Coming back to his apartment, still smiling to himself, he went to his bedroom and scanned the clothes in his wardrobe, wondering what to wear for his interview. Would his usual combination of shirt and bow tie come across as too flamboyant? But then he remembered that Madeleine had told him to be himself, so he pulled out his cobalt blue suit, white shirt, and electric blue bow tie, and hung everything on the back of the wardrobe door, ready for the morning. Just after he had brought out his matching brown shoes and belt, the doorbell sounded again.
“What the fuck.”
Three sets of carol singers in one night? Too much. This time, he ignored the caller. Very carefully, he placed the accessories onto his bedside cabinet and sat on the side of the bed, just as the doorbell sounded again.
Beep.Beep.Bip-bip-bip.Beep.Beep.Beeeeeeeeeeeeep.
Either somebody urgently needed to get his attention or they were trying to contact him by morse code. He jumped up from the bed to check the video display, still unsure whether he wanted people to know he was at home. However, this time, the person whose nose almost pressed into the camera was instantly familiar.
“Hi, Darcy.”
“Are you going to open this fucking door or not?”
“Coming.”
As soon as Spencer unlocked the front door, Darcy rushed past him without a word and began to hurry up the staircase.
“You’d better have something to fucking drink,” she said as she thumped up the stairs as though wearing heavy Dr Martens.
“Lovely to see you, too, Darcy.”
“Fuck off.”
Inside the flat, Spencer went straight to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of pinot grigio. Gino’s wife had left the wine when she had volunteered to cat-sit for Spencer the night of the aborted Bangladeshi meal. All the while, Darcy stood next to him, making him feel slightly uncomfortable. Before handing one of the tumblers to her, he had a quick sip to make sure the wine was still fresh.
Darcy grabbed the glass tumbler and swallowed a mouthful. When she thumped the glass down on the countertop, Spencer jumped.
“Something you probably don’t know, Spencer. Joseph ‘Joey’ Hollingbroke used to be a client of mine. I was the one who succeeded in getting him the audition and negotiating the original gig onWaterloo Lane. Ungrateful little shit. Typical of some of these soap stars, as soon as they gain popularity, they want bigger and better. Eventually Joey got bored with the show and wanted to break into Hollywood, and I didn’t have the connections. So he fired me. What many don’t realise is thatfilms are a whole different ball game. Some make the transition. More become casualties along the way. Joey never really made the grade. All he picked up was a coke habit. Now he’s pretty much doing anything that comes his way just to stay in the public eye. I’m ashamed to say that I encouraged his relationship with Marshall. Not because of any publicity, you understand, but because I thought they would be good for each other, that Marshall would be a calming influence. Fucked that one up big time, didn’t I? All I succeeded in doing was making Marshall miserable. And then you come along.”
“Darcy, I’m—”
“No. You don’t get to speak yet. I need you to hear me out, Spencer. Marshall has no idea I’m here. Consider this an intervention. Because I get the impression you’re both waiting for the other one to reach out—”
“I did call him, Darcy. A number of times but—”
“I know, I know. I am fully aware of what happened at the curry house. And then radio silence while Joey manipulated him again, playing on his sympathies. Every time Marshall seems to get back on an even keel, there Joey is, entering stage left to fuck with him.”
“Joey looked terrible. Looked as though he was on something—”
“Two years ago, maybe. But he’s been clean and sober since. The only thing he’s addicted to is publicity. But he’s really good at acting the victim, playing the role of the desperate ex-boyfriend. And poor Marshall still buys it, everyfuckingtime.”
The smile. Spencer remembered Hollingbroke smiling at him at the restaurant. Had everything else that evening been a performance, too? Apparently so.
“Anyway, I need you to sit down for me. Now,” she said, and waited until he had plopped down on the sofa before joining him and pulling out her smartphone. “Yes, I know you’re in a cavehere. But I recorded this onto my phone yesterday, a message from my answering machine. Seems like he’s okay to say these things to me, when he should really be saying them to you. Now will you please shut up and listen.”
Darcy pressed a finger on the screen and placed the phone on his coffee table.
“…the thing is, I really like him, Darce,”came Marshall’s deep baritone, with a vulnerability in his voice that made Spencer’s heart squeeze.“And I’m in trouble right now, because I don’t know how to tell him. I’ve already let him down a couple of times, and I’m not sure I deserve another chance. But he’s different. Every time he walks into the room, I feel lighter. I feel as though there’s somebody in this world who sees the real me, someone who’s on my side. And I honestly don’t believe I’ve ever had that before, not with anyone. You know me, I give all or nothing, and I fear my heart has already decided—but that I’ve already lost him. I know things are difficult because I’m constantly in the public eye, and have to spend time away often in dangerous places, and even when I’m back, I’m buried in work for weeks on end in the studio. I know that if we do spend time in public together, I’m going to get recognised and he will, by association, become recognised, too. And I’m not sure it’s even fair to ask him to suffer the kind of invasion of privacy that comes with celebrity. I know I never asked for it for myself, but in the whole grand scheme of things, Darce, I hope Spencer realises that I’m just an ordinary man first. And famous last.”
Famous last.
Spencer’s eyes burned. Nobody had even talked about him that way before. And in that moment, he knew he had never given up on Marshall, knew he owed him a second chance.
“Is he at home?” asked Spencer quietly.
“Are you going to call him?”
“No. I want to go and see him.”
