Two
“D’ya see this sword, Mackintosh?” Mark pointed a small plastic knife at Alex, lying on her stomach across a tartan blanket. “It once belonged to the Clan Dhònnchaidh, but my ancestors claimed it in a great battle.” He snarled in a Scottish burr, his eyes darkening beneath the brim of his baseball cap. “If I find out yer lyin’, I swear on the graves of my forefathers, I’ll slice yer from ear to ear, leaving ya to rot in a ditch outside Dalnaspidal where even the ravens—” His face froze. “Fuck it! I got that wrong, didn’t I? What’s that line again?”
Alex inhaled deeply, enjoying the fragrance of blooming hyacinth and fresh-cut grass wafting through St. Stephen’s Green, a popular oasis in the heart of Dublin. Her finger traced along Mark’s Lairds and Liars script. “It’s ‘…a ditch outside Dunalstar…”’ She stumbled. “I mean, Dunalasteer…no, ‘Dunalastair where even the ravens wouldn’t pick your carcass clean.’ Jeez!” She laughed. “This is hard!”
“I know, right—these Gaelic names!” Mark scrunched his eyes. “They’re going to revoke my Irish card if I can’t get them right!”
Alex laughed harder. A goldcrest’s high-pitched zi-zi-zee chirped from a nearby tree overlooking their sunny patch of grass.
“At this rate, I’ll still be muttering lines to myself on the train back to Aberdeen. People will think I’m certifiable.”
“Try again?” Alex plucked a strawberry from the takeout container sat between them.
Mark dipped the plastic knife into a small pot of Nutella, his easy smile spreading through his three-day stubble. “Actually, can we back up? I’ve been toying with whispering the lines before that, about his wife’s disappearance.” The knife reappeared, covered in gooey, chocolatey, hazelnut happiness, and he smoothed it over a croissant, recently baked and still warm. “Whatcha think?”
She chewed the sweet strawberry, contemplating. “Well, a subtle delivery will definitely make the words more shocking, more…visceral.” Her eyes fell back to the page as she swallowed. “And maybe, pause before you mention the laird’s drowning, then launch into the rant about the sword, forefathers, ravens…it will hit the audience harder, for sure.”
“That’s my girl! You always know the best way to deliver lines.”
“Writer’s intuition, babe!” She grinned, pushing herself up from the blanket. She leaned over his script and their Monday afternoon picnic of fruit, baked goods, and cider, kissing him.
He held her kiss then let go, his eyes lost in hers. “Well, sexy playwright lady, there’s no one else I’d rather practice lines with.” He smiled and bit into his croissant coated in nutty sweetness. A smudge of chocolate remained on his upper lip.
“There’s no one else I’d rather have as my dramaturg.” Her thumb lovingly swept the Nutella from his lip. “That idea you had this morning, I think it’ll fix that scene I’m struggling with.” She sucked her thumb. “Changing the thirtysomething to a pregnant teen…it raises the stakes.”
“See, we’re a team, Sinclair!” Mark offered his croissant for a bite. “Mum thinks so, too.”
Alex bit off a small piece and sat beside him, savouring the creamy chocolate and basking in the gentle, warm breeze flirting with her hair. “Yesterday was so lovely. Your mum…her tears when she held your dad’s keychain…” Alex laid her head on Mark’s shoulder. “She kept whispering, ‘Mark, you shouldn’t have.’ It made me love you so much, I could burst.”
“Aw, Mouse.” He swapped his lunch for his Ray-Bans. “It did my heart good to see her so happy.” He nodded, staring at the blanket. “But…”
“But what?”
Shielded by his sunglasses, his eyes washed over her. “Nothing.”
Alex lifted her head. “I know you miss your dad even more at times like this, but he would be so proud of you. We all are. Grace couldn’t stop gushing about her baby brother—it was so cute!”
A wistful smile briefly raised his cheeks. He cradled Alex’s face in his hands and kissed her softly on the lips. “I’m glad you got on so well with her—and Mum. They’ve both been bugging me to meet you for ages. Prepare yourself, though—you’re in for lots of Facebook comments, texts, and random calls. When they like someone, they really like them! You’ll be wishing you never met them—or me!”
“Fat chance of that, Keegan!” Alex kissed him. “They couldn’t have been more welcoming. Gracie and I got on like a house on fire.”
“Yeah, about that…what were you conspiring about with her? Don’t deny it—you two went quiet when I walked back into the room.”
“Girl stuff!” Alex theatrically zipped her lips.
“Oh, really? Well, that’s me put in my place.” He chuckled. “Honestly, yesterday couldn’t have gone better.”
Alex furrowed her brow. “I hope I can say the same when we visit Florida in December.”
Mark sipped his can of cider. “Robbie and I get along great over FaceTime…”
“My brother isn’t the problem.”
“I’ll charm your mom and sister, you’ll see.” He took another swig.
“Mom and Kathryn are an acquired taste, and with you being an actor…”
Mark grinned. “They’ll see how suited we are for each other.”
She shook her head. “They’re nothing like Dad, Mark. He’s supportive of the whole writing/acting thing—Mom isn’t.”
“It’ll be okay, really.” He kissed her temple. “It’s not the end of the world if she doesn’t like me, and anyway, those ten days will fly by. We’ll be in New York, snapping selfies by that massive Christmas tree before you know it. Just you and me, yeah?”
Her frown turned into a big smile. “Yeah! New York will be so romantic!” She snatched a strawberry. “Hard to believe, though. I haven’t been back to the States in over two years. You’ve been to five countries since January! Crazy!”
Mark took a deep breath. “That country count might creep up to six, Mouse…the PR guy at the BBC sent me a text this morning—four of the Lairds cast are going to the comic con in Toronto…”
“Yeah…?” She chewed, swallