CHAPTER NINE
Jack
I admit it, there’s a part of me that’s still a little star-struck at being friends with Nate Linden.
Throughout drama school Nate was my celebrity crush and now we’d co-starred in a fantastic movie together he’s become my friend…
yes, my bloomin’ friend! I’d told myself I’d be satisfied, content with a platonic friendship and I’d absorb every moment we shared.
However, after last night in Paris things had definitely shifted between us.
On-set smooches couldn’t hold a candle to the real, overwhelming passion of kissing Nate.
Our mutual attraction and chemistry were life changing.
Trudging beside Lucy and Benji, I’d sleepily dragged my wheeled suitcase through Gare Du Nord train station to board the Eurostar train back to London. All the while an incessant loop of the scorching kisses I’d shared with Nate replayed in my head.
It was nine a.m. and the journey to London would take two and a half hours, delivering us to St Pancras Station at midday.
I took the window seat in the spacious business class train cabin.
I’m six-two so was happy to take advantage of the extra leg room the seats provided.
My agent, Lucy Freiberg sat beside me. The walking, talking nepo-baby disaster that was Benji Moss sat across the aisle in a single seat.
I plugged my phone into the charging station, and I laid it on my tray table.
My bottle of ice-cold water was in the drink’s holder, and again, I was absolutely famished.
Frustratingly, I’d forgotten to raid the mini-bar of snacks before I checked out of the hotel.
As the nine-thirty direct Eurostar train departed I put my feet up on the foot rest, relaxed, and stared out of the window at the landscape as we travelled through industrial areas of Paris and then on toward Calais.
I let myself get lost in memories of Nate, of how my every nerve erupted with desire and need when Nate had taken control and claimed what he’d so desperately wanted for himself.
Me. I’d kissed plenty of men, a few women too, but no one had rocked my world like that before.
Afterward, Nate and I were surprisingly grown up about it.
We’d talked and he’d explained that he’d kissed me for purely selfish reasons.
I was more than happy to oblige. I’d told him that wanting to kiss someone after a break-up was totally understandable. The kiss was cool and we were okay.
But, honestly, I was not fucking okay.
No matter how much I ‘d secretly lusted after him, kissing Nate was a bad idea…it had to be a bad idea, right? Just like an office romance was a bad idea. It couldn’t happen again.
We lived on different continents and couldn’t be anything other than friends.
I refused to be derailed by these unexpectedly intense emotions—the sudden desires for more, for a relationship.
No, not at this point in my life, when my acting career was on an upward trajectory.
I couldn’t allow myself to become more emotionally entangled with Nate than I already was.
Nate was married, unobtainable, and I wasn’t looking for a lover, end of story.
“You’ve got the pick-ups for the Fin Miller book this afternoon, yes?
” Lucy queried as she obsessively scrolled on her phone.
I turned my head to respond, noting Benji in the seat across the aisle to her right.
He was asleep, his wild, uncombed blond hair reminding me of Boris Johnson.
I shuddered at the thought. His face was pressed against the glass.
He was drooling. Benji’s existence in my sightline immediately got my hackles up, my resentment for him growing with every interaction.
“Yeah, I’ve gotta to be at the studio on Soho Square by one-thirty.
” Fin Miller was an American investigative journalist whose debut thriller novel Warning Signs would be released in four weeks.
It was a great book and I’d enjoyed narrating it.
But there were a few corrections for me to do before the project could be signed-off.
“I know you were supposed to have a few days of down time before Berlin, but Sir Martin Bassett wants to see you about the lead in his next Shakespeare adaptation.”
Like an eager puppy I perked up at hearing this. “Which one?”
“The Tempest.”
“Argh! Please, please, please say he wants me for Prospero. I’ve always wanted that part,” I asked excitedly, my hands clasped in prayer.
“The part’s yours if you want it.”
I did a celebratory fist pump and hissed “Yesss!” A happy dance would have to wait until I got home!
“I thought it best to keep that little snippet close to the vest until Paris was done. The meeting’s just so you can catch up with Martin and discuss rehearsal dates for January.
He adores you. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he chose The Tempest to please you!
