London, Can You Wait?

by Jacquelyn Middleton

  “And then I said my ideal reception would be in a funky pub…and guess where we’re headed. Coincidence? Yeah, right.”

  Alex shifted her headband, her suffering roots given a slight reprieve. “Everything they’ve done so far has surprised me. Naomi was so hush-hush about her plans. I figured we’d be bored stiff in the country in a drafty castle with more bathrooms than guests.” Lucy puffed out her cheeks. “You should be happy, Lucy. You can chill, drink pints, dance barefoot…if I had a pub reception, I’d have mini fish and chips.” Alex barely drew a breath. “And chocolate cupcakes!”

  Mark smiled and watched the red and blue doors of the two-storey terrace houses on Shepherdess Walk pass by. He downed his champagne in one go and yawned.

  Lucy frowned. “You didn’t mention cupcakes to her, did you?”

  “Maybe. Probably? You know Naomi—don’t get her started on baking or cooking. She can talk for hours about recipes.”

  “And sex.” Lucy winked.

  “I know, right? She makes Rihanna look like a nun!” Alex was on a roll, riffing with Lucy in the way only best friends can. Laughing, she turned to Mark—his eyes were now closed, his head against the window, trying to catch a quick nap.

  She twirled a stray piece of hair around her finger. It had been two years ago, just before Alex started dating Mark, that she’d found out about his steamy, short-lived relationship with Naomi. Freddie had called it a “bonk-a-thon”, joking that for four months the two actors had barely come up for air, but Mark wasn’t emotionally invested, and Naomi, on the heels of accepting a lead role in the American touring production of Kinky Boots, ended it. Mark had a few dates but nothing steady until Alex came along several months later, and Naomi continued to bed Britain’s top male talent until one evening…

  “It’s crazy.” Lucy’s eyebrow peaked. “If Tom hadn’t met up with you and Harry at the National, if Naomi wasn’t working the Long Bar…we wouldn’t be here. That must have been some pint Naomi pulled that night.”

  “I think Naomi pulled more than just his pint.”

  Lucy snickered. “The head must have been perfect.”

  Alex tried to stifle a snort of laughter. She didn’t want to wake Mark or bring him into this conversation.

  “It says a lot that you two were able to become friends, to cast her in your play…” Lucy glanced at Mark.

  “That’s ancient history. Anyway, she’s been a good friend.” Alex skirted Lucy’s gaze and looked at her dozing boyfriend.

  There were still moments when Naomi’s breezy, open-book approach to her carnal exploits made Alex feel…awkward. No amount of female friendliness would ever erase the fact that Naomi’s lips and hands had intimate knowledge of her boyfriend’s body and how to please him. Being friends with a woman who had seen your partner naked, who had slept with him before you were on the scene, was difficult to swallow sometimes. The only way Alex could deal with it was to remind herself that the past was just that—gone, faded away—and Mark’s present, and hopefully his future, belonged to her.

  Lucy stared at the bubbles floating halfway up her champagne flute. “Well, I’m telling you now, if she calls me Luce again or steals my baby names, our friendship is over.”

  “You’ve chosen baby names? Lucy, you don’t even have a boyfriend.” Alex shook her head. Ow. The headband bit farther into her scalp. If the stupid hat was going to see the cutting of the cake, head shaking would have to be kept to a minimum.

  “I’ve had names picked out since I was a kid, after reading Charlotte’s Web.”

  “Lucy! Seriously? You like the name Wilbur?”

  “No! Charlotte. It’s so pretty—actually, Charlotte reminds me of you.”

  “I remind you of a spider? Cheers—”

  “No, Lex, the last line of the book—you know, the one about the best friend who’s also a good writer? It’s you, it is!”

  “Aw, Lucy—”

  “Oh, hold this?” Lucy handed Alex her champagne and pushed back some curls to adjust a sparkly rhinestone earring.

  Alex blinked, catching a shadow on her friend’s neck. “Lucy, what’s that purple mark? Looks like a bruise…or a hick—”

  “Oh, that.” Lucy cleared her throat and snatched back her flute. “I burned my neck. Bloody flat iron. It looked worse three days ago.”

  “Looks sore. For a minute, I thought maybe, you and Charlie finally—”

  “Yeah, right!”

  Mark’s eyes crept open.

