London, Can You Wait?

by Jacquelyn Middleton

  “‘Nuff said.” Lucy nodded. “After today, I think we’ll all sleep like logs.”

  “Definitely.” Alex smiled, thinking she would be lucky if she slept a wink.

  Forty-Five

  London suburbs

  Mark barged past Fallon into her small living room.

  “Lovely to see you, too.” Fallon shook her head and tightened the belt of her robe with a sharp tug.

  He dropped onto her loveseat, his fingers yanking the zipper of his leather jacket. “Sit down.”

  “No kiss hello? Who pissed on your corn flakes?” Fallon crossed her arms and sat down beside him.

  “I’m looking at her.”

  Fallon rolled her eyes. “Babe, chill. I told you already, I won’t share any more childhood photos with the Mail—”

  “This isn’t about kiddie photos, Fal. This is about fucking honesty.”

  “When have I ever not been honest with you?”

  “Try New Year’s Eve.” He pulled off his jacket, chucking it on the armrest. “Did we have sex in Dublin?”

  She laughed. “You travelled over an hour to ask that! You already know the answer—”

  “Do I? Last night a friend overheard you and Wink backstage—”

  “So?”

  “I know what you said. Do you want me to fucking repeat it? Does ‘It was the best sex I’ve never had’ sound familiar?”

  Her shoulders deflated. “Babe—”

  “Why, Fal? Why would you do this to me? Why lie—”

  “Mark—”

  “What did Wink promise you, eh? In exchange for ruining my relationship with Alex? ’cause I know you wouldn’t just do something like this on a whim. He promised you something—that’s what he does.” He leaned in, his face reddening with rage. “TELL ME!”

  Fallon flinched, keeping her voice low. “Mark, for fuck’s sake. Settle. Down. You’ll wake my flatmates.”

  Mark stared, refusing to relax. “Tell me—” He gritted his teeth.

  “Okay, okay!” She straightened her robe. “Before you arrived at the read, Wink wanted to know my story. I told him you and I knew each other as teens, how we dated. I figured it might give me an in, and he seemed genuinely fascinated. He asked what acting jobs I had done and if I had representation. The timing was perfect; my agent and I had…parted ways, a while back. He offered to sign me right there—so straight after the read, I did.”

  “Without due diligence?” Mark shook his head. “That was stupid—”

  “He seemed nice, okay?” She snatched a hand-rolled cigarette and a lighter from the table. “And you were signed with him. You seemed happy enough, joking around with him.”

  He crossed his arms, exhaling heavily.

  “Anyway, that evening, after the reads with you went well, Wink took me out to a posh steak place, to celebrate signing me AND my first proper movie role—he told me that the job was mine, right then, said our chemistry was ‘electric’ and the director loved me. I was so happy, and he was so nice. We talked for hours. I told him how our families knew each other, and he blurted out that he was worried about you, about your career. He said you and Alex were having problems: she didn’t understand the biz, was getting in the way…” Fallon lit the cigarette and inhaled slowly.

  “And…” Eyes wide, his nod prodded Fallon to continue.

  “I told him…I felt bad for her.” She blew smoke away from Mark. “I get it. Kissing, sex scenes, lots of time apart—it’s a big ask for any partner to be okay with all that. I remember exactly what he said next.” Fallon adopted a convincing American accent: ‘Mark could break America, Fallon. He’s a special talent, but he’s gonna throw it all away for some girl with issues.”’

  Mark scowled. “Go on…”

  “He said Alex was manipulating you, had some weird hold over you. How she’d deliberately have ‘anxiety issues’ when you needed to focus, like before a big shoot or audition. How she’d show up on set sometimes, make a scene…”

  “What a load of shite.” Mark’s eyes darkened. “None of that is true, you know.”

  “How was I to know that?” She inhaled deeply on her cigarette and tapped it into an ashtray. “So, he asked for my help…”

  “And that wasn’t an unprofessional red flag? You should have walked—”

  “That’s easy for you to say!” She sputtered, exhaling smoke. “You’re the golden boy of Wink’s client roster, in demand, working all the time. Some of us don’t have it as good as you, okay?”

