Chapter Sixteen #2

cubicle, a tape measure in one hand and what looked like a kind of

silken harness in the other. She got between Laurie and the door.

“Right, Mr Fitzroy,” she said quietly. “This is a good time to get

you measured up, while everyone's... busy. Stand up straight for

me, please.”

She

knelt in front of him, and Laurie, too used to such attentions to

be fazed, picked up the scanty garment she'd laid on the chair. He

chuckled. “Not measured up for this, I hope. That's like worrying a

tie's not gonna fit me.”

“No. For other costumes.” She dropped her voice still further,

spoke through a mouthful of pins. “Listen. Stay out of this kind of

shit if you can.”

“I was trying to get out when you stopped me.”

“Brett changed this scene to a costume one without even telling

me. He wants fifty authentic Egyptian priests and peasants within

half an hour. You're going nowhere. Just don't...” She untucked

Laurie's shirt with an expert, impersonal flick and snapped the

measure round his waist. “Thirty one. Perfect. Just don't watch

Wesley—he doesn't like it.”

“I'm not watching. Can you measure me for earplugs

too?”

She gave

him a reluctant smile, then got on with her work. Laurie tried to

get on with his too, which unfortunately only involved standing

still and not flinching when the tape or pins tickled. Zara was

good, her touch barely perceptible: Laurie still had scars from one

enthusiastic dresser, but would have welcomed a stab or two right

then by way of distraction...

“Douglas! About fucking time. Did you hear what this bleach-blonde cow told

me to do?”

Laurie closed his eyes. He didn't give a toss for

Wesley's don't-look-at-me

syndrome, but he was starting to feel sick, and it

seemed unfair to stand here and watch the guy getting fired. He'd

gathered that the stars of this production could take some massive

liberties. No-one spoke to a director or his immediate staff like

that, though, and he braced up, waiting for Douglas Brett to roar

like Sir Ralf—or, worse still, to make a quiet, devastating

observation in Paul Jacobs' style that manners meant way more than

talent in his theatre.

“No, Mr Lombard. I didn't hear. If you'll tell me now, I'll see

what I can do.”

Okay. That was decent tantrum-management: get Wesley off his

soapbox and out of public view with a show of sympathy. Laurie

risked looking again. But Wesley remained poised exactly where he

was, Brett and the audience attentively waiting. “She said,” Wesley

began—and his projection was better now, as if he'd been waiting

for a full house—“that Valentine’s costumes from three months

ago—three fucking months!—wouldn't fit unless I wore a

full-compression body shaper. Then she had the goddamn nerve to

offer me her nip-tuck guy for some botox shots.” Wesley folded his

arms. A horrible smile snaked across the outrage in his face, and

Laurie thought—Christ, you're enjoying

this! “Jesus. Even if I took her shaper

vest, I wouldn't take her doctor on a silver plate. Look at the

fucking state of her, the shrivelled-up tramp.”

“Oh Christ, this is ridiculous,” Laurie muttered. Zara had

succeeded in getting him out of his shirt and into the silken toga

almost unnoticed. He waited till she'd cinched its broad belt tight

round his waist, then he stepped out of her net of tapes and fabric

swatches. She made a grab at him which he neatly evaded. He felt

like a soldier called up to some absurd battle where he didn't give

a damn for either side, but a gentleman could only take so much. He

strode in amongst the spectators. Wesley swung round to look at

him, which was useful. “Hoi, you,” Laurie called. “Yes,

you—Valentine. Don't talk to her like that.”

Douglas

Brett grabbed Laurie by the back of the belt. His grip was harder

than Zara's and he dragged him to a halt. “Fitzroy,” he said

warningly. “It's not the right thing to do.”

“You do the right thing, then. Bring

your actor into line.”

“What?” Wesley demanded. He'd finally noticed Laurie. “Who the

fucking hell are you?”

