by Suzy K Quinn
‘Christ, why is there no champagne in this dump?’ I hear Cecile say. ‘It’s like being in some northern town.’
Beside me, I see Tanya gripping the table, her white cheeks flushed red again. She leaps to her feet.
‘Cecile. I want a word with you.’
Cecile blinks, her spiky little face perfectly composed. ‘Oh, our resident northern monkey. Don’t blame me if they don’t serve proper drinks up north, Tanya. I’m just telling it like it is.’
‘I couldn’t care less what you think about life up north,’ says Tanya, climbing around the table. ‘I care about Soph. You should be ashamed of yourself, spreading all that rubbish.’
Cecile gives a tiny, smug smile. ‘It wasn’t rubbish.’
‘It bloody was, and you know it.’
‘If you’ll excuse me,’ says Cecile, draping her arm around Ryan. ‘We’re celebrating. The Daily Sport has just written me another great big cheque for telling the truth about Sophia.’
The look on Tanya’s face tells me she’s about to storm across the bar and punch Cecile on the nose. I grab her arm.
‘No, Tanya. It’s not worth it. You’ll just give her another story to tell the papers.’
‘It bloody well will be worth it,’ Tanya shouts, her eyes fixed on Cecile’s. Tanya struggles, and I’m losing my grip on her arm.
Cecile has the sense to look frightened, and she clutches at Ryan. ‘Stop her, Ryan. She’s crazy! You know what they’re like up north.’
That was the wrong thing to say.
Tanya launches herself across the pub, grabs Cecile’s shoulders and wrestles her to the floor.
‘You lying, two-faced stuck up cow,’ she shouts, raising her fist. ‘See how much acting work you get with a broken nose.’
‘No!’ Cecile covers her face, and I charge over and grab Tanya’s wrist.
‘No, Tanya, don’t. She’s not worth it.’ I manage to haul her off and back towards our table. ‘I don’t want to see you in the papers tomorrow.’
I push her onto a seat and hold her arms down. ‘Please, Tanya. For me. Don’t get in trouble over her.’
Cecile pulls herself up and looks warily at Tanya and me. She takes a bar stool, dusts her jeans and checks her fingernails.
The pub door creaks open.
‘Sophia, look.’ Tanya’s mouth drops open.
53
Leo Falkirk stands in the doorway.
Poor Leo. The whole pub is staring at him. But I guess he must be used to staring.
He’s wearing a thick green duffle coat that looks pretty strange against his tanned face and sun-bleached hair.
I notice Cecile slap a sickening smile on her face and pat her hair. She slides from her bar stool, all long legs and white teeth, and holds out a perfectly manicured hand.
‘Leo,’ she says, shaking his fingers. ‘I heard you were on campus.’ She puts a hand to her chest. ‘I’m Cecile. I know Duncan Granger.’ She gives a smug smile. ‘The Perfect Weddings director? He comes to all my family parties. My mother plays tennis with him sometimes. It’s a dump in here. Full of morons. How about I take you somewhere more interesting?’
‘You know Duncan?’ says Leo, catching my eye. ‘Well, you say hi next time you see him. Good to meet you, Kelly.’ He walks past her.
Cecile’s lips pull tight, and she glares as Leo comes to my table.
I can almost read Cecile’s mind: What does that girl have that I don’t? And truly, I don’t know. I mean, Cecile’s beautiful, blonde, rich and well connected. I’m just ... ordinary.
‘Hey, Sophia.’ Leo slides onto a chair beside me. He grins at Tanya and Tom. ‘Hey guys. Good to see you again.’
‘Do you ... would you ... like a drink, Mr Falkirk?’ Tom asks. ‘The mulled wine here is very good.’
‘Please.’ Leo holds up his hands. ‘Call me Leo. I’m good for drinks. I just wandered in here thinking I might find Sophia. I thought I could convince her to come to dinner after all.’
Behind Leo, Cecile’s lips practically disappear, and she whispers something furiously into Ryan’s ear.
Across the table, Tom mouths, Go on.
‘We can talk more about the play,’ Leo says. ‘I know it wasn’t the best day. Maybe I can help you get in Davina’s good books. You’re looking way too sad right now. Let me cheer you up.’
