Chapter 8
eight
As Alex fled into the bathroom, Isard got up off his knees. He and his dad stared at each other until the lock clicked on the bathroom door.
“Where’s Diego?” was all he could think of to ask.
“Sleeping obviously. You know he could sleep through an earthquake,” his dad said. “I’m really sorry, Isard. I had no idea you had someone with you. I didn’t see any—”
“You did.”
“Well, yes, you’re right, I did see you. But I was trying to leave without making a sound. Then your friend opened his eyes and saw me. I… But who is he? Someone you met on the filming?”
“Yeah, he’s my martial arts teacher. I offered to let him sleep here, so we could travel to the shoot together tomorrow. It’s closer. He lives in Sagrada Família.”
Why was it all feeling so weird? He’d come out to both his dads, and his mom, way back when he was seventeen, the “love diagnosis” event. And he knew his dad had not been trying to spy on him. Neither Diego nor his dad were like that.
“Sorry, Papa,” he said. “It was my bad. I should have locked the upper staircase door.”
“How about that cup of tea?” his dad said. “I’ll make it, and maybe you can go and prise your friend out of the bathroom, see if he wants one too.”
“OK.” And as his dad went toward the kitchen, Isard went to scratch on the bathroom door.
“Hey, Alex,” he whispered. “Are you OK? Do you want to come out and meet my dad? Have a cup of tea?”
There was silence for a few long moments. Then he heard the sound of the door being unbolted. It opened and Alex was standing there, wearing his backpack.
“No, I’ll slip out if that’s OK. I’ll see you on the shoot tomorrow.”
“What? No! It’s an hour back to your place at this time of night. And it’ll be even more than that to get to the set tomorrow morning. You won’t get any sleep.”
“Look, let’s just keep this professional,” Alex said firmly, harshly.
And he was already walking to the door, crossing the space quickly keeping his face turned away from Isard’s father in the kitchen.
At the door, he turned. “We both have careers to think of. This was a mistake. What time will you be free to work tomorrow?”
“Ah, I have to be there at seven-thirty. I should be done with make-up in an hour. Then I normally have a couple of hours to kill before filming starts. But don’t go! This is stupid!”
But Alex had already left, his footsteps echoing down the path at the side of the house.
“Merda!”
Isard turned back to the living room, where his dad had just placed two steaming mugs of tea on the coffee table.
“You couldn’t get him to stay? I’m really sorry, Isard. I get the feeling you quite like him, don’t you?”
Isard huffed. “Yeah, it doesn’t matter.”
“Look, maybe it’s for the best…”
“For the best? How can it be for the best?”
“Here, have your tea. I added a couple of sugars.” For a while, they were silent, blowing on the hot tea and taking a first sip.
Then Isard’s dad put his mug down. “OK, I know you’re an adult and everything, able to make your own decisions, but I’m going to go out on a limb and give you some advice. ”
“What?”
“This film is a big deal. At your age you think you’re going to have thousands of opportunities like this, that if this one blows over, another chance will come along on the next bus.
But life isn’t always like that. Sometimes, you only get one big chance at something, and you need to put aside everything else and just focus on that.
If this guy’s important to you, he’ll still be around after the filming.
But you have one chance to turn up tomorrow, alert and ready to give this part your best shot.
Your whole career could depend on this one film, and if you turn up sleepless and bleary-eyed, that director’s going to know something’s up.
He’s no fool, and he’s not going to be pleased.
My advice to you is drink your tea, go to bed, and make sure you’re rested and ready to do your absolute best work tomorrow.
I overheard your friend saying he wanted to keep things professional.
I think he’s absolutely right. Now, do you want some Valerian to help you sleep? ”
Isard, scowling into his tea, shook his head.
“Thanks, Papa, I’ll be fine.”
He did his level best not to act like the spoiled brat he was feeling like right now. So both Alex and his dad wanted to keep things professional? Sure, he’d show them. He’d go in tomorrow and professional the ass off them.
“You’re right, I need to get some sleep,” he said pointedly.
“Good lad,” his dad said, and with a slap on his knee, he got up, picked up his tea, and walked toward the stairs.
“And Papa?” he called across the space. “Please don’t tell Diego you saw me sucking dick. I will never live that down.”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” his dad said, laughing as he climbed the stairs.
“At this stage in the game, we’re just three gay men sharing the same house.
I think he’d be more worried if you weren’t sucking dick at your age.
” Then he paused on the landing. “However, regarding your Mom, your secret is safe. I think that would be a bridge too far, don’t you? ”
Then he was gone, and Isard had maybe five hours before he needed to be awake and ready to film again.
Instead of immediately going to bed though, he walked across to the patio slider, opened it, and stepped into the back garden.
The night sky had its usual tangerine glow of light pollution, through which only a few brave stars could make their sparkle known.
As he’d done since he was a kid, he picked out Orion’s Belt, and followed the line down to Sirius, the throat of his hunting dog.
He’d always felt as if Orion and his hound were his friends and guardians, a warrior and his dog looking out for him his whole life.
Very well, he’d forget about Alex. Today had been an insanely long and crazy day.
He’d mucked up. But now he’d get some sleep, and in the morning, he’d give the performance of his damn life.