Lavender & Gold - 7. The Dream of California

CHAPTER SEVEN

The Dream of California

He looked at her intently over his cup of cider. She stared him down, unwavering. He broke the gaze first, smiling.

‘Is that what you think of me?’

She raised her chin haughtily. ‘You call yourself an honourable man, Lieutenant. My brothers are off fighting as we speak. If you met them on the battlefield, what then?’

‘Then I would do my duty.’

‘For king and country?’ she scoffed.

He looked back at her, head cocked slightly to one side. ‘Yes. Though it would hurt me greatly to know that I had caused you any grief.’

‘This is our lot, Lieutenant Barker. Your king has sent you here to recruit loyalists and squash a rebellion. I fear you’ll find we’re not so easily squashed. What say you to that?’

‘Not a blessed thing,’ he murmured. ‘Except that I hope that one day this will all be over and I shall be able to call you friend.’

She stood up. ‘You shall have to wait a long time for such a day. Good night, Lieutenant.’

‘. . . And cut!’

Ben let his head drop forward, stretching the muscles at the back of his neck. He rolled his shoulders a couple of times and then looked up at his costar with a smile. ‘Excellent work.’

‘You too.’ Matilda Weber replied good-naturedly. ‘You really get into your roles, don’t you?’

Ben shrugged. ‘I suppose,’ he said humbly. ‘You bring out the best in me, though, I think. It’s easy to be James Barker when you’re such a convincing Jennifer Perry. I am particularly fond of the accent.’

‘Really? I thought a Southern drawl tended to annoy you limeys.’ She smiled a wry half smile. Ben laughed.

‘That was very good, you two!’ cried the director, who had just finished a brief discussion with one of the cameramen. ‘We’ll do another take from another angle in about ten minutes. If that goes smoothly, we’ll shoot Matilda’s coverage after that.’

Ben stood, stretching his back. ‘Hate doing singles,’ he muttered. ‘Never have to do that on stage.’

‘Ooh, look at you, the classical actor!’ Matilda grinned.

Ben chuckled, hopping up and down a couple of times to get circulation back into his legs. Then he looked at her. ‘Want me to feed you lines for your coverage?’

She smiled at him. ‘Thanks. That would be great.’

* * *

‘Liam wants you to call, he says he has some more information about that script he sent you. And Harry had some things he wanted to discuss with you regarding the Country Sunsets publicity tour, so you should give him a call later as well.’ Alice handed Ben a blue folder. ‘Your schedule for the rest of the week.’

‘Thank you.’ Ben opened the folder and flipped through it. ‘Oh, I’m free tonight. Good.’

‘Skype date?’ Alice smiled conspiratorially. Ever since she’d found out about his relationship with Mark she had been a bit more nosy than she had any right to be, but Ben was too fond of his PA to really mind.

‘No, we’re keeping in touch by e-mail.’

‘Oh. All right.’ Alice gave him a sympathetic smile.

‘Ben!’

He turned around to see Matilda trotting towards him. ‘Yes?’

‘Good work today!’ She smiled. ‘It was really good of you to feed me lines. I was just wondering if you had any plans for dinner?’

‘Actually, no,’ said Ben. ‘Not tonight.’

‘Great! I kind of have dinner reservations for a fancy place in Beverly Hills, and my date canceled on me. Figured it would be a good chance to get to know each other better.’

Ben smiled. ‘All right, why not? What time?’

‘Eight.’ Matilda grinned at him. ‘Looking forward to it already!’

* * *

‘Wow, you weren’t joking about this being a fancy place,’ said Ben as he sat down. The waiter handed him a menu. ‘Thank you. Who on Earth would blow you off and miss out on this?’

Matilda laughed. ‘My dad. He was in town on business, so I thought I’d take him out, but he had to leave early. It’s okay, I saw him last weekend. Just thought I’d show him that my acting pays enough to constitute a real job.’

Ben chuckled.

‘Can I get you something to drink?’ asked their waiter.

‘Yes . . .’ Ben thought for a moment. ‘An apéritif, perhaps? Dry martini?’

‘Yeah, dry martini sounds good,’ Matilda agreed. ‘Make that two, please.’

As the waiter walked away, Ben glanced at Matilda over the top of his menu. ’Your dad doesn’t approve?’

Matilda grimaced. ‘He doesn’t disapprove. He just doesn’t really get it, you know? He’s kind of conservative, very down to earth, not so much with the art stuff. If he’d been here, he would have spent most of the evening bugging me about growing up, getting married and giving him grandkids. How about your folks?’

‘Oh, no issues on that account,’ said Ben. ‘My dad used to act, my mum’s a choir mistress. The arts were always big in our house. My mum keeps trying to set me up with all manner of women, but she does take no for an answer.’

‘Hm, I envy you.’ Matilda studied her menu. ‘So, what food group do you suppose “foam” belongs to?’

Ben laughed, just as the waiter returned with their drinks.

‘Are you guys ready to order?’

Ben looked at Matilda, questioningly.

