Chapter 28
As he opened the door of his apartment, Dídac breathed in its homely smell—a blend of the White Sage incense he preferred, the Madagascar jasmine he had trained to climb up around the balcony door, and Dragon’s cat litter, which seriously needed changing.
Mewling indignantly, she curled around his legs, chastising him for his long absence. He picked her up, and she sank her claws into his neck in reprimand, meanwhile pushing her nose and rubbing her forehead into the hollow between his neck and jawline, purring loudly.
Laia had been amazing with her diversion. He had once asked her why she preferred being a director’s PA rather than an actor.
“Money,” she said. “PAs get paid.”
The hire car had circled back to the block, and dropped Dídac a few doors down in the cover of a row of large waste containers, his key at the ready.
It was now quite dark, so there was little chance of him being immediately spotted.
Then Laia had the car accelerate up the street to where the photographers were lounging in a group.
She literally flew out of the car in a maelstrom of histrionics, accusing one of the photographers at random of having abandoned her in her hour of need.
For all his protestations that he had never seen her before in his life, Laia simply got louder and louder, berating him in a suspicious, undefined “foreign” accent for his heartlessness.
His colleagues seemed to find the distraction hilarious, baiting him even further, until one of them caught a movement out of the corner of his eye: the door closing behind Dídac.
“It’s him!” he screamed, and as a mob, the photographers rushed the building, cameras clicking, leaving Laia abandoned behind.
At that, she simply got back in the car, and drove off.
By the time the photographers reached the glass street door of Dídac’s apartment building, he had disappeared up the staircase.
Deciding not to take the elevator when he reached the next floor up, he continued climbing the stairs, preferring to work out some of his frustration in his aching thighs.
Now he carried Dragon through to the living room and sat down with her on the sofa.
First thing he would do is clean her litter tray.
After that he would have to hunt out her traveling case.
She hated it as it normally meant one thing: vet.
So, he would have to work out how to coerce her inside when the time came.
That would be the last step before they left the apartment, if at all.
Her last vet trip a year ago had left him with three deep gouges on his forearm from which he still carried the scars.
At least he could pack his own things—she was used to him traveling, didn’t like it, but was used to it.
Without turning on the light—it was more comfortable in the dark, and less chance of alerting any paparazzi who might be scanning the windows—he didn’t notice at first how the orange square of night sky outside was turning misty.
Then Dragon was licking the salt off his cheeks, her rough tongue rasping against his beard, her whiskers tickling his nose.
He huffed, but couldn’t hold it in any longer.
The tears began to fall thick and fast. Then came the sobs, and he wished he hadn’t sent Laia away.
He had no one. It was always the same. And he had brought this on himself.
He was an evil person. Why had he done it?
Had he met Kim by then he never would have.
That, at least, he wanted to explain to him.
Sex with strangers, that was part of his past life.
It felt like some act he’d committed years ago, nothing to do with who he was now.
Meeting Kim had changed everything. But it had also proved that he truly didn’t deserve whatever dream life he’d been fantasizing about.
His true self had been laid bare. He deserved this.
He held Dragon to him and just cried. Here he was, alone as always.
Everything he had tried to create, his great acting career, all lay shattered, because he just couldn’t bare to be alone that one night.
He should be used to it! Why had he thrown it all away?
Ever since leaving drama school, ever since his first TV part, he’d been alone.
It was his lot, one of the prices of fame.
You went out, you had your career, you shone under the lights.
But when he came through that door, it was Dragon and he against the world.
He’d known that! He’d accepted it! He’d been living the monk’s life, not causing a scandal.
Then one stupid time, one single time when he just couldn’t bear to spend another night alone, when he knew the big production was coming up, with the big foreign director, the idol of his adolescence, the figure who’d been responsible for him choosing acting as a career, just days before all of that happening, he’d gone out just one night, wanted to let off a little steam before being endlessly disciplined and professional for the next two long months, and he’d thrown his whole life away, everything he’d worked for!
His sobbing was loud now, intense, but he didn’t care who heard.
Damn them! His career was over. Worse, Kim despised him, had seen who he really was. And that was what was worse.
He stared at the rectangle of orange sky outside, as dark as the night sky ever got here in Barcelona.
Ca n’Amat would be different. The night sky there could be as black as a theater curtain, except on no-moon nights, when the Milky Way lay scattered across it like a swag of diamonds, so bright you could almost see your way just by the stars.
But it was over. He was over. Beyond the balcony it was a seven-story drop.
For a long moment he considered it. A minute perhaps?
No. What scared him most was the amount of time his mind lingered over that possibility.
He wanted to be sick. No, that wasn’t him.
And what would happen to Dragon? The scare his own thoughts had given him forced him up and off the sofa, Dragon leaping clear with a cry of complaint.
He strode into his bedroom and took down his large suitcase, opening it on the bed.
Then he had to sit down, he was trembling so bad.
Dragon jumped into the suitcase and lay down, staring up at him with an intense frown on her face.