Page 10 of The Actor and His Secret

Geoffrey had come crawling back to the apartment two days later, after blowing up my phone with texts and calls, all of which went unanswered. I was too busy crying into a pile of throw pillows while watching the most mindless TV I could find. My diet consisted entirely of Ben and Jerry’s Chunky Monkey, which was horrible for both my waistline and my lactose intolerance. He had the gall to actually get down on his knees in front of me as I hid in the blankets of the couch, crying and begging me to take him back, swearing up and down that he loved me and he wouldn’t cheat again.

I said no. Even if that word was the hardest that’d ever come out my mouth.

I was pretty sure that he was just upset about being caught. And that he thought pissing off the man who did his laundry and shopping and booked his doctor’s appointments was his biggest mistake.

His loss, I tell myself, and yet I’m the one who feels like I’ve lost everything

Geoff had gotten mad, and there’d been a screaming match that I blocked out of my memory, and it ended with him throwing the keys to the apartment at my face and telling me that he was moving out because he couldn’t stand all the bad memories I’d created here, and that movers would be by the next day to pack up his stuff.

So now I’m standing in a bathroom I definitely can’t afford on my own - thank God that Geoff always pre-paid his rent for months in advance in some 'I’m able to deduct it from my taxes' scheme I never understood - trying to fix the mess of my face. My eyes are swollen and red-rimmed, which looks particularly awful in contrast with the purple bags under them.

My phone lights up with a text from Megan.

Are you on your way? - Megan

She’s taken to checking in on me every two hours, like she thinks that if she doesn’t, I’m just going to collapse and die. Maybe that’s the case. Over the last year, she’s become more than my boss - she’s become my friend, too. Everyone at Sky High has. That’s what happens when you put book lovers in a pressure cooker together.

If there’s one bright spot in my life right now, it’s that the team of people I work with has rallied behind me, all of them bitching with me about what a fucking asshole Geoff is, how no one really prefers fucking a twenty-year-old instead of someone with a decade’s more of sex experience, and how I’m better off without him anyway.

I’m trying to frame it as a new beginning to my life. A new movie, a huge boost to my career, a fast track to being a celebrity publicist. Money and connections and all that jazz. But my heart hurts and if I’m being honest with myself, I’m deep in mourning a future that I’d seen with Geoff, no matter how imperfect things were. I thought we’d be getting married eventually, that we’d think about adopting a kid or two, maybe getting a dog or a cat. Being a team. I was content to be the sidekick to his Armin Wolfe, because like the dragon rider and his fated mate, we were meant for one another.

But I guess not.

I give up on the concealer as I get some of it in my eye. At least when my eye starts to water it’s for a reason other than being gutted. I hurriedly shove myself into the tuxedo I’d bought for the occasion, botching the bow tie but not really caring. My feet hurt the minute I get them into the stiff leather shoes that I got to match, and I regret not breaking them in over the last few weeks. Yet another thing that fell off my personal to-do list as my life fell apart.

I call an Uber and get downstairs, thanking God that at least the weather is perfect. It’s a gorgeous spring evening, and the sun is setting perfectly on time. It will be golden hour when the stars and my author walk the red carpet, which means that the pictures will be extra stunning.

I just wish I didn’t have to go alone.

I distract myself by scanning my news alerts, seeing that press are already reporting on the premiere. I quickly skip through all the posts about the stars - they’re not my clients, so I couldn’t care less - and find the ones about my author. She’s there, smiling in a gorgeous dress patterned to look like dragon scales, and there’s no hint of nerves in her confident expression. I play a few clips for myself, and practically burst with pride at how well she’s answering the press questions, especially the news about the new six-book deal she just signed with another major publisher, and about the Age of Dragons spin-off she’d committed to write for Sky High. All of the hours I’d spent practicing interviews with her had clearly paid off.

When the Uber drops me off in Trafalgar Square, I thread through the crowds and flash my ID for security, which lets me into the press pen. I start shaking hands and answering questions for the media, those that weren’t important enough to ask the author and the actors, but which will flesh out a story. There’s a tall, stunning Italian woman holding court with some of the reporters at the edge of the crowd, and I can tell that she’s probably representing one of the leads by the way the reporters are all shouting questions at her. Besides the two of us, there are a few other publicists working the crowd, and I get lost in the rhythm of answering questions while keeping an ear out for what everyone else is saying.

And then it’s over in a flash, and the red carpet is emptying as ushers start to let people into the massive theatre where the movie will play.

I hesitate as I find Megan in the crowd. She makes her way to me. 'Are you coming in, Oli?'

I bite my lip, thinking of how I need to be professional and don’t want to break down in tears during all the parts where Armin and his fated mate-slash-fellow dragon rider Gwen confess their undying love to each other. There’s even a damn proposal scene in the movie, and I’m wondering if I’ll be able to make it through.

'I just need a minute,' I lie. 'Bathroom. Bad stomach and all.'

‘If your bad stomach is a result of more ice cream, you get no sympathy from me,’ she says, her eyes crinkling in suspicion.

I narrow my eyes, giving her my patented ‘I could kill you with just a look’ glare. ‘I hate how well you know me.’

It’s probably going to be more like an hour, which I’ll blame on my steady diet of only ice cream. That will get me through the worst of the early declarations of love and fidelity. And then I can dip out to get a drink during the proposal scene. I know exactly where it is, having fast-forwarded through it many times over the last week.

‘This is what you’ve been working towards, Oli. Don’t get lost on your way to your seat,' Megan says, squeezing my arm and clearly not buying my bullshit. She’s always been able to see straight through me.

‘Save me a seat.’

She eyes me nervously, knowing the chances of my actually watching the film are slim.

‘It sounds like you’re bowing out before the curtains rise,’ Megan says.

‘You know me, the book is always going to be better than the film.’

She smiles but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Then Megan turns on her red-bottom heels and leaves.

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