London, Can You Wait?

by Jacquelyn Middleton

  Wink raised his pints of Guinness. “Like he has to ask.”

  Fallon clocked Wink’s full hands. “You’re one to talk. Nice Irish handcuffs, ya got there!”

  Mark and Wink laughed. Duff lumbered off to the bar, leaving a waft of spicy cologne behind. He stopped twice to fist bump and take selfies with several rugby fans. Mark clearly wasn’t the only celebrity in attendance.

  Fallon fluttered her thick eyelashes in Wink’s direction. “Be nice, or I’ll trigger that escape clause in my contract. Remember, I’m doing you a favour.”

  She leaned into Alex’s ear, Duff’s spicy fragrance accompanying her. “I saved his bacon before the Christmas break, taking this role. I even cancelled my holibobs with Duff. Mind you, that bloody read, I swear that’s the only ‘chemistry test’ I’ve ever passed.” A throaty laugh, defying her young age and worthy of a pack a day, flew from her pale lips.

  Her easy charm and playful dig at Wink put Alex at ease. She jumped in, sharing the actress’s chemistry joke. “Ugh, I barely passed my sciences except biology. Thank goodness for the arts, huh?”

  “I know, right?” Fallon’s Irish accent was slightly different from Mark’s, but Alex didn’t know enough about Ireland to place it. “I’d be asking people, Do you want fries with that? if it wasn’t for acting! Ooh, I love your dress, by the way.”

  “Thanks! Your guy seems nice.”

  “Yeah.” Fallon looked towards Duff, surrounded by admirers near the bar. “We’ve been dating three weeks. He’s fun—and insatiable.” She laughed and smoothed her pin-straight dark blonde hair away from her eyes. A small tattoo stretched over her inner wrist, a pair of crossed field hockey sticks. “What are you drinking? Vodka and orange?”

  Alex nodded.

  “That’s no way to ring in the New Year.”

  “And our second anniversary.” Alex smiled widely, glancing up at Mark, who hugged her close. “It’s tomorrow.”

  “Really? Well, an anniversary that falls over New Year’s calls for celebratory drinks. Mark, I’m disappointed in you.” She yanked Alex away, dragging her through the tight throng.

  “Wait—” Concern clouded Mark’s eyes.

  Alex glanced over her shoulder, grinning.

  “Ahh, leave them to it.” Wink smirked. “Besides, it’s almost ten o’clock, and you’re not even buzzed, man. You’ve got some serious catching up to do.”

  Mark craned his neck, trying to spot his girlfriend. “But she’s not really a big party girl—”

  “Stop being so protective.” Wink elbowed him in the back. “She’s an adult. Let her go. She’s made a new friend, and yours are waiting. It’s all good, bro.” He steered Mark to a crew of raucous males shouting at each other over a table clogged with pints and an ignored platter of deep-fried finger foods.

  By quarter past eleven, the Stag’s Head was rocking with plenty of good old-fashioned Irish hospitality, unlimited booze, and a standing-room only crowd. Glittery party hats had been handed out along with noisemakers and confetti. Clusters of drinkers hollered and prematurely blew their celebratory horns from the curved red leather booths that lined the narrow space.

  “Lexy, darling, get over here!” Fallon unleashed her body-shaking laugh and waved a crimson cocktail that matched her dress.

  Alex clung to the edge of the tiny parlour bar. Her heavy eyelids blinked lazily, a cocktail umbrella and wedge of pineapple beside her white knuckles. “No…come here!”

  An impatient suit with a stained tie and lipstick on his cheek stuffed himself into the sliver of space between Alex and the wall, weakening her grip. Her blood-starved fingers let go. She fell backwards, crashing into the plaid-covered chest of a tall beardy redhead supping his pint. With nowhere to go but down, she crumpled awkwardly on her hip and his scuffed leather boots. “He’s a lumberjack and…ow! Not okay…” Her tipsy sing-a-long dissolved into uncontrollable giggling.

  Wink ducked through the swarm, careful not to spill his latest Guinness. He snatched Alex’s arm, tugging her up onto rubbery legs. “Careful there, little lady.” He grinned sheepishly at Alex’s lumberjack, who shrugged away the nuisance. “Sorry, buddy.”

  Alex shoved Wink’s hand away and dropped her clutch. “Don’t tell me what to do. I’m not Mark.” She weaved on the spot, her right ankle buckling sideways in her heel, causing her to lurch into a lopsided slump.

