Forty-Eight Theo
Forty-Eight
THEO
D uncan Harrow is like a snake on ice. He slithers around the room, brandishing a tabloid newspaper, his annoying mosquito-tone voice getting higher still.
‘This is a disaster! A total shit-show! The bastards went and printed this bollocks and now we’ll get the fall out!’
Greg inspects his nails, waiting for his greasy assistant to calm down.
I watch from the sidelines, wishing I’d ordered more coffee before this meeting …
If we could just be allowed to rehearse instead of these two interfering at every opportunity, Hamlet and Tempest would be so much further along than they are. As it is, two actors have already been replaced and our rehearsal schedule is as good as useless. We don’t even have a Miranda cast yet. Greg’s seen a ton of actors but hated them all.
And now this – which I just walked into, after meeting a line of my disgruntled fellow actors slouched sullenly in the corridor beyond the production office. Greg called a meeting, but was waylaid by Duncan and his objectionable rag.
‘I don’t understand the panic,’ Greg says, watching his assistant storm around the small office. ‘It’s just the Daily Call . Nobody believes any of that crap.’
‘Oh really?’ Duncan stabs a stubby finger at the open page. ‘… Sparks could be flying in Shakespeare’s Stratford-Upon-Avon this autumn as certain hunky chest owner, Theo Larkin, gets a not-so-new leading lady …’
Now I’m listening.
‘… the Daily Call can exclusively reveal that Amy Jo Everly, former lover of gorgeous Theo, will take the place of fair Lucinda Hart, his very public squeeze this summer. Can The Bard work his magic a second time and summon these star-crossed lovers to an autumn of love? ’
‘Relax, Dunc. It’s nothing.’
‘No, Greg, it’s far from nothing . I mean, look at the headline …’ He shoves the paper at me. It’s impossible to miss: EX-HIT: PURSUED BY HER! in huge, thick letters. Some sub-editor’s smug little joke; a dig at me, Amy Jo and the scandal that caused our split all wrapped up in a convenient, out-of-context Shakespeare misquote.
Did Amy Jo know she’d been cast when she sent me that text? I still haven’t replied to her. Maybe I should have done. Then I wouldn’t have been surprised by the Daily Call article.
Greg leans back in his chair. ‘It’s nothing because it’s true.’
Duncan stares. ‘You cast Amy Jo?’
‘Of course. She was in town and between contracts, and I needed a Miranda since my latest one quit.’
It’s aimed squarely at me and it’s a direct hit.
She isn’t playing alongside me, but the fact she’s in the twin production to mine will be enough to set tabloid tongues wagging. What if Lucie sees the reports and thinks I’ve already moved on?
*
I stew over it for days. Our companies rehearse separately, so I don’t expect to see Amy Jo then. But speculation is beginning to grow and already the Daily Call is having a field day of conjecture at my expense.
BACK ONCE AGAIN WITH THE BARD BEHAVIOUR:
Has Amy Jo forgiven her ex?
AMY JO AND THEO:
STAR-CROSSED OR MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING?
Greg laughs it all off, but I’m worried. Lucie hasn’t returned my calls or voicemail messages and now I’m scared she’ll think the worst of me. Stupidly, I call her number again and leave a panicked, incoherent message about Amy Jo that ends up sounding like I have something to hide.
‘Lucie, it’s me. Don’t believe the rubbish in that paper. They don’t know what they’re talking about. I mean it’s true, Amy Jo is in town and she has the job that you – because you didn’t … Anyway, that’s not the point. The point is, she isn’t here for me. I haven’t even seen her. Just … give me call, please? I can’t explain over a message. I’m sorry.’
I receive no reply. I wasn’t expecting one.
Then, almost a week after Greg’s revelation, a text arrives:
Hey Theo, it’s me. So I guess you know by now.
Can we meet? I really want to talk. AJ x
Reluctantly, I agree.
*
Amy Jo looks good when we meet in a coffee shop in Church Street, next day. I mean, she always did – but seeing her here now is like meeting her for the first time. Maybe time has smoothed the raw edges, deadened the emotions that used to cut me whenever I saw her. Here in the town I’ve come to love, far away from the pressure and scrutiny that always followed us in London, I’m back in control.
‘I wasn’t sure you’d talk to me,’ she says, her long fingers playing with the spoon beside her cup. ‘After everything.’
There are many things I could say but I don’t. I’m done with fighting. So instead, I smile back. ‘It’s good to see you, Amy.’
‘You too. I was surprised when Greg called me. I thought he’d filled the role.’
Her careful words are a kick. Filled the role. She means Lucie.
