‘Thanks.’ I gave the top of her head a nervous smile, then set off towards the toast-eaters, scanning their faces in case there was anyone I knew. I walked slowly past, smiling blankly in hope, but nobody looked familiar. Oh well, it would give me chance to widen my circle and make some new friends or, at the very least, some new contacts.
Make-up was always next to the stage at the theatre, so it made sense for us to be the first room in the corridor, positioned nice and close to the set. I stood outside the door where a whiteboard hung on a hook with ‘Make-up 2,’ scribbled in black marker. That was me. This was it. I knocked and waited. No answer.Oh well, here goes nothing.I struggled in with my case, swinging the door open with my bum, to find a petite girl with long black hair, bopping along to her headphones and laying out her kit.
‘Morning!’ I said, excited. ‘I’m Abi. I’m here to replace Kelly?’
‘Hey! Great to meet you! I’m Lucy,’ she said, her ponytail swishing as she came over to hug me.
‘You’re an even earlier bird than me. We don’t start for another hour!’
‘I know. I’m too keen. Everyone seems to be,’ she said, twirling her hair into one long, thick lock.
‘First day of school vibes,’ I laughed, lifting my case onto one of the low tables. There was a mirrored wall surrounded by lights, with two stations set out where we’d get the actors ready. One to get them into their silicone masks and one for their moon make-up. The film was a classic interplanetary romance, where humans and moon-people lived side by side, connected by a space superhighway between Earth and the Moon. Girl meets boy, well, woman meets wayward Moonman rogue. There were six different moon heads for each actor, each one unique, and they sat on the side, glowing. I’d need to get to grips with which one was used in each scene, although Lucy was in charge, so she’d brief me on what to do.
‘Wow, look at these,’ I said, getting up close to study them. They were intricately made works of art, and it would be our job to wrestle the actors into them and add the finishing make-up touches before they went on set.
‘Pretty cool, huh?’ Lucy said, admiring them from afar. ‘I’ve been staring at them all morning.’
Luckily, only two of the actors were wearing moon heads, Blake Thomas and Travis Johnson, so they would be our focus and I couldn’t wait to meet them both. The job would become much clearer once we got to know each other and got into the swing of things. I unzipped my case and pulled out my make-up stacks, bags, and brushes, and set up my side of the room. We had floor-to-ceiling windows along the back wall, looking out over East London, with plenty of sunlight streaming in. The thrum of early morning traffic carried up from the street below, as cars honked, buses sighed, and commuters pattered past. I slid my empty case under the wardrobe and took a long look around the space. Yes. This would do nicely. I lined my brushes up, perfectly straight and equidistant between the mirror and the edge of the dressing table, just like I had them at home. Every brush had its own space and was in the right place.
‘We’ve done alright here, haven’t we?’ I said, excited to get going.
‘I’ll feel better once the guys have been in for their skin tests,’ Lucy replied. ‘I hate this part at the beginning when we’re waiting to get started.’
‘Have you had chance to look around the set yet?’ I was desperate to see it.
‘Not yet. We can go together if you like. Shall we get a coffee?’ Lucy asked. I nodded. Caffeine was a terrible idea, but it was a good excuse to go and mingle. We walked into the central space where people were chatting and waiting in line for hot drinks. The set was split into six sections, each one completely different to the next. The surface of the moon, a futuristic lounge full of tech, a bedroom with a telescope poking out of the window. Each environment meticulously laid out by the set designers to bring theMoonmenworld to life. Lucy was ahead of me in the queue as I openly stared at everything, and everyone.
‘Abi…? What do you want?’ she called.
‘Skinny soya latte with an extra shot, please,’ I replied, on autopilot.
The man behind the counter looked tired. ‘Black or white?’ he said, unimpressed, holding up a jug of filter coffee.
‘Oh. White, please.’ No expense spared. Lucy handed me my coffee and we wandered over to get a closer look at the set. It was strange to be in a totally new place, after such a long stint onLes Misérables. I knew everyone in the cast there, the backstage and front-of-house crew, and every nook and cranny of the theatre. And now I had to start again and get up to speed with a totally new process, team, and space. Part of my job was to settle the actors and keep them happy and relaxed before they went out to perform. Their final pitstop. I looked around at the people I’d be working with – my new classmates. There was a collective drawl of American accents buzzing about the place, and not one face I recognised. The buzz increased, turning into a flurry of excitement from the other side of the studio, as a group of men in jeans and gilets were ushered through the space.
‘It’s Blake Thomas,’ Lucy whispered, as I arched my neck to see. The three men were virtually identical – it must have been him and his two stunt doubles, unless his entourage were forced to wear matching outfits. The trio were marching towards us and came into focus as I tried not to stare. One of the guys did look kind of familiar under his cap. He was tall and broad, with dark hair and a scruffy beard.
‘I recognise the one in the middle,’ I whispered back.
‘Course you do,’ Lucy rolled her eyes. ‘That’s HIM.Outlaws’ biggest star.’
It couldn’t be from that. I’d never seenOutlaws. I didn’t like to watch TV on my own. That was something Josh and I used to do together. Binge-watch a box set on a Sunday night; a bucket of toffee popcorn drizzled in chocolate sauce to share. The only time I put the TV on these days was while I cleaned, so the flat didn’t feel so empty. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d sat down to watch a show – it just didn’t feel right somehow. I occasionally put something on when I was on the move. On the train or on the rare occasion I found myself on a plane these days, but that was about it.
I shook my head and turned back to Blake. I must have seen him on TikTok or in a meme. Maybe on a clip of Graham Norton. I couldn’t quite… see him properly, as everyone had stopped to stare. The floor had turned into the mannequin challenge as Blake glided along, seemingly in slow-mo. He smiled and nodded as he walked, like a member of the royal family.Smile and wave, boys, smile and wave.As he got closer, I saw the side of his face before he finally turned and looked my way. We locked eyes for just a second, but that was long enough. He paused. That beautiful smile frozen on his lips and gone from his eyes. And then he carried on by. Phoebe had said I’d know him when I saw him, and I did. I knew that face, those eyes, and that smile. It was Pete.
Four
Monday 29thJuly
The air left my lungs. What the hell was he doing here? I tried to get a second look, but it was too late; he’d gone. No doubt about it, though. Even with the slightly shaggier hair and the beard and cap, there was no mistaking those eyes. It was him. This was teetering on the edge of breaking my one and only rule.No second dates. Which could also be interpreted as ‘don’t ever see them again’. It hadn’t started out as a rule, it was more of an accidental dating style, but once Josh had gone, having a man in my bed for more than one night, had never felt right. And then it just became my way. I couldn’t imagine having that kind of relationship again – sharing breakfast together each morning and a bottle of wine on a Friday night. Those were things I did with the girls now.
I hadn’t planned on seeing Pete/Blake again, yet here we were. In a code-red violation of my core way of being. Not to mention the potential mess of mixing work with pleasure. Men were supposed to be for one night only and that was that. Especially those allegedly on a fleeting visit to London. I was going to have to pivot pretty quick if Pete Freeman was, in fact, Blake bloody Thomas.
‘You OK?’ Lucy asked, as we got back to the room. ‘Not starstruck are you?’
I took a gulp of my coffee, which wasn’t helping with the shock.Shit, shit, shit.I didn’t know what to think. Should I be delighted that a hot, Hollywood actor was semi-stalking me or annoyed at the fake-name and no doubt fake-everything-else?
‘Not at all. I haven’t ever seenOutlaws, so I don’t know him.’