  He waved her smoke away from his face. “Oh, come on—”

  “NO!” She tucked her feet underneath her bum, leaning closer. “We don’t, and you know what makes it worse? Some of us were supposed to do great things. Remember when we were fourteen? What those talent scouts said? I was destined to be a star: ‘The Irish Kate Winslet,’ they said. ‘That Sinéad Delaney—a natural.’ I’d go home, watch Titanic for the millionth time, dreaming of my turn in Leo’s arms, but my turn never came.”

  “We all slog through tough times—”

  She pointed with her dwindling cigarette. “You want tough, Mark? Here’s tough. My highlight reel, yeah? Until I met Wink, the best of Fallon Delaney boasted two tampon adverts, three low-budget Irish movies where I spent half my time naked on my back, and a few videogame voiceovers. So, unless you can compete with that, Mr. I’m-On-TV-Every-Week, then just shut the fuck up.”

  “Fal, you’ve only been at it for what, five years?” His voice softened. “You’ve only started.”

  “Yeah, started to lose hope. You have no idea what it’s like. Stuck in Dublin, barely scraping by with my shit barista job, sleeping on my friend’s sofa…I couldn’t even afford new headshots.”

  He shook his head. “I’ve been there too. It doesn’t excuse—”

  “No, you haven’t been there, walking away from the ONLY thing you ever wanted to do…” Surging towards the table, her fingers pounded the end of the cigarette into smithereens in an ashtray. “You never jacked in your dream. I did. Last November, I finally called it a day—it hit me: maybe, they’re right. Maybe, I’m just not good enough. And there I was, filling out online applications for college nursing courses, when a friend emailed about the audition and chemistry read—with YOU of all people.” She flung herself back into the sofa. “So, I went. One last kick at the can, nothing to lose, and I met Wink—”

  “Who swooped in and saved the day. Hurrah!” Mark waved his hands sarcastically.

  “He offered me a lifeline! He said he would go above and beyond to land me auditions, new roles, if I’d only help him—help YOU! And he’s been good to his word.”

  “Christ, Fal…”

  “It didn’t seem like a big deal. After Alex and Duff left the party, Wink asked me to stay close to you, make sure you were drinking—a lot—and take you back to the hotel. No sex, no actual cheating required. We’d snap a few photos at the pub and make it look like something was going on then leave it to your drunken blackout and Alex’s imagination to do the rest.”

  “So, you faked a bunch of photos? Made up shit to hurt a girl you didn’t even know?”

  “Mark, I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry. I’m not a bad person.” She picked at the ends of her hair. “I did what I had to do for my career—and yours. If I’d known Wink wasn’t telling the truth, I wouldn’t have gone through with it. I’m not that girl, babe. You know that. I don’t break up couples. I don’t do the dirty on other girls, it’s not my style.”

  Mark scoffed. “Well, you did a bang-up job making it look like you did. The condom—”

  “Was Duff’s! We had sex before the party.”

  “You fucking thought of everything.”

  “Bollocks! I really liked him. I didn’t shag him to conveniently plant a used condom for later! Jesus.”

  “Came in handy for your improv though, didn’t it?” Mark looked away, shaking his head.

  “You passed out on my bed. I took off your clothes and fell asleep beside you. I did what Wink sug
gested, nothing more.”

  “You acted your little heart out that morning. Poor Fal. So guilty. So upset about Duff finding out. So many tears…I’m such a MUG. I totally bought it. Maybe you really are the Irish Kate Winslet, after all…”

  “Shut up, Mark, and stop playing the victim. You signed with Wink for a reason, too. I know he promised you higher profile roles, a bigger fanbase, right? His ambition matches yours—you’re the most driven actor I know! It’s almost scary.”

  “This conversation isn’t about why I signed with Wink. It’s about why you did, and the deal you made with him. I just never realized Alex was part of it.” He scoffed. “That first day on set, you said you were happy for me—and her. Obviously, you didn’t mean it.”

  “I did mean it. I was happy for you, and I liked Alex when I met her—I really did. I even told Wink early in the evening, she seemed really nice, not like he’d described her…but then she got so wasted, and that confirmed what Wink had told me: she was a train wreck, a distraction you didn’t need.”

  “Oh, come on! You never cared about what this would do to me—or Alex.” He stared her down. “You only cared what it could do for you.”

