Bad Actor

by Sarah Michelle Lynch

  I’m naked and occasionally she’ll feel between my legs and stroke my junk, giggling like a girl. I keep feeling the edges of her big knickers which are actually fucking sexy. I like big knickers. Must remember to buy her some more if I see some… the ones with lace panels.

  Hell. Fire. I can’t rein this in.

  “Have you told anyone about us yet?” she asks, her body stiffening.

  “No, what about you?”

  “No.”

  What are we meant to do? Tell people she’s with me now? The very notion means she and I can never be friends with Paul, ever again. It’s seismic. It means we can’t be in the same room with him and everyone else will have to choose. That’s if Paul even returns to the country… he might not when he finds out.

  Should I be scared she hasn’t boasted to anyone yet? Should she?

  “Lily—”

  “We should keep it secret for as long as possible,” she butts in.

  “I was about to suggest the exact same thing.” If you’d let me get a word in edgeways!

  “You could invite Susan and Adam to the play because they will likely get a hotel. They’ll never find out if we moderate our flirting and all that, only when in front of them of course.”

  “Uh, yeah. Unless one of the cast tells them.”

  “Hadn’t thought of that.” She starts chewing her nails.

  “They probably wouldn’t come anyway. Adam says they’re fighting at the minute.”

  She lifts off the bed, her eyes wide. “What?”

  “Yeah. He called me the other day. I was… where was I?” This whole week’s been a blur. “Yeah, I was in make-up and he called. I spoke to him for a few minutes, we talked about the play. He said he’d try and make it, if not with Susan, then maybe you and he could go together. Or something. Anyway, upshot was they’re fighting. He wouldn’t say about what, only that it’ll pass. He sounded pretty sort of… not Adam.”

  “Oh god, how terrible.”

  She cuddles into me tight and I bury my hands in her hair, letting the whole damn lot fall all over my arms and cover them. She grasps me tighter and hopefully she’s thinking it, too. Right now, we’re so lucky to be here in each other’s company, content and on the same page, madly in love and warm, naked and together.

  “I feel like if I met up with Adam, he’d just offload on me.”

  “It’s a distinct possibility he wants another perspective on whatever’s going on… and you’re always the one people come to.”

  “Tell me about it,” she groans, “but I just can’t do it anymore. Everyone drains me. I need people who don’t drain me, not after, you know…”

  I kiss her hair and tangle my legs with hers. “Kitten.”

  The blissful cuddling continues and I’m sure she’s about to drop off, because I am, but then she starts up again.

  “It’s sad but also reassuring…”

  “Yeah?” I chuckle.

  “They did seem too perfect.”

  “Fuck, I thought so too. The first time we went to their house, I felt sure we’d walked into another dimension. Our ambitionless geek of a best friend who grew up basically attached to a Sega Mega Drive to the point where he almost became a recluse… suddenly loved up, living in a beautiful house and with a fucking plan. I thought my head was gonna pop that day. I also felt like crap for not having my own vehicle, let alone a banquet-hall kitchen, a converted attic and a front room for the sake of a front room.”

  She bursts out laughing. “You’re evil. But it’s true. If something seems too good to be true…”

  “…then it probably is.”

  “Just think, people might say that about us if they find out. Best not to tell them anything until we’re married for three years or something.”

  “Ah, god, it’s maybe not a bad idea!” Whoever we tell about us, they’re all going to have an opinion – the same as everyone did when Adam made it clear that things with Susan were serious and that wouldn’t change anytime soon. I even suspect Adam will have an opinion on me and Lily being together – mainly because, despite everything, he still thinks of Paul as his oldest, dearest friend.

  “But it did seem choreographed, like too perfect. I wonder if Adam is happy about her dad doing everything for them. Doesn’t he have any pride?”

