his dusty blond hair cropped short and a familiar grin pulling at his cheeks.

“Don’t I know it,” I say, flexing my neck muscles.

He nudges my shoulder. “How’ve you been bro? I haven’t seen you for years, feels like. ”

I rub my beard. “Yeah I’m good, ready to get this one under my belt so I can retire the Starseeker suit for good.”

“But you look so handsome in it.” Tony snickers, fluttering his eyelashes.

I grab him in a headlock and we’re teenagers again joking around on the rugby pitch. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.”

“Jackie, I need his head on his body.” Marky shouts from across the lot and I let Tony back to his feet.

“I was letting him win!” Tony laughs back at Marky, the silver haired stunt coordinator I’ve worked with on more than one occasion.

“How’s Masen? And Kaia?”

“Yeah, good bro,” Tony says as he readjusts his jacket. “Masen’s doing well in his exams. Loves maths and science, don’t know where he got that from.”

I laugh. “You barely know how to count to fifty.”

“Hey, I can make it to at least a hundred now.”

I see Eric edging closer to me. “Guess that’s my cue, bro.” I offer him my hand to shake. “I’ll see you around, yeah? Don’t be a stranger.”

“You got it.” He claps my hand, and slaps my shoulder. “Good luck with this one yeah? And give me a buzz when you want to let the professionals take over.”

I laugh. “Should have stuck with the acting Tony, maybe then you could have had a shot at the big leagues.”

“Alright, Starseeker ,” he calls over his shoulder as he heads towards Marky.

I laugh under my breath as I turn to Eric. “I love that guy.”

It’s only when we slide in the car that Eric clears his throat from beside me and hands me a piece of paper.

I unfurl it and can’t stop the grin that spreads across my face.

“My man,” I say to Eric and offer him my fist to bump.