Page 67 of Home Grown Talent
Mason flushed. “That was over ages ago. It was nothing. We were never serious.”
“Yeah, course,” Dev said casually, though Mason knew he probably remembered the conversation they’d had over cocktails last year when Mason had complained about Lewis dumping him. Which was embarrassing on a number of levels, not least the fact that he’d been more irate about having to find a last-minute replacement to go to the British Fashion Awards with him than the fact that their relationship was over.
What was more disturbing even than that memory, though, was the fact that he found himself wanting to tell Dev that he was with Owen now. That Lewis’s hunky gardener brother was his. Jesus, what was wrong with him?
After he and Dev said goodbye, promising to meet up for drinks soon, Mason remembered that the café Tag O’Rourke worked at was nearby. He hadn’t seen Tag—or Jay for that matter—since the night of the awards dinner. He’d texted back and forth with both of them a couple of times after that night, and it had been pretty friendly, but still, the last time he’d seen Tag face to face, he’d been drunk and pissed off, and since he was at a loose end, it would be easy to pop by to break the ice.
And if Tag wasn’t there? Well, he could do with a coffee anyway.
Zipping up his jacket, Mason crossed the road and headed in the direction of the café. When he got there, the place was pretty quiet, just a handful of occupied tables and no line. And yes, Tag was in, busily cleaning up some drinks equipment in the sinks behind the counter while another barista stocked up the bakery cabinet with fresh pastries.
“Hey, Tag,” Mason said as he approached the counter. When Tag turned, his eyes widened in surprise. Then he smiled, a bright, happy smile that lit up his whole face and made Mason’s own mouth curve in response. Tag was always bemoaning the state of his acting career, but Mason was convinced that one day he was going to make it big. He just had that elusive something, and it was most obvious in that smile. He’d make a great model actually, but when Mason had offered to introduce him to Frankie, Tag had declined. He wanted to be an actor—a serious actor—and he was worried about acquiring a “model-turned-actor” label. Which was fair enough. Mason knew all too well the judgments people made about models’ intellectual abilities. So, instead, Tag kept working here, and for his dad’s construction company, as he tried to build up his acting CV.
“Mason,” Tag said warmly. “Good to see you, mate! It’s been bloody ages. You here for lunch?”
“Just a coffee,” Mason said. “Have you got time for a quick break?”
“Lou,” Tag called over to the other barista. “I’m going to take my break just now. That okay with you?”
“Go ahead,” she called back without looking up. “You want me to bring your coffees over?”
“Nah, I’ve got ‘em.” Tag glanced at Mason. “Black Americano?”
“Please.”
“Grab a seat. I’ll be over in a minute.”
Mason wandered over to his favourite table. It was next to the window and had two big comfy armchairs. He settled into one of them, and a few minutes later, Tag arrived with two coffees and a massive chocolate brownie.
“Want some?” Tag asked, pointing at the brownie.
It looked gooey and awesome, but Mason shook his head regretfully. God, he was bored of watching his diet so carefully.
Tag had no such reservations. He took a huge bite and washed it down with a slurp of latte before leaning back in his chair and sighing contentedly. “You’d think I’d get fed up with these brownies, but I never do.” He gave a rueful smile. “I’m glad you dropped by, Mason. I’ve been feeling really shitty about what happened at the awards dinner.” His face reddened. “How Jay and I were acting, I mean. You were totally right.”
Mason waved that off. “That whole thing of fake-dating you both at the same time wasn't the best idea from the start. I mean, don't get me wrong, I got some great content—”
“Especially from Jay, right?” Tag said, raising a brow.
“From both of you,” Mason said firmly. “I mean, Jay's famous so obviously I got a lot of likes on any post he was in, but my followers adored you.”
Tag grinned at that. “Okay, I'm assuming that's code for ‘Tag's content was better and he's a lot cuter.’”
Mason laughed. “Still so competitive?”
Tag laughed too, then his expression grew more serious and he said, “Look, it wasn’t all fake for me. I really did enjoy our dates. I had a lot of fun with you.” He paused, then added, “So… can we still be friends who go out together sometimes, just to have fun?”
The sincerity in Tag’s gaze made Mason feel unexpectedly emotional. Maybe because Tag’s friendship was what he’d really wanted all along, but hadn’t known how to get it. Dates were a dime a dozen in Mason’s world, but friendship? That was rare. “Yeah,” he managed to get out in a hoarse voice. “That would be good. I’d really like to be your friend, Tag.”
Tag grinned at that, another of those bright million-dollar smiles that were going to make him famous one day, and Mason couldn’t help but grin back.
After that, they chatted easily while they drank their coffee. Tag gave him the latest on his TV debut show, Bow Street—the first season had finished filming a few weeks ago, and everyone was hoping it would be well-received. If a second season was commissioned, Tag’s role would be expanded. In the meantime, Tag had auditioned for a theatre role.
“Do you think you’ll get it?” Mason asked.
Tag made a face. “The audition went well, and I think the director wants me, but the money guys want someone famous.” He sighed. “They might offer me the understudy role, I suppose. It’d be better than nothing.” Then he brightened. “Anyway, what about you and Owen on Weekend Wellness? That’s awesome, man!”
Mason grinned, pleased. “I know, right? Landing it was pretty much a fluke.”