Page 25

Hiraeth - Longing (for home)

Bach - Little

Pobl y Cwm - Literally People of the Valley , a Welsh language soap

PREVIEW OF BOOK 2

Hollywood Crush: Chapter 1

Daniel

I could hear the rain falling on my trailer and shuddered at the thought of having to go out in it. It had been 3 weeks since we had started filming an indie film in Ireland and the days had all fallen somewhere on the scale of a drizzle to a downpour.

My agent, Sandra, was staring me down with all the intensity of a predator. “So, have you decided on Thrones of Blood yet? Because if I could decide for you, you’d be-”

“Yes, I know, I know.” I replied. “I’d be taking the big fat pay check and living off it for a little longer. I could take on more indie projects .”

“And you don’t want to, why?” Sandra asked. She tapped one red-tipped acrylic nail on the contract she had placed in front of me, the bit with the frankly eye-watering amount per episode written just above the dotted line which required my signature.

“Because of this,” I gestured upward and around. The trailer was comfy enough, but having spent so long in here with the sound of the rain was slowly driving me insane. “Why not the new thriller with Tom Cruise in the Bahamas?”

“Because you’d be running against Andrew Garfield in the auditions and now you’ve hit 35 years old you’re essentially dead. And so is cinema, anyway. Take a big-budget TV series they’re offering you on a silver platter and you’ll be making money off nerds at Comic-Con for years.”

She was right, of course. I had flown under the radar for years.

Daniel Ellison, child star who never quite reached his full potential, always managing to make the fifth page of magazines rather than the cover.

Making enough money to live comfortably if I kept working but not quite enough to quit the whole business or start some bogus company to sell people face products that they didn’t really need.

A few films here and there had been promising but Sandra had always told me I could push for more . And I had listened to her. Mostly.

Except for this time. This time, I was filming a little indie film about a gay farmer in rural Ireland. I wasn’t the main character, but Sandra had already warned that it could have dire consequences. That appearing as a romantic interest to another man could lead to the tanking of my career.

“I’ll be honest, Danny,” she said, “I’ve worked my arse off for you to get this deal. They have offered you the part . In a limited fantasy TV series. For good money . Without an audition. Take this up before they release this low-budget softcore farm porno out into the world.”

“My name is Daniel. You don’t get to call me Danny unless we’re friends.

Sandra, you and I have never been friends.

Secondly, I took this project on because I’m passionate about the material.

I’ve not enjoyed spending 3 weeks in a trailer in the pouring rain and if you think I should go to Wales to do the same but for up to two months you have another thing coming. ”

Sandra huffed and pushed the contract toward me. “Take another day to consider it. I’ll have to give the production company an answer by then, but unless you want to survive on cereal ads and bit parts in soap operas for the next 40 years, it’s something you should really consider.”

She left the trailer with a slam of the door.

The rain continued to drum on the roof and I sat in the relative silence for a while.

She had warned me about this film as I’d always been relatively coy about my sexuality with the press and it had helped me gain a legion of female fans and fans from across the LGBT community.

Sandra worried that by being in this film I’d out myself as unavailable to women and stop them buying tickets to my films or subscriptions to streaming services, or even worse, have my bisexuality exposed.

“You’ve always been a very mediocre box office draw,” she had said.

“Don’t make yourself a negative. No one employs actors who lose them money. ”

So I had. I’d done the interviews with Cosmopolitan as well as Attitude.

I had made sure to go out for dinner with female friends and co-stars as well as men.

Ambiguous sexuality was all very 90’s, Sandra had thought.

But the press had lapped it up. So when I took role that Sandra thought might tank all that and swing me one way or another and for Equity minimum wage too, she had gone apoplectic.

And that was before she saw her miserly cut of the proceeds from a film that would take me out of other work for almost a month.

I read through my script for the day. We were a few days off from the end of shooting and I knew I would have to take on more work if I wanted to live any kind of lifestyle.

Maybe Sandra was right. But I didn’t want her to be.

I wanted to make films and TV that I wanted to, not green-screen fests with horrible working hours and hours of prosthetics. But the money was tempting.

