The spacebetween ending filming and starting on a new project felt like the summer holidays when I was at school. Weeks without structure or a schedule felt like I was free; time was just peppered with interviews and photoshoots, but there were no pre-dawn dates with the make-up chair, and I could even afford myself with having the odd hangover or two.
My film, the one we hoped would pick a few Oscar nominations, was starting with the pre-release publicity as it was out in cinemas next month, which meant there were a storm of interviews coming up on both sides of the Atlantic. Jasmina, my publicist, was currently in her element, developing what she called ‘brand Otter’ and I called ‘her job’. I hadn’t gone into acting to become famous, although the possibility hadn’t been unappealing. I’d gone into acting because I like acting. Pretending to be someone else.
Just like I had with Ryan at first.
Today was an interview and photoshoot with a high-end fashion magazine. It was probably one of my biggest interviews to date and would likely put an end to any chance on anonymity. If Ryan hadn’t known who I was before, this today and the film release would mean he’d probably not be able to avoid my face for the next four months. He would’ve definitely found out who I was in the coming weeks.
Jas was waiting for me when I walked into the hotel where we were shooting. Her hair was in her typical style, the black curls neatly pinned on top of her head, her make-up perfect, her signature scent reaching me before I reached her.
“I need five minutes before you get started.” Her tone was serious. “Let’s go sit down.”
“What, no coffee first?”
She shook her head, but there was no smile. I followed her into the hotel lounge, a member of the waiting on staff lurking to be helpful.
“Can you give us ten minutes in private?” Jas smiled at the girl, who couldn’t have been more than about nineteen, or maybe I was just getting old.
The girl nodded and backed out of the room. Jas turned her gaze to me.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were dating Ryan O’Connell?”
I sat down. “Shit. How do you know? We haven’t told anyone.” Which meant someone had seen us.
Jas took the sofa opposite me. “This isn’t a bad thing, I just need to know how to deal with it.”
“Why? How do you know?” My heart had decided my body was actually running a hundred metre sprint in the Olympic final. Being in the gossip columns didn’t scare me – I didn’t do things that would lead to negative publicity. I’d never been caught falling out of a taxi or drunk in a bar, but I knew Ryan wanted to stay under the radar. He let his feet do the talking on the pitch.
Jas handed me her phone. On it was a photograph of Ryan and I, his arm around my shoulders, me leaning into him. The look between us was not one cast by friends.
“Swipe left. Look at the next.” Jas’ expression wasn’t full of worry. Her voice was calm.
I did as she’d said. The next photo was of a kiss between us, taken when we’d been checking out of the hotel in Stockport. The girl on reception had recognised us, and somehow, she’d got the pictures, possibly from the security camera because I didn’t recall seeing her with her phone directed at me and Ryan.
The photos were cute. We looked like a couple almost in love and they were flattering. There was nothing scandalous about them, and when the press published them – which they would – the only big thing would be that Ryan had never been connected with anyone romantically. He was Mister Discreet, Mister Mysterious.
Mister Mine.
“Otter, the press will want a statement, probably from both you and Ryan. If you can get Ryan’s agent’s details I can co-ordinate it.”
I nodded. Panicking still. This was always going to have happened. I knew that.
I also knew right there and then that I didn’t want Ryan to end this. I didn’t want him to panic at being under a spotlight, which would be for one hot minute.
I didn’t want him to end this. Or regret it.
What had been a couple of anonymous hook-ups was now much more.
“Let me call Ryan.”
Jas nodded. “Take a few minutes. I’ll stall the interview and let them know something came up.”
I gave her a forced smile. I hated being late for interviews because I never wanted to be known as a diva. My image was based on polite English quirk, the emphasis on polite. I didn’t do drama, unless it was scripted. I turned up on time, or early, and my only request was for a certain brand of tea.
I even drank tap water.
“I’ll be quick.”
Jas nodded, getting up and pressing a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t worry. This isn’t bad. Not for you, and it won’t be for him. Phone him, get his agent’s number and we’ll take care of it.”