  “Fuck knows,” I agree, “but you can bet your bottom dollar stuff goes on behind people’s doors none of the rest of us ever find out about. They’re married now, joined by law, it makes what they have mean something more and locks out everyone else. I dunno what I’m saying, only that I suppose marriage changes people and they find themselves needing to deal with stuff they didn’t expect.”

  “You mean, she’s probably figured out he’s a lazy bum and plays his Commodore while she’s out at work.”

  “Yeah,” I chuckle, making her laugh, too.

  “We shouldn’t.”

  “I know.”

  “They could be going through something bad.”

  “Sure.”

  “Or he might be in love with an android?”

  We roll around laughing until quietening down and sighing together.

  “Anyway, if he decides to come down for the play alone, what do you want me to say to him? Would you wanna sit with him?”

  “Nah, he won’t come alone,” she insists. “They’ve only been married for a year and she won’t let him out of her sight.”

  “You think?” I’m incredulous but Lily has been right before in cases where I’ve been wrong.

  “Absolutely. He won’t come without her for fear of pissing her off. Either way, it’ll be easier for you to deal with if they don’t come at all!”

  “Sad but true.”

  “Let’s see what happens, then,” she says, but minutes later, I’m still thinking about it all.

  “You wouldn’t be tempted then, if she became single,” she says, as if that’s what I’m thinking about.

  “God, no. Absolutely not.” Really. No. But the lie is so deep, how am I to ever tell her the truth about my feelings… that it’s always been her!

  “Why does it bother you, then? I can tell you’re bothered.”

  I take a deep breath and whisper, “I just think it’s sad that once upon a time, we were all so close, and now look at us.”

  “I know.”

  “Do you hang out with any of the girls still?”

  “Not really. Sass is… well, Sass. Marie’s up to her eyeballs in baby paraphernalia. Chloe was the glue and she’s away in Oz for a few more months. God knows if she’ll come back changed, though I doubt it. When I was on the ward, I’d often go out with the girls I worked with. The most socialising I’ve done this past year was with them so it’s a bit sad really that I went on to do that police thing because it hasn’t turned out to be what I expected, actually. None of it has.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I wanted to help people, but I just feel like a bit of a fraud and a pen pusher. I’m not doing anything ground-breaking.”

  “It’s early in your career.”

  “I’ve realised a lot about myself,” she says, rolling onto her side. I roll with her, my arms wrapped around her front.

  “What have you realised?”

  “The most help I’ve ever given people was when I was working in a restaurant serving them food and banter. Everything else isn’t real. It’s all done by the book.”

  I cuddle into her, loving how much of her hair is covering my body.

  “You’re gonna hate me but there’s always something I wondered.”

  “What’s that?” she asks, nervous.

  “Why you did an English degree, then swapped to psychology.”

  She laughs hard for a long, long time.

  “You’re a creative, kitten. You do realise that? You’re in the wrong field.”

  She turns over and holds my cheek. “But I thought I could help people.”

  “You mean people like Paul.”

  She looks downcast. “Yes.”
>
  “You still can,” I determine, pressing my nose to hers, “but not by following the rules, by breaking them, shattering them… rising up against the rules you were brought up with. Why don’t you take what you’ve learnt and combine all your skills?”

  “How?” She’s staring at me, concerned where I’m going with this.

  “Take it to the next level. Use the psychology you’ve learnt and take your wicked English skills and… write something.”

  “Write what?”

  “I don’t know,” I chuckle. “It’s late and I’m probably talking gibberish, but why limit yourself?”

  “Because I have two student loans to pay off,” she laughs, “and a professional wage helps.”

  I shut my eyes and begin to feel myself fall, touching my finger to the lamp on my bedside to switch it off.

  “Lily, some conviction in your eyes must have forced Gustav’s hand because he doesn’t change for anyone. You have to believe me. If you could only apply that conviction to your own life, why not rule your own world and build your own practice, live by your own rules? I know you can do it.”

  “You’re right,” she whispers, as I’m drifting off, the nothingness catching me. “You’ve always been here, right here, and I’m so grateful for you.”