  Alex stroked his thigh. “You okay, babe?”

  He rubbed his eyelids which hovered at half-mast. “I’m fine, yeah.” His Irish lilt sounded deflated and unconvincing. “All this rushing about is catching up with me. This shoot has been a killer.”

  They swayed back and forth in their seats as the bus careened around an army of orange pylons. Seeking stability as much as intimacy, Alex wrapped her arms around Mark’s neck, pulling him closer. “Well, that’s because you, my talented boyfriend, give everything to your roles. No wonder you’re exhausted. But, in three weeks, it’s holiday time! New York City in December is so beautiful, and I’ll finally get to show you Florida. I know meeting my mom won’t be a highlight, but we’ll make the best of it.”

  Mark glanced at Lucy and hunched farther into his girlfriend. “Mouse, there’s been a slight change in plans.” He murmured so only she could hear.

  “A slight change?”

  He drooped his head, evading her eyes. “It’s my next job, A Promise Unspoken, the movie in Newfoundland…Canada…” Mark winced. “It’s been moved up…to this year.”

  Alex scrunched up her eyebrows. “This year?” The smile abandoned her face. “But you already told your agent and the director—we’re spending December in the States.”

  “I did, but they’ve had to move up the start date to save the production. Some funding fell through. The producers tapped into tax credits that are only available now. We start filming this month—”

  “Instead of March?” Her sharp tone, punctuated by a loud metallic squeak from the bus caught Lucy’s attention. “How long have you known?”

  Mark’s eyes wandered. “For a bit.”

  “How long is a bit?” Alex’s arms retreated from his shoulders.

  “Four weeks—”

  “Four weeks!”

  “I wanted to tell you in person.” Mark swallowed heavily. “Production will go through to mid-February…with two days off at Christmas.”

  With his mother’s house finished, Alex had thought she would see more of Mark now, not less. “So, just like that, our holiday is cancelled?”

  “Not cancelled, babe, postponed. We can go straight after the movie wraps. I still want to meet your mum—and your sister and brother.”

  Alex sagged in her seat and looked out the front window, the landmarks rushing past dissolving into watery blobs. Mark breathed in deeply. Noticing the tears collecting in her eyes, he clasped her hand.

  “Think of it this way, Mouse: the postponement might be a good thing. It gives you time to start smoothing things over with your mom. You don’t want to go all that way and end up fighting the entire time. That would be such a waste—”

  “No, you know what’s a waste?” Alex’s throat pinched tight. She pulled her hand away from his, crossing her arms. “Cancelling again…especially after last April. I can’t believe this, Mark. You said we’d go for sure this time. You said work wouldn’t interfere with another holiday…and now we won’t be together at Christmas either.”

  “I know, but it’s out of my control. I can’t say no to the producers, can I? Not if I’m already signed on.”

  “Actually, you can, Mark. You just won’t.”

  “Come on, Lex.” His fingers wrestled with his shirt collar. “There was nothing I could do. It’s not my fault.”

  The bus drove through an obstacle course of fluorescent construction signs and uneven pavement, bouncing and jarring its upper deck passengers. Alex and Mark both reached for the metal handle tha
t crossed the back of their seat, bracing themselves.

  “It’s never your fault.” Her eyes widened as she rocked with the bus’s momentum. “It’s always your agent, the producer, the director. They ask for a re-shoot, you drop everything. A castmate wants to run lines after hours, so you bail on Lucy’s party. We were celebrating her promotion, and you didn’t show up…”

  Lucy bit her cheek, her wide eyes flying down to a new Snapchat image from Freddie on her phone.

  “You even missed most of my birthday dinner because of a costume fitting. A costume fitting, Mark—like that couldn’t have waited? If you don’t speak up once in a while, it is your fault.” She yanked the scratchy headpiece from her hair, ripping out several strands in the process. “Ow! Great! Fucking great.”

  Naomi’s family members, visiting from France and India, stopped talking and stared.

  Mark tilted his head, seeking privacy in the crook of his girlfriend’s neck. “Alex, I already apologized about the birthday thing and Lucy’s party.”

  She tugged at the knotted hair stuck in the fascinator’s teeth.

  Their silence drew Lucy’s gaze. Naomi’s relatives politely looked away.

