I rush to Make-Up, where Damien makes me up in total silence. Apart from one comment.
‘You do know, I was bullied ferociously all through secondary school by a bunch of homophobes.’
‘So you know how I feel,’ I say.
He looks confused.
‘Doesn’t matter. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.’
I’m standing around in my, now, clingy dress and boots. Josh is beside me. I wish they’d just get it over with.
‘You OK?’ he asks quietly.
‘Yeah, you?’
‘No.’
We laugh. A break in the ice.
He winks. ‘We’ll be grand.’
I wonder if he’s just being nice because we’ve got to do this scene together. Not that I care.
Oh, God. Here comes Emily. If this is about the investigation, now is not a good time.
‘Just here to offer some moral support,’ she says to me.
She’s holding a robe. To help cover me up afterwards. And I can’t believe I forgot to bring mine.
‘Guys, can we get a move on?’ Emily calls.
I take a deep breath.
The scene starts with us bursting into a (fake) bedroom, kissing. He kicks the door shut. We kiss and undress our way to the bed. It’s a relief to get under the quilt. From now on it’s upper body shots and the bra stays on. There’s only one problem. The weight of Josh’s whole body is on mine, pressing air from my lungs. His hands are moving over me. In between kisses, his breathing is heavy. It’s so real. Too real. Oh, God. I feel him, hard, through his boxers. And start to freak. I tell myself to calm down. I can do this. Eyes closed, I pretend I’m with Mark. He pulls himself up onto his arms. Air shoots into my lungs. Relief. But then he starts to move over me. I remind myself of all the sex scenes I’ve ever seen. I pretend I’m in pain. I moan. I tilt my head back, let my mouth fall open. He speeds up. Then he groans. Let this be over. Please God, let this be over.
‘And cut!’
He jerks off me like I’m on fire. Someone hands him a robe and he’s gone.
Then Emily’s beside me, handing me mine. I hurry into it, wrap it round me. I pull the chord tight. Make sure I’m completely covered before I emerge from the bed.
‘Well done,’ she says.
We look at the floor manager, who’s talking to the director on his walkie-talkie.
‘OK,’ he says, at last. Then looks at me. ‘We’ve got it. Thanks, Rachel.’
‘I gotta go,’ I say to Emily as I take off.
Maisie’s dressing room is empty. I close the door and lean against it. I run my eyes over everything in the room, concentrate on every little thing. So I don’t remember. I pull up the hood on the robe and sink to the floor, my back against the door, my arms around my knees. I knew it would be bad. Just not that bad. I’m shaking.
After about ten minutes, there’s a knock on the door.
Go away. Whoever you are. Just get lost.
For a moment, there’s silence. Then another knock.
I’m afraid they’ll open the door so I get up quietly. I’m sneaking towards the bathroom when the door opens. It’s the last person I want to see.
‘Just wanted to check you were OK,’ Josh says. He’s standing at the door, grimacing. At least he’s dressed.
‘I’m fine.’
‘Can I come in?’
I make a face. ‘I’m kinda tired.’
‘Look, I just wanted to say sorry,’ he says, still at the door.
‘You didn’t write the scene.’
‘Can I come in? I don’t really want to explain from here.’
‘Explain what?’
‘Can I come in? Please?’ He puts on the nicest face.
I fold my arms defensively. ‘OK.’
‘Thanks.’ He looks relieved. He comes in, closes the door but stays by it. Luckily. ‘I just wanted to say sorry. It wasn’t, you know, personal?’ He gives me this look, like he’s trying to tell me something. I realise, in horror, he’s talking about the hard-on. I want to die. He looks like he does too. ‘I was just getting into it,’ he says. ‘You know, in my head. I was thinking of someone else.’
‘Yeah, I know,’ I rush. Dying of embarrassment.
‘I just thought if I got into it, we might get it done in one take, you know?’
‘You don’t need to explain. You really don’t need to explain.’
He smiles. ‘So, we’re OK?’
I nod. ‘We’re OK.’
He lets out a long breath. ‘Sometimes I wonder why we’re even doing this. It’s not exactly saving lives, is it?’
