“Are you not going to object and tell me I’m not allowed today?”
There was a note of sarcasm in his voice, but she refused to rise to it or react in the same way.
“No. Today is appropriate, except for when I’m with the police, but tomorrow could be a problem as I have the audition I told you about for a new drama over here.”
“I will be sexting, texting and calling whenever I choose. But I accept you may not always be able to reply immediately, I thought this point had been agreed. Why are you bothering with this audition? Any of them?” he asked confused.
“Because I’m an out of work actress.” Her irritation was rising to almost uncontrollable levels with every passing second and word he uttered.
“Don’t be so patronising. I don’t like the attitude, honey. You might be an out of work actress, but you have five auditions set up and none of them are suitable; you won’t be in the U.K. for the filming of either of the parts over there. New York is not an ideal location, but possible I guess, and the L.A. roles can definitely be ruled out, so why bother auditioning?”
She understood what he was saying and could see, hear and sense his increasing annoyance, but she ignored all of those things. She only focused on her own anger and irritation, all thoughts of avoiding conflict and arguments forgotten.
“I can be in the U.K. if I need to be and I think New York is an ideal location for a New York based comedy. And pray tell me what is wrong with the L.A. roles?” Her angst raised to a point she doubted she’d be able to turn back from.
“The attitude is still there I see. I want you in L.A. not London, and not New York, but I have conceded it could be a possibility. What is wrong with the L.A. roles is that you would be working for a rival studio and that can’t happen,” he said, matter of fact.
“So!” she replied with a pout and thought that she sounded more like Lizzie than a grown woman with her sulkyso.
He sighed, sounding tired. Physically exhausted and weary of the argument they were embarking on. “Baby, we will discuss this when I see you, but I will not allow you to earn money for a rival studio and make me look a fucking idiot. I think the name choice after we marry is now likely to be our second fight because this has just leap frogged everything else. So, you want to audition tomorrow, you audition, but don’t build your hopes up because one way or another you are coming to L.A. and we will be married and Natasha Maybury will not be flying around the country, never mind the world to film for anyone, least of all rival studios.” His voice sounded menacing almost, made worse by his clear annoyance at and with her rolling off him.
“Grrr,” she screamed with an actual growl. “You are a fucking crazy bastard. I need to work and if you don’t like it tough shit. You don’t own me. Nobody does anymore and never will again, so guess what? You need to look for another would-be lucky seven because I quit,” she shouted and before she knew it she had terminated their connection.
She stared at the screen, shocked at what she had said and done. Her words were running around her head again and she had no clue where they’d come from; her father and Liam had treated her like a possession, not a prized or valued possession, just something that belonged to them. Something to be used when they wanted, used and abused and then discarded until they needed it again.
Guilt began to mix with her anger, guilt towards Jim and anger towards her dad and Liam. Jim was many things, but he was nothing like the other two men who were the real, intended recipients of her anger and words. He, Jim, loved her and wanted only good things for her. To keep her safe and she did feel loved, prized and valued by him yet he was the one on the receiving end of her hurt, anger and abuse. She knew he didn’t want her to audition, he’d made that clear when she’d told him about them and she knew he wouldn’t want her to work in a different country to him, but he had said New York was a possible.
The problem she had was that she was out of her depth again, like she had been with her father and Liam. She was in no way comparing the abuse she had experienced at the other men’s hands to the love and care she had experienced at Jim’s, but she had only just rid herself of the abusive men and now she was all in with Jim and his rules, demands and pig headed refusals to compromise. Tasha had never been truly free or independent until now, until Jim and yet now she was kicking back against him and it confused her.
Briefly, she thought back to her conversation with Marcia when she had said Jim wouldn’t allow her to work for another studio. His sister-in-law had told her she would end up working for his studio. That’s what she’d meant, that by working for another studio she would somehow embarrass him, make him look afucking idiot, but why? Tasha was clueless as to why he would object and then she remembered Maisie’s words about Jim needing to be in control and it all began to make sense. Not that she wanted to simply bend to his will without question. She wanted to enjoy her independence. Now she had it, now Jim had facilitated her accessing it, she wanted to make her own choices and decisions.
She had hung up on him, well, terminated the connection. She laughed nervously and thought he would be seriously pissed off with her now. More infuriated than ever. Another laugh left her lips as she reached for her phone, wondering if she should call him. Possibly not yet. He might need a little longer to calm down so she’d get showered and dressed before doing anything.
She was dressed and making a sandwich when she carefully composed a text. Having essentially dumped him it took several attempts before she was happy with the words on her screen.
She waited, but no reply was forthcoming. However, as it was five a.m. in L.A. she tried not to read too much into that.
During the meeting with Jerome Stewart, Tasha ran through the details of what had happened the night before and after completing her statement with the police she returned home and was surprised there was still no reply from Jim. Maybe he was still sleeping. It was nine a.m. in L.A. now and although she had never known him to sleep in this late she couldn’t be sure that he wasn’t. After all, he had said he wasn’t due in the office until lunchtime.
She decided to text him again.
She made a cup of coffee and tidied the lounge and kitchen before checking her phone again. Still nothing. He was obviously ignoring her now. This was stupid. She could text him anI am coming to L.A. nowmessage, but knew it wouldn’t be as threatening as his,I will come to Londonthreat. “Right, let’s talk,” she said to herself.
She picked up her phone and selected the number for his mobile which went straight to voice mail. Next she tried the house number that was answered immediately by Sandra.
“Hi, Sandra, it’s Tasha. Is Jim around?” She tried to sound bright and bubbly.
“Erm, I erm,” the other woman replied nervously. “No, he’s not.”
Tasha laughed, not that she was amused by any of this. “Where is he?”
“He must have left for the office,” Sandra replied a little curtly.
“How odd. He told me he wasn’t in the office until lunchtime.” She sensed she had made Sandra uncomfortable.