  Mark kissed her on the forehead and drew her in. “Please don’t be upset,” he whispered. “Look, I’ll try harder to protect our time together, okay? Work’s been mental. It’s just taking me a while to figure out how to balance everything, but I will. You and I are in this together. Everything I do is for us, to make a better life for you and me.”

  You and me. Alex exhaled deeply. She knew they were on the same side, but his job and everything that came with it—the lengthy separations, demanding directors, intrusive fans—often felt like her enemy. She had waited six long weeks to be reunited with Mark, and the dread of him leaving again so soon weighed heavily. In twenty-one hours, he’d be halfway across Europe again, gone for three more weeks, followed by the film in Newfoundland with an ocean creating another unwelcome separation. She shouldn’t be spending these precious hours arguing with him.

  “And I appreciate that.” Alex softened her tone and lowered her voice so Mark was her only audience. “You know I do, but you don’t see how the workaholic in you blindly takes over. Life shouldn’t be all work. It makes me worry, Mark. You’re running yourself into the ground. It’s not healthy.”

  “I know, Mouse, but like Wink says, I have to strike while the iron’s hot.”

  Alex rolled her eyes. Wink. His agent had such a stupid name.

  “I know, it’s a cliché, but he’s got a point. This job is all about the immediate future. Right now, casting agents and directors want me, but that won’t always be the case. Slacking off just when things are going well could damage my career. Wink says, ‘Blow the next chance and you’re yesterday’s news.”’

  The bus pounded through a patch of potholes.

  “But you should make your demands known, too. Stand up for yourself. Just because your agent thinks something is a great idea doesn’t mean it is.”

  “I know, I know. I get carried away. I still can’t believe they want me. I’m flattered.”

  “You’re like a puppy sometimes, Mark, so eager to please everyone—”

  “We’ll figure it out. Other actors balance their careers and personal lives without any problems, it’s just new to us.”

  Alex twirled a lock of Mark’s hair that had fallen onto his forehead. “Your job frustrates me sometimes, but I love you, so…”

  “I will make it up to you. Promise.”

  “Yeah, well sexy time on FaceTime won’t cut it, mister…”

  “Ah, the ol’ look, but don’t touch? Kill me now!” He lifted his chin. “I’ve got a better idea. How ’bout I get some flights sorted? Fly you over to Newfoundland for a visit, and once the movie’s done in February, we’ll go to Miami for a month, live near the beach, and ignore all our calls. It’ll be fantastic, right?”

  A slight smile nudged her cheeks. Visiting Florida during Spring Break wasn’t her idea of fun, but if it meant more time with Mark… She had missed him so much, she would agree to pretty much anything he asked. “Right.”

  A tire hit another pothole, shaking the bus with a teeth-chattering rattle. Alex hugged Mark tightly, desperate to keep him close, to feel safe again.

  Over her shoulder, Mark caught the St. John Street sign sailing past. “Hey, we’re here.” He kissed her quickly and leaned back with a loved-up grin. “Let’s find you some chocolate cupcakes.”

  The bus swayed to the left and halted along the curb, allowing guests to pour onto the sidewalk in front of The Peasant pub. Simon, Freddie, and Harry stood underneath the green awnings, waiting for their friends to join them. On the upper deck, Alex, Mark, and Lucy hung back, politely offering Naomi’s relatives first dibs on the steep steps down to the bus’s main floor.

  While Mark adjusted his suit jacket, Alex abandoned the fascinator on her seat. She raised her eyebrows at Lucy as she stood atop the stairs.

  Lucy nodded at the discarded hat. “Giving in?”

  “Yeah, it hurts a bit too much,” said Alex.

  Five

  After satisfying their appetites with juicy roast beef, Yorkshire puddings, pakoras, and chicken tikka masala, disco divas and smooth movers headed back downstairs to the pub’s main floor for the evening’s festivities.

  Sat in a corner, Alex laid her head on her boyfriend’s shoulder, a champagne-fueled buzz pushing their earlier argument to the back of her mind. She nibbled the chocolate icing curls on her second cupcake. A third cupcake, a peace offering from Mark, tempted from a plate balancing on her lap. His arm rested happily along her shoulder, the two of them captivated by Freddie’s superhuman efforts on the dance floor.

