She was the only presenter to live locally. Even Toby didn’t live nearby. Still, he arrived by taxi. Tigh found himself wondering how much more Toby was paid than the rest of them. Then he wondered why he was thinking about Toby when there was a naked woman lying beside him.
She looked up at him and smiled.
‘Is this something you’ve always wanted, then?’ she asked.
‘I’ve only just met you,’ he said.
She slapped him on the leg.
‘No, silly. I mean, be a kids’ TV presenter.’
‘No. I mean, I’ve never been against it, but I trained to be an actor. You know, I’ve done some theatre. Bit parts on telly. But not much, really. Still, door’s not closed or anything. What about you?’
‘No, this is it. Ever since I was a kid, I’ve wanted to be on kids’ telly. I suppose I had some rebellious years in my teens when I toyed with the idea of being on a grown-up magazines programme, or something, but… I just love kids. I like being around them and making them happy. And when this gig’s up, I guess I’ll do panto and go round schools with a show. Maybe even train as a nursery teacher or something.’
‘Ever fancy having some of your own?’
Bronte’s eyes and mouth went wide. She clasped her face theatrically.
‘Fuck, did the condom split?’
Tigh laughed.
‘No, I was just wondering.’
‘I would love them,’ she said. ‘But now’s not a good time, with the line-up being so unsettled. Besides, I haven’t found the right sperm donor yet. Anyway, enough yakking. I gotta sleep. Night, night.’
She blew him a kiss.
He put his arm around her.
‘I won’t be able to sleep if you do that,’ she said.
‘You do know that once we get in there, this never happened, right?’ Bronte said, as she applied her makeup in the taxi.
‘Yeah, sure,’ said Tigh.
‘I mean, you’re nice and everything, I like you, don’t get me wrong. But the politics in that place is ridiculous. If any of the presenters feel like others are teaming up, then it just gets crazy.’
‘Everyone seems so laid back and nice,’ he said.
‘Aw, you take people at face value,’ she said, pinching his cheek. ‘That’s so sweet!’
Tigh waited a second before asking what was on his mind.
‘So… I get that we can’t be, you know, at work, but can I see you again, outside work? Or have I missed the point? I have, haven’t I?’
She looked at him as if she was inspecting for dirt. He realised he had just come across as needy and wondered why. The emotional distancing of the morning after was usually painless for him - a relief, even.
‘We’ll see,’ she said, finally.
The silence in the car made Tigh squirm. Bronte made a popping sound with her mouth.
‘I like you,’ she said, softly. ‘But I like my own space too.’
‘I wasn’t planning on moving in.’
‘Oh, god. Just the thought. No, I couldn’t bear that. I mean, I want to be able to decide when someone holds me or gets close to me. I don’t like feeling obliged, like, I’m seeing someone, so I’ve got to, if you know what I mean.’
She leaned in and kissed him.
‘I felt like doing that,’ she said.
He went to kiss her again, but she put her fingers to his lips.
‘Can we stop here, please?’ she said to the driver.
The car came to a halt at the side of the country road, some distance away from the studio.
‘You’d better get out here,’ she said. ‘Pretend you walked from the station.’
‘Oh, right. Yeah, that makes sense.’
‘Hang on,’ she said, taking pen and paper out of her handbag. ‘Here’s my number.’
‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘I’ll call you.’
‘Yeah. That’s the idea.’ Her nose wrinkled as she smiled.
He opened the door and got out, deciding against attempting a final kiss.
‘See ya then,’ he said.
‘Yeah, see ya!’ Her nose wrinkled again. The car drove away, leaving Tigh to find the tiny pavement hidden beneath the rotting leaves.
‘Morning,’ said Tigh to Toby, smoking outside the studio entrance.
Toby nodded.
‘No taxi?’ he said. ‘Walk from the station, did you?’
‘Yeah,’ said Tigh. ‘Just fancied the walk.’
‘What was she like?’
‘I don’t follow.’
