Page 61 of Total Creative Control

The thing was, Lewis was a simple eater. Aaron wasn’t sure why, but he’d noticed years ago that Lewis preferred to eat what Aaron could only describe as kids’ food. Ham sandwiches, hot chocolate, crisps. Cheese pizza. He’d graze on the carrot sticks and fruit Aaron left on his desk, but he didn’t seek them out himself. Over the years, Aaron had come up with a couple of theories about Lewis’s arrested culinary development, but in the end, he’d decided that he didn’t want to speculate too much. It really wasn’t any of his business. Besides, the why of it didn’t matter. Lewis was Lewis, and that was that.

But Aaron could tell that this whole tasting menu business was proving to be an ordeal for him. He looked embarrassed but seemed genuinely unable to do more than pick at the weird and wonderful concoctions set before him.

“What do you mean, it’s bollocks?” Charlie said, turning a narrow-eyed gaze on Lewis. Milly sat to Charlie’s right at the large round table. Over the last five courses, she’d shuffled her chair close enough that he could drape his arm across its back. As he spoke to Lewis, his fingers toyed blatantly with one of the shoulder straps of her dress.

Opposite them, Geoff stabbed at his phone, apparently having given up on the evening—and possibly on his marriage.

“I mean,” Lewis said flatly, “that it’s bollocks to say that Americans don’t care about your background.”

Charlie shook his head as he sloshed more wine into his glass. “I assure you, you’re wrong. Have you ever lived in the States? I thought not. I getsomuch less pushback there than I do here.Nobodycares what school you went to. For God’s sake, they don’t even know what a public school is!”

“They understand money and privilege,” Lewis growled. “That’s the same everywhere.”

“Oh no,” Milly said. “Charlie’s right. Creatively, the States is a much more liberating place to work.”

“You know what, Lewis? You’d love it in LA,” Charlie carried on. “Lots of your sort there.”

Lewis snorted. “Who the fuck are my sort?”

“People who’ve pulled themselves up by their bootstraps,” Charlie said, eyes narrowing. “Why are you so shy about your backstory, Lewis? It’s a bloody goldmine.”

“Mybackstory?” Lewis rubbed angrily at his shoulder. “What, you mean my fuckinglife?”

Aaron’s stomach tensed anxiously. Charlie had a reputation for dropping projects if someone bruised his ego and it was obvious that Lewis was getting near the end of his rope. Aaron set down his fork, his gaze shifting between the two men. The irritated glint in Charlie’s gaze worried him.

“Call it what you like.” Charlie shrugged negligently. “The point is, you should use it in your work, exploit it. Make it workforyou, not against you. I’m thinking…” He put his fingertips to his temples, as if channelling signals from outer space. “Ooh… Okay, I’m just spit balling here, but what if we give Faolán a grittier past? He could be an orphan like you. Maybe his parents were murdered by the Leeches? Maybe Faolán even saw them die.”

Jesus Christ, how did Charlie know about Lewis being orphaned as a kid?

“That would be literally amazing,” Milly gushed. “He could be, like, really dark? Like, maybe he grew up dealing drugs on a violent council estate? Do they have those in America?”

Charlie shot finger guns at her. “Mils, you always get me better than anyone else.” To Lewis he said, “Wouldn’t that be exciting? To really channel your own background into the new show? You’ve got so much material you could use.”

Lewis didn’t answer. He was staring down at his untouched food, nose flaring as he breathed hard. One hand was working at the spot between his neck and shoulder. Aaron had to grip the edge of the table to keep himself from getting up and going to him. He looked over at Toni pleadingly.

Toni’s voice was as calm as ever, but there was a betraying flash of alarm in her gaze when she looked Lewis’s way. “You know, Charlie, I think this is probably something to discuss in tomorrow’s meeting.”

When Charlie met her eyes, his expression was flat, his smile without warmth. “Sure, sure,” he agreed, “but it’s great to dig into this stuff informally too, yeah? Just turn over the possibilities. There are somethings we can get the ball rolling on with Faolán—like reflecting some of Lewis’s own life experiences, even if it’s not going to work to include his, er, lifestyle.” He winked and laughed. “For story reasons, right? Gotta think of the audience!”

Aaron stared at him, his attention briefly diverted from Lewis.

Lewis’slifestyle?Was Charlie talking abouthis sexuality? Surely he didn’t believe Lewis would rewrite Faolán as straight, did he? Because that would never happen. Lewis had been clear about that.

Toni said, “Well, I think…”

Aaron tuned out what Toni thought, returning his attention to Lewis, who had gone alarmingly pale and was breathing hard. His gaze was downcast, so Aaron couldn’t see his eyes, but he knew—he justknew—that Lewis had gone somewhere else again, just like before, at the workshop.

Fuck.

He looked around the table, but nobody else was watching. Charlie and Toni were engaged in a laughing-but-deadly-serious discussion, Geoff was scowling at his phone, and Milly was as smilingly vacant as always.

The table was too large for Aaron to get Lewis’s attention subtly, but he wasn’t about to sit there and watch him suffer alone, so he pushed back his chair and went over to him. Lewis’s shoulders were hunched and tense, the fingers gripping his neck going white at the tips.

“Lewis?” Aaron murmured, covering his hand with his own. He heard Lewis suck in a wet, shuddery breath and knew he had to get him out of there.

“Sorry, everyone,” he announced, keeping his tone easy but uncompromising. “I’m afraid Lewis isn’t feeling well. I’m going to take him up to his room.”

Toni stared at them, her eyes widening in concern. But she didn’t miss a beat. “Oh no,” she said. “He mentioned earlier that he thought he had a migraine coming on.”