Finally, I smile. ‘I know.’
I get a taxi straight to Mark’s.
‘What’s up?’ he asks, knowing straight away that something’s wrong.
‘I just wanted to see you.’ Any minute I’m going to burst into tears.
‘Come on up to my little love nest.’ He puts an arm around me and walks me to his room.
I burrow my face into his chest and breathe him in. He smells safe, warm, cosy, familiar. He lays his chin on my head and pulls me close. I feel his chest rising and falling,rising and falling. His hand rubs my back over and over.
‘Hey,’ he says gently when I start to sob. He pulls back and looks at me. ‘What is it?’
‘Today was that scene.’
His face clouds over. ‘What happened? Did he go too far? Tell me, Rache.’
‘No. He was fine. It was just … the whole thing. I’ve never had sex, Mark. And it was kind of like I was.’
‘I wish I’d never let you do it.’
‘I’d have done it anyway.’
‘At least pretend I’ve some influence over you.’ He smiles.
I turn my face up to his. ‘Kiss me.’ Because I need to be kissing the person I love. Not some guy with a hard on the size of a— Oh, God, I have to stop thinking. ‘Kiss me, Mark.’
He does. With those lips that I know. And love. I kiss him back, so passionately. I push him backwards towards the bed until he stumbles onto it. He laughs. I stop him with another kiss. I hold his face between my hands and gaze into his eyes like I want to imprint them on the back of my brain, tattoo them there forever. He smiles. And I think how lucky I am to have him. How he’s always around to cheer me up. Make me laugh. Be Mark.
‘I want to do it, Mark,’ I say, looking into those eyes. ‘I have to.’
He carries on kissing me and stroking me, like he couldn’t stop if he wanted to. But then he does stop.
‘Are you sure?’ he whispers.
I nod slowly, holding his eyes with mine.
‘Let’s just see what happens,’ he says.
‘No. Let’s do it.’
I pull him to me. And finally, finally, finally, we let ourselves go. We stop stopping. And just let it happen. Like nature. But in the end, it’s still a shock. I feel at the same time powerful and vulnerable, happy and sad. I laugh and cry. And I shake. He pulls me close and holds me tight. Finally, he pulls back and looks into my eyes with so much emotion that I forget myself.
‘I love you,’ I say.
He smiles widely and kisses my forehead. He pulls me close again, so close. But he never says he loves me. I lie very still. And wait. I’ve wanted this for a very long time. Right now though, right this minute, I need it. But it never comes. Panic builds in my chest. Was I wrong, all this time? Doesn’t he feel it too, this overwhelming love that I would kill for? If he does, then why doesn’t he say it? All these questions flood my mind. Until I go cold and rigid and afraid in his arms. It feels like I’ve lost him. No. Worse. Like I never had him. I feel so stupid.
So alone.
And he must sense something because he pulls back. ‘Are you OK?’ he asks, frowning.
‘Yeah, fine. I gotta go.’ I’m swallowing back all this emotion.
‘Now?’
‘Yeah. Now.’ I grab my clothes and hurry into them.
He sits up. ‘What’s going on, Rache?’
‘Nothi
ng.’
He puts his hand to his head like he’s realising something. ‘You’re sorry we did this. Aren’t you?’ He closes his eyes. ‘I knew it was a mistake. I’m so sorry, Rache.’
A mistake? He’s sorry? I shove my feet into my shoes. I step down on the backs, something I never do.
He’s jumping into his boxers. ‘Hang on. Wait. Don’t go.’
I stop. Turn. I look at him, my heart pounding. Was I wrong? Does he love me? Maybe I just didn’t give him a chance to say it.
‘Come here,’ he says, smiling. He’s sitting on the side of the bed, patting his lap.
How could I forget that this is Mark? He loves me. Of course he does. I smile and go to him.
He puts his arms around me. Kisses my cheek.
‘This is my fault,’ he says. ‘I should have known you were just upset.’
I stand straight up. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ I say, feeling like I never want to see him again. I hurry from the room and downstairs before he can dress, feeling like Cinderella, trying to get away before everything turns to shit. Too late, I think. It already has.