I notice Leo’s large, tanned hand on the table and suddenly think of Marc’s hands – large and strong too, but with slender, pale fingers. I think of them sliding around my back, winding my hair around them ...
‘Yes,’ I say, jumping up, my hands on the table. ‘Yes, why not? Let’s get out of here.’
54
Cecile’s face is a picture as Leo and I leave together. We head across campus side by side, but he doesn’t try to take my hand or link arms with me, which is good. I’d probably have cancelled dinner if he did. I want a distraction, not a date.
There are paps hanging around the college gates, so Leo orders a special VIP cab with tinted windows, and we drive from the college car park out into London.
I can’t help looking at my iPhone every few minutes, but Marc hasn’t called or left messages.
‘It’s not me, is it?’ Leo asks as the cab shunts to a stop at traffic lights. He’s sprawled in the seat beside me, tapping his fingers on his knee in time to some imaginary tune.
‘What’s not you?’ I let my phone drop to my lap.
‘That’s making you look so sad.’
‘Do I really look that sad?’
‘Yes.’
‘Sorry.’ I sigh. ‘No. It’s not you.’
‘Am I to guess it’s Marc Blackwell who’s making you sad?’
Stupid tears. Back at the first mention of his name. I put my fingers under my eyes and pat.
‘Hey. Hey.’ Leo unbuckles his seatbelt and slides over, throwing an arm around me. ‘Did I cause that? I’m sorry.’
‘No.’ I hide my face in my hands and take a few steadying breaths. ‘No, it’s fine.’ I pull my hands away and force a smile.
‘Better,’ Leo nods. ‘Hey, I won’t mention the ‘B’ word again. Okay?’
‘Thank you. I’m sorry. I feel so stupid.’
‘Don’t feel stupid.’ His hand squeezes my shoulder. ‘Let’s change the subject. You know, this is only my second trip to London, but I love this city.’ He waves his hand at the passing buildings. ‘Bad food, sure. But great nightlife.’
‘Bad food?’ I’m smiling now, wiping tears away.
‘Oh, come on. It’s terrible. All carbs and oil. I miss Californian food. Have you ever been to California?’
I shake my head.
‘You should come. I have a place right on the beach. You’d love California. Best food in the world. Fresh fish, fruit. Smoothies. And the frozen yoghurt – I miss it.’
‘You do realise we’re going out to dinner in London, don’t you?’ I say with a smile. ‘Are you going to tell the restaurant how bad British food is?’
Leo laughs. ‘I won’t mention it. I promise. Anyway, we’re going to one of the few places in London that does do good food.’
‘Oh really?’
‘Yeah. Soba. Japanese place. You ever been?’
I shake my head.
‘You’ll love it.’
55
Soba is on the second floor of a big brown building overlooking Park Lane. It’s really quiet – a little too quiet for me. I’m used to bustling chain restaurants full of screaming kids.
All the seats are leather, and there are more waiting staff than customers.
‘Nice, huh?’ Leo says.
I smile, but inside I feel nervous. I’m scruffy in jeans as always, but then so is Leo.
‘May I take your coat, sir?’ asks a waiter.
‘Sure.’ Leo hands it over.
If the waiter is at all bothered by Leo’s scuffed duffle jacket, he doesn’t show it.
‘Madam?’
‘Yes?’
‘Your coat?’
‘Oh, of course. Sorry. Thank you.’
We’re shown to a table overlooking Park Lane, and we sit for a moment, watching cars zoom past. Leo is really easy company, and I feel fine to sit with him in silence.
‘I love cities, don’t you?’ says Leo. ‘So much going on. Such a buzz. I grew up in a small town in Texas where nothing happened. First time I went to Houston, I was like, whoa. This is where I want to be. And then the acting thing happened, and LA was like Houston only ten times better.’
‘How did you get into acting?’ I ask as the waiter presents us with steaming hot towels.
‘I did school plays,’ he says. ‘The usual stuff. And then I did modelling for a sports company and ended up in California for a shoot. Took up surfing, loved it, never went home.’
‘You were a model?’ I say, surprised. Leo seems too ... I don’t know, genuine to do all that preening and posing.
‘Sure,’ says Leo. ‘It was mainly sports stuff, you know. Athletic stuff. Why, did you model too?’