‘I think I’d like a few more minutes, thanks.’

The waiter inclined his head and left them alone again.

‘This stuff is a little beyond me, to be honest,’ Matilda admitted. ‘I’m a simple girl, I like burgers and fries, and pizza, and fried chicken.’

‘There is chicken,’ Ben pointed out.

‘“Charred chicken breast with pomme de terre terrine and parsnip foam, topped with fresh thyme and pomegranate,”’ Matilda read out. ‘Doesn’t sound so bad, I guess.’

‘There’s that infernal foam again, though.’

She giggled. ‘Yeah, they want us to leave here feeling like we haven’t really eaten. Of course, eating isn’t the point of these places. Being seen in the right place is, preferably with the right people. I guarantee tomorrow there will be mentions in the press of how you and I had a “romantic” or “friendly” or “professional” dinner date, depending on how we look at each other when we pass the paparazzi on our way out.’

‘Oh, so you had ulterior motives in asking me?’ Ben smirked.

Matilda shrugged. ‘Not really. Not gonna pretend I don’t find you . . . interesting, though.’ She looked at him, smiling a cute little half smile. ‘Don’t worry. I’m not coming onto you, I’ve heard you don’t date other actors. And if the rumours are to be believed . . .’

‘Ah. So they did make it across the pond.’

‘Can’t stop the Internet. I don’t really care one way or the other. I’ve been hearing a lot lately, though. People worry, about you and your career, about future movies you star in . . . It’s insane that the business should be like this, but there you have it.’

Ben shook his head. ‘I honestly shouldn’t even be talking about this. My agent and my publicist are both worried, too. Even had a studio withdraw an offer just after the Sun piece hit. I’m still getting offers, though. My agent keeps sending scripts my way. All this is subject to change, of course.’

‘If you come out properly, you mean?’

Ben chose not to answer, opting for an enigmatic smile. Just then, their waiter returned to take their orders, and he was spared having to make a reply.

The food, for all its foam and randomly inserted french words, was excellent, and they spent the rest of their dinner chatting about less serious matters, drinking wine and getting to know each other. Ben found he rather liked Matilda Weber. She was twenty-eight years old, intelligent, funny and very pretty. With her honey blonde hair and hazel eyes, she was exactly the sort of girl Ben might have gone for, had he been looking for a relationship with a woman. As he ate his rather magnificent passion fruit mousse, however, he wondered idly whether—should his relationship with Mark come to an end—he would be able to return to dating women, or whether he would continue to crave . . . Well. This was neither the time nor the place to think about such things.

‘So, I guess a straight answer is out of the question, huh?’ said Matilda. She sipped her espresso and smiled at him.

‘Regarding what?’

‘The rumours.’

‘Ah.’ Ben looked down at his plate. ‘Yes. A straight answer is out of the question.’ He smirked, considering the double entendre. It appeared to have gone unnoticed by his companion.

‘What if I ask a direct question? Will you lie?’

‘No, but I might refuse to answer at all.’

‘Are you seeing anyone?’

‘Possibly.’

‘Are you seeing a man?’

Ben met her inquisitive gaze, keeping his expression mild but blank. He said nothing.

‘Are you gay?’ she tried next.

‘Nope,’ said Ben, truthfully.

‘Bisexual?’

‘Could be.’ Ben put down his dessert fork and leaned back in his chair. ‘How about you?’

She laughed. ‘I . . . You know, I don’t really know. Everyone dabbles, don’t they?’

‘Ever been with another woman?’

‘Not fully. Ever been with another man?’

Without missing a beat, ‘Yes.’

‘Holy shit!’ Matilda leaned back as well, crossing her arms. ‘That was a more direct answer than I expected!’

‘I am full of surprises.’

‘Aren’t you just . . .’

‘When you say “not fully” . . . what does that mean?’

Matilda opened her mouth, seeming to weigh her words, before replying, ‘Everything but tongues and toys.’

Ben’s eyebrows rose and he let a slow grin spread over his features. ‘That was a more direct answer than I expected.’

‘I’m full of surprises.’

‘Will there be anything else?’

Ben started slightly and looked up at their waiter. What was it with waiters in fancy restaurants and sneaking up on their customers? He glanced at Matilda, who shook her head. ‘No, thank you. I think we’ll just have the bill, please.’

‘He means “check”, the limey bastard,’ Matilda supplied, and Ben laughed out loud.

The waiter nodded, looking slightly uncomfortable, and walked away.

‘You, my dear, are positively British,’ said Ben admiringly.

‘Thanks. I have an aunt who married a Brit. Spent some summers in Sussex when I was a kid.’

‘And it all falls into place.’ Ben shook his head. ‘Knew there was something about you.’

Matilda shrugged. ‘I also have three older brothers. I spent my childhood climbing trees, catching frogs and building go-carts. Airs and social graces ain’t exactly high on my list of recommendations. Instead I got really good at, how is it you’d put it . . . “taking the piss”.’ Her eyes met his. ‘What?’