‘Yes, you do. Missus Jumping Jacks got out of a taxi five minutes ago. She normally always cycles, but her bike is still chained up on the bike rack. You turn up walking, despite the fact no one walks from the station more than once because the walk is shit. Which means you and her shared a taxi, you got out round the corner to try and trick people, i.e., me, into thinking you’d travelled separately, when in fact you’d came together because you spent the night at hers sticking it all ways. Am I right?’
Tigh shrugged.
Toby clapped his hands.
‘I knew it!’ he said. ‘I knew, before you even got here. She’ll have him, I thought. She can’t not have the pretty boy.’
‘I don’t follow.’
Toby leaned in.
‘How can I break this to you… you’re not the first. Or the second. Honestly, you’re not even the third. Since she has been here, there have been four pretty boys, you being number four, and, to be blunt, she’s had the lot. I mean, she was fast work with you. Usually, she gives them time to settle in…’
Tigh gulped.
‘What’s the matter? You look pale. There’s a meeting in the rehearsal room, by the way.’
‘Can you stop talking to me please?’ said Tigh, and leaped up the steps to get to the door.
Bronte was already in the rehearsal room, sitting next to Craig at the table. Tigh took the chair furthest away. Craig gave him a wave.
‘We smell or something?’ said Bronte. Her look told him to play along. He didn’t feel like it.
He shrugged. ‘Just leaving the middle chair for Toby. It’s the way he likes it.’
‘Bollocks to Toby,’ said Bronte. ‘Come on, come and sit with us.’
Tigh got up and sat with them.
‘How’d your meeting with Angela go?’ he asked Craig.
Craig shook his head. ‘Not well,’ he said. ‘She said the idea wasn’t good. That it didn’t meet the channel’s educational remit. Still… she said she’d be happy to hear any other ideas that I have.’
‘See, that’s something, isn’t it?’ said Bronte, giving him a squeeze.
The room was filling up with production staff. Martin entered and sat opposite.
‘Who are we waiting for? Toby, as expected, and Nats. Anyone seen her?’
‘Oh, god,’ said Bronte, under her breath, to Tigh. ‘I knew I should have made sure she got home all right last night. God knows where she ended up.’
‘I’m here!’
Nats walked in the room, smiling. She looked fresh and alert, her clothes smarter, her hair showing evidence of a curling iron.
‘Oh,’ said Bronte.
Nats sat down in the furthest chair.
‘Better leave a space for Toby,’ she said.
‘Yeah,’ said Tigh, ‘I’d best budge up.’
‘Someone go and grab Toby from outside,’ said Martin.
‘Don’t worry, I’m here,’ said Toby, sailing through the room and into his saved seat.
‘Right, what’s this all about then? I’m guessing the tour, am I right?’
‘You’d be guessing correctly,’ said Martin. ‘We need to start finalising the line-up, so I want to know who is interested. Bear in mind, as usual, we can only take on three of you. Most of the budget is going on holograms this year. They’re fashionable, I’m told. Right, who wants in?’
Toby leaned back, his arms folded.
‘Me,’ he said. ‘I’m surprised you even asked. You won’t get bums
on seats without me there.’
‘No,’ said Martin. ‘I was taking it as read that you’d be there. Who else?’
Tigh put his hand up.
‘Tour?’ he said.
Toby turned to him.
‘Yes, the tour. Every year they send us, well, the essential members of the team, on tour with a bunch of out-of-work actors with giant furry heads on pretending to be characters from the programmes. You have to do it in front of a theatre full of crying kids, and the whole place smells of piss and shit, but the pay is good.’
‘Interested, Tigh?’ said Martin.
‘I… ah, but the kids don’t know who I am,’ he said.
‘But they will do by then, and maybe it will be a good way of strengthening recognition. I’ll put your name down.’
‘Oh, ok,’
‘I’d like to do it,’ said Bronte.
‘And me,’ said Craig.
‘What about you, Nats?’
‘I…’
‘Right,’ said Martin, ‘you all want to do it. Looks like we’ve got a tough decision to make.’