  “Ooh, the mouse that roared.” Wink bent down to pick up Alex’s clutch and handed it to Fallon. “One of the film assistants is fetching Mark. What the hell happened?”

  “We were having drinks, chatting with some blokes from set…” She pointed to two thirty-something guys with Duff near the room’s front window. Twinkly fairy lights glowed against its fogged-up glass. “It was great craic.”

  “How much has she had?”

  “Two—three at most!”

  Wink blew out his cheeks. “Lightweight.”

  Fallon held Alex’s shoulder, keeping her from crashing to the floor again. “She had strawberry mojitos. She wasn’t going to have another, but—”

  “She told me…” Alex’s head wobbled as she pointed at Fallon.

  “What’s she on about?” Wink downed the dregs of his pint and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

  “I told her about the sex scene—with Mark. She seemed pretty put out by it. He’s done kissing scenes before, but nothing full on like what we shot yesterday.” Fallon chewed her bottom lip. “Once she heard about the nudity, she wanted another drink. Downed it in one.”

  Alex rested her head on Fallon’s breast and began to hiccup. “Why…hic…didn’t he tell me…hic…tell me…?” She sounded like a stuttering CD.

  “See? That’s the problem with girlfriends not in the biz,” Wink whispered. “They get jealous…dating outside the industry never works out.”

  “I thought she’d understand. Isn’t she a playwright?” Fallon backed up. “Lexy, hon—you okay? Here, let’s get this back on ya.” She slipped the wrist strap of Alex’s clutch over her hand.

  “Lex!” Mark pushed through the throng, a female production assistant by his side. “What happened?”

  Fallon handed Alex over to Mark with concern in her eyes.

  “Babe…you wanna play, right?” Alex melted into his arms and hoisted the hem of her dress.

  Mark batted her hand, dropping the flirty fabric back down to her mid-thigh. He looked at Fallon. “What’s she been drinking?”

  Fallon toyed with the silver coin bracelet on her wrist. “Mojitos.”

  “Where did you come from?” Alex touched Mark’s cheek. “Your face, it’s wet…”

  “I was in the loo.”

  “That loo sees you more than I do…hic.”

  Mark held Alex tightly and turned to Fallon, Wink, and the production assistant. “Alcohol affects her really quickly.”

  “Fruity drinksssssss.” Alex giggled and pressed her face into the collar of his shirt.

  “Yeah, well, I’m cutting you off…we’re leaving.” Mark looked towards the stairwell.

  “But, it’s our anal—verrrsss”—she latched onto his tie as her legs began to slide apart. Mark pulled her up quickly, saving Alex from flashing the bar—“sorry.”

  Mark cringed, glancing at Wink and Fallon. “She means anniversary.” He hugged her close. “It’s tomorrow, Lex. C’mon. Back to the hotel, let’s get you to bed.”

  She fumbled for his belt. “Ooh, fireworks…”

  The production assistant looked away. Fallon bit her lip. Wink laughed. This time, Mark didn’t join him.

  “Lex.” He grabbed her hand and whispered in her ear, “No fireworks, just sleep.”

  Her right arm curled around his shoulders. “I know what might help.” She kissed his neck while the hand hovering near his belt fought for freedom.

  “Lex, no…listen…”

  A few revellers stared and gestured at the free, impromptu performance by Mark Keegan and company.

  “Mark, camera phones, buddy,”
Wink mumbled out of the corner of his mouth. “We don’t want this on YouTube…” He quickly ran interference like an NFL pro, blocking the strangers’ view and striking up a loud conversation to distract them. Fallon and Duff shifted back through the crowd, granting the couple privacy.

  “Lex, come on.” Mark captured her roaming hand and stared into her eyes. “You wanna enjoy tomorrow, yeah?”

  “Yeah.” Her scrunched-up eyes popped open with each hiccup. “Okay…hic…but promise me?”

  Mark squeezed her hand and nodded, anything to get Alex to focus and give up the fight. “Sure, I promise.”

  She stabbed a wobbly index finger into his chest. “You stay.”

  “Come. We’re goin—”

  The production assistant leaned into Mark’s ear. “I can take her. It’s no problem.”

  “I don’t like leaving her.”