I lie in bed and can’t stop crying. Through everything, I always thought I had Mark’s love. It was the one thing that kept me going, even when I thought I’d lost Alex and Sarah. Inside my chest, my heart aches, like it really is broken, bruised, trampled on. Smashed. I see everything differently now. All those times I thought meant something, meant nothing to him. I feel so stupid. I’ve always been alone. I just never knew it.
I cry all night, silently, so no one hears. I’m pretty expert at that. You just stick your face into your pillow.
If I could just stop loving him. Switch it off. Pretend we were never together. That I dreamed it all.
TWENTY | Sausage
I so don’t want to go to school, to face Mark. But I have to keep the show going for my parents. I’m walking (slowly) to the DART when Charley calls.
‘Hello, sweetie,’ she says, like she feels sorry for me.
‘Hey, Charley,’ I say, not wanting her pity, just wanting to know that I can quit D4.
‘Emily called,’ she says. ‘Are you OK?’
‘I’m fine Charley. Can I quit?’
There’s a pause. ‘Can you keep going till your contract is up?’
‘I don’t know.’ I don’t know if I can keep going at all.
‘Shall I talk to your parents? I could tell them how great you’re getting on in D4. How much they love you. And that they want to give you a week off to recover from the newspaper article.’
‘You mean lie?’
‘Effectively, yes.’
‘OK.’ I breathe out in relief. ‘You won’t tell them about Rebecca?’
‘God, no.’
‘OK.’
‘Good, because you’re the most talented actress I’ve ever met,’ she sounds emotional. ‘And I’m not going to let anything get in the way of your dream.’ I’m getting a little emotional myself. ‘I’ve never said this, Rachel. But you’re like one of my own.’ Her voice wobbles.
A tear spills over.
‘We’ll get through this, sausage,’ she says.
I smile. She’s been calling me ‘sausage’ as long as I can remember. ‘Thanks, Charley.’
‘I tried to call you,’ Sarah says on the DART to school the next morning.
‘Yeah, I’d my phone off.’
‘Did you get my messages?’
‘I haven’t been looking at my phone.’
‘They’re all sorries.’
‘Thanks.’
‘She seemed so nice.’
‘I know.’
‘I kinda want to kill her. Slowly. Painfully.’
I half smile.
‘Are we OK?’ she asks cautiously.
‘Yeah,’ I say.
‘You don’t sound OK.’
‘I’m OK, Sarah.’
‘You don’t forgive me, do you?’
‘Sarah, I forgive you, OK?’
‘OK,’ she says uncertainly. Then a lot more certainly, she says, ‘I’ll get her back.’
When I get to school, I can’t look at Mark. All through class, I feel him looking at me. When break comes, I get out fast. I grab my coat from my locker and go. Outside the air is cold, clear. I need to think. No, I don’t. I need to act, like Naomi acts.
‘Rache?’ I hear his voice behind me. I turn.
He’s running up to me. No coat. Looking so caliente I want to hit him. He slows to a stop. I look at him and think, Why couldn’t you just love me?
‘What’s going on, Rache? Why aren’t you answering your phone? Why aren’t you talking to me? Why aren’t you even looking at me?’
Just say it, Rachel. Just tell him it’s over.
‘Why did you go, last night? Talk to me, Rache.’
I open my mouth to tell him it’s over. But that’s not what comes out. ‘Let’s see other people.’
‘What? What are you talking about?’ He looks at me in total shock.
The words keep coming. ‘You’re always saying we should live a bit. Well, let’s see other people.’
‘I didn’t mean it like that.’
We stand facing each other.
Then his eyes narrow, ‘Why? Why now? Why all of a sudden?’
‘You don’t want a serious relationship, Mark,’ I say instead of ‘you don’t love me’.
‘Don’t tell me what I want.’ His face hardens. ‘It’s OK, I get it,’ he says. ‘You know what? Let’s just forget it, OK?’ He turns and walks back to school.
That’s it? It’s over? Just like that? After last night, I shouldn’t be shocked. But I am.
