Chapter One
Hate Mail
It was a beautiful Monday morning in late June.Hudson Rhodes decided he would walk all the way from his apartment in the heart of Blyham to the rehearsal studios on the other side of the river.He set off early, full of enthusiasm for the work ahead, stopping only to collect an Americano from the coffee shop on the corner.
Hudson drew the fresh air into his lungs and exhaled with a satisfied sigh.All was good.The first week of any rehearsal was always a stress, getting the words of the play fixed in his head, becoming acquainted with the rest of the cast and crew, but by the time they had quit last Friday, he’d known they were in a strong position.
He’d spent a few additional hours on Saturday working with Julian, a fellow actor who had a small supporting role inDarkest Blue.Julian was also understudying Hudson in the lead role of Alan, a morally ambiguous American tourist in 1970s Barcelona.Both from out of town, with little else to do with their weekend, they had put in overtime to work on the nuances of Alan’s character and nail the dialogue.
Yes, they were in a great place at the start of the second week.Hudson had insisted on growing his own 1970s style moustache for the play, and even that had filled out in the most impressive way over the last few days.The costume department had initially fitted him with a fake moustache, but he hated to wear it.So much easier and more authentic to sport the real thing.
The city streets were mostly in shade at that time of the morning, until he reached the waterfront.The sun reflected off the surface of the river and held the promise of a golden day to come.Hudson had known very little about Blyham before his arrival the week before.He’d been a New York resident for over a decade, but in the last few years he had spent an increasing amount of time in the UK, working in low-budget movies, TV and theatre.His work had mainly taken him to the major cities—London, Manchester, Birmingham and Edinburgh.
Blyham had come as a pleasant surprise.Much smaller and less metropolitan than he was used to.He’d spent the first few days getting around by Uber and bus, before realising that almost everything was in comfortable walking distance from the apartment.Although his face had started to appear around the city on advertisements for the upcoming play, so far he’d been able to wander without getting recognised too often.
Moving around unnoticed was a trick he’d learnt a long time ago.Invaluable to an actor.
When he reached the Millennium Footbridge, Hudson paused to drink the last of his coffee and enjoy the view.The quayside and waterfront area of the city was quiet and he spent a few moments appreciating the gentle scene.If the second week in the studio were anything like the first, there would not be a lot of time to spend outdoors, or much relaxing.The story and the character he had to play were full-on.
Hudson was ready to embrace it all.
He arrived at the stage door just before nine.It was a full hour before they were due to begin, but he enjoyed the early mornings.OnceDarkest Blueopened, he would not experience many of those.Evening performances meant not eating until well after eleven and rarely getting to bed before two or three.
Jax, the stage door attendant, greeted him in a buoyant mood when he entered.“How did your weekend go?”
“Very well.”Hudson grinned.“I kept a low profile.I attempted to check out a couple of the bars close by, but Saturday night seemed a little wild for me.I was back at the apartment by ten-thirty.”
He’d been amazed to discover that the apartment building overlooked a sex club called The Viaduct.He’d amused himself for twenty minutes or so, watching all the guys lining up to go in while he’d enjoyed a nightcap on his balcony.Blyham might be a small city, but it seemed to have plenty going on.
Jax grimaced.“If I’m not working, I stay well clear on Saturdays.This place doesn’t just get wild, it goes mental.Too much for me these days.”She rummaged beneath the desk and produced a pile of mail, secured together with an elastic band.“Fan mail, I assume.It arrived over the weekend.”
“For me?Really.I’m surprised anyone knows I’m here.”Hudson considered himself to be a working actor.He had appeared in a handful of high-profile projects, together with some movies that had attained cult status, but he was not a major star.Fan mail made him uncomfortable, especially as it was not always welcome.
“Autograph collectors, I expect,” Jax said.“There are a few of them locally who write to everyone who appears here.You’re also likely to get some autograph dealers turning up after the show with a pile of glossy photos for you to sign.eBay professionals.”
Hudson chuckled.“I’m familiar with the type.”He shoved the bundle under his arm.“Is anyone else here yet?”
“You’re the first.”Jax released the security door and handed him a visitor pass.
Blyham Concert Hall was a relatively modern building filled with state-of-the-art equipment and spaces.From the outside, it was an impressive site, all floor to ceiling, mirrored windows.The interiors were bright, cool and uncluttered.The play was actually being staged in the more traditional Empire Theatre on the other side of the river, but as there was already a show running there, the production had hired rooms here for the first three weeks of rehearsal.
Hudson made his way to the large, airy room on the first floor, which looked across the river and the buildings beyond.This really was a sweet little city.Once the play had opened and he had more time for himself, he looked forward to exploring further and discovering all it had to offer.There was even a castle a little way down the river that he couldn’t wait to check out.
Last week, the room had been set with a large centre table for the cast and crew to read around.Most of that had been cleared over the weekend, creating a wide, open floor space ready for week two’s more practical rehearsals.He got a glass of water and sat down to look over his mail.
He opened the largest envelope first.
The hairs on the back of his neck prickled immediately.
A glossy eight-by-ten photo slid onto the table.It was a shot from a low-budget horror movie he had made in his early twenties, almost twenty years ago.Red Hills Massacre.The scene shown had not even made it into the finished film, having been considered too graphic by the ratings board of the time.Even so, it was an image that provoked uncomfortable memories for him.
He was dressed in nothing but a pair of once-pristine tighty-whiteys.His chest and neck were fitted with elaborate make-up effects to represent brutal injuries.His youthful body was splayed at an unnatural angle, but the camera focused on his bloodied crotch area.With his thighs splayed, it was a gory display of eroticism and death.In the movie, his character was murdered after a prolonged chase by a madman in a mask.
All in his underpants.
Hudson shook out the envelope to see what else was in there.A single note dropped out.
How I like to picture you.
