Heather Bay: The Complete Collection, Volume Two

Prologue

TWELVE MONTHS AGO

Henry

I scrolled through the script on my tablet screen and tried hard not to roll my eyes at the utter absurdity of the story. It was the fourth script I’d looked through that afternoon, and I was running low on both patience and sanity. Was it too much to ask for something that wasn’t a pile of drivel?

Perhaps it was my own fault for letting Celeste talk me into auditioning for that bloody superhero franchise in the first place.

While it had done wonders for my career profile and my bank balance, playing General Justice in the Protectors of Earth franchise meant I’d been pigeonholed into being Hollywood’s next big action hero.

And that meant the only scripts that seemed to arrive in my inbox were ridiculous thrillers or action movies where looking sexy, wielding guns, driving fast cars, and seducing beautiful women were the order of the day.

My sigh echoed around my beautiful London flat where I’d taken up residence while waiting for my next press tour.

The only problem was that it was rather lonely and boring.

I wished my brother wasn’t currently filming in Canada because I desperately wanted someone to bitch to and read these appalling scripts with.

I clicked back into my inbox and opened the next document, silently praying for something sensible. I had a fucking BAFTA and an Oscar, for crying out loud. Surely there was more to my future than playing cardboard cutout action men.

The first page contained some brief character notes, with one of them highlighted.

Lance Sergeant is a man who doesn’t want to be a hero, but when a shadowy operation steals the recipe for a deadly bioweapon, the former Special Forces turned CIA operative doesn’t have a choice.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake! Who the fuck wrote this shit?

” I was tempted to throw my tablet across the room just so I didn’t have to read any more of that nonsense.

Instead, I just tossed it onto the broad leather sofa cushions next to me and huffed loudly.

This was ridiculous. There had to be something out there that was better than that rubbish.

I grabbed my phone off the arm of the sofa and dialled Celeste’s office in LA. It was getting on for six in London, so by my calculations it would be midmorning in California. That meant Celeste should be nicely caffeinated and more willing to listen to me whine.

Celeste had been my agent since I was twenty-one and had gotten my first bit parts in TV.

She’d gotten me my big break in a British film adaptation of David Copperfield and had stuck with me for all the ups and downs since.

She’d very rarely steered me wrong, and I trusted her opinion over virtually everyone else’s, so I had no idea why she was sending me such rubbish.

Unless they were the only options available…

My heart sank at that thought, and I anxiously waited for the line to connect.

“Celeste Owen’s office, Harper speaking. How can I help you today?”

“Hey Harper, it’s Henry,” I said, trying to keep the worry out of my voice.

Celeste’s direct number usually went straight to her mobile, but if Harper, her current assistant, answered, it usually meant she couldn’t be disturbed.

“Is Celeste in? I need to speak to her about the scripts she sent over.”

“Hang on, let me check.” There was a pause and I heard some clicking. “Yeah, she’s free. Give me a second.”

There was some beeping and then a warm Californian voice said, “Hey, Henry, what’s up?”

“Oh, thank God,” I said, sinking back into the sofa and breathing a sigh of relief. “I was worried when your number went to Harper. I thought you’d be in meetings or something.”

“For you, I’m always free. Well, mostly. What’s wrong?”

“It’s the scripts.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Worse,” I said. “They’re just all… it’s like someone copied and pasted the same idea into a new document, changed the names, and made it about twenty percent worse each time. I don’t want to do any of them.”

“I didn’t think you would,” she said. Her comment surprised me and I frowned.

“Then why did you send them? Please, please don’t tell me that’s all you’ve got. I’ll die if I have to do another of these ridiculous action franchises. I’m sick of chicken and sweet potato and getting up at four to lift weights.”

“I sent them because they’re from good production companies offering good money and I wanted you to at least see them before I turned them down,” she said. “I thought they were all pretty shit too, but I thought you might get a laugh out of them.”

“I might be laughing more if I’d known that was your goal,” I said, my frown turning into a pout. I was glad we hadn’t switched to video.

“Did you read my email?” she asked and I could hear the raised eyebrow and unimpressed expression.

“Er… sort of?” And by that I meant I’d skimmed it while drinking my coffee and catching up on the latest episode of Celestials, where my little brother Jason played a demon prince.