I laugh and shake my head. ‘I couldn’t think of a worse model than me.’
‘Why?’
‘Well, for a start, look at my fingernails. I’m not especially good at self-maintenance.’ I hold out my hands, showing my bitten nails. ‘If I grew them any longer, I wouldn’t be able to garden.’
‘You like the outdoors, huh?’
‘I love it.’ I look out of the window. ‘There aren’t enough trees in London.’
‘Not enough ocean, either.’ Leo follows my gaze. ‘But it’s so alive, don’t you think? The city.’
I shrug. ‘I can take it or leave it.’
Leo smiles. ‘You’re not like other actresses, you know that? I’ve never met an actress like you.’
‘Is that a good thing?’
‘It’s refreshing. You’re easy to be around. Of course, it helps that you’re super pretty.’
A waiter hovers over us with two menus. ‘Champagne to start?’ he asks. ‘Or we have an excellent apple mojito. Perfect with our appetisers.’
‘Sophia?’ Leo asks. ‘You want champagne? A cocktail?’
I glance at the waiter, then back at Leo and whisper, ‘I think I’d rather have a beer.’
‘You’d rather a beer?’ Leo stage whispers back. ‘Okay!’
The waiter puts on a polite smile. ‘We have excellent Japanese beer. Two Kirin?’
‘Sounds good.’
I open my menu. ‘Is all this raw fish?’ I ask.
Leo laughs. ‘Not all of it. Why? You don’t like raw fish?’
‘I’ve never had it before.’ I chew a thumbnail.
‘You haven’t? It’s nice.’
I frown at the menu. There are all sorts of words I don’t know.
‘I’ll have the lang-ous-tine as my main,’ I say, carefully. ‘That’s like prawn, isn’t it?’
Leo laughs again. ‘Sophia, this is like tapas, okay? You order more than one.’
‘Oh.’ I’m flustered, and the menu slips around in my hands. ‘Okay. Well the ceviche ... what kind of fish is that?’
‘It’s not a fish, honey. It’s a dish.’
‘Can you just order for me,’ I say, shoving the menu across the table, my cheeks burning. ‘That’ll be much easier.’
‘Sure.’ Leo takes the menu, just as the waiter comes with our beers. He orders, but I have no idea what. The only word that’s familiar is ‘caviar’, and I take a deep breath, remembering my first dinner with Marc.
‘So, how was your day?’ Leo asks.
‘Awful,’ I admit, taking a sip of beer. ‘Usually, I love performing. But not when someone picks holes in me the whole time.’
‘Try to see things from Davina’s point of view,’ says Leo. ‘She’s used to working with professionals.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Sorry. That sounded harsh. But I can see what she’s getting at, even though she doesn’t get at it in the best way. There’s a big difference between a drama student and a professional actor. You could use a little polishing.’
‘Polishing?’
‘Mmm.’ Leo nods as he swigs beer. ‘Fine tuning. So you’re not so self-conscious.’
‘But the more she criticises me, the more self-conscious I get.’ I pick at the label on my beer.
‘You know, doing that means you’re sexually frustrated.’
My head snaps up. ‘Excuse me?’
Leo points his beer bottle at mine. ‘Peeling off beer labels. Sexually frustrated.’
I redden. ‘Oh, look. Here comes our food.’
56
The meal is truly delicious. I thought raw fish would taste really fishy, but it doesn’t at all. It tastes fresh and delicate, and it’s presented so beautifully that I’m half tempted to get my iPhone out and start taking pictures.
We eat delicate slices of raw salmon, spread on a bed of ice chips, and tacos filled with raw beef, covered in lemon juice, washed down with lobster and champagne soup.
‘You want to come out with me after dinner?’ Leo asks, finishing his second beer. ‘Come see a few London clubs?’
I shake my head. ‘I need to learn my lines.’
‘Very good. You’re a star pupil. No wonder ... oh, wait. No. I promised not to go there.’
‘What you said about me being unpolished.’ I use my fork to push around a piece of prawn shell. ‘What did you mean, exactly?’
‘Oh, just ... you can tell you haven’t acted professionally before. That’s all I mean. You’re too aware of who’s watching.’
