My Own Worst Enemy, page 22
Is this Mae’s ex-girlfriend? Is she still in love with her? Does she kiss the glass every night before bed?
Mae must see where I’m staring because she says affectionately, ‘That’s Penny. I miss her so much.’
I return the photo and walk to her chair, hurling her shirts off onto the floor.
‘She’s a rescue,’ Mae continues. ‘She still lives in our family place in LA, with my sister. That’s her – Avi.’
I pick up her shirts and start folding them.
‘She’s adorable,’ I say. ‘Do you visit them much?’
Mae turns her grin on me, and it suddenly feels completely normal that I’m in Mae’s bedroom, talking about her family, basking in summer sunshine.
‘At Christmas and stuff – my sister’s there all the time now – she’s an actor too, obviously.’ She rolls her eyes self-deprecatingly. ‘Avi has always wanted to be as close as possible to our mum, but… I dunno. LA never felt like home to me. I mean, I barely spent any of my teens there. We’d move countries every few months for Mum’s work.’
I really can’t imagine it. I felt so uprooted when Mum and Dad sold the house I’d grown up in and I moved to Dad’s pizzeria during the week and Mum’s cottage at the weekends. I say as much to Mae.
She shrugs. ‘I know that I’ve had it ridiculously lucky in so many ways. But I always knew wherever we were was only temporary. Moving between schools, you get used to making friends knowing it won’t last.’
I swallow. It’s a reminder that I’m just another on her long list of fleeting contacts.
‘Sounds like being an actor,’ I say. ‘You know, best friends with the cast while you’re rehearsing, then you never speak again.’
Mae frowns.
‘I’m sure everyone in the Twelfth Night cast would love to be friends with you after it ends.’
‘Only if it meant they could be friends with you,’ I laugh. ‘Everyone uses every moment they can to try to win you over.’
‘Clooney,’ she says slowly, ‘everyone is trying to win you over. Just like I am.’
I laugh, but she doesn’t. She starts plumping pillows.
‘You can seem pretty aloof, Clooney’ – she sits on the bed and nestles in against the headboard – ‘and that’s when you’re not even someone’s enemy.’
I take a sip of fridge water. I remember Ruth and Raphy saying that. That I’m so sure that no one wants to talk to me that it’s a self-fulfilling prophecy. But it’s unreasonable to think that’s the only reason actors don’t stay friends with me – I mean, look at what happened with Thalia.
I fiddle with my rucksack, getting out my notebooks and play text.
‘Like, in the first week,’ Mae continues, ‘you’d always sit apart, and not join us for drinks and I know that was my fault too – but sometimes you have an aura that’s kind of intimidating. You’re… untouchable.’
I sit on the chair, putting as much distance between us as possible.
‘That would explain my abysmal dating life,’ I try to joke. ‘Not that you’d understand that.’
Mae rolls her eyes and flops back dramatically into her yellow pillows.
‘Seriously, where did you get this idea of me as a Casanova?’
‘Because you’re so…’ I gesture at her. ‘You know…’
What’s a synonym for ‘perfect’?
‘... confident.’
Mae barks and throws a pillow at me in faux outrage.
My pulse is racing. Curious as I am about Mae’s dating life, it feels like dangerous territory for me to misstep and ruin our newfound truce. I open my book at a random page and try to think of something to say about acting.
‘When we broke up,’ Mae says suddenly, ‘my ex told me that I’d never have a happy relationship because I am “quantity over quality”. She said everyone likes me, but no one will ever love me.’
I actually gasp. ‘No!’
‘Yeah, she had a way with words,’ she laughs weakly, hugging a pillow.
‘Just because it’s pithy, doesn’t mean it’s true,’ I say furiously. I have an impulse to touch Mae, to comfort her, but that would feel too intimate. Instead, I put my hand on her bed frame and speak sincerely.
‘Jones, everyone loves you. You’re objectively the best person I’ve ever met.’
Mae blinks her bright eyes at me, then shakes her head ruefully.
‘You’ve spent six months insulting me,’ she says, pulling her feet up away from me. ‘Now I’m meant to believe you’ve done a full 180 because you broke your toe?’