  “No, it’s my turn. I’m leaving you—to your party.” Alex giggled and ran her hand down Mark’s shirt. She poked her fingers through a gap between buttons, her levity slipping into a protest tinged with tears. “I don’t want to ruin the party. Promise me I haven’t ruined it, Mark?”

  “No, Lex.” Mark tucked her head protectively under his chin, hugging her close and away from curious onlookers. “You haven’t ruined the party.”

  Wink slapped him on the back. “Listen to your girl, she talks sense. Now, there’s someone from LA I want you to meet…”

  Mark nodded. “Lex, I’ll stay for another hour, two tops.” He kissed the top of her head and turned to the P.A., mouthing, “Are you sure?”

  The P.A. gave him a reassuring smile. “I won’t make it to midnight anyway. I’ll make sure she gets to your room.”

  Fifteen

  Mark’s shuffle under the sheets bounced Alex awake.

  She squinted at his pale back and shifted her head slowly, homing in on the soft blue glow at the bottom of the flatscreen TV—the time, nine fifteen. Brightness spilled out from the bathroom around the corner. Dublin was too busy imitating a dishwasher outside, so her eyes were spared the discomfort of stabby shards of sunlight creeping through the edges of the curtains. Her hip ached. A peek under the duvet and her half-off dress revealed a purple and yellow bruise the size of an apple. She scratched her pounding head. “Mark, you awake?”

  “Yeah…” His Irish accent barely broke a whisper.

  “Kill me now. I’m so regretting last night. My head feels like a bashed-in piñata.”

  “Me too. I should’ve been here looking after you…” He rolled over and clutched the edge of his pillow.

  Alex gulped. Who had kidnapped her smiley boyfriend and replaced him with this mess who reeked worse than a brewery? This guy’s hair stuck to his forehead, and his complexion was ghostly, spare smudges of silver glitter on his cheek and chin, no doubt from a party hat long discarded. His brown eyes, bloodshot and puffy, skimmed over her, their usual lively glow extinguished. “Are you cross with me, Mouse?” He sounded like a chastised little boy.

  “Hmm, guilty much?” she teased. “No, I made you stay. It’s my fault I’m in this mess, not yours.” She scooched farther up on her pillow, but the room swung around to meet her. “Urgh…don’t feel bad. I feel bad enough for both of us.” A rub of her eye, and black liner and glitter darkened her hand. “If I look as bad as I feel—”

  “You always look gorgeous.” Mark’s voice cracked, like he was about to dissolve into tears. “Happy second anniversary, Mouse.”

  “Happy anniversary, babe.” Alex swallowed several times, trying to wash away excessive saliva. “What’s wrong?”

  “My head…is banging. I could murder a glass of water, but I feel like I could be sick. Fucking shots. I can’t remember whose idea that was.” Mark sniffed and closed his eyes. “If I could do it all over again, I would’ve come back with you. God, I’m such an idiot.”

  “But you’re my idiot, and I love you.”

  “I love you, too, Mouse, more than anything…you know that, right?”

  She squeezed his hand. “My throat’s wrecked. I haven’t thrown up like that since Olivia stole my play. It was disgusting. When I got up around five to four, you still weren’t back.”

  “How many times were you sick?”

  “Twice, maybe…”

  “I should’ve been here, holding your hair back.” He squeezed her hand.

  Alex’s stomach squeaked and bubbled. “I’m tired of feeling like this.”

  “Me too. Our anniversary isn’t going too well, is it? God, what a difference a year makes. Ah, Venice…” His voice halted. “Never again.”

  “Never again. I’m done with stupid fruity cocktails… wait, what? Never what…Venice?”

  “Promise me we’ll never be apart at midnight on New Year’s ever again, no matter what.”

  “That’s my line, workaholic.” Alex snorted. “And after last night, I think I’m done with going commando…”

  “I’m being serious, Lex. No more New Years apart.”

  A muffled ping came from underneath the bedding. “You don’t have to nag. I’ve learnt my lesson.”

  Mark groaned. “Me too.”

  Alex’s hand fished under her pillow, pulling out her phone. “Oh.” Her eyes lit up. Two unread texts: one misspelled ramble from Freddie that ended with Stay sparkly and a delivery notification from the hotel’s front desk.

  “What is it?”

  “A surprise, the good kind.” She stared with half-mast eyelids. “So…is there something you want to tell me? Clear your conscience?”

  “No…” He picked at a loose thread on his pillowcase. “I don’t think so.”