‘Right,’ I say, but he can’t hear me. ‘Fine.’ It’s what I wanted anyway. Just didn’t have the guts to do. I wish I had. Why could he say it and not me? And why didI even say that about seeing other people? I don’t want to see other people. Him doing it would kill me. What’s wrong with me?
I can’t go back to school. So I turn and walk out.
I go to D4. I’d have had to anyway in an hour.
When I walk in, Josh is coming along the corridor, shoving an arm into the sleeve of his jacket.
‘Hey,’ he says awkwardly. Yesterday hasn’t gone away.
I don’t care.
‘Want to go for coffee?’ he asks.
Nothing else to do but cry. ‘Sure.’
‘I wanted to talk to you anyway. There’s some kind of investigation going on.’
‘I know.’
‘You know? Why didn’t you warn me? Emily had me up in her office quizzing the living daylights out of me.’
‘Sorry.’
‘She wanted to know if I witnessed either of you bullying each other.’
I don’t ask what he said.
‘And, you know, when she put it like that, and I thought about it, I remembered all the times Rebecca dissed you behind your back.’ He shrugs. ‘And that’s what I told her.’
‘Thanks.’
‘By the way. I’ve been offered a part in a movie.’
‘Really?’ I try to get excited for him. And because we all dream of it - I kind of do. ‘That’s brilliant.’
‘It’s the real deal. Hollywood.’
‘Wow.’
‘So I’ll be leaving the show.’
It feels like I’m losing my one ally. Apart from Maisie.
‘Don’t say anything. I haven’t made the big announcement. I keep putting it off. They’ve been so good to me, here. If it wasn’t for D4, I wouldn’t even have a profile. I wouldn’t have got this part.’
Then I think of something. ‘Aren’t you on contract?’
‘They’ve only ever given me three-month contracts, which they’ve kept renewing. My last one was up two weeks ago.’ He checks his watch. And reaches for his coat. ‘Listen, good luck with the Rebecca thing. She hasn’t as many friends in here as she thinks she has. No matter how many cheesy presents she buys.’ He winks at me.
And I think, Mark.
I’ve
finished all my scenes and am sitting, resting my forehead against the dressing table. Maisie comes in.
I sit up and produce a smile.
She smells of cigarette smoke. And frustration.
She lifts up her script and grimaces.
‘Don’t suppose you’d help an old woman with her lines?’
I put my hand out for her script.
We go over her lines a few times.
‘Tell me if you need to go,’ she says.
‘I’m fine.’
After a few more minutes, she asks, ‘You sure you don’t need to go?’
‘Yup.’
Then she says, ‘These times pass, you know. It’s easy to think they won’t, but they do.’
Sometimes they pass, I think, and then come back again.
Finally, I leave. I don’t take a taxi. I’m not ready to go home.
Walking to the DART, my phone rings. It’s Sarah.
‘Hey. What’s up with Mark? I asked him if you were in school tomorrow and he nearly bit my head off. “How should I know?” he said. Are you guys OK?’
I stop walking, close my eyes. I take a deep breath. ‘We broke up. But it’s fine.’
‘How could it be fine? You’re mad about each other.’
‘Not true.’ One of us isn’t. ‘Look, I gotta go,’ I say because I feel tears coming and there’s no way I’m going to cry out here on Nutley Lane in rush-hour traffic.
‘How’re you doing, sweetie?’ Mum asks when I get in. ‘I made your favourite. Curry.’
I produce another smile. Like a vending machine. ‘Thanks.’
‘I got a call from Charley, raving about you. She said they love you in there. And were really upset about the Béibhinn Keane incident. They’ve given you a week off.’ She beams like that’s it, problem solved.
I smile. ‘Yup.’
I long for my bed, for my squidgy pillow and my cool quilt. I long to hold Uggs and fall sleep. Black out.
‘She spoke about the contract. How you can’t really leave yet. Is that OK?’
‘Yeah, fine.’
‘You’ve only a few weeks left anyway.’
‘Yup.’
‘She said they’re like family in there.’
The Butterfly Novels Box Set: Contemporary YA Series (And By The Way; And For Your Information; And Actually) Page 74