‘And how do I stop that?’
Leo shrugs. ‘Hard to say. I guess it just comes with practise.’
‘So maybe, by the time we’re ready for the show, I’ll be better?’
‘You’ll be better, but I don’t know if you’ll be at the level that Davina wants. It takes years to really, truly forget the audience.’
‘Years.’ I stare out of the window.
‘Are you drinking that beer?’ Leo asks.
I stare at the half-full bottle by my plate.
‘No.’
He reaches across and downs my beer in three large gulps. ‘You sure you don’t want to head out with me after dinner?’
I smile and shake my head. ‘I think the press have enough pictures of me for today.’ And there’s something else too – something I don’t say. All I’ll be able to think about is Marc, anyway.
‘Are you okay there?’ Leo asks. ‘Looks like you’re thinking about something serious.’
‘It’s nothing.’ My fingers reach for my phone.
‘He didn’t call.’ Leo spins a fork on the table.
My fingertips freeze over my iPhone screen.
‘Look, you’ve checked that thing every five minutes all night,’ says Leo. ‘He didn’t call. You would have heard it ring.’
I let my hand drop away. ‘And I thought I was being subtle.’
‘About as subtle as a rock. But I promised I wouldn’t mention the ‘B’ word, so ...’ Leo holds his hands up.
I sigh. ‘You’re right. He didn’t call. Or text.’
‘Hey. It could be worse. You could have a glitch with your phone and get 500 text messages a day, like me.’
‘You get 500 messages a day?’
Leo nods. ‘Sometimes more. My phone’s bust. It sends me duplicates. Sometimes triplicates.’
‘Can I take a look at it?’ I say.
‘Sure.’ Leo hands over a slim silver touch screen phone.
I take a look through the settings, then discover a software update and press it.
‘It’s a glitch with the phone,’ I say, handing it back to him. ‘But there’s an update that should fix it. It should work now.’
Leo’s eyes widen. ‘Wow. Software girl. Who knew you had such hidden talents?’
I shrug. ‘I just like gadgets, that’s all.’
‘Shame you won’t come out dancing with me. You want me to call you a cab?’
I nod, my thoughts drifting to Marc again. Marc woul
d try to drop me off personally. Make sure I was safe. But he also just broke up with me.
‘Thanks,’ I say. ‘That would be great.’
Leo calls the waiter over. ‘One taxi cab for the little lady, here. And do you know any good clubs near here?’
The waiter gives a stiff smile. ‘Night clubs, sir?’
‘Yep.’ Leo slaps his back. ‘For dancing and romancing.’
‘Chinawhite is nearby.’ He glances at Leo’s jeans. ‘I think that might be the sort of thing you’re looking for.’
Leo stands. ‘You sure you don’t want to come with me? Last chance?’
‘No, I’d better head back. I should get an early night.’
57
The next morning, I’m woken by a knock at the door.
‘Soph. Soph.’
‘Tanya?’ I rub bleary eyes, glad that I’m not too hung over. My mouth is a little sticky, though, and I grab the glass of water by my bed and take a long gulp.
Setting the glass down, I throw the duvet around me and waddle to the door.
‘What time is it?’ I ask, pulling the door open.
Tanya’s in the hallway with a rolled up paper in her hand, practically hopping up and down. ‘Did you READ the paper?’ Her glasses are wonky, and her hair is all messed up. She’s wearing a navy dressing gown with yellow rope cord around the lapels.
‘I only just woke up.’ I stand aside so she can come into my bedroom.
Tanya hurries past me and throws herself on my bed. ‘That absolute cow Cecile. She’s done another number on you.’
I rub my eyes. ‘I kind of thought that might happen. She was at the GMQ offices yesterday, so I guessed there might be something today.’
I sit beside her on the bed. My chest feels heavy.
‘Let’s see.’
Tanya lays the newspaper on the bed. There’s a big picture of Leo and me on the front cover, outside Tottenham Theatre. Leo is flashing his big, handsome Hollywood grin, and my eyes are half shut as I try to slip out from under his arm. My hair is blowing everywhere, there’s a sheen of oil on my forehead and my unmade-up eyes look pale and tired.
It certainly doesn’t look like a romantic picture. I’m glad.