  Brimming with more energy than a double-shot Americano, Freddie was giving two of Naomi’s sari-wearing aunties a dance clinic, showing off his fluid moves during The Jacksons’ “Shake Your Body (Down to the Ground)”. To his left, Simon unapologetically thrashed about, but his lack of rhythm and punchy movements repelled fellow revelers, concerned for their safety.

  Lucy squeezed through the crowd, carrying a pudgy baby dressed in a lavishly beaded white dress.

  “Wow, wedding favours sure have changed.” Mark gave the sprog a wide berth.

  Lucy bounced the little one in her arms. “Ha! Meet Jasmine, Naomi’s niece. Isn’t she adorable?” She thrust the baby in Alex’s face. “Smell her. I could just eat her up!”

  “Erm, thanks, but I’ll stick to the cupcakes.” Alex didn’t budge.

  “Well, at least hold her. See what it might be like for you and Mark to play happy families.”

  Alex scrunched up her nose and popped a piece of the third cupcake into her mouth. Lucy stared back at her, a wriggly Jasmine dangling over Alex’s lap. “You’ll never know unless you get some practice in. Go on, she won’t bite…”

  The DJ segued from the King of Pop into “Let Go for Tonight” by Foxes. Alex perked up, her foot tapping anxiously to the beat. “No, but she’ll probably puke on me.” She handed her crumb-sprinkled plate to a passing server and dabbed her lips with a napkin.

  Mark laughed and snaked his hand around his girlfriend’s waist. “Lucy, you know better. If it’s not furry and meowing, Lex isn’t interested.”

  “We should dance before the DJ switches to ABBA again.” Alex’s eyes darted past Lucy, blinking rapidly at the guests flailing about and throwing shapes behind her friend’s back. Several pairs of abandoned Jimmy Choos and studded Valentino pumps littered the perimeter of the dance floor.

  Lucy’s shoulders fell. “I know, it’s your favourite song. Go. I’ll return Jazzy to her mum and meet you there.”

  Mark barely had time to loosen his tie before Alex kicked off her heels, grabbed his hand, and pulled him into the pack of gyrating bodies. No surprise, Freddie and Simon were bouncing around in the centre.

  “About time, ya wallflowers.” Freddie yanked Alex away from Mark, twirling her into his chest. “Hey, Sparkly Girl! To qu
ote that glitter pixie, Kylie Minogue, ‘Your disco needs you!”’

  He smooched her cheek and released her back to Mark, the three of them joining Simon’s pogoing spree, jumping up and down and singing the lyrics at the top of their lungs. Lucy, now free of Jazzy, invaded their huddle. Even the bride and groom joined in, dragging Harry in their wake.

  Alex beamed at her friends—everyone who mattered was here. She threw her arms around Mark’s neck, her hips rocking in time with his. She would’ve been perfectly happy for the moment to go on with no end in sight, all her fears and worries temporarily lost to the music. If only you could live within a song, a perfect little bubble where love ruled and the lyrics sang out your most heartfelt feelings, a musical haven where work commitments couldn’t steal away your boyfriend, leaving loneliness and frustration in his place.

  The DJ mixed into a slower tune, perfect for a romantic clinch on the dance floor. Parched from their marathon dance-off, Freddie and Simon dashed to the bar while Harry snatched Lucy’s hand before she could slip away. Alex stepped back into her heels.

  “Ooh, this one’s an oldie. Must be for the parents.” Mark pulled Alex close as they swayed together on the dance floor. He kissed her tenderly as if he had all the time in the world.

  Taking a breath, Alex explained, “It’s the Cars, ‘Drive’…”

  Mark smirked. “You and your ol’ musical cheese. Good thing you’re cute with it.”

  “This song’s not cheesy, it’s beautiful.” She smiled, feeling safe in his arms. “So, what do you think?”

  “About what, this song?”

  “Not the song, silly.” She licked her lips and played with the hair at the nape of his neck.

  “Oh, you minx!” Mark’s eyes fell to the plunging v-neck of her dress. “Maybe I should disappear for weeks on end more often.”

  “Don’t you dare.”

  “Is this a hint? Time to sneak away…” His whisper gave in to his lips kissing their way down her neck as his fingers dug into her waist, pulling her closer.

  “Tempting—” Alex gasped as his tongue slipped along the nape of her neck. Warmth surged through her body, flushing her cheeks. “But Naomi would kill us.” Her fingers disappeared into his thick hair.