‘Tigh, wait!’
Bronte followed him out the reception door and down the steps. They passed Toby smoking at the bottom of them. Tigh kept on walking.
‘What’s the problem?’ she said. ‘I know I said we should act like nothing happened, but you’re taking it a bit far!’
‘Don’t know what you mean,’ he said.
‘You’re physically recoiling every time I get near you. That’s going to look bad on camera.’
Tigh shrugged.
‘Look,’ he said, ‘something happened, and now, it’s not happening, so let’s just do what you said and act like it didn’t.’
‘Ok, if that’s the way you want it,’ she said. She turned, and went back the way she came. Tigh thought about waiting for a taxi. Toby nodded to him from the bottom of the steps. He decided to walk.
Tigh faced Angela and Martin. No one was smiling. He wished he’d accepted the cup of coffee he had been offered. Having it to hold would have stopped him from fidgeting in his seat like a schoolboy.
‘Well, Tigh,’ said Martin, ‘we’ve brought you in here because we’ve received the initial viewers’ feedback, and we’re afraid to say…’
‘The kids love you!’ cried Angela, springing up from her seat. ‘The parents love you. The camera loves you. You’re a big hit. Congratulations!’
‘Come here, big guy!’ said Martin, rising himself up to give Tigh a hug. Angela joined in with a firm kiss on the cheek. Tigh found they were all holding each other and jumping up and down on the spot for a few seconds.
‘Oh, you’re on the tour, by the way,’ said Martin, when they came to a standstill.
‘We simply had to put you on,’ said Angela. ‘We’d be letting the kids down otherwise.’
‘We can’t let the kids down!’ said Tigh, and laughed. He did not know why he said it, or why he was laughing, but he could not stop.
‘You made the tour, I hear,’ said Bronte, standing next to him in the line for the cafeteria. Tigh psyched himself up to be cordial.
‘Yeah, I did. You?’
‘Nah. Not me and not Craig. Just you, Toby and Nats.’
‘Nats? She doesn’t even want to go.’
‘I know. I can’t make sense of it either. And she’s on whatever she’s on again, that’s for sure.’
Tigh gave a sideways glance. Nats was at the back of the line, a tray limply hanging limply in her hand. She didn’t seem to notice that it had moved on.
Bronte clasped his arm.
‘Listen,’ she said, ‘I know things have been shit between us. But do me a favour, yeah? Look out for Nats when you’re out there. She’s in a bad way, and no one else round here seems to want to help her.’
‘Sure,’ said Tigh. ‘How come they keep on putting her in front of the cameras? She’s barely awake, half the time.’
‘I don’t know, and to be honest, I’m tired of covering for her. Toby’s going to snap over it soon, I can feel it.’
Craig passed them on the way from the front of the queue to a nearby table.
‘Nice one, Tigh,’ he said, carrying his tray one-handed so he could salute. ‘You earned it. Good luck.’
‘Thanks,’ said Tigh. ‘You don’t mind, do you? I mean, I’m just the new guy-’
‘No, not at all,’ said Craig. ‘To be honest with you, it’s a bit of a relief. Gives me time to develop a new idea for a programme I’m working on. I have a good feeling about this one. Just need to get it shipshape. Hone it down, sort out the rough edges…’
‘I’m sure it’ll be great,’ said Bronte.
‘Here’s hoping,’ said Craig, pulling out a chair and laying his tray down.
There was a crash. Nats’ tray, and the plate and glass that was on it, along with their contents lay on the floor at her feet.
‘Oh, I dropped it,’ she said, and stared at the mess for what seemed a full minute, before walking away.
Tigh looked out the window as the coach sped down the motorway, an alcoholic aroma rising from Toby in the seat next to him.
Toby spoke, but Tigh could not hear him over the noise coming from behind.
‘What?’ said Tigh.