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake,’ I snap. ‘I’ve always thought it. Why else would I see you as such a threat?’
For once, Mae seems lost for words. Then she says quietly, ‘Do you still see me as a threat?’
I look at her, surrounded by pillows and sunflowers, the light streaming onto her freckles.
‘More and more every day,’ I say.
I snap the play text open decisively.
‘Now then. Act 2, scene—’
But Mae starts groaning.
‘Oh come on,’ I say reassuringly, ‘Shakespeare isn’t that bad.’
‘How are you so – so composed all the time? I never know what you’re really thinking! You’re just a mask. Don’t you feel anything?’
I look at her over the book.
‘Jones,’ I say, ‘I feel everything. That’s why I’m an actor.’
She blinks at me again. I blink back. Then Mae screams into a pillow. I don’t know what I’m meant to do in return, so I start reciting the play until she stops to listen.
34
I HAVE to see you xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Come to mine and I’ll cook you your favourite dinner xxxxxxxxxx
You’re so lovely to offer that, Alice! I type carefully, stomach churning, But I’m aware my headspace is taken up by my work at the moment and I don’t want to be distracted thinking about Twelfth Night when I’m with you! But the show will be finished next week and I’ll be back to normal?
That also means this newfound friendship with Mae will be over so soon. We’ll go back to rivalry – or not seeing each other at all. But maybe that’s for the best.
Also, I type to Alice, I’m really sorry if this inconveniences you, but I don’t think you should review the Twelfth Night production. I know you were trying to be kind offering, and I’m sure I’m overreacting, but it doesn’t sit right with me. I’m so, so sorry. Please could you explain to The Atre that you know someone in the cast so that you’re taken off it? Hope that’s OK, and thank you again!
Just one drink then, Alice replies. You’ll be in bed by 11, on my honour xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
She doesn’t send anything else. I feel as nauseous as I do before a particularly scary audition.
I’m sorry, Alice, really. But it’s only a week? And could you let me know about the review?
She doesn’t reply for a moment. Biting my nail, I slip and tear it down to the quick.
OK, she types. I wanted it to be a surprise, but you leave me no choice. I invited Thalia to join us tonight… And she was really excited for us all to catch up together… X
My stomach churns in a whole new way.
I can’t believe it. Just as I stopped thinking about Thalia, she’s returned into my life. That’s what they say happens, isn’t it? Something in the universe sensed that I might be getting over her and decided to twist the knife again.
Ruth pops her head round my door. Her hair isn’t as slicked as usual and has a little ruffled bounce to it. I can see she hasn’t even ironed her shirt, which is surprising given that it’s her big pitch this week.
‘Em, are you in for film night tonight?’ she asks. ‘Or are you out with your cast again? Completely fine if you are.’
‘I’m…’ I glance down at my phone and decide. ‘I’m actually going on a date with Alice.’
‘Oh!’ she says. ‘So you’ll probably be out late? Maybe even staying over at hers?’
‘I…’
It’s weird. My relationship with Alice feels as if it’s moved at an incredibly fast pace, and, at the same time, at an incredibly slow one. I haven’t seen her in weeks, but I have to remind myself she’s technically my labelled girlfriend! It’s now past our third date, but we’ve never done more than a goodbye kiss. I’m meant to want to have sex with her, for God’s sake! And I can’t help feeling Alice has invited Thalia as a kind of aphrodisiac.
‘I might be staying with Alice,’ I say. ‘Yeah.’
‘Great!’ says Ruth. ‘I mean, that’s great for you! Good luck!’
‘Ruth,’ I say. ‘You’re not… You’re not cross with me, are you?’
‘Cross?’ Ruth frowns, folds her arms, and tuts. ‘No! Why would I be cross?’
I blink at her.
‘Are you being passive aggressive?’
‘Me? Why would I be pass ag?’
‘Well,’ I say. ‘It is one of your best skills.’
‘True,’ she admits and unfolds her arms. ‘But genuinely, Em, we get it. We’re all having a bit of a changed schedule at the moment, aren’t we? I mean, you are, nothing important has changed with me or Raphael’s schedule…’
She smooths her hair hurriedly.