” Lucy grinned, affection twinkling in her eyes.
“Martin suggested meeting on Tuesday afternoon, three p.m. at The Dorchester. That works for you, yes?”
I’d worked with director Sir Martin Bassett on four Shakespearean productions–the first when I was just out of drama school, keen and green!
Martin had seen something in me, “A seed of exceptional talent,” he’d said.
He’d taught me so much about the craft and about The Bard.
Over the years he’d watched me bloom from a wet behind the ears graduate to an actor causing ripples on the world stage.
He reminded me of how far I’d come, and that no matter the glitz and glamour, acting always came back to craft—that no matter the level of fame, every actor has room for improvement.
“I had plans,” I admitted, “but I’ll cancel, no probs.”
Lucy was distracted by a new text message so I lay my head back and watched the sun burned golden fields of French countryside flying past, and in the distance a glimpse of the sea.
The English Channel wasn’t an attractive body of water, even on a summer’s day.
It rolled in the distance as murky cobalt grey waves, crashing on beaches that had seen too much death and destruction during WW2.
We finally entered the Channel Tunnel and the train was consumed by darkness, my eyes then adjusting to the artificial lights.
“Hmmm. You’ll need to make yourself available on Wednesday evening for a Zoom interview with an American show, Entertainment A-OK! Have you heard of it? Nate’s on the call too. That should be fun!” Lucy said with faux jollity. I turned and glared at hearing her sarcasm.
“What? You’re the hero of the hour. Americans love an action man!” She paused for a moment and considered me before, in a more serious tone, she said, “I know Nate was rattled after the attack. I heard you also stepped in and prevented him from embarrassing himself at the after party.”
“It wasn’t that bad,” I insisted, keeping my tone calm, and measured. I wondered who’d told her that Nate nearly went off the rails!
“You’re always a knight in shining armour, Jack! Easy there, or you’ll get yourself typecast!” she joked.
“I took Nate back to the hotel, made sure he sobered up, ate something, and went to bed. Simple. It’s what anyone would do for a friend. There’s nothing to worry about. I’m sure he’ll be back on top form by the time we get to Berlin,” I insisted.
“I hope so. He’s a wonderful actor, but I don’t mind telling you, the attack was a shock to us all.
I’ve rarely dealt with such an unprepared security detail.
I’m furious that the studio made such a hash of the documentation for the US close protection team they promised us.
I’m going to insist on extra security for Berlin,” she assured fiercely.
“Moving forward, please consider getting yourself a bodyguard for public events.”
I understood that the security issue wasn’t caused by Freiberg, as the studio was footing the bill, but Benji’s ineptitude hadn’t helped either.
I was reluctant to get my own security team.
It felt too overblown. I’m nobody, and there are no active threats against me.
And honestly, while I was doing well financially, I wasn’t doing that well!
I couldn’t justify the expense of paying a ripped ex-squaddie forty grand to stand beside me and look hard…
hmmm, on the other hand—I snickered to myself.
“The exposé of Nate’s husband is a huge embuggerance,” Lucy continued.
“Foiling the attack was a masterstroke. Roz is doing what she can to control the narrative on her end, but we’ve got the British tabloids to contend with…
and they smell fresh blood in the water.
Stay alert, Jack! The gutter press has no imagination.
They say what they see—Nate has a cheating husband, he’s vulnerable, and then you throw yourself in front of a knife for him.
We don’t want them to decide that as you’re lovers on-screen, there’s a secret torrid affair in real life, do we? ”
I didn’t care if the press thought Nate and I were having an affair, but I’m sure Nate did. Press speculation and innuendo would do more harm than good.
“The news cycle being what it is, everything will have blown over by the time we get to Berlin,” I assured. “They’ll have another scandal and another poor bugger to get their scathing attention.”
“True, true. Just, stay off social media and be careful what you say in public, that’s all.”
Benji suddenly woke up with a cry of confusion, startling both Lucy and me. The man looked around, bleary-eyed. He rose from his seat and staggered down the aisle towards the bathroom. When he was far enough away, I said, “You know he’s a huge fucking problem, don’t you?”
Lucy’s brow furrowed, “What do you mean?”