‘I said, you’d think they’d give us our own fucking transport,’ said Toby. ‘Instead of putting us on a coach with a bunch of yobbos from RADA. It’s like a sodding school trip. Why’d they have to start this fucking tour at the top of nowhere, anyway? Do they even have tellies and electricity that far north?’
He offered Tigh a swig from his bottle of bourbon. Tigh shook his head.
‘You know what,’ he continued, after swallowing a mouthful, ‘I reckon they’re all sexual deviants. You know, the ones who like dressing up in fluffy animal costumes. That’s why they took the gig. They’ve all got stiffies when they’re on stage.’
‘Oh, I dunno,’ said Tigh. ‘When you’re an actor, you take any work going.’
‘Course you do, that’s why you’re a kids’ TV presenter. Still fancy doing a bit of acting, do you, once this gig’s over?’
‘Yeah, I guess.’
‘Well, you can forget it. Once you’re marked down as kids’ TV, that’s all you’ll ever be in people’s minds, for life. This is it, son. This is as good as it gets.’
‘I don’t think that’s not true. What about–’
‘Well, obviously, there are exceptions. Like that bloke, what’s his name who won an Oscar a while back for stuttering or walking with a limp or something. But they broke out because they were brilliant, and even stupid clothes and silly songs couldn’t hide the fact that they were brilliant. But I have to tell you, you’re not brilliant. You’re ok, but in the grand scheme of things you’re nothing.’
Tigh shrugged.
‘No this is it. This is as good as it’s ever going to get for you. So you need to milk it for all its worth. What have you got on the side right now?’
‘I don’t follow.’
‘We only film two out of four weeks. What are you doing for the other two?’
‘Nothing, really. Going to the gym. Playing on my Xbox. Going out. Just nice to have a bit of spare cash for a change. Should look for a flat, I guess.’
Toby shook his head.
‘You daft bugger. That off-time is gold-dust. Personal appearances – opening fetes, judging talent competitions. They even let us do music festivals now in the kids’ tent. Voiceover work, CDs, DVDs. You name it, if there’s something you can sell to kids, they will want you on it. You’re missing out on a fortune!’
‘Have you got a fortune then?’
‘Yeah, but it all goes on taxis. Wish I was in one now, I’m telling you.’ He took another sip at the bourbon.
Tigh looked across the aisle. He could see Nats a couple of rows ahead. She was listening to music through headphones, her hands making strange spidery movements on the back of the chair in front. Further up, he could see Martin talking to the driver. He’d stood at t
he front and made a speech earlier about how he’d been entrusted with making sure nothing onstage or off threatened the good name of the channel. In effect, he was chaperoning the lot of them. High spirits were fine, he said, just as long as they weren’t in front of the public or on Youtube.
A giant rabbit’s head came sailing through the air and into Toby’s lap, the bourbon splashing his hand.
‘Right,’ he said, standing and holding the head up. ‘Who threw this? There’s wire mesh in there. You could have had my eye out…’
‘You know what the worst thing is about being a well-loved national institution kids’ TV presenter?’ said Toby. He was slurring and speaking loud, even though the coach was quiet, the lights down. It was late.
‘What?’ said Tigh, struggling to stay awake and listen. He had been listening for some hours already.
‘No one thinks you’ve got a cock. Or if they do, they think you’re gay. Especially if you camp it up a bit, like I have to. Failing that, they think you’re a paedophile. No one actually comes to the obvious conclusion that you’re a red-blooded male who would like nothing better than giving a lady a good seeing-to as nature intended.’
‘I didn’t think you were gay.’
‘Did you think I was anything?’
‘Um… I dunno.’
‘See, point proven. Do you know how much work I have to put into just talking a girl into a cuddle and a handjob? It’s unbelievable. I’ll let you into a secret. I haven’t had actual proper full penetrative sex in three years.’
‘Oh. Right.’
‘Not that I really need to anymore. Finally joined the digital age and got one of those iPhone things. Have you any idea just how much porn is on that internet? Enough to keep me busy, I can tell you.’
Pretty Boy Tigh Page 2