  “Sleep now, kitten. Stay close and I’ll keep you safe, always.”

  “Love you, Theo.”

  “Love you, sleep now little one. Sleep.”

  I tuck her into me and she holds on, using me to get comfortable in our big bed.

  All these years I thought it would be sex or seeing her naked or watching her walk around in lingerie that would be the best thing about being with Lily. I didn’t realise the best and only thing I’ll ever need to be happy is her conversation at the end of a day and her embrace. It’s so special having that, I’m never going to let it go.

  Chapter Fourteen

  It’s the day. The world will be welcomed in to view our play for the first time. Well, the theatre dicks of London will be. And perhaps a few from Broadway seeking their next transferable import. It’s all pretty scary.

  However, how can anything be wrong with the world when I get to stare at my gorgeous angel as soon as I wake up?

  “I know you’re watching me,” she mumbles.

  I grin from ear to ear, trying not to laugh. Her eyes still aren’t open and her face is planted mostly in the pillow, lying on her belly again.

  “It’s early, go back to sleep. I want to get a run in to get the nervous energy out.”

  “Bye bye now,” she groans, rolling over and pulling the sheet over her head.

  I’m still grinning as I head out of the door with my water bottle and Bluetooth headphones in.

  I take the Tube and end up at St James’s Park, needing the fresher air, the wildlife and the quiet. The flag’s not flying at Buckingham Palace meaning the Queen is still enjoying her summer holiday at Balmoral. I’ve never been one for tradition but I do know that if I ever do get to meet the monarch, I’ll know I’ve finally made it. Maybe she’ll give me an MBE one day, who knows?

  I run around the park a couple of times before getting bored. Walking off my excess adrenalin, I make it to the Tube stop again, sweat dried off and ready to go back. The information is all there in my brain and I know we’re going to put on a great show this evening, but right now I can’t think about all that. Later when I get to the theatre, that’s when I’ll allow myself to re-upload and revert to Hamlet.

  I emerge at Leicester Square and stop at a Starbucks first. A flat white for me. She can make herself tea at home, being a tea girl and all, something the coffee giant definitely doesn’t specialise in.

  Then as I’m passing little shops, I pick up some shoes I think she’ll like, some big knickers and some sanitary products she was mumbling about last night.

  I’m home by 9.30 and feeling accomplished.

  Almost.

  I drop my stash down on the floor near the hat stand and drop to the rug near the reading chair, using the underneath of the chair to hold my feet as I perform sit-ups. Fifty today, let’s not leave nothing in the tanks. Once I’m done doing that, I do twenty push-ups and as I’m catching my breath, I turn to catch her staring at me with her tongue hanging out.

  “I am a person, you know,” I protest.

  She looks fucking insane and her breasts aren’t covered at all. I’d fuck the living daylights out of her if I could, but today is a big day and I can’t be doing that, not right now.

  “Come here,” she begs, and I can’t help myself.

  She shifts to the edge of the bed in just her big pants and wraps her arms around my waist, her naked breasts pushing against my sweaty shirt.

  She licks at my neck and groans, kissing my skin until reaching my mouth and licking inside.

  “Not today, beautiful.”

  “I know, but my god.”

  She lifts up my t-shirt and licks between my pecs next, running her hands over my muscles and pinching my nipple.

  “Lily,” I growl.

  “You like that, big boy?”

  “Lily. Down. Now. Bad girl.”

  I playfully push her away and she falls on the bed giggling, a puff of wild brown hair falling around her. Her breasts point up at the ceiling as she lolls back, her arms above her head.

  “I’m a lucky, lucky girl,” she says, grinning.

  “And I’m a lucky man. But I must shower and I must prepare mentally. Check the bags by the door though…”

  I point where I mean and she follows my line of sight.

  As I’m about to close the sliding door and take a dump, she appears in the doorway naked save for her knickers and new shoes.

