She pursed her lips.“I thought you’d say that.”She wrote something on a page off screen.“I don’t suppose you’re any keener on a sit-down interview with one of the national papers?”
“You suppose correctly.”
She let out a long breath.“This would do great things for the play, you know.”
“It’s already sold out.Don’t need it.”
“Keep your eyes on the bigger prize, darling.London.West End.”
“If that happens, it should be on the strength of the play and our performances.Not by exploiting a friend’s death.Is this really what you’ve called me for on a Saturday night?To dangle a few trashy interviews?”
“None of this is small stuff, darling.These offers weren’t there this time last week.You should take advantage.Think of what you could do with the money.”
He ignored the remark.“Is there anything serious on the table?”
“Celebrity MasterChef, Strictly—that’s just an expression of interest, not a certainty.Celebrity Gogglebox, Masked Singer, Bake Off—”
“You can stop there.I’ve heard enough.Are there anyactingoffers?”
“Possibly, but nothing certain.Would you be interested in doing a soap?”
“It would depend on the show and the part.And the length of the commitment.Six months max, nothing longer.”
At last, a smile.“Well, that’s something.Leave it with me, I might have good news by Monday.”
“You’re working all weekend?”
She gave a dramatic sigh.“Darling, I’m always working.Even tonight, I’m going to a party, but I’m hoping to seal a magazine spread for another client.Oh, if you’re interested in doing one of those, I can get you some very nice money for it.Shoot in a luxury hotel, you can keep the designer clothes.You name it, I can get it.”
Hudson shook his head with a smile.“I’m not interested.Good night, Jo.Try turning off for a while and enjoying yourself.Life is short, you know.”
“And so are moments of opportunity like this.Think on everything I’ve said.I’ll email you some details.You might change your mind when you read them.”
Her email arrived in the next minute.Hudson laughed.She must have had it ready to send before she spoke to him.He shut down the laptop without opening it.Jo might not require time off, but he did.It would have been nice to spend longer with Luke, but he really needed to recharge his batteries ready for Monday.He also didn’t fancy a run-in with Luke’s alcoholic ex-husband any time soon.As much as he loved drama, that was one he would rather not play a leading role in.
Hudson realised he was still wearing yesterday’s clothes.He bundled them into the laundry basket and changed into fresh shorts and a loose shirt.The hot weather continued, and the apartment didn’t have air conditioning.He opened the balcony doors to get a breeze through and checked the refrigerator to see what he could have for dinner.Chicken breast, salad.After looking in the cupboards he realised he had everything he needed to make Southern-fried chicken.Perfect for a quiet night in front of the TV.He took the chicken out of the fridge to take the chill off it and poured a glass of wine.He’d have five minutes with his thoughts before he got to work on it.
He took the wine onto the balcony.
Thank God the reporters had abandoned their stake-out of the building, and he could unwind without fear of being photographed.
The sounds of Saturday night in the city drifted up from below.Traffic, laughter, music, people out to enjoy themselves.They had no care for the cloud that hung over Hudson and the production ofDarkest Blue.Why should they?Life continued everywhere around him.
He sipped the wine and leaned against the balcony, breathing deeply.The air up here was clearer than down below, but it could not compare with being out at the beach.
As he focused on his breathing and tried to centre himself, he noticed a figure on the pavement, looking straight up at his apartment.Shit, he must have been wrong about the reporters.One lone wolf had decided to stick it out.
He squinted for a better view.There was something familiar about the figure.
A balding head.Rotund, middle-aged body.The upturned face stared directly at him.
Suddenly Hudson froze.
The man below was Robbie Wiseman.
His stalker was in Blyham after all.
And worse than that—Robbie knew where he lived.
