Page 13 of Compulsion

It was a long—and itchy—walk home.

Chapter Eight

THE following Saturday, the flat was turned into a kind of actors’ commune as a whole group of Louis’s drama friends came around to help him learn his lines. He’d landed a return scene in his TV soap—“unprecedented feedback for your interesting interpretation of a minor character,” his agent, Grace, had told him, though none of us had any clue as to how far her tongue was in her cheek at the time—and the excitement was racked up high.

I knew most of Jack and Louis’s friends by now, but I couldn’t help feeling awkward when they came around en masse. Especially when I got elbowed out of the living room for the third time, squeezed between Harry—a very tall, booming-voiced Goth who quoted Shakespeare mixed in with swearing that would embarrass a navvy—and the Vs, a trio of petite girlfriends who were of completely different ethnicities but all wore the exact same pink tutu outfit over their matching skinny jeans. I never found out whether they actually all had names beginning with V or whether it just made it easier for everyone to remember them. When I tried to reach the kitchen but found Bob and Bryan—an inseparable pair, with Bob the most outrageous snoop and Bryan with the hugest appetite I’d ever known—arguing in the hallway about which bey-otch should have won what at the BAFTAs, I surrendered the battlefield to them all with a rueful smile and decided to hide out in my room.

I paused at the foot of the stairs. Louis’s laughter rang out from the living room. Someone had taped the episode of the soap he’d been in, and I heard the series theme music start up on the TV. Looked like they were settling in for a fan review session.

“Max.” Jack touched my shoulder, and I turned. He was flushed, clutching a chilled six-pack of beer and three family-sized bags of snacks to his chest, obviously on his way from the kitchen back into the fray. “Come on in with us.”

In the background, the girls shrieked in a trio of octaves when Louis obviously came on screen. Someone laughed and belched and someone slapped them—at least, that’s what it sounded like. Out in the kitchen, the arguing couple decided they needed Lady Gaga at top radio volume to accompany their raised voices.

I winced and Jack laughed. “I know. You’d rather get the hell out of here.”

I’d been considering burying myself upstairs with a beer, my headphones, and rock music, but Jack’s words shook my already wobbly nerve a different way. “Yeah,” I said. “I’m just going to change my shirt, then I’m going into town.”

Jack didn’t exactly raise an eyebrow, but his expression went carefully blank. “Anywhere good? I might join you.”

I shook my head. “You have Rehearsal City to manage.”

“No he doesn’t,” came Louis’s voice. He’d come up the hallway behind Jack and now rested his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder, staring at me. “In fact, I think I might join you as well.”

“You’re preparing for your big break.”

Louis snorted. “Cute, Max. It’s twenty lines and a cup of cold brown liquid on the café set. It’s hardly Les Mis. I’ll probably not be asked back again.”

“Bollocks,” came Harry’s voice from someplace above my head. He loomed a good six inches over all of us. “The lady doth protest too much, methinks. He’ll be a fuckin’ star.”

Louis grinned but kept his eyes on me. “Harry, you’re a silly tart, but a loyal one. Anyway, I need a break, and I’m going out with my friends.”

“So what are we?” wailed one of the girls from the other room, obviously eavesdropping. “Don’t leave us behind.”

“Where’s my bag?” called another.

“Behind you, you stupid cow.”

“Don’t call me that!”

“Wait for us!” Bob called from the kitchen. He and Bryan had stopped arguing long enough for Bryan to make a plate of sandwiches, and he was finishing off the last crust.

Jack rolled his eyes. “Looks like we’re all coming, Max.” He put the beer and snacks on the bottom of the stairs up to my room. The girls spilled out from the living room, and Bob and Bryan joined us in the hallway. It was starting to look and feel like some kind of rush-hour bus queue. Bryan bent down quickly to pick up a bag of tortilla chips.

“Greedy bastard.” Bob jabbed him in the ribs and Bryan shrugged, unapologetic.

“I was only going for a bite to eat and a drink,” I said in mild protest.

“Works for us.” Jack slung his arm around Louis’s shoulders. “I want more time with this one before he goes off to film in London.”

“A few days away, that’s all,” Louis scoffed, but his eyes danced at Jack’s attention. “And Grace says I’ll be stuck in some small, shabby B&B, nothing glamorous. Minimum expenses, mostly my own makeup, no guaranteed callback.” To my amusement, Grace seemed to spend a lot of her time managing her clients’ expectations downward. “But maybe I’ll get some free time to look around. I haven’t been up to the smoke for a long time. You’ll point me to the best places to go dancing, Max, won’t you?”

I froze. Everyone else must have picked up on the sudden tension, because they all stopped talking and turned to look at me.

“You from London, man?” Harry asked me. “Would I were in an alehouse in London! Right?”

“Just….” I swallowed quickly. “Stayed there for a while.”

“Fuck,” Louis whispered, not quietly enough.