  “Do you like them?”

  “Fucking love them,” she laughs.

  I bought her some black patent flats with laces. She doesn’t need heels and she hates them anyway.

  “Lily, I’d quite like to do my business now, honey.”

  “Oh,” she giggles, “sorry. He is human after all.” She walks away tittering and screams, “More big knickers!” when she finds them. “Are you trying to tell me something?”

  “I want your bottom covered up from now on, except around me.”

  “Yes, sir. Three bags full sir.”

  “Behave, Lily.”

  Before I step into the shower, I hear her climb back into bed, switch the TV on and moan, “This is the life.”

  “That it is,” I whisper to myself, “that it is.”

  Press night arrives and I’m shitting myself. I’m so nervous I’m having to get someone else to do my make-up. I felt fine all day but when I got here and saw the strain on everyone else’s face, it hit me, too. Now it’s on my shoulders that if I don’t get this right, the whole fucking thing might come tumbling down.

  Fuckity fuck.

  There’s a tap on my dressing room door and I sort of grunt, “Come.”

  “It’s just me,” she says, and I turn to see Lily.

  She looks fresh and beautiful. A tonic for my weary, withered soul.

  My make-up lady leaves the room and I finish off the last bits, relieved and calmer now Lily’s here.

  “I had a feeling you’d need a few words of encouragement.”

  “Yeah?”

  I can hardly speak.

  “You’ll be up there and it’ll happen, just like before. It’ll be fine. And if you’re not fine, I’m sat on the front row with Gustav and just look at me and I’ll get you back there. Or otherwise, don’t look at me and just do your job because you can do that with your eyes closed and backwards. You’ll be fine, is what I’m saying.”

  “I don’t feel fine.”

  “I know.”

  She stands behind me and rubs my shoulders.

  “Close your eyes,” she says.

  “Okay.”

  “You’ve got to find that centre of aggravation where it’s prickly and all the nerves are bundled up. It might be in your chest or stomach, maybe even in the palm of your hand
or your neck, somewhere…?”

  I focus and realise the centre of my stress is in my gut. “My stomach.”

  “Okay, focus on that. Take all your concentration to that place. Can you feel how much of a burden it is?”

  “Yes.” It’s heavy and is taking away my ability to concentrate on anything else.

  “Imagine that it’s travelling now, up towards your chest, through the cavity, past your lungs and heart, straight over your shoulder and down your arm to your hand. Have you got it?”

  I wait a few moments. “I’ve got it.”

  “You’ve got to breathe deeply now, focusing on that. Imagine it’s a big bundle of tightly compacted bits of paper. It’s in your fist now.” I feel her take my hand and I subconsciously clutch my fingers, as though around the ball of paper. “You’ve taken the bundle, it’s in your hand now. Can you feel how much strain there is in the bundle, in your hand?”

  I’m breathing deep and focusing hard, my hand wobbling. “Yes.”

  “It’s got all your nerves on end and it feels tight and isn’t slackening.”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s making your head fuzzy and your eyes strain.”

  “Yes.”

  “Focus hard now. I’m going to pass you the waste paper basket. Focus. Keep focusing on that bundle, all your nerves slowly relaxing as you hold your hand out, towards the basket, and carefully, only a little bit at a time, extend your fingers and let the paper fall in and expand until it fills the basket and expands, okay. Breathing one, two, in, out, one, one, two, two, two, one, two, one, one, two, breathing in deep, exhaling much harder now, your chakra coming into alignment, slowly letting go. All of it flicking away, from your fingers, just like that. And drop it. It’s gone.”

  I’ve let go of it and I’ve still got my eyes closed, relaxed and all my nerves gone.

  “I’ll leave you to continue your breathing and maintain stasis. Keep your eyes closed until it’s time. I love you.”

  I don’t even have the willpower to return the sentiment, remaining silent and at peace, inside my own head.

  I stay like this until the backstage manager is at the door.