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Now, we’re Paris bound. I’ll only be sticking around for a day before heading to the south for the film festival. I should say, I am on my way to Paris. William’s catching a later flight with some other members of crew, who will finalise permits, secure our equipment and get everything ready to go before shooting starts at the end of the week. There’s no viable reason he should be next to me on a private jet as far as anyone else is concerned. Except maybe Andy, as I’m about to find out.
“You’re playing a dangerous game,” Andy says, after bringing his leather recliner upright. “What the hell are you thinking, shagging about with a married bloke?” I know now why he’s been quiet since take off. He was waiting for Ned, who’s just disappeared to the front of the plane, to leave us. He needn’t have bothered. I’m yet to tell anyone this, even William but, as of three hours ago, Ned already knows. How else am I supposed to take William, a random set spark, to Antibes with me tomorrow? There are only so many lies I can tell.
I have two seconds to decide whether to tell another one to not only my manager, but greatest friend. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Lies it is, apparently.
“Does his wife know?”
I start to laugh. Initially to back up my bullshit, but it keeps going out of nervousness. “Andy, have you been drinking?”
“Does. She. Know?” he repeats, glowering at me with such a stern expression I feel compelled to answer.
“No,” I admit, hanging my head. My mouth dries out. I grab my bottle of water, down almost half of it. “Of course she doesn’t.”
“For fuck’s sake, kid. If I found out, it’s only a matter of time before the media get their hands on it. Or his wife.”
I shake my head. “We’re very careful.” Although, I have to wonder… “How did you find out?”
“Suspected it for a few weeks,” he says, drumming his fingers against the arm of his seat. “I know you, Laurie. I know you as if you were my own. I see how you look at him.” He trails off for a moment. His tone is softer now, sounds almost like he feels sorry for me. “And then I saw him, Will Walker, at your hotel two nights ago.”
“You were in Edinburgh?”
He only nods.
“I didnae see you.”
“Because I was too pissed off with you after that. Pissed off with the pair of you. So, I dealt with my business up there and left.”
Still, despite twinges of guilt plucking strings in my chest, I’m mostly confused. William and I would never be so careless to show affection in public, and I’m almost certain we never appeared together at my hotel, in public areas at least. “It’s hardly proof, is it? A friend being in the lobby of my hotel.”
He only looks at me.
“Anyway, I thought you liked William? You introduced us.”
“This has nothing to do with who he is as a person.”
“No? So, you’re nae suddenly going to find something ‘off’ about him, like Silvio? Because, Andy, I gotta say, the way you keep disapproving I might start thinking you’re jealous.”
“Oh, grow up!” he practically growls, the broken veins in his cheeks glowing even redder. “Sure, from a manager’s view, I’m worried about your reputation if this gets out. Mostly, as your friend, as damn near family, I’m worried about you getting your fucking heart broken, you stupid shit.”
There isn’t a comeback for that. No witty remark or words of reassurance. Truthfully, I share his worry. So I stay quiet, fiddle with the cap from my water bottle, running my thumb over the grooves.
“You never looked at Silvio that way,” Andy goes on. “Or anyone that I can think of. Not even Cain.”
Although Andy wasn’t my manager back then, we knew each other. We were friends then, as opposed to the family I consider us now.
“No,” I agree, and William’s face pops into my head, bringing a smile to my lips. “I haven’t.”
Andy leans forward, takes his glass of tonic water from the table. As he leans back, he crosses his legs, puffs out a quick breath. “Never woulda guessed it, myself.”
“What do you mean?”
“The juicer. A bender.” He grins as he says it, trying to soften the mood. “Is he, then? Or does he swim in both ends of the pool?” He pauses to sip his drink, but then starts to answer his own question before words can leave my mouth. “S’pose he must, what with the wife an’ all.”
I don’t think William is bisexual, not that I’d care if he was. It’s simply not the impression he’s given me. If, as Andy points out, I ignore his two-decade long marriage to a female, of course. “I dunno. Havnae discussed it, really.”
