Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
E ven though I knew that Leo was lurking in the spot by the bins only metres away, I still felt incredibly exposed waiting for the man formerly known to me as Brian James by the stage door several hours later.
The area was clearly not set up for admiring fans wanting to get a selfie or an autograph with a star.
This was a purely functional exit and, judging by the detritus on the ground, it was probably also the place where theatre staff came to take their smoking breaks.
I was conscious of the CCTV camera focused on me, but I pretended to be absorbed in checking my phone, hoping I looked innocuous enough, while I wondered how long it would take Blake Jenkins to emerge.
Leo and I had been two of a mere handful of audience members sitting through the matinee performance of The Glass Menagerie .
Blake had played the role of the narrator and protagonist, Tom, who started the play by warning the audience that everything that followed might not be strictly true because it was based on his interpretation of events.
‘Speaking his own truth, rather than the actual truth, sounds about right,’ Leo had muttered under his breath disapprovingly, although he’d soon quietened down.
I figured that, like me, he’d been so caught up by the story that he’d put his feelings about the duplicity of the leading actor to one side.
When I’d last seen the play, I had particularly empathised with the character of Laura, a shy young woman who was trapped by her insecurities.
I was afraid that, if I wasn’t careful, I was still in danger of being too similar to her.
But there was a big difference between us: although I definitely felt the fear about confronting Blake, and then about what might follow when I opened up to Leo, I was determined to act anyway.
I wanted to take control of my own destiny.
‘He’s a powerful actor,’ I’d said as the applause faded and the house lights came up.
‘We always knew he was good. Maybe if he directed all his energy into acting rather than getting distracted by scamming, he’d get his big break.’
I thought about Leo’s words as I checked my phone again.
It had been twenty minutes since the show had ended, and the other members of the cast had left long ago.
What could be taking Blake so long? I navigated to the SO Ox app, in case another message from Brian James had appeared.
His latest one had made my skin crawl at the way he’d fluctuated between talking poetically about how he wanted to run his hands through my ‘soft flowing locks’ and bemoaning the cruelty of a world in which he couldn’t afford to be there for the disaster victims. I was toying with sending Brian slash Blake a message asking for his bank details as a last-ditch backup plan, when a text from Leo buzzed onto the screen.
LEO
He’s a no-show. Let’s try another time.
Short and to the point, as always. I started tapping out a quick response.
KAT
I’ll give it another five minutes.
However, before I could hit send, the heavy metal stage door opened with a clatter. I jumped and dropped my phone.
‘Here, let me help you,’ said Blake, reaching down and scooping up my phone before I could stop him.
I thought I detected movement out of the corner of my eye from near the bins.
I shuffled around to block Blake’s view of that direction, and flapped my hand behind me in a back-off gesture which I hoped Leo would interpret correctly.
‘Thank you,’ I said as Blake handed my phone back. I quickly started recording while pretending to be checking it over for damage. ‘No harm done, thankfully.’
‘That’s good,’ said Blake.
Given how many hours– no, weeks– I’d wasted pining after and then worrying about this bloke, I was somewhat insulted that he appeared not to recognise me at all.
Moira would probably say it was because he had balls of steel.
I looked at him more closely, trying to spot a tell-tale sheen of nervous sweat on his upper lip or an anxious twitch of his fingers, but there was nothing.
‘Can I help you with something?’ asked Blake, his face the picture of detached politeness. In fact, he was already looking past me, no doubt thinking ahead to whatever he had planned for his break between shows.
‘Actually, there is,’ I said, adding what I hoped sounded like a flirtatious giggle for good measure.
In none of the scenarios I’d played out in my head had Brian James slash Blake Jenkins looked at me this blankly without even the slightest glimmer of recognition, so I was having to improvise rapidly.
‘I saw the show, and I thought you were amazing,’ I gushed. ‘You had me in tears.’
His expression brightened. ‘Thank you. I really appreciate you taking the time to tell me. Would you like me to sign your programme?’
‘I don’t have one. But perhaps you could sign a napkin for me.’ I forced myself to smile, even though I wanted to shout at him. The longer he continued this pretence, the more frustrated I was getting.
