Page 6 of Your Pace or Mine
“Why are you raging at Jonathan?” Reg asked. “This isn’t anything he hasn’t said before. I mean, hate that fucking guy. But honestly it sounds like he was just making sure you’re up for the challenge.”
“No, he didn’t think I could do it—it was more than that, Reg, it was an affront, a threat to my career, like,” Jamie replied.
Reggie rolled his eyes at his overly dramatic friend. “Right, it was definitely none of that.”
Jamie sighed deeply, putting his head in his hands. “It doesn’t matter what it was, cause I’ve spent so much money on gear. I literally can’t afford to drop out.”
“OK, it’s fine. We’ll find you a decent training group and you’ll be ready for the race, you’ve got time,” Reggie said. “I’m made up to see you getting into this. It’ll be good for you to have a hobby. All you do is work.”
Jamie waggled his eyebrows at him. “It’s not all I do.”
“Oh, right proper Casanova, are you? When was your last date?”
“Define date,” challenged Jamie.
“C’mon, La’, you know what I mean. Wouldn’t it be nice to meet someone, like? Loads of people meet their partners through run clubs, you know?”
“Oh yeah, got experience with that, have you?” Jamie grumbled.
He knew it wasn’t fair. Reg had been in a long-term relationship since high school. In Jamie’s professional opinion, his best friend was way too good for the wannabe corporate mean girl he’d ended up with. Jamie truly hoped that someday he would be rid of her, but, of course, Reggie didn’t see it that way. He thought she was the love of his life and that theirs was a love story for the ages—even though she hated his friends, even though she took every opportunity to undermine him and belittle him.
Jamie was categorically not a fan.
“Check this out,” Reggie waved his phone at him. “A weekly clinic with professional runners, exclusively for athletes on charity bibs, it’s perfect. Probably loads of nice people there,” he said with a challenge in his eyes.
“I’m not actually looking for a date, Reg,” Jamie rolled his eyes.
“It’s free and the training will be top-notch.”
Jamie let out a long-suffering sigh, despite the fact that he’d really only suffered through about twenty minutes of Reggie’s overwhelming optimism. “Fine.”
By the end of breakfast, Jamie was registered for the ridiculous clinic Reggie had found, which, quite frankly, sounded like a way for a bunch of sports execs and overpaid athletes to try to gain some social clout on the backs of the people actually doing the fundraising, but free was free.
He’d run again tomorrow, and definitely wouldn’t spend any more time thinking about meeting the love of his life at a running club.
Thanks for that, Reggie.
Jamie didn’t need to meet the love of his life. Sure, it’d be nice, but that kind of domestic bliss was for people like Reg, serious,committed. Jamie didn’t need that, no matter what anyone thought. He just needed to get laid, preferably with someone not connected to musical theatre.
As always seemed to happen in Jamie’s life, he had fuck all to do until the day of the run club when he got sent a last-minute audition from Jonathan. He felt a bit smug when he noted the producer was the one he’d targeted with his charity selection and marathon marketing.
See, Jonathan, I do know how this game works,he thought to himself as he prepared. At least it was serving some purpose—though he couldn’t help but think sucking the guy’s dick would have been easier than running 26.2 miles.
Dance calls were usually his favourite, but this one had not been going his way. All the remaining hopefuls stood shoulder to shoulder on the stage as the casting director, producer, and choreographer scrutinised them one by one, their eyes passing with indifference over each dancer. The theatre itself was old and ornate, the type of venue that would be beautiful to work in—though the dressing rooms were probably crap. With no audience, though, the grandness made it echo in a way that felt hollow and dejected. Much like how Jamie was feeling about this audition. He’d stumbled during the initial choreography, and it had set the tone for the rest of the session.
“So, what’ve you been up to lately?” the producer asked disinterestedly, never once looking up from his phone. Jamie was trying to hide his frustration; this arsehole had called him in specifically but was completely ignoring him. He wasn’t used to not getting at least a little bit of attention from the panel.
“I’ve just come off a run ofChitty Chitty Bang Bang, where I…”
Jamie was cut off by another panel member. “Oh, children’s theatre.” The woman sneered. “And what about since then?”
That wasn’t fair. The revival of Chitty had been incredibly well received, and it only just bloody ended. Jamie took a deep breath. It would not help him to get his hackles up now. He knew he needed to impress them with his personality if he was going to have a shot. This time, though, he had something prepared that he knew would make at least one of the people on the selection panel happy—Marathon training.
Tamping down his accent as best he could, because no matter how much the theatre world pretended to want regional voices in their self-aggrandising interviews in the Guardian, when it really came down to it—they didn’t.
“I’m training for the London marathon,” he said, in hisnearlyneutral accent.
The producer looked up from his phone. “Of course! Jamie, right? You’re running for Haven. I get your newsletter. How’s training going?”
