Acting Out

Chapter 1-3

Nick stared at Alex’s circling motion, his thoughts lingering two days past. His brain kept spinning over the hours of torment spent in indecision since then. Stages of Play hardly sounded like a project that would interest him or Alex. Alana’s subsequent call, the tone urgent, yet filled with underlying hesitation, should have told him something was wrong, but she’d used words such as fabulous story, amazing effects, and tempted him with the genre he loved: fantasy. The film was…unusual, slipping from a contemporary world into a dream or parallel one—the viewer would never be quite sure which—but the genre was undoubtedly fantasy. Furthermore, he didn’t have to play the tall, geeky bookworm discovering how to save the universe or defeat the dragons in some long lost tome only he could translate.

His initial concern had been just that. When Alana had warned him not to bite off her head, Nick had been certain his role was that of the scholar. He’d even slapped a hand to his forehead and closed his eyes.

“Ground-breaking,” Alana said, before telling him to read the script with an open mind.

No sooner had he hung up the telephone than it trilled again, Alex’s strong, resonant voice booming down the line. Two calls within minutes about the same thing? What was so special about this damn script? “It’s…different,” Alex had said, a chuckle trickling out at the end. What was so bloody amusing?

Nick hadn’t wanted to read the screenplay and not just because Alana and Alex had rattled his nerves. He’d planned a quiet night free from work, and no matter how ground-breaking the story proved to be, reading a script was part of his working life. He’d not had a day off in a month, and he’d wanted to veg out as a spectator instead of a participant of the movie world. A takeaway, wine, feet up in front of the television; as mundane as all that sounded, he was partied and socialised out.

Yet, all evening, the script called to him, his attention drifting over to the corner of the coffee table where he’d thrown it. Reading, he’d immediately suspected Alana and Alex had set up some sort of prank. Alex’s doing, naturally enough. Although Alana was unlikely to agree with such a thing, owing to the many manuscripts through which they’d ploughed maybe even she couldn’t resist having a laugh. Let’s tease Nick.

Even now, sitting at the table with Alex, Nick felt ashamed for letting old insecurities resurface. He couldn’t help the challenge that rose to his lips. “I fell for the joke for all of two minutes, you prick.”

“It’s no joke. The writing is of a high standard. Even you should have noticed that.”

Too fraught to decipher whether that was an insult, Nick tried to keep his mind on track. Oddly, he felt vulnerable, almost naked. He’d overdressed, worn the suit as if the costume were armour. He looked at Alex, not knowing what to say.

“Ah,” was all Alex said, but the tiny syllable was quite enough, as if he saw something in Nick’s expression that Nick didn’t want him to see.

The film was no joke, but it had to be. Even on his way here, Nick had been hoping to reveal a hoax. Alex couldn’t be serious. Alex was all male. His doing this just wasn’t possible. In all the years he’d known him, Nick had never envisioned Alex making out with another man, kissing another man, groping.

That man could be you.

Inwardly, he winced even as he laughed. Pretence was his job. He was an actor; this just a new kind of role. He had to find some way to deal with the possibility, because if it weren’t for the fact that in this film, Alex would play his love interest, he’d give his right arm and maybe even his left leg to play the part.

Nick stared at the glass of water in front of him and considered that he could do with something stronger. The other night, he’d opened a bottle of scotch that happened to be a good age. He resisted looking for the waiter, although tempted to order a stiff one, but he didn’t want Alex to know how truly rattled he was. He cared what Alex thought…because he cared for Alex.

Alex’s opinion of him mattered, despite not liking that one bit.