Dismissing the thought, I give Amy Jo my full attention. ‘Casts change, you know how it is.’
‘So you’re free?’
‘Free?’
‘Single again. Greg said some actress broke your heart. Seems to be a habit for you.’
‘Harsh. Thanks for that.’
She gives me a rueful smile and reaches across the table to grab my hand. ‘I was joking? No – I’m sorry. It was insensitive of me. I’m just nervous.’
‘That’s not like you.’
She offers a shrug, just the right amount of bare shoulder emerging from the slouchy neckline of her top. ‘Maybe I’ve changed.’
‘Maybe we both have. So, when do you start rehearsals?’
‘In a week. Greg wants me word-perfect before I join. And I’m going to need all the time I can get because Mr Shakespeare and me are definitely not friends. Thees and thous and trying to voice iambic pentameter without every line sounding singsong …’ She grimaces.
‘You’ll get the hang of it. It’s a beautiful language.’
‘Says the bloke who’s been doing it for six weeks straight,’ she mocks. ‘What happened to you?’
I fell in love is what I want to say. But it feels too raw to say it.
‘Summer in Stratford,’ I opt for instead. It isn’t a lie: my life has shifted course in the six short weeks I’ve been here. The garden performances, being part of a company, getting to work with actors who know and love Shakespeare’s plays and understanding the power of the words. And Lucie. Even though she hates me and no doubt wishes I were anywhere but in her home town.
Despite everything – the good, the bad and the stuff I’d take back in a heartbeat – I’ve fallen for Shakespeare’s plays. I get them now: I’m not scared of the language or of not being worthy to speak the lines. In Will’s words I’ve found a new confidence. All those performances in the garden proved to me that I can do this. So if I don’t find a way back to film roles or TV shows, maybe this is something I can do. I’ve always liked theatre, even though it rarely returned the compliment. But now, I’m in love …
… with the theatre .
I’m in love with the theatre.
And this town.
Not anyone else …
I’m tying myself in mental knots and I hate that it happens despite my best efforts to stop it. I can’t tether everything I’ve achieved to Lucie Hart. Because she’s gone. Out of my life for good. She’s no longer my reason for being here. Now, it’s all about me. And The Bard …
Amy Jo is watching me beneath lowered brows. ‘Weird. Maybe we’ll both be fully paid up Theatre Luvvies by Christmas.’
‘Maybe we will.’ We smile at each other and sip our drinks, the late summer hum of the café drifting around us like a lazy tide.
‘I thought you might have taken me up on my offer, though.’ She stares pointedly around the length of hair that’s fallen across one eye. ‘Duncan said that girl had trashed your heart.’
‘Duncan knows nothing,’ I retort, shelving the subject as soon as I can. I’m not comfortable that Amy Jo knows Oily Dunc and even less comfortable discussing Lucie. ‘So, what’s happening to LA? Last I heard you’d moved there.’
She scowls. ‘Worst decision ever . I lasted a year and then I packed up and moved home. Honestly, you had a lucky escape with that place. It was just empty people in empty little boxes, full of their own hype. Suffocating.’
‘And the film you were slated for?’
‘Went through three directors and almost made filming but the studio had a wobble and cut funding. So that was it.’
‘That sucks. I’m sorry.’
‘It is what it is.’ The shrug returns. This time my eyes are already resting on her perfect porcelain skin when the movement causes the material to slip a little further south. Realising my mistake, I correct my line of sight. ‘But enough of that: tell me about your summer, Mr Instagram Hottie!’
‘Let’s just say it’s been an experience.’ That word carries a lot of weight, but Amy Jo accepts it without question. That in itself is a change: when we were together she would question everything I said, as if she never quite believed me. In the beginning, I found it endearing. By the time we split, it was a constant irritation.
‘Great for you, though. Everyone is talking about you. In a good way this time.’ She says it so earnestly that I can’t take offence.
‘My agent is happy with me at last.’
‘I’ll bet.’
Amy Jo takes a slow sip of her Frappuccino. I nurse my almost empty cup, wishing I hadn’t drunk my coffee quite so fast. In the lull of our conversation, my gaze strays beyond the window to the busy street beyond. It’s busy, despite the main summer holidays being over. As I scan the street I suddenly recognise a familiar face. At first I’m not sure but … yes! It’s Lyle, Lucie’s housemate.
I’ve kept in contact with Cass by text, so I know some of what Lucie is doing. And Lilia informed me of her plan to help Lucie, which means the world. But Lyle is the one person I’ve yet to talk to. Before everything happened, we were getting on – something that clearly mattered to Lucie. If anyone can reach her on my behalf, it’s him.
