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I leaned across the bar, casually, as though talking about my career was not something I was desperate to avoid at all costs. ‘I’m waiting to hear about a couple of projects,’ I lied. ‘A director I worked with at the Donmar is doing something in the West End in the autumn, so I’ll be hearing from her any day now, probably.’
Seb raised his eyebrows, impressed.
‘You?’ I asked, despite really, really not wanting to know.
I finished pouring the Red Stripe and plonked it in front of him, frothy beer dripping all over my fingers.
‘One sec,’ said Seb, taking the rum and Cokes over to his mates and then coming back for the rest. ‘Things are going great, man. Since I got back from LA, especially.’
I swallowed. ‘Oh yeah, I heard you went out there. Good was it?’
I only asked to be polite and I now desperately wished I hadn’t. If you went out to LA it wasn’t usually for a bit-part, was it?
Seb nodded earnestly, his hands in the prayer position. ‘Have you done pilot season?’
I shook my head. ‘I’d love to. But, you know, haven’t managed to fit it in.’
Couldn’t afford it, more like. I was always reading articles about Brits who’d made it big in Hollywood, but the idea of cobbling together the money to do it felt more and more unlikely with each year that passed.
‘You have to go, man,’ said Seb, in the style of one of those new-agers who’d been brainwashed on a meditation retreat. ‘I can’t rave about it enough. I was getting seen twice a day out there,’ he went on. ‘HBO had me in, then I got that BBC period drama thing off the back of a workshop I did. I came back super geared up and ready to work.’
‘Sounds amazing,’ I replied, my breath coming a little faster. How was I supposed to compete with people who’d be out to LA and done all that? I’d heard you could be auditioning every day if you were lucky, not once a month like you were here.
‘Seriously, Jack, get yourself out there. You’re getting frustrated, losing confidence in yourself, I can see it in your eyes. I was the same before LA. It was the best move I ever made.’
I nodded, mortified that Seb seemed to be able to see right through the I’m-quietly-confident façade I usually very successfully presented to the world.
He grabbed his crisps and the rest of his drinks. ‘Do it, mate. You won’t regret it.’
‘Thanks for the heads-up,’ I called after him.
The exertion of giving the illusion that I wasn’t panicking about the state of my career, my finances and pretty much everything else in my life had made my head spin. It was exhausting pretending to be OK when you weren’t.
‘D’you need me out here?’ said Luke, appearing beside me, still clutching his beloved clipboard.
‘Not really,’ I replied, deep in thought. ‘Hey, Luke? Since you’re my line manager now, is it you I ask for an advance on my wages?’
Luke looked chuffed to have any responsibility whatsoever. ‘I suppose I am. What is it you need?’
‘Check this out,’ I said, searching on my phone and finding the class timetable for the Actors Centre in Covent Garden. ‘There’s a class I really want to do, with the casting director on one of the big American soap operas. They must be looking for British actors, otherwise why would they bother coming over?’
Luke frowned. ‘Aren’t there any British actors where he’s from? Los Angeles or whatever?’
I shrugged. ‘That’s not the point though, is it? The point is, if I can make him love me, he’ll keep me in mind for future roles, won’t he? Imagine that … moving to the States. Earning thousands of dollars an episode.’
‘That does sound good,’ admitted Luke. ‘How much do you need, then?’
‘Well, the class is forty quid,’ I said, marvelling at the fact I could never have had this conversation with Barnaby. There were definitely some advantages to having your mate as your boss.
‘Right,’ said Luke, looking all official and writing it down.
In for a penny, literally…‘And then I sort of haven’t got any money to eat. So maybe another fifty quid to tide me over until payday?’
Luke gave me a look. ‘How long are you going to go on like this?’ he asked me. ‘I’m worried about you, mate.’
‘In what way?’ I asked, grabbing a cloth and frantically polishing a spot on the bar. Worried about me? This was very embarrassing. The last thing I wanted was people feeling sorry for me.
Luke put his clipboard down. ‘Don’t you want some normality in your life? A regular job? So you know what money you’ve got coming in every month, so you’re not scraping around to pay the bills?’