A knock came at the door, and one of the runners popped his head in. “You’re needed on set please, Mr Ellison?”

“Call me Danny, please,” I said. He smiled and jerked his head.

We had been filming in the same old farmhouse for weeks, and some of the crew had been sleeping there.

I’d begged for my chance to sleep there too but had been told I was far too important.

It would be nice to be told that normally but the trailer was objectively worse.

It had rained loudly on the corrugated roof for about half the days and nights I’d been working and the makeup ladies had been applying more and more concealer under my eyes to cover up the lack of sleep.

“Hey, Patrick.” I gave my younger co-star a quick one armed hug.

He was a redheaded guy with lovely blue eyes and a great smile almost 10 years my junior and considered an acting prodigy by many.

His agent, he had explained, had thought this little indie film could be a huge career boost for a young actor.

When I had explained this to Sandra she had waved one taloned hand and told me that things were different for young actors now, but the rules still hadn’t changed for leading men past their prime.

“Right,” said the director, an older Irish lady called Siobhan who had been on the indie circuit for years.

“As you’ll all be aware, we’ll be filming some scenes of a sexual nature today.

We’ve got intimacy co-ordinators on set and we can take a break off anyone feels remotely uncomfortable. Is that good with everyone?”

We all nodded the affirmative and got into positions as rehearsed. Patrick was to unbutton the front of my shirt, we would kiss for a while and then he would simulate giving me head, or fellatio as one of the coordinators had insisted on calling it.

The day was great, even if the scene was a little mechanical.

Patrick and I chatted between takes and ate so many breath mints between kissing scenes that our mouths felt cold when kissing.

But though we had what Siobhan had assured us was amazing chemistry , I knew that Patrick would never be my type in real life.

And judging by the looks he was throwing to the very female AD in breaks between filming I didn’t think I was his type either.

When it came to filming the head scene, the set was almost completely cleared but for essential camera operators and Siobhan, as well as one intimacy coordinator.

It all seemed a little overkill to me as there wasn’t even any nudity and it was all implied, but things had moved on since I filmed my first sex scene with a woman at 18.

I remembered the trauma of almost-nude photos leaking on to early social media and the national papers.

Child Star Danny Ellis Got Big being one particularly egregious headline.

With my jeans just slightly unzipped, Siobhan had the camera positioned so that Patrick’s flame red hair was visible in frame as he bobbed up and down.

I looked down at him and gave all the appropriate facial expressions that Siobhan had asked for but we both dissolved into giggles in between takes.

“And that’s us done lads, thank you. Now if either of you need anything, speak to the intimacy coordinator on set. You have their phone numbers for any additional questions any time.”

Back to the trailer , I thought. I had been feeling lonely in the nights too.

It would be nice to get back to my rented flat in Manchester, spend a couple of risky weekends down Canal Street to bring someone home with me even if just for the night.

Even Manchester didn’t’t feel like home though.

Just a quick base of operations between different acting jobs across the country.

“Want some company?” asked Patrick as we emerged into the rain. Despite getting along well on set, we hadn’t really hung out together. I hadn’t questioned it as he was so much younger, but if he wanted to chat now I was all ears and glad for the company.

“Sure,” I said. We shared a glance before running through the rain as fast as we could to get to my trailer. Once the door was closed behind us and I had caught my breath, I offered him a seat on the sofa. “Want a drink?” I asked.

“I’d kill for a beer if you’ve got one,” he replied. I grabbed one from the fridge and he smiled as he took it.

“Hope you were OK with the scenes there,” I said. “I know they can be a little intense.”

“Nah, all good with me. I’ve had to do worse to get roles.”

I shuddered. I knew how predatory the industry could be to young kids. “Just do your best to rely on your talents,” I said. “Don’t let them pressure you into anything for a role.”

“Thanks for the advice. I’ve always looked up to my elders in the industry. There’s so much I can learn from you.”

Elders? Ouch. That hurt, though I tried not to show it in my face. “Well, anytime you need advice, I’m here.”