It was the show’s final season and behind the scenes there’d been all sorts of drama that Jason had filled me in on at length since it involved his character.

Apparently, someone somewhere had attempted to force the show to give his character a horribly homophobic ending, which Jason had been kicking and screaming against since last September.

All in all the whole thing had left a rather sour taste in my mouth, and I wasn’t impressed, but I was trying not to let that affect my enjoyment of the show.

“That’s a no then,” Celeste said. “I told you to have a read, see if you agreed with my opinion that these were all garbage, and then I’d move on to finding you something else.”

“Okay, that makes more sense,” I said, the lump of panic that had been building in my chest slowly starting to break down. There was a pause and I wondered if I should tell Celeste what I wanted her to look for, but she beat me to the punch.

“Can I ask you something, Henry?”

“Of course.”

“And by ask, I’m going to make a statement and you’re going to tell me if I’m right or not, which I’m guessing I am.”

I chuckled softly. After thirteen years together, she knew me far too well. “Fire away.”

“You don’t want to do action movies anymore.”

“No,” I said, relieved at being able to say the words out loud. “No, I really don’t. Not unless there’s a very good reason.”

“Okay, I thought that was the case. You should’ve just said.”

“I know, but I didn’t realise how much I didn’t want to do them until now. I know I’ve still got a few commitments to keep, but after that, I want something else.”

“All right, I can work with that.” I heard some rustling and clicking and then my phone beeped, telling me Celeste was requesting a switch to video.

I hit the green button, and her face came into view.

As always, she was perfectly made up and her long black hair was swept up out of her face.

She was wearing a beautiful pair of chunky green and gold earrings that matched what I could see of her clothes, and over her shoulder I spied the edge of a large vase filled with flowers.

“There we go, now I can see your expression when I suggest things.”

“Am I really that obvious?” I asked, adjusting my position on the sofa so I could comfortably sprawl and still hold my phone.

“Yes, you are.” She smiled and twirled a pen in her hand. “So, no action movies, and I’m guessing no more spy thrillers or superheroes? How do you feel about science fiction or fantasy?”

“Sure, those would be fun—the science fiction and fantasy, not the superheroes.”

“Rom-coms? Comedy?”

I thought for a second. “A rom-com or romance would be fun. And sure, I’d consider comedy as long as it’s not super cringey.” I hated cringe humour and avoided watching it as much as possible.

“Got it. Historical?”

“Yeah, I’d love to do more historical.” I hadn’t done any since David Copperfield and I’d actually loved getting dressed up for it every day. I looked really fucking good in period dress too. “I know it’s probably not something you’ve got, but I’d love a period drama.”

I had a real weakness for those. I’d watched the BBC’s adaptation of Pride and Prejudice so much as a kid that I’d worn out Mum’s tape, and half of my repertoire of smouldering looks and longing gazes had come from the hours I’d spent copying Colin Firth’s expressions in the mirror.

There was just something about period dramas that made me happy, but if I had two wishes, I really wanted more diversely cast ones and more sexy, queer ones.

I glanced at Celeste’s face, expecting her to brush off my comment, but instead she was frowning. “What?” I asked. “What’re you thinking?”

“I don’t have anything yet but I was talking to a friend of a friend the other day and she mentioned she knows someone putting something together for a new period drama in the UK.”

My heart leapt and I sat forward, nearly pressing my face to the screen. “What is it? Do you know any details?”

“She was going to send me an email. I thought it might be good for Roger.” Celeste turned to the side and peered at something. I assumed it was her monitor.

“Pah, I’m much better than Roger,” I said. Roger Clark was some up-and-coming actor I’d met a few times who irritated the shit out of me. “Just don’t tell him I said that. It’ll make me look like a dick. But seriously, I will fight him in a car park if I have to.”

“You don’t even know what it is yet,” Celeste said. “It could be a walk-on with two lines.”

“It won’t be that if you’re considering it for Roger.”

“Okay, so…” I saw her frown as she started to read. “A new period drama, filming in Yorkshire towards the end of the year. Currently casting a male lead and love interest…”

That sounded plausible with my schedule, and I’d happily take a television lead to escape the current nightmare of my career. I watched Celeste work her way through the email and noticed the grimace before it had fully formed.