‘Honestly. Everything is good, Em. We’ll hang out the three of us soon.’
I watch her retreat and call back to her.
‘Ruth?’
‘Yes,’ she says, looking alarmed. I look at her, knowing we both know we’re not telling each other something. But she’s my oldest friend. My best friend. I think I’m finally at a point where I can trust that we’ll tell each other when it’s right. Neither of us is going anywhere.
‘I love you,’ I say.
Ruth’s eyeliner crinkles. She walks over on her surprisingly low heels, and hugs me tightly.
‘I love you too, bestie.’
35
Our costumes have arrived!
Sebastian wears a white billowing shirt with lace ribbons at the collar, a blue waistcoat with gold buttons (infinitely sexier than those on my Pete’s’zas uniform), and a thick bronze belt clasping grey twill trousers. His large brown leather boots have a thick sole that’s great cushioning for my healing toe.
The other members of the cast all strip off gleefully to put on their costumes. I see more naked body parts than in the rest of my life combined. As comfortable as I feel with them all in other capacities, the thought of stripping in front of Mae is… Impossible. No doubt along with everything else she has a better body than me too.
I take my bundle into the familiar loo cubicle instead, putting on each item with the reverence befitting the costume designers’ care.
I don’t have the confidence with make-up to apply my own stage face, but I do put on my pirate hat and the accessories which differentiate me from my twin – a large hoop earring and an eye patch.
I look in the loo mirror. I don’t look at all like myself. I’m delighted.
I head back, clutching my mufti clothes, and hesitate in front of the green room door. I feel like a debutante at the top of the stairs before entering a ball. I can hear the sounds of hair spray and compliments. My ears pick out Mae’s ringing laugh.
When I open the door I see her immediately. She’s in essentially the same costume as me, except that her waistcoat is a crimson red. She’s wearing an identical billowing white shirt, her ribbons dangling untied. She has rips in her knees, and her trouser cuffs are rolled mismatchedly, as if she’s been recently wading in the sea. Her boot laces are unevenly criss-crossed, one tongue flapping. In the same black kohl that lines her sapphire eyes, she has a hand-drawn comic moustache on her upper lip.
Our eyes find each other. I sweep my hat off and we step towards each other, meeting in the middle of the room.
‘Ahoy, matey,’ she smiles.
‘Ahoy,’ I say back.
She flicks the piratical earring clipped in my left ear. It matches hers, in her right.
‘I’m not gonna lie, Clooney. I’m kind of annoyed at how good you look in this,’ Mae says. ‘I thought I was going to get to be the hot twin.’
I don’t have a chance to reply, because Charlie appears dressed as a giant foam squid. They run around, slapping everyone on the bottom with their suckers.
Francis interrupts the chaos by blowing on his conch horn.
‘Yes, yes, well done, you’re all very attractive,’ he shouts. ‘But I must remind you that this isn’t a costume party, this is a rehearsal. For a professional production which shall be performed to paying audience members – and reviewers – in a mere four days’ time.’
Everyone hushes.
‘Up on the stage. Act 3, Scene 2. Charlie, bring your spare tentacles.’
*
After the dress rehearsal, we step out disorientated into the muggy outdoors. Mae spreads her arms wide and says, to me, ‘Rum?’
I can’t help but smile back. For a second, I allow myself to enjoy the ease of going with the flow towards the pub.
‘I can’t tonight,’ I say. Mae blinks rapidly. She still has traces of kohl around her eyes.
‘Surely you’ve learnt all your lines by now!’ laughs Roger. ‘You’re allowed an evening off!’
Zach slaps my back. ‘Hear, hear. You’re making the rest of us look bad.’
I smile at them. ‘What if I promise I won’t even glance at Shakespeare?’
‘Give her a break,’ says Keiya. ‘Obviously Emmy’s got a date.’
‘Ooooh,’ grins Surina.
I don’t want to lie, but I don’t want to admit it either. My friendship with the cast is still so young, so easily fractured. I just raise my hands.