  “You thought I’d freak out, right?” She dropped her phone under the covers. “Don’t worry, my head’s too sore to even go there.”

  “Go where?”

  “Mark, please…I know about the nude sex scene. Fallon told me—she thought I knew.”

  “Oh…” His breath hitched as he looked away. “Yeah.”

  “Yeah, it would’ve been nice to hear it from my boyfriend.”

  “I’m sorry. It should’ve come from me—”

  “You’re right. It should have.” She sighed. “But I understand why you kept quiet. You didn’t need an earache.” Alex swallowed, but she couldn’t budge the lump in her throat. “I’m angry with myself, and embarrassed. I hope I didn’t make you look bad in front of your friends. Fallon’s lovely, and I said some things…I wouldn’t blame her if she never spoke to me again, and it’s my fault for getting blotto with those berry drinks. I should know better. I do know better. I can’t drink as much as everyone else, and sex scenes are part of your job, end of.”

  “You’re being way too hard on yourself.”

  “I love you for saying that, but…” She shrugged. “I’ll apologize to Fallon when I see her—and Duff…and Wink, and the P.A. I have a long list.”

  “You don’t have to apologize. I should be the one—”

  Alex placed her fingers on his lips. “Shh.”

  Mark kissed her fingers.

  “Yeah, you might want to skip my lips until I brush my teeth. I don’t blame you.” She curled into him and scrunched up her nose. “Ew, you reek. Booze and…something else?”

  “I may have had a sneaky cigarette or two last night.”

  “Ugh.”

  “I used to smoke, ages ago. That’s the problem with Dublin—it’s easy to fall into old habits here.” He smoothed her hair away from her eyes. “I wish we were done here. I wish we were back in London Fields.”

  “Me too.” She kissed his neck and frowned. “You’re sticky.”

  “Wink spilled a cocktail down me. Bastard.” Mark pulled away, flipping his legs out of the duvet. “Fuck, that was a bad idea. The room…” He paused, bracing himself on the bed. “I’m gonna shower. Maybe it will clear my head.”

  “Need an extra hand in there?” Alex snickered, watching his underwear-covered butt move away from her.

  “No, stay there. I’ll order breakf
ast when I’m done.” He removed his watch. “If you can stomach it?”

  “I’ll try. Just some toast, maybe?” Alex pulled up into a sitting position then grabbed the duvet to steady the dizzy sway. “While you’re in there, I’ll change, pop downstairs, get my parcel.”

  “Is that a good idea?” He scratched his chin.

  “I’ll be lucky to make it to the lobby and back without killing myself.” She tugged the Vespa charm to the front of its chain. “Nah, I’ll be fine. It’s something for your birthday. I know how much you love surprises.”

  Wearing yoga pants, unlaced Converse, Mark’s sweatshirt, and a green pallor that would make Kermit the Frog envious, Alex leaned on the hotel’s unmanned front desk and typed #MarkKeegan into Instagram. Lairds memes rolled under her finger, wishing a Happy Hogmanay and announcing New Year’s resolutions to find out what Mark was hiding underneath that kilt. Photos of Mark from Tom and Naomi’s wedding continued to pop up along with random fan selfies. A dimly lit, sneaky snap from the previous night of her kissing Mark cropped up in the middle of the Instagram feed—

  Her phone lit up: a text from Lucy, sent to her phone and Mark’s.

  Hey Marlex. Happy anniversary! Hope you’re having a shagging good time. We missed you two last night. Bespoke’s Prohibition theme was fun, but Freddie’s after-party was dreadful. Don’t tell Freds I said that. My head is throbbing, so I’m taking my hot water bottle back to bed! Love you lots. x

  Alex smiled and shifted slowly around, careful not to jar her bruised brain.

  A lone figure, chin buried in her scarf, walked across the lobby. An elegant, tight bun reminiscent of a ballerina kept her hair neatly in place—so pretty, but absolute torture with a hangover.

  Alex blinked twice, unsure. “Fallon?”

  “Oh…hi, Alex. Sorry, miles away.” Fallon’s skin was luminous, the inch-thick makeup worn at the pub scrubbed away without a trace. Her sparse eyelashes looked like they had never seen a mascara wand in their life. The stunning vixen from the Stag’s Head had left Dublin, replaced by a fresh-faced girl next door wearing a parka, yoga pants, and a fat wooly scarf. “How are you?”