“What?” I asked.

Celeste turned back to me and I could see her thinking. “I won’t lie. It’s a good match for you but there are two major issues.”

“If it’s about pay, I don’t care about that.” I knew they probably wouldn’t be able to match my last few film deals but that didn’t bother me since I already had more money than I’d ever need and a very good financial advisor who’d make sure it stayed that way.

“That’s one of them, but if you’re not fussed…”

“I’m not. What’s the other issue?”

“It’s… it’s a gay love story. It’s about a lord who lives on a rural country estate and invites a young male artist to stay with him because he admires the artist’s work. They strike up a friendship and eventually fall in love. It’s got love scenes too.”

“And? What’s the problem?” Was I missing something here? Was there some secret, hidden meaning in that sentence that I was supposed to decrypt?

“It’s…” Celeste sighed and it suddenly clicked.

“Is it because it’s queer?” I asked. “Why is that a problem? I’m queer as fuck.”

“You’re not out, though,” she said. “Not publicly. I mean, I know you date whoever you want but you’ve always kept your dating life private, and you’ve never come out.

If you do this, then people will ask questions and it’s whether you’re prepared to deal with that.

Either you’d have to come out, which I’d advise sooner rather than later since we don’t want to connect the two, or you’ll have to deal with accusations that you’re queer and hiding it, or that you’re taking the part from a queer actor.

And I’m not saying the part being queer is the problem, I think it sounds cool as fuck, I just have to look at all the angles and help you make the best decisions for your career. Because that’s what you pay me to do.”

Celeste did have a point and one that I hadn’t considered.

We’d talked about me coming out for years but I’d never done it because I didn’t think it was necessary.

Then I’d become what my brother had described as stupid famous and suddenly I’d become more guarded.

There was a part of me that craved the spotlight and the attention but only in certain ways.

I’d never wanted my private life to be splashed across trashy magazines and TikTok threads. Selfishly, I wanted to keep one part of my life for myself.

And maybe I was a coward too.

But if my brother could announce his sexuality and a new boyfriend through a casual Instagram post, then perhaps I could too.

Just not yet. I didn’t want to overshadow Jason. He’d worked so hard to get the ending he deserved for Celestials, and I didn’t want to steal the spotlight away from him and his relationship with Lewis, even if he might want me to.

“Okay, I’ll come out,” I said.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously. I mean, not today or even this month, but maybe over the summer? Let’s see if I get the part first and then we can discuss it.

I don’t want to totally overshadow Jason, and if we do it now, it’ll be all I’ll be asked about during the press tour in April.

But the summer would be far enough away from the release of Protectors of Earth not to have a negative impact, so I doubt the studio would kick up a fuss, and it’ll be way before filming for the period drama starts, so it shouldn’t overshadow that either. Does that work?”

“Sure, we can do that. As long as you’re comfortable with it,” Celeste said.

“I’ll talk to a few PR firms discreetly and see what they can come up with.

Then we can go from there, and if you want to pull the plug at any point then you can.

It’s your life, Henry. You don’t have to let anyone else dictate your relationships, especially not your contracts.

And I know the producer, one of the directors, and the casting director for the period drama.

They won’t mind either way, whatever you choose. ”

“Does that mean you’re going to get me in then?

” I asked, not even attempting to hide my excitement.

The idea of dealing with the PR around coming out was already exhausting, but the idea of doing something that allowed me to wear beautiful clothes and stare broodily into the distance instead of leaning out of the side of helicopters and trying to shoot bad guys was a good distraction.

“I’ll do my best,” Celeste said. “I can’t make any promises, but I’ll make some inquires.”

“You are the absolute best!”

“Don’t say that yet. I haven’t done anything.”

“You will, though. I know it.”

We chatted for a few more minutes before I left Celeste to get on with the rest of her day. Now all I had to do was keep calm and not send her emails every two hours asking how she was getting on.

I needed a way to keep myself occupied, and I knew the perfect TV show to do it. After all, if I was going to be auditioning for a brooding, historical romance hero, what better inspiration was there than Mr. Darcy?