‘Tomorrow,’ I promise. ‘Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow. I’ll be there.’
Zach starts reciting the rest of the Shakespeare speech, and the group drift on, apart from Mae, who doesn’t meet my eye.
‘I’m sorry,’ I mumble.
‘You don’t have to apologise to me for going on a date!’ Mae laughs loudly.
‘No, no, I know! I know! But I… Honestly, I would prefer to be with you.’
Mae goes rather pink.
‘With you all,’ I clarify.
Her hair’s post-rehearsal ruffled and her flowery shirt is creased in the breeze.
‘Then stay,’ she tells me. When she says it, it really does sound simple.
But Thalia… Alice…
I shake my head ruefully. But I’m still kind of disappointed when Mae doesn’t fight back. Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes, but she fires a pistol with her fingers at me.
‘Go get ’em, tiger.’
36
I change outfit approximately fifty times, despite knowing I only have one good enough for a meeting with Alice and Thalia. I decide to mix up my Red Carpet pinstripe suit by wearing a black Uniqlo T-shirt instead of a white one. Completely different.
I arrive with my hair in its most careful quiff, my oakwood cologne triple sprayed over my pulse points. I did my warm-up exercises before leaving the house so that my posture would be good.
I catch sight of Alice’s tightly plaited hair across the bar. Seeing her makes my stomach clench painfully. That’s a good sign, isn’t it? Butterflies?
But she’s alone.
I reach to kiss her cheek, but she clasps my head and pulls me into a full-lipped kiss.
‘Hello again, darling!’
‘Where’s Thalia?’
‘Oh, didn’t she message you?’ pouts Alice. ‘She’s so sorry but she can’t make it. Something unexpected came up. She’s so busy with all her commitments at the moment, isn’t she?’
Alice looks at me carefully. I get the sense she’s practised this line. Maybe she’s just trying to make excuses for Thalia, to save my feelings. I know I shouldn’t feel this disappointed to be having an evening alone with my girlfriend, but I can’t help thinking of Mae in her flowery shirt, singing a sea shanty.
‘Oh well. . .’ I say.
I’d been so expecting Thalia to be here that I haven’t prepared for this to be a date with Alice. I feel awkward again, nauseous, as if I’m performing and I want to get a good review.
Alice’s dress has a plunged neckline and, as I take her jacket off, she leans into my hands. She turns to look at me over her shoulder and smiles under lowered lashes.
‘My gentleman.’
She hands me a drinks menu, which I try not to baulk at. These fancy cocktails add up. I hadn’t realised that being in a relationship was so damn expensive. Well, at least it’s a silver lining for having been single up to now!
‘Alice,’ I dare myself to be brave. ‘I was wondering if you’d thought about what I said, about not reviewing Twelfth Night?’
But Alice doesn’t reply. She’s looking out at where our waiter is approaching our booth.
I immediately clock that they’re queer. Androgynous, tall, sporty, with a surfer’s dark blonde hair, and a trouser suit – they look a bit like me, but hotter. They almost look like Mae.
I pat my quiff. It’s pretty rare to bump into another butch in the wild. But when they look up at us with a polite smile, they suddenly freeze. They back away.
‘Umm, excuse me?’ I say, emasculated. ‘Please could we order please?’
The waiter pauses, gulps, and returns slowly, avoiding eye contact.
‘What can I get you?’ they ask, their voice breaking.
I glance at Alice to see if she’s noticed this weirdness. Her face has gone absolutely white.
‘Old Fashioned, darling?’ she says, way too loudly. The waiter’s face snaps to look at her in alarm, then looks to me, then resumes staring at the floor.
I look between the two of them and realise what’s happening. I can’t help it – I start smirking. I put the menu down.
‘Actually, I don’t like whiskey,’ I say. ‘Just some sparkling water for me, thank you so much.’
‘Oh! Of course!’ says Alice. ‘Silly me. I’ll – I’ll – I’ll have a…’
I lean back, tickled. Seeing Alice flustered is a novelty.
‘Martini?’ I ask, at the same time the waiter says it. We glance at each other. The waiter now has an edge in their eyes.