It was

just possible he didn't know. He'd made himself scarce when Laurie

had first arrived that morning, during the introductions when even

Nicole had condescended to give him the tips of her fingers. He was

looking Laurie over with the best display of blank contempt he

could manage, but Laurie saw where his gaze stopped: his shoulders,

his hips, the absurd belt that would never fasten around

Valentine's waist again. Laurie saw Wesley's weak spot, and a devil

rose up in him. “Me?” he said cheerfully. “I'm the bloke who's come

to replace you.”

Wesley

went white, then scarlet. For a moment Laurie thought he would leap

down from his perch and take him on. He readied himself. A hell of

a scene for his first day on set, but maybe a punch-up would settle

things... But now at last Douglas did intervene. He pushed Laurie

behind him. “Wesley,” he said, calmly as a chess player reviewing

his board, deciding which piece he could sacrifice. “No-one's about

to replace you. You're happy with your contract, aren't

you?”

“Yes, but...”

“That's right. It's watertight. So is Mr Fitzroy's here, so I

can't get rid of him for you, even if I wanted to. Bearing all that

in mind, what do you want?”

“Fire Libby Palermo. Not instead of him—because of

him.”

Douglas

shrugged easily. “Okay. Done.”

Laurie

struggled free. “What? No! You heard how he was speaking to her—I

was trying to...”

“Knight-in-shining-armour tricks are great for the screen, Mr

Fitzroy. In life, you're as liable to run the maiden over with your

horse.”

That got

a big sudden laugh from the crowd. Laurie stepped back, aghast.

Even Wesley was smiling, coming down off his stool as if honour had

been satisfied. The tensions in the room dispersed, focus shifting.

“Good,” Douglas continued. “All right. Back to work, everyone.

Bailey Price, Mr Fitzroy, I need you ready in twenty

minutes—costume, makeup, then we run the market-place sequence

again. Miss Palermo, please collect your things. A security officer

will accompany you out.”

Laurie

looked frantically around him. The crowd was beginning to scatter.

Off in her cubicle, Nicole had returned to her magazine as if

nothing had happened. “No,” he said again, to anyone who would

listen. “Mr Brett! For God's sake, I never meant to...”

But

Brett was already halfway through the double doors. Beached,

desolate, Laurie stood in his semi-pornographic priest's

outfit—whose historical authenticity could only have existed in the

mind of its creator—and watched him go.

Something bumped his shoulder hard from behind. He whipped

round. There was Libby Palermo, a box file clutched to her chest,

laptop case clasped tight. If she'd had a hand free, Laurie thought

she'd have taken his eyes out with one swipe. “Libby...”

“Don't you say a word to me, you arrogant fuck!”

“I tried to stay out of it. But I can’t let anyone attack a

woman and—”

“Oh, and what, Sir Galahad?” Her impression of his accent was

cruel but accurate. “Jolly well get away with it? Wesley Lombard

loses his shit with someone here three times a week. He gets over

it, unless some goddamn little English prick comes along and pushes

him over the edge.”

“I'll talk to Brett. I'll get you your job back.”

“Don't you dare say or do one more thing.” Her face was a rigid

mask, but to Laurie's horror tears suddenly gathered in her eyes.

“Jesus. I've been with this production for five years.”

“Miss Palermo?”

They

both flinched. A uniformed security guard had appeared at Libby's

elbow. “I'll need to take a look at that file before you leave, I'm

afraid, ma'am. And make a brief scan of your computer.”

“You're kidding. Who would I sell the plot of this turkey

to—Vampire Sesame

Street?”

“Nevertheless, ma'am.”

“All right, I'm coming.” She turned back to Laurie, gaze aridly

dry once again. “Good luck, Your Lordship. You've made an enemy of

Wesley Lombard, and he won't forget it unless you can give him ten

years of your life and take seven inches off his hips.” She paused.

For a moment Laurie thought she would soften, but she was only

shifting focus, taking another view. “But you know what? It's your

buddy Bailey Price who'll bring you

down. I can see it in your eyes—that same great

big hole that can't ever be filled. What is it for you—smack?

Booze? You hide it better, don't you? For now, anyway. Don't worry,

he'll bring it out in you. If it's there, he'll bring it

out.”

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