Page 41 of Gideon
He snorts. “Might have been easier to spin that.”
I swing my gaze back to him. “No, it wouldn’t. Have you actually heard yourself lately?”
“I’ve heard myself telling you time and time again that you’ll fuck your career up. Do you know what I’ve got in my hands?” I shake my head. “It’s an offer to star in Hal Finchley’s next film.”
“Really?” I try for an appreciative voice but I know I’m wide of the mark. Hal is famous for high-grossing superhero movies, but the thought of appearing as yet another boring, clichéd lead makes me feel like Frankie’s covering me in a straitjacket.
He nods. “No auditioning. A straight offer.” He glares at me. “And that’s what it is, Gideon. It’s a straight offer. One whiff of where your interests really lie and they’ll snatch this away quicker than the baton in a relay race.”
“They’re not allowed to do that.”
He scoffs. “Don’t be naïve. Of course they can. They’ll just do it another way without mentioning your sexuality. They’ll make some excuse about artistic differences. But the end result is the same. You’ll be off the film and your career will be done. You’ll be lucky to get a part inMidsomer Murders.”
I sigh, feeling suddenly unutterably weary. “Then maybe I don’t want this career anymore that depends on me lying every day. Maybe I want my family and friends to really know me.”
He throws himself into the chair next to me. “You don’t mean that,” he says urgently. “You’re just feeling the after effects of the illness, Gid. You’re an amazing actor, and I know all you want to do is act. Why don’t you let me deal with all this and you just do what you love best, and keep your head down at the same time. Maybe next year the climate will be better.”
I shake my head. “Is your middle name Mephistopheles?”
He looks at me, puzzled. “No, it’s Simon. You know that.”
I sigh. “I’m just saying that it’s the same deal you offered me when I was seventeen and the same spiel you’ve given me every year since. It willneverbe time to be myself. That’s got to be put off like a root canal appointment while I smile and take the money.” I eye him. “Or rather you take the money.”
He flinches. It’s a very slight movement but I catch it and something roils in my stomach. A dim suspicion that’s been at the back of my mind for a year now. It’s only vanished from my head when I’ve pushed it out with drink and drugs. “I hope you’re not taking money for putting things in front of me,” I say quietly. “I always told you, Frankie, that it would be the end if you did that. I can’t trust you when you’re acting like you’ve got a horse in the game instead of looking after my interests. I can’t abide dishonesty.”
“Then maybe you should take a look in the mirror yourself,” he says sharply, losing his hold on his temper slightly. “Because you’ve practised it every day since you were seventeen, and I may have made you a good offer, but I didn’t force you into that closet, Gideon. You walked in, mate, and locked the door after you. So don’t you fucking lay everything at my doorstep.”
I stare at him, making a faint smile appear on my face to wind him up. Frankie has always had a temper. In my young days he’d cow me by screaming in my face and manhandling me. He stopped that when I got older, but for some reason I still stuck with him. Maybe it’s because he knows me and if he wanted to, he could make my life very difficult with well-placed leaks to the press. Maybe it’s because he’s the only authority figure I’ve ever allowed in my life and I hate to admit that I’m wrong. Whatever it is, I can sense that it’s finally coming to an end, though.
He grips the arms of his chair. “Don’t smirk at me,” he says hotly. “I’m all you’ve got, Gideon fucking Ramsay.” He laughs. It’s cold, with no humour. “The great Gideon Ramsay. If your family and friends even knew you, who can say if they’d like you, anyway? Let’s face it, mate, you’ve got no relationship with your fucking brother. I’ve got a closer one with my tailor.” He shakes his head. “None of those men you try to hang around with care about you. They’ve got their own lives, and you don’t figure in them. For once listen to me and face the truth. You knew it when you went down there and tried to be part of their little group. They shoved you out quicker than if you’d been a magpie in someone else’s nest.”
I can’t help the flinch, and he puffs up even further, opening his mouth, but we’re interrupted by a footfall at the door and Eli appears. He’s quite pale, the freckles standing out on his face, but he has a very resolute look.
“Eli?” I say questioningly.
“I’d like you to leave, Mr Grantham,” Eli says steadily.
“What the fuck?”
“You heard.” Eli’s politeness is frigid. “You’re upsetting my patient, and I can’t allow that. The consultant warned you.” He holds out his hands for the papers that Frankie is holding. “You can leave them with me or take them away with you, but the one thing that is absolutely certain is that I’m not going to allow you to give them to Gideon.” He throws his hands out towards the door like a tall, blond butler. “After you,” he says coldly. “You can make an appointment to see Gideon when he’s feeling better.”
Frankie stands up slowly. “Gideon, is it?” he says, moving towards Eli like a fat, suited shark. “Well, enjoy him while you can, because he’ll toss you to one side just like all the others. There are no exceptions to that because his career is his one great love. And when he does throw you out, I’ll have the nondisclosure and kiss-off cash sum ready.” He looks him up and down. “I guarantee you’ll accept it,” he says coolly. “Gideon, I’ll speak to you when you’re in a better mood.”
Then he’s gone, leaving us in a pool of silence that Eli abruptly breaks. “How can you listen to that wanker?” he says loudly, waving his arms in agitation. “He’s a total tosser, and you let him do it to you. Why?”
I settle back in my chair, contrarily enjoying the signs of him losing his cool. I shrug finally. “It’s always been that way. He doesn’t do it that often.”
“But the way he spoke to you. You’re Gideon Ramsay. You’ve got a sharper tongue on you than a fucking saw. Why do you allow it?”
I sigh, considering telling him to mind his own fucking business. The sharp words are actually on the edge of my tongue. But I look at him standing there ready to defend me, and I can’t say any of the hurtful things I’d normally manage without blinking. “I let it go on because it was easier, and in the beginning it was just me and him,” I say slowly. “I was his baby client and he went to town for me and looked after me. I guess I hadn’t had anyone do that before. It was always just me on my own, really. No one ever seemed that interested in me. So, to have this powerful man convinced I was the next best thing to sliced bread and to tell me so was very flattering.” I stare out to the port of Nice that is shimmering in a heat haze despite how early it is. “I don’t know when it got worse, but it’s hard to break ties when they’re that strong.”
“He wants you to lie,” he says stubbornly, and I’m suddenly stung.
“Look at you,” I say coldly. “You’re just a baby. What would you know about lying? Everyone in my world does it. It’s more common than blow. People smile and laugh and flatter you and it’s all lies. Every single word.”
“Then maybe you should leave that world,” he says staunchly, his fists clenched and forehead furrowed. His blond, wavy hair lifts in the breeze, showing different colours of ash and platinum, butter and sand.
“And do what?”
