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His best friend, who lived in England, had said it was good riddance, if that was the way she was going to treat him. It wasn’t his fault the show had ended. Callum was inclined to agree, although itwashis fault he’d lost the house –and all his money. He had a small amount of savings – enough for a one-way ticket to Scotland, and some extra cash to get by – but how long would it last?
‘Cal – are you still there?’
Callum was still holding the phone to his ear, and heard his agent down the phone, as he followed the young woman out of the bedroom to the door of this apartment. ‘Look, I’m sorry about what I said. Good luck with the audition – I wish you every success. I mean it.’
She turned around and eyed him. ‘You know, I liked you better last night.’
‘Gee – thanks.’ He frowned. ‘Why?’
‘You were fun. You made me laugh.’
‘I did?’ He hadn’t been in the frame of mind at all to have fun, or laugh – let alone make anybody else laugh. He hadn’t been in that frame of mind for months. He guessed it had been the drink talking.
‘But then you were drunk, weren’t you?’
He cast his gaze down on the floor.
She surprised him by lifting his chin and placing a hand on his cheek. ‘Don’t despair, and don’t give up. Something will turn up. If you really want it, you’ll get it – you’ll see.’
He stared at her as something odd occurred to him. ‘What if that was the problem? What if he didn’t want something to come up? Perhaps that was the problem – he was done with that life. But then it was all he’d ever known since he had gone to London at eighteen and signed on with an agency before unexpectedly landing a gig in Hollywood, and finally being cast in the TV series. Now, he was already the wrong side of thirty-five; in three years’ time he’d be forty. And what did he have to show for his life?
The last nine years might have earned him a lot of money, and made him famous, but the lifestyle wasn’t without its downsides. The hours were gruelling; the fifteen-hour days took their toll. The money was good, but he felt like he’d earned every single cent. Working in TV wasn’t like doing a movie, where you could earn a packet and then rest on your laurels, waiting for the next one. Starring in television shows felt too much like hard work. And then there was the publicity – the conventions and the junkets. His agent was right: perhaps even though he’d been out of work for the last six months, fretting and worrying about where or when his next role would come up, he needed to take a break – a proper break. He needed to go home. But maybe what he was really afraid of was that if he did that, he wouldn’t want to come back; perhaps he was well and truly burnt out. Or maybe it was the case that if he gave in, and went home, it would be admitting defeat.
‘I agree with her, Cal.’
Callum had forgotten that he was still on the phone. ‘You heard that too?’ He looked at the young woman as she mouthedgoodbye. As she left and closed the door behind her, he got the feeling he wouldn’t see her around again. The next time he’d see her face would probably be on a screen, in a movie.
‘Can I be brutally honest, Cal?’
Callum sighed. ‘I wouldn’t expect anything less.’
‘You’re a good-looking guy, Cal,’ his agent continued. ‘I’m not surprised you got the part in that show, but I’m wondering if your heart isn’t in the game anymore.’
‘What makes you say that?’ As he wandered into the kitchen, he opened the fridge door and stared at a pot of healthy yoghurt. Perhaps he wanted more out of life than yoghurt in the morning and a jog along the beach, with young women recognising him and wanting to know him, thinking he was made of money.
‘I don’t know. You sound tired Cal. I think you should go home.’
‘But what’s there for me if I go home?’
‘Your family. When was the last time you saw your parents?’
Callum didn’t want to talk about them. They hadn’t been proud when he had been successful, so what would they think when they found out the work had dried up, the money was gone, and he’d hit rock bottom? He sighed and kicked the fridge door shut with his foot.
He would never forget how they hadn’t encouraged or supported his choice to become an actor. Once he had become successful, it had seemed as though they liked it even less. His mother had insisted that he use a stage name, rather than his real name, which he’d thought was weird. But he had acquiesced to her wishes, changing his surname.
Although he hadn’t got the movie roles he’d envisaged, he had achieved some success in a well-known sitcom, and a movie, even before his big break in the long-running drama. He had thought his parents would be happy and proud, but they had not been happy at all – to the point that it felt as though they could become estranged. But that wasn’t all down to them. He hadn’t been back to see them for five years, and he hadn’t exactly made much effort to stay in touch in the intervening years.
‘Go home and see your friends, then. I assume you still have some friends back home?’
‘Yes, I have. Very close friends.’
‘Well, there you go. Go stay with them for a bit. Recharge your batteries. I promise I’ll keep in touch, and if something comes up ...’
Callum almost felt like telling him not to bother. He was pretty sure nothing would. In his heart, he doubted he would be back.
‘Never say never,’ his agent scolded him down the phone.
Callum smiled for the first time that morning. ‘I swear you can read my mind sometimes.’
