Fifty Theo
Fifty
THEO
T he pub is soothingly dark and quiet. After the glare of the sunshine outside it feels a relief to be here. A blessing for my eyes and the beer a blessing for my soul.
I’m due at the theatre in an hour and a half so I keep an eye on the clock above the bar. But it’s enough time to let my head settle. I need that.
Amy Jo watches me as she takes a slow sip of her gin and tonic. She hasn’t pushed me for conversation since my exchange with Lyle and I’m grateful. The fact is, I don’t know what I feel about it. More than anything, I’m just exhausted. My brain hasn’t been given a break between cramming lines for Hamlet and processing the endless merry-go-round of thoughts about Lucie.
Maybe I just need to admit defeat and move on.
At the start of the summer, I didn’t even know she existed. That’s what I have to tell myself. It feels like a lifetime of Lucie has been snatched from me, but it’s really just a few weeks, mere days if you count how long we were together. When I move back to London at the end of the Hamlet run I won’t need to think about her. Especially if we get the West End transfer Greg is already dropping hints about.
She’s getting on with her life: I should do the same.
‘Thanks for this,’ I say, aware I’ve not been the best of company.
‘You’re welcome.’ Amy Jo folds her hands on the bar. ‘Actually, I wanted to say sorry. For ditching you like I did.’
It comes from nowhere and for a moment I’m floored. ‘Water under the bridge,’ I eventually manage, because I really don’t need any more heavy emotional discourse today.
‘Yeah, but anyway, I’m sorry.’
‘Thank you.’
She grins and returns to her drink. ‘I told Deana she was wrong about you.’
That’s a surprise. Deana Considine, one of the top agents in the business, was never my greatest fan. The Amy Jo I knew back before the Cannes punch would never have crossed her agent for anything.
‘You did?’
‘Sure. She’s eating her words seeing all those vids of you this summer. Reckons she made a mistake judging you. You’re hot, apparently.’
‘Nice of her to notice.’
‘Everyone noticed! Trust me, once you’re in everyone’s mind like that, big things start happening.’ She rests one hand lightly on the back of mine. ‘I really want that for you. You’re a star, Theo. Everyone should know it.’
Her fingers are warm, their touch familiar. The action anchors me in the middle of the mess I’m surrounded by – and I like it.
I look up and our eyes meet.
I shouldn’t be flattered, but I am. I still remember us together, before any of the events that ripped us apart. Amy Jo isn’t Lucie, but I never fought with her like I did with Miss Hart. Until we split it was uncomplicated with us. Easy. I’m so tired of having to prove myself with Lucie.
What I need is someone who won’t battle me constantly, who sees me for who I am. Someone who likes what she sees.
Someone whose smile is broadening as it unexpectedly fills my vision …
It’s like returning to a simpler time, when my career was on track and nothing could touch me. I lean into the kiss, allowing the pleasing fug of alcohol in my brain to calm everything. Maybe this was what I needed all along …
‘Welcome back,’ Amy Jo murmurs against me. ‘We’re going to make it so good this time …’
Somewhere far in the back of my mind, an alarm sounds. It builds and grows, increasing in volume until it yanks my head back.
‘No … Wait …’
‘Just enjoy it, Theo,’ Amy Jo says, her fingers skimming the line where my collar meets my neck, drawing me in for another kiss.
But then an ice-cold blast of reality hits and I pull myself back. ‘No. I’m sorry. This can’t happen, AJ.’
‘Why not? We’d be great together.’
‘We were before. But I don’t want this.’
‘But everyone says it’s the perfect solution …’ Her eyes widen, a hand flying to her mouth.
‘What does that mean?’
‘Nothing. Forget I said it.’
‘What did you mean everyone says ?’
She stares at me, her lips working as if auditioning replies. Her shoulders slump. ‘Deana said it was okay to … I mean, now you’re forgiven for Cannes and a massive star again …’
‘What?’
‘Greg agreed,’ she protests, her tone rising with indignation. ‘It’s why he hired me for Tempest …’
And that’s when it all makes sense.
Amy Jo isn’t a coincidental casting. She’s a replacement for Lucie in what Greg assumes is his brilliant masterplan to shift tickets. I never challenged him over what he assumed about Lucie, so he’s doing it again with impunity.
‘So this is Greg’s idea?’
‘I wanted it, too,’ she protests, surprised when I dodge her attempt to reach for me. ‘And Dunc said it was a great idea.’
Duncan Harrow. Greg’s greasy director. The man who trashed Lucie’s heart twice: first for his own sake and second using me as an excuse.
‘You discussed this with Duncan? When?’
‘Ages ago. He said Greg had asked Lucie to play Miranda but he thought I was a better fit. He reckoned she’d back out of the show. Turns out he was right.’
‘What?’
Did Duncan plan to show those messages to Lucie, to force her to quit the role? Was Amy Jo in on it, too?
She blinks. ‘Don’t be mad, Theo. I wanted to tell you when I sent you that text. But Dunc said not to.’
I’ll bet he did.
‘This was his idea?’
‘Not just Dunc. Everyone thinks we should get back together. They all loved us, before – you know – the Cannes rubbish. You loved us, too. You still do. You can’t tell me you didn’t want that kiss.’
Any comfort I felt from the afternoon pint abandons me as I glare at her. ‘So you’re here to replace Lucie for the people who watched us this summer?’
‘Not replace. Improve on what you had. I’m in a different league to her.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘Lucie couldn’t cut it,’ she retorts. ‘Dunc saw it coming from the start. He’s known her for years and he said she doesn’t have what it takes to make it. I mean, she’s been playing bit parts her entire career. If she’d been any good she’d have been playing far bigger roles by now. Fact is, she got lucky with you. Everyone says it. But we’re a different class, Theo. We know what success looks like and we’ll do whatever it takes to get it.’
‘Lucie is the best damn actor I’ve ever worked with,’ I hiss.
‘Says someone who’s known her for two months. She was always going to kick away a big chance. Dunc said so. She’s a self-sabotager: can’t allow herself to succeed. That’s why he got her out of the way. With the messages.’
I know Duncan showed Lucie the messages, but still the revelation hovers above our heads in the beer-scented air of the pub. Stress screeches loud in my ears.
‘How did he get hold of them?’
‘I shouldn’t say. It’s old news anyway.’
I lower my voice, fury fizzing in every syllable. ‘How … did … he … get them?’
The huge sigh Amy Jo hefts is designed to deter my question. But it won’t work. When I continue to stare her down, she relents. ‘Greg keeps production notes on his phone, so when he’s rehearsing the twin company he hands it to Dunc to direct in his absence. Dunc just screenshotted them and showed them to Lucie.’
‘Bastard!’
‘But darling, they proved he was right about her. She dropped the production – and you – the moment she saw them. Some professional she turned out to be … Wait, where are you going? Theo, come back …’
I don’t hear the rest. Punching the door of the pub open, I storm down the street towards the theatre.