‘Sure, do you have a pen?’ he asked. I’d assumed he’d produce one of his own. A guy with the confidence to scam someone online would undoubtedly be the type to carry a Sharpie around with him on the presumption that he was big enough of a deal to be handing out autographs. He needed a wake-up call.
‘I have to confess I don’t have either a pen or more importantly a napkin.’ I blinked, leaning into the character of a slightly ditzy seductress. ‘But if you let me buy you a cup of coffee in the café around the corner, then I’m sure they’ll be able to provide us with both.’
I was acting a part, but there was something pretty empowering about being so bold and just asking the guy out like this. If only I’d tapped into this side of my personality earlier to do the same with Leo.
Blake grinned broadly, his chest practically puffing up as I played to his ego. ‘I can’t refuse an offer like that. Let’s go and get that coffee. What did you say your name was again?’
‘I didn’t. I’m Kat. Kat Fisher,’ I said.
‘Nice to meet you, Kat,’ said Blake, still keeping up a front of polite ignorance. How long was he going to maintain this pretence?
‘How are you enjoying Oxford?’ I asked, trying to appear like I was making small talk as we walked towards the café.
‘It’s good to be back. I actually grew up here, then went away to drama school and travelled and toured for a while. I feel like I’m getting to know a new side of the city now I’m an adult here, with my own digs and everything.’
He held the door of the coffee shop open for me and I did a double-take, immediately clocking Leo already in there and sipping from a mug. How had he managed to get past without my spotting him?
He caught my gaze and sent the ghost of a wink in my direction, impossibly pleased with his subterfuge skills. I fought the urge to smile back.
‘Why don’t you grab us that table in the window while I fetch the coffees?’ I suggested to Blake.
‘Good idea,’ he said. ‘I’ll have a venti iced macchiato with caramel syrup and an extra shot of espresso. Oh, and can you ask them for almond milk as well? I bloat when I have dairy.’
He ran his hand over his stomach, a self-conscious move rather than one intended to draw my attention to how flat it was, I thought.
‘No problem,’ I said. ‘I’ll do my best to remember the order.’
Blake laughed with genuine warmth, and I experienced a disconcerting flashback to those early voice notes he’d sent me. ‘I know. It’s massively pretentious, isn’t it? But I’ve worked more than my fair share of barista shifts, and trust me, it’s worth the faff to order it.’
‘I’ll give it a try too, then,’ I said.
It took a while for the drinks to be made, during which time I maintained a subtle but careful eye on Blake. He seemed completely relaxed, checking his smart watch and staring out of the window, watching the world go by.
‘Don’t let your guard down. He’s good at acting, remember?’ whispered Leo as he brushed past me, apparently on his way to collect some more sugar for his drink.
‘I’m not sure he’s that good of an actor. And I thought you were sweet enough already,’ I teased him out of the corner of my mouth.
‘Very funny. Please be careful.’
Finally, the barista handed over the drinks, and I took them across to Blake.
‘Two very fancy macchiatos, and a napkin and pen,’ I said as I sat down opposite him. He reached out to do his signature straight away. I couldn’t decide whether his slight hesitancy was due to having to sign on the rough surface of the napkin, or because he genuinely wasn’t used to doing it.
‘How long have we got? What time do you have to be back at the theatre?’ I asked.
‘Before the half. That’s five to seven in normal speak. Everything in the theatre world runs five minutes ahead, don’t ask me why.’
‘Then there’s no rush. We can take our time enjoying our drinks.’
‘Cheers,’ said Blake, clinking his cup against mine. ‘You’ve made my day, by the way. It’s not often I get asked for an autograph.’ He gave a little half smile, almost as if he was shy making the admission.
The man was good, I’ll give him that. In any other circumstances, I would have warmed to this self-deprecating air he was putting on. Despite myself, I was already starting to feel a little sorry for him.
Then I reminded myself of all the angst he’d put me through, how he’d manipulated me and preyed on my emotions.
How he’d been so plausible and clever that the merest glimpse at one of his messages had had Gavin wanting to give him money; Gavin who had so little of his own to give.
I needed to stand up to this man and stop him in his tracks before he caused any more damage.
‘There’s something important I need to talk to you about, Blake,’ I said. ‘Or should I call you Brian James?’