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“I’m not interested in Con Telford,” I insisted.
“He lives in the Premier Inn across the road. Right over there. We deliver to him. I even know what room, should you need it to deliver threats or give information to the police or something.”
“Idon’tneed it.”
“Suit yourself. But I still don’t get it. He beat you up?”
“No!” Why was I shouting? And here came Mrs Wu with my food, steaming hot and on a plate when I would have preferred it to go. She stuck a pair of chopsticks in my hand and resumed her seat next to Wei.
“So, you got beaten up by that actor? Do I need to put washing-up liquid in his dinner?”
Ignoring her, I tucked into my food, breathing a huge sigh of relief when a bunch of kids walked through the door.
So, Connor Telford was straight. Of course he was. They almost always were—the hot actors playing gay and bi characters. There’d been some big debate about whether only gay actors should play gay roles and so on, but I hadn’t really paid attention. It had nothing to do with me, anyway, because I would never see him again.
Con
Thisweekhadbeenpainful, and I wasn’t just talking about the bruises on my knees. We’d wrapped up on Friday with an almighty simulated car crash, and believe me, getting thrown out of a moving car wasn’t as much fun as it seemed on screen. Not that I’d actually been thrown out. My stunt double Justin had taken the hits, but I still had to hurl myself onto a mattress with four wind machines in the background. Even when falling with textbook grace, sliding across that mattress was like the worst carpet burn.
I’d also spent an insane amount of time in the make-up chair, getting my face done up to look like I’d truly been run over by a car. I’d snapped a photo to show…Matt. I hadn’t forgotten his name, but I didn’t have his number so I couldn’t send it to him. If he thought his face had looked bad, mine looked positively terrifying. Except, of course, it wasn’t real.
At least I had two days off, so here I was, sitting at my mum’s kitchen table, showing her my selfies, and she was half hiding her face in horror, half laughing.
“I can’t believe what they did to your face!”
“They had to do it twice because Justin looked just as bad.”
“Oh, I remember Justin. Scottish guy?”
“No, that’s Hamish—my body double.”
“Oh, yes.” Her laptop pinged with an incoming message. “I never know the difference,” she said, pushing her glasses up her nose.
“Justin does my stunts, saving me from getting myself killed. Hamish is me when I don’t need to be on set.”
“That’s right.” She hadn’t heard a word I was saying, too busy sighing and scowling at the screen.
Still, it was nice. I loved being home, sitting in my T-shirt and boxers at the table, drinking coffee, no pressure. Not even the sound of the kettle boiling dry could snap me out of my Zen. This was how Mum and I rolled. Existing here in peace and quiet, doing our own thing.
“Sweetheart, fill that kettle back up and make me a cup of tea, will you?”
“I’m not your slave, Mum,” I mumbled but did it anyway. I loved my mum, more now than when I’d been a grumpy kid. She was kind of cool.
“You look tired, sweetie. You need to take some time off,” she said, turning a paper over and putting it back down. “You work too hard.”
“Look who’s talking!” I shot back at her. She worked as much as I did, and it was the same every Saturday—me complaining about making the drinks, her with her paperwork spread around her and her laptop open. I gestured at it all to make my point. “You’re the one who taught me all about work ethic.”
“Yes, but you’re young. You should be out partying, travelling, having wild weekends in Ibiza.”
“Not for me, Mum. Just because you were some wild party girl who got yourself knocked up on a night out, it doesn’t mean I have to.”
She laughed, and so did I. My conception was no secret, and I liked hearing Mum laugh. She’d done some wild things in her youth before she’d settled down in this house, got a degree, built up her business. Raised me.
“When are you wrapping this season again?” she asked, still tapping on her keyboard.
“Four more weeks. Then I go straight into rehearsals forLA Boys.”
“That the theatre thing? That play with all the nudity?”