I knock against the window and see him turn to look. Instantly, his smile vanishes and he makes to leave. I can’t miss the chance to talk to him, no matter what he thinks of me.
‘Excuse me,’ I rush, vacating my chair and dashing out.
Lyle is striding ahead, already near the bookshop three shops away.
‘Lyle!’ I yell, kicking into a run.
He casts a worried glance over his shoulder and crosses the street, narrowly avoiding a cyclist who unleashes a torrent of abuse in his wake.
I check the road, waiting a heart-stopping moment for a delivery van to pass, then I sprint after him. He starts to jog, but I’m faster. Within seconds I’m at his side.
‘Hey.’
‘Go away.’
‘I just need a quick word.’
‘You need something …’
‘Mate, please …’ I reach out and catch his shoulder.
Furious, he spins to face me. But at least he stops running. ‘Get your hand off me.’
‘Sorry.’ I pull my hand back, holding it up as proof I’ve complied.
‘I’ve nothing to say to you,’ he states.
‘Then listen. Please. I just want to know how Lucie is.’
‘How do think she is?’
‘I don’t know, Lyle. You tell me. Because she hasn’t returned any of my calls or texts.’
‘And that surprises you? You know, I thought you were okay, Theo. A decent guy. Heaven knows Lucie needed someone decent after the shit that worm Harrow dragged her through. I can’t believe I told her you were a good one. Turns out you’re worse than Duncan. Because he made no secret of what a git he was – unlike you …’
He has every right to protect his friend, but I am done with being judged for something I never did. ‘I didn’t use her, okay? Those messages she saw were from my new director who thinks he got us together.’
‘Convenient.’ Lyle pins me to the pavement with a stare. ‘Only you replied. Countless times, according to Lu. If he was so wrong, why didn’t you challenge him? I mean you’ve done it before.’
Ouch . It’s a valid point, but it’s a punch I don’t need.
‘I need this job,’ I reply, hating the lameness of my excuse. ‘My agent told me not to antagonise Greg so I didn’t put him right. But I never encouraged that discussion, or the texts he insisted on sending me.’
‘Is that why you’re cosying back up with your ex?’
I lose my breath as if he’s punched me. ‘I—’
‘Because that’s who you’re with, isn’t it? The girl you punched that film director for. Funny that she’s back now Lucie’s stopped being useful to your career. That Greg’s idea too, is it?’
‘No! She’s in the twin production to mine …’
‘Playing the role Lucie should have had.’
‘She turned it down!’
‘Because of you!’
People are staring at us now, giving us a wide berth as they pass. My blood’s up and I should back down, but this might be the only chance I get to give my side of it. Like it or not, Lyle is going to listen to me.
‘I don’t want to fight. I begged Lucie not to give that part up, but she wouldn’t listen. We have three weeks till we open and that role needed to be filled. Amy Jo wasn’t my choice for the part: Greg cast her, not me. So you can direct your fury at him because he made this mess.’
He gives a heavy sigh, eyes still ablaze. ‘You cocked this up. And Lu had to pay for it. How is that fair?’
‘It isn’t.’
‘And now your ex is back, no doubt to fill every role Lucie walked away from.’
‘That’s not how it is …’
‘You’re a coward. You could have stopped all this happening, but you were too scared. And now you’re sleepwalking into another created media storm just to sell a few tickets to your poxy little show.’ He shakes his head. ‘I thought I’d misjudged you. Turns out I was on the money from the start.’
He’s turning his back, walking away from me now.
‘Lyle …’
‘Sod off, Theo.’
‘How is Lucie? Just tell me that and we’re done.’
The singer stops and slowly turns back. ‘Devastated. But she’s a million times better off without you in her life. So you can get lost and leave her alone. We’ll look after her now.’
And that’s it. He leaves and I don’t stop him.
Is that what everyone thinks? That I used Lucie and now Amy Jo is here for another fake relationship between stars for the media to feast on? He’ll go straight back and tell Lucie who he saw me with, won’t he? I thought talking to him would help. Instead, I’ve just blown my last chance to make things right.
Why did I even think I could change this?
‘Theo.’
When I look up, Amy Jo is beside me, my jacket in her hand.
‘Hi – sorry about that.’
‘Friend of yours?’
I stare down the street after Lyle, watching as the crowd swallows him up. ‘No. Just someone I knew once.’
‘Right. You look like you need something stronger than coffee.’ Slowly, she loops her arm through mine. ‘Let’s find a bar.’