Page 85 of Home Grown Talent
“Being real and looking real?” Owen echoed, glancing at Mason with an odd expression. “That’s an interesting way to put it.”
Shrugging, Mason pulled his jacket closer around him. Though the sun had been warm earlier, it was gone now, and the air was springtime-chilly. “That’s the magical world of TV,” he said. “All media, really. It’s a facsimile of reality. Like how, if you don’t wear makeup on TV, you look really weird?”
“I guess,” Owen said, although he sounded doubtful.
They paused at Owen’s van. Mason considered inviting him over for the evening; then he remembered that he’d have to be back on set by six. Naomi had messaged him with the time of the crack-of-dawn shoot, and explaining that would be awkward. Even so, Mason found himself craving more time with Owen. Despite working together all day, he longed for the ease he felt when they were alone together.
Which was probably reason enough not to invite Owen over, and yet he still dithered.
Luckily, before he could test his resolve, Owen gave a heavy sigh and said, “I’ve got a really early start tomorrow. I’d say come over tonight, but I’m knackered. Probably just going to hit the sack as soon as I get in.”
Which was for the best, Mason told himself, even as his spirits drooped. It would be easier that way. No need to explain anything about tomorrow. Shoving his hands in his jacket pockets, he nodded. “Yeah, me too to be honest.”
“Friday?”
“Can I let you know? I’ve got a collection launch I have to attend, and it’ll probably run late.”
Owen looked gratifyingly disappointed, but nodded. “Okay. Well, let me know. I don’t mind what time you show up.” He gave a self-conscious smile and added, “I just like waking up with you in the morning.”
“Yeah?” Mason’s heart gave a helpless flutter, and he couldn’t resist leaning in to brush a kiss across Owen’s lips. “I like that, too.”
For a long few moments, they simply smiled at each other, and Mason was struck by the sudden conviction that this thing with Owen was developing a life of its own. One he couldn’t control. And, perhaps, one he didn’t want to control…
Then Owen took Mason’s hand, tangling their fingers together, and fixed him with a look so serious it pierced Mason’s soul. “We’re okay, right? It got pretty tense today. Sorry if I made things awkward with Misty. It’s just that she doesn’t—”
Mason touched his fingers to Owen’s lips. “Shh,” he said thickly. “It’s fine. We’re good. Misty’s hard work. Everyone was more relaxed after she’d gone.”
“Yeah, I noticed that. She doesn’t respond well to ‘No’, does she?”
Mason gave a shaky laugh and considered telling Owen about tomorrow’s filming after all, but he knew Owen wouldn’t understand, and Mason couldn’t bear to argue. Not now that Owen was smiling at him with those gentle blue eyes of his. So he just said, “I don’t think many people dare say no to her.”
Including himself, he thought ruefully.
That was something he bitterly regretted at six o’clock the following morning as he stood, shivering, in that sodding greenhouse wearing the same stupid hemp hoodie he’d worn the day before, hands wrapped around the fading warmth of a mediocre coffee.
Lucy looked no more impressed, lips pursed as she and Misty approached from craft services, coffees in hand.
“...and there I was, minding my own business, just waiting for Oscar after orchestra practice, and Camilla started droning on about her bloody villa in Cavalaire-sur-Mer,” Misty was saying. “As though that somehow compensates for the fact that Oscar plays first violin in the school symphonia while Aria only bangs a triangle in the percussion band!”
Mildly, Lucy said, “I didn’t realise parenting was such a competitive sport.”
Misty chose not to respond. “Mason, sweetie,” she gushed, striding over. “There you are. Goodness, where’s Make-up? You look dreadful.”
“I’ve already been in Make-up—”
She spoke over him, barking orders and sending people scurrying for Make-up and Wardrobe. “Now,” she said, turning back to him. “I’ve got a few notes on what we need.” She handed him a single sheet of paper. “I reviewed what we got yesterday, and I was right, of course. The pineapple slot just isn’t working. We can’t have Owen standing there glowering the whole time! So, we’re going to try a different approach.”
As she spoke, Mason scanned the page of text. To his dismay, it read more like a script than notes.
* * *
MASON
[Whispering as he enters the greenhouse, looking into the camera over his shoulder]
Okay, shhh… Don’t tell him, but I’ve snuck into Owen’s greenhouse early because I just have to show you these. I’m so excited! Look, aren’t they ADORABLE? Tiny, baby pineapples Owen’s grown from planting pineapple tops! Later, we’re going to show YOU how to grow your own pineapples, but first, let’s take a look at what’s been happening in the garden since last week…
* * *