  “I was just trying to get my foot on the acting ladder—at last, get what I deserved…and maybe you got what you deserved, too. You’re not blameless here, Mark. You never told Alex who I was or how long we dated.” She sighed. “Not being honest with your girlfriend about what we had…how good it was? That’s on you, lover.”

  “I had my reasons.” Mark shrugged.

  “Moving the honesty goalposts again, eh?”

  “You? Lecturing me on honesty? That’s rich, now that I know our hookup in Manchester—our relationship…grew from this lie…” Mark got up, grabbing his jacket.

  “Babe, wait.” Fallon clasped his hand, her diamond ring glinting in the low light. “Don’t leave tonight. Please? It feels like old times, right? Going to bed angry with each other…let me try to make it up to you…”

  She tugged at the belt of her robe, letting it slip from her shoulders.

  “Not this time, Fallon.” Mark shook his head, putting on his jacket.

  Forty-Six

  New York City, next morning

  An incoming FaceTime alert woke Alex up. She squinted at the tablet face down in the sheets and flipped it over: ten past eleven…Freddie…

  “Hello?” she moaned into a pillow.

  “Good morning, Sparkly Girl.” Freddie beamed in the July 1st sunshine from the rooftop deck of his Archway flat.

  “Eurgh. I’m hardly sparkly. I feel crap. Barely slept.”

  “Lex, I’m sorry. I held off and held off, but it’s almost quarter after four here, and the chippie closes at six.”

  “That’s…two hours away, and it’s not like you have far to go—it’s downstairs.”

  “Yeah, but I have lots of juicy goss!” He popped open a bag of cheese and onion crisps.

  Simon, a cup of green tea in his hand, pulled up a patio chair beside Freddie. “Hey, gorgeous. Thanks for the kombucha homebrew kit. It’s brilliant!”

  “Hey, Si. Happy Birthday! I hope Freddie was joking about fish and chips tonight. A veggie sausage doesn’t exactly scream happy thirty-sixth, does it?”

  “That’s why I made a reservation at the Chiltern Firehouse.”

  “And that’s why I’m eating crisps now and chips when I’m done talking to you…grilled cauliflower hearts? Gross!” Freddie took a deep breath. “So…are you sitting comfortably?”

  “You can see for yourself, Freds. I’m in bed.”

  “Start as you mean to go on, lady. Just lie back and think of Keegs.”

  “If you’re going to goof around—”

  “Don’t pretend you haven’t gone there in your head—I saw your face yesterday. You can’t pretend with me…actually, you won’t have to pretend at all. Put away your battery-operated boyfriend, Lex.” He stuffed a handful of crisps in his mouth.

  “Freddie!” Alex sat up.

  He took a deep breath. “So, Mark and I spoke this morning, and he told me everything…”

  And Freddie told Alex everything…

  Simon adjusted his sunglasses. “Wink’s plan went off like a well-rehearsed play.”

  Alex covered her face with a pillow. “Argh! I completely fell for those photos, Mark being upset about the used condom—all of it. Well, at least I know everything…”

  “Actually, you don’t,” said Freddie.

  “I don’t?” Alex flipped the pillow behind her.

  “You don’t know about Manchester.” Freddie munched his last crisp. “Wink was up to his dirty tricks again during Constellations. He told the tabloids about Mark and Fallon’s teenage relationship. He also hinted that maybe the onstage romance in Constellations was becoming hot and heavy backstage, too. Everyone loves a showmance…”

  Alex crossed her arms over her t-shirt. Not everyone!

  “…even better if it’s first loves reuniting and falling for each other as adults.”

  Simon waved away a wasp. “People love that shit, including producers and directors. I bet they’d cast Mark and Fallon more often if they’re all over the press and social media, and guess whose agent commission would be quids in? Wanky Winky.”

  “What a dick. He’s such a manipulative asshole.” Alex sneered.

  “To make his showmance story look real, Wink encouraged Fallon to hang out with Mark in Manchester—go for dinner, drinks. She was up for it.” Freddie shrugged. “Why wouldn’t she be? Getting noticed by the press, casting agents, directors, and she could do it guilt-free. A week earlier, she’d dumped Duff—get this, she caught him cheating!”

  Alex smirked. “Karma.”

  “But Mark was being as sociable as a rock.” Freddie tore open a Curly Wurly chocolate bar. “He missed you, Lex, terribly, and I think the emotions portrayed in Constellations weren’t helping. After each day’s rehearsals, he would disappear to his hotel room—alone. I know, ’cause he’d call me, miserable—he’d sad-FaceTime me. I even spotted a framed photo of you two behind him,” Freddie mumbled, his mouth full of chocolate-coated caramel.

  “Really?” Alex sank back into the pillows.

  “Mark told me Wink pulled him aside in early March, said Constellations ticket sales were lagging. He found out later that Wink was bloody lying—the play’s run was practically sold out! Anyway, Wink said they needed to drum up interest to sell tickets, and if Mark got papped with Fallon, it might do the trick. You know Mark—bloody workaholic—his play had to be successful, and he felt like he owed Wink for his damage control on the Promise set back in January. So, he went along with it. Mark thought he had nothing to lose because he had already lost you.”

  Simon jumped in. “And Wink tipped off the paps, so they caught them shopping, getting cosy in bars around Manchester…it looked bloody real, and then one day, it was.”

  Alex took a deep breath.

  Freddie sighed. “The New Year’s shag never happened but in April—Fallon got her claws in.”

  Alex closed her eyes.

  Freddie glanced at Simon, who nodded to his fiancé to keep going. “It was a relationship of convenience, Lex—he didn’t love her. He told me that this morning. They were both on the rebound. By mid-April, they were already over, but Wink had them agree to keep up appearances until after the January release of A Promise Unspoken—to sell tickets, build up tabloid buzz.”

  Her eyes popped open. “Hang on…so, the past three months was all a PR stunt?”

  “Yep, they were under my nose and even fooled me,” said Freddie.

  She stared at her tablet. “They were only really together for a month?”

  “Not even—two weeks, Lex! And all the photos together? All staged.”

  “Seriously? Even Florida…the beach?”

  “Yep! All for the camera, darling. But Lex, they weren’t even in Florida! Mark and Fallon were in LA meeting casting directors, that beach was a short drive away! Wink must’v
e told Fallon to tag it as Florida, and before you ask, they stayed in separate rooms the entire trip.”

  “So, they’re not engaged…”

  “Oh, God, no!” Freddie swigged from a can of cola. “That gossip piece in the Mail—fed to them by Wink.”

  “But Fallon has Niamh’s ring…?”

  “She does, but it’s not an engagement ring! Mark explained everything: it’s a bloody Delaney family heirloom. Fallon’s mum died five years ago, left Niamh the ring in her will, but Niamh always thought Fallon should have it. She asked Mark to get it repaired and polished last summer so she could send it to Fallon. He was just bringing it back to Dublin for his mum when you found it.”

  “Oh, God. I got it so wrong.” She hid her face in her hands. “So, he wasn’t planning to propose to me…”

  “Mark wasn’t about to propose to anyone, not with that ring, anyway.” Freddie stretched back in his chair. “He said he’s done with Fallon and their fake relationship bullshit, and he’s going to read Wink the riot act. So, darling…bloody brilliant, right? No New Year’s shag, no engagement—nothing to stop you taking him back!”

  “I can’t, Freds.” Alex sighed. “Mark’s married to his acting. His life’s a whirlwind, and he still works like a madman, all in the public eye. None of that’s good for my anxiety.”

  “But you haven’t had a panic attack in months, and you would know how to handle his absences better now—”

  “It doesn’t matter. Mark’s lifestyle is not my idea of a healthy long-term relationship. It just isn’t. Besides, the stability I hoped I’d find with Mark, I’ve found on my own. I don’t need a guy to save me—I can save myself.” She shrugged at her friends on the other side of the ocean. “I’m sorry. I know you were hoping for a different answer—”

  “But you love him.”

  “Sometimes love isn’t enough, Freds.”

  Freddie looked like he had been slapped.

  Simon stepped in. “Well, none of us will see Mark for a while. He doesn’t have to report to Mexico for Throttle until August, so he’s staying with his mum. He’s on a strict diet and workout regime for the film, said he needs to focus and get his head straight.”