The name made Fraser pause. Marco Minelli was film industry royalty – everything he directed turned to box office gold and he was used to getting whatever, or whomever, he wanted. No wonder Sam had been so desperate to get hold of him. But the news raised more questions than it answered. While Fraser had achieved some notable success throughout his acting career, he couldn’t imagine any of the roles he’d played catching the eye of someone like Minelli. ‘Are you sure it’s me he wants?’ he asked doubtfully. ‘There isn’t another Fraser Bell he’s confusing me with?’
Sam’s tone was dry. ‘Credit me with some sense, Fraser. They linked to your IMDb profile – it’s definitely you he wants.’ He paused. ‘To be honest, I was as surprised as you at first. But a director like Marco Minelli does not come calling every day. When he does, you don’t ask if he’s confused you with someone else.’
Fraser couldn’t argue. There’d been a time when he would have crawled over hot coals to work with such a stellar director. But that had been before he’d made the decision to change career. ‘Is this a wind-up, Sam? Something to suck me back in before you hit me with another fast food commercial audition?’
‘Would I do that?’ Sam said, now sounding wounded. ‘Look, I know you said you’re out of the game but seriously, Fraser, you don’t need me to tell you this could change your life. Marco. Minelli. You’d be an overnight superstar.’
Fraser’s mouth twisted wryly. ‘An overnight superstar who actually took twenty years to go supernova.’
‘Never mind that now,’ Sam dismissed. ‘He wants to talk to you – get the measure of you before he offers you the role.’
There was no doubt it was flattering, but Fraser had known his agent a long time. He still wasn’t convinced Sam wasn’t making the whole thing up to reel him back in for the kind of smaller role he’d left acting to escape. ‘Even if I was interested, I’ve got commitments here in Edinburgh,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘I can’t just take off to London at a moment’s notice.
‘You don’t need to. He’s going to be in Glasgow. He’ll meet you there.’
Fraser laughed. The thought of Minelli hanging out in Glasgow was possibly the most unbelievable moment of the conversation so far. ‘Doesn’t he live in LA?’
‘Yes.’ Sam drew the word out with exaggerated patience. ‘But we have these things called aeroplanes; they move people fromone place to another. Apparently, he needs to check out some locations so he’ll be in Glasgow next month.’
That was interesting, Fraser thought; his interest piqued in spite of himself. ‘So the film is set in Scotland?’
‘I don’t have all the details,’ Sam said. ‘But it was pitched to me asTrainspottingmeetsOcean’s Eleven.’
Fraser considered what he knew of both films. It was hard to imagine two plots with less in common. ‘Right.’
Sam seemed to sense he was losing him. ‘Okay, I know it’s not exactly your thing but think of all the roles it would lead to. You could be the next Gerard Butler – the next Clooney.’ He hesitated, then went for broke. ‘The next Connery.’
Fraser laughed again. Just when he thought things couldn’t get any more preposterous. ‘Seriously? I thought Nick Borrowdale was all set to be the next Bond.’
‘Okay, you might have to wait a few years for that,’ Sam replied expansively. ‘But it definitely won’t happen if you don’t take a chance. All you have to do is meet Marco. What have you got to lose?’
When he put it like that, it was harder for Fraser to argue. ‘When?’
‘Obviously, I don’t have a date right now,’ Sam said. ‘I wasn’t sure you were still alive, for a start. But I’ll speak to Minelli’s assistant and get back to you. Watch this space.’
Fraser closed his eyes. It would be like the bad old days, when his life had revolved around last-minute dashes to auditions and inevitable disappointment when they came to nothing. ‘Sam—’
‘I know, I know,’ Sam said soothingly. ‘But it will all be worth it when he offers you the part.’
Would it? Fraser wondered, but he could already feel the pull of temptation. He needed to remember all the times Sam had made similar proclamations, only for his hopes to be crushed. Itwas a rollercoaster he hadn’t missed since moving to Edinburgh, that was for sure. ‘I’ll think about it. No promises.’
‘Good man,’ Sam said. ‘I’ll be in touch as soon as I know more. You won’t regret this.’
‘I already do,’ Fraser said, before realising he was talking to himself. Sam had rung off.
He spent a moment or two staring out of the window, watching the clouds scud across the pale blue sky. The world Marco Minelli inhabited was a million miles away from anything Fraser had experienced, even when he’d been doing well enough to attend glamorous London parties or pose on the red carpet, and the revelation that the director was inexplicably interested in Fraser was starting to feel like a dream.
Even so, he picked up his phone and tapped out a message to an old friend. It wouldn’t hurt to get the lie of the land, would it? And if anyone had their finger on the pulse of who was hot and who wasn’t in the film business, it was Nick Borrowdale.
‘I can’t believe you did this.’
Fraser stared across the table of Edinburgh’s most exclusive restaurant, taking in the grin of his old drama school friend. Only a celebrity of Nick Borrowdale’s calibre could sail into Wallace’s without a reservation and be ushered to a prime lunch spot without a murmur, and Fraser was happy to travel in his wake.
Nick was one of the happy few whose career had taken off after he’d landed the lead in a BBC adaptation when he was in his mid-twenties, and it had shown no signs of slowing down since. When Hollywood had come calling, he’d taken the elevation in his stride, while somehow managing to remember his roots and remain one of the nicest people in the business. If he wasn’t his friend, Fraser would probably hate him.
‘I’m between jobs,’ Nick said, his trademark Irish brogue as undimmed as the day Fraser had first met him. ‘It only takes an hour or so to fly from London to Edinburgh and this felt like a conversation we needed to have in person. And since you never come south of the border these days, I had to come to you.’ He glanced around the restaurant, catching the eye of the starstruck waitress and flashing her a charming smile. ‘Besides, I love Edinburgh. I was glad of the excuse to hop on the plane.’
‘You’ve changed,’ Fraser said, with mock reproof. ‘I still remember when you had to scrape together the train fare to go from London to Elstree.’
