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I had no idea why.
“Cut! Con, what the hell is wrong with you?”
Not again. I couldn’t do this again.
The set was tense as the AD railed me.
“From the top again. Positions!”
We went again. Got a little further this time until Toby kissed down my neck and I fluffed my lines.
I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream.
“Con, do you want to take a minute?” Sally asked, too much in my face.
“Come here, mate.” Toby dragged me outside, my half-open shirt flapping as we walked.
He pushed me down onto a chair and pulled up another one, so he was right in front of me, elbows leaning on his knees as he stared at me.
“What’s up, mate?”
“I don’t know.” That was the truth.
“We did this pitch perfect a week ago.”
“I know,” I whispered. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing today.”
“We all have bad days,” he said softly. “But we’ve worked together a few times now. You’re always bang on. Today, you’re all over the place. I don’t think Sally’s helping much, but mate, talk to me.”
“I’ve…” I started. I didn’t know how to explain the shit that was swirling around in my head.
“Go on,” he encouraged patiently.
“I met someone. Someone really special, and it’s all new, and my head is in the gutter, and now I have to pretend have sex with you and it’s all bloody wrong.”
He smiled. “That makes me really happy, Con, because you’re one of those good guys. This business is full of arseholes, I’ve met a good few of them, but you’re a decent bloke. Always on form, always ready for whatever these bastards throw at you. This may seem like an easy scene for us, but trust me, I feel the pressure too.”
“It’s not the pressure. It’s…like…I don’t even know!” I was shouting, and I wasn’t proud.
“Hey, I get it. I have a wife at home. Two kids. A third on the way. I’m bisexual, out since I was in my teens, but sometimes it’s confusing as fuck. Doing these kinds of jobs doesn’t make things any easier. I left my wife in bed this morning with a crying toddler so I could pretend-shag you all morning.”
“Sorry.” I squeezed the words out. “I’m not helping.”
“This…person. A man…or shouldn’t I ask?”
“Fuck, Toby.” I needed to talk about this, not hide. Not be an arsehole. It was just much harder than I’d thought it would be, dealing with all this. “His name is Matt. I always thought I liked girls.”
He laughed, but it was a kind laugh.
“Mate.” He shook his head, pulled his fingers through his hair.
“I know.” And it was bloody stupid, all of this.
“OK,” he said. “This is what we’re going to do because you’re all tense and frustrated, and we need to get that crap out of your system—”
“I just need to go home and get into bed and hide under the covers until I can get my head screwed back on straight.” I sighed. “Or not so straight.” I knew how stupid I sounded.
“You’re as straight as I am, mate, but we wouldn’t be as good as we are at this if we weren’t fluid about these kinds of things. I always read you as on the spectrum, which perhaps is a crap thing to say right now, but I did. You have zero hang-ups about anything, and it makes filming these scenes with you, such a refreshing thing to do. By the way, what happened with the other guy? The one who was supposed to replace me?”