Ben had been looking at her with a half smile and what he imagined must have been a fond sort of gaze. ‘You remind me of a friend of mine. You’re both very . . . frank.’

Their waiter returned with the bill, and Ben handed him his credit card automatically.

Matilda elevated an eyebrow at him. ‘Oh, you’re pulling the chivalry card, huh?’

Ben waved his hand dismissively. ‘Don’t be silly. You can pay next time.’

* * *

When he got back to his hotel room just after midnight it was already eight in the morning in London, so he decided to call Liam about the script for Lunatics Who Think They Are Psychic and Freak Themselves Out in Old Houses. Then he rang Harry, who ranted at him about Letterman and Craig Ferguson for about twenty minutes.

‘Really, Harry, I’m up for anything as long as we can fit it in, all right? Did you have anything more specific to discuss with me?’

‘Nope,’ said his publicist. ‘Not really. Ooh, nice photo!’

‘What?’

‘Of you and Matilda Weber coming out of a restaurant.’

Ben blinked. ‘Huh. They don’t waste time, do they?’

‘According to this, you had a “friendly dinner date”—’ Ben smiled; that was exactly what Matilda had said, ‘—and “appeared thick as thieves upon exiting the trendy establishment”. Well done, Ben. Anything to take their attention away from Mark is a good thing.’

‘Well, I don’t want them thinking I’m dating Matilda either,’ said Ben.

‘Anything that takes their attention away from Mark is a good thing, Ben,’ Harry repeated. ‘How’s filming getting on?’

‘Good. It’s all good.’

‘And you did have a nice time at this dinner date of yours?’

‘Yes, it was lovely. She’s lovely. One of my favourite leading ladies to date.’

‘Well, then, there’s no problem, is there? Now, get some sleep. Good night.’

‘Night.’ Ben hung up and sat down at his laptop to check his e-mail. He smiled upon discovering one from Mark with the subject line, I wanna do bad things with you.

How was your day? Are you working hard still? Don’t let them drive you TOO hard, I want there to be some left for me when I get you back.

Alex tried to ask me to come to another party tonight. I told him to piss off, went to the pub instead. Ran into this bloke I used to know. Not in a sexual way, he’s straight, just in a friend way. Robert. Drummer. Says he has a studio now, invited me to come take a look some day. We started talking about a possible band project. Doubt it’ll come to fruition, but I hope to be able to take advantage of his studio. It was nice catching up.

I’ve been busy today. Tara needed help at the bookshop, so I took a shift. She says she can get me work for a couple of weeks. It was a quiet day, so I spent most of it sitting behind the register reading Heinlein. Have you read The Door into Summer? Really good book, so far.

Played some guitar when I got home, before I went to the pub. Came up with a chord progression I really like, just need to come up with some lyrics for it.

I miss you so fucking much. I can’t believe it’s only been two weeks, I wish you could come home now and shag me silly. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not just your cock I miss, but the mind does wander. I keep thinking about all the things I want to do to you when you get back. Of course, the first thing I want to do is just hug you and kiss you and all that other stupid, romantic shit.

I miss you. Come home soon.

Yours,

Mark Xx

Ben let out a sigh and sat back in his chair, staring at the words on his screen. It had been Mark’s idea to keep in touch by e-mail only. In his words, ‘If we talk to each other every day or see each other on Skype or whatever, it’ll only make everything harder. This way, I can do my shit here, and you can do your shit there, and we won’t spend our days pining. Hopefully.’

It had made sense at the time. It still did, in a way, but right then, Ben would have given just about anything to see his lover smile at him.

He hit ‘reply’ and began typing.

Dear Mark,

My day was good. We finished shooting two scenes, which feels good. Then I went out to dinner with my costar, Matilda Weber. Don’t be alarmed if you happen to see photos of us exiting a fancy restaurant together. It really was just dinner.

She’s nice. A lot like you, actually. I think I might have to introduce you some time. The two of you could gang up on me. She’s very sharp, almost as sharp as you. Almost, but not quite.

Not much else has happened, really. That script Liam had me look over is hilarious. Apparently they’re still looking for funding, though, so it’s far from certain that it will even be made into a film. Hope they find someone to back it. It will be refreshing to do a comedy for once, a break from the monotony of big dramatic roles.

Of course I’ve read The Door into Summer. Great book. You should also read The Cat Who Walks Through Walls.

The whole thing with the studio sounds like a great opportunity. You write excellent songs, it would be good for you to get some proper recordings done so you can get your music out there.

Oh, I just remembered, I actually wrote a tweet today. From what I can understand, the entire Internet imploded. I don’t know whether to be pleased about that or a little bit frightened . . .

I miss you too. Constantly. I started thinking about you during filming today and was obliged to excuse myself and go to the bathroom to splash some cold water in my face. Very unprofessional. I wish I could come home right now, so we could be together. It would be just the thing to help me relax from all this. I enjoy the work, but it’s taxing, and I have many emotional scenes coming up that I venture will be quite draining. Wish you were here so I could hold you as I go to sleep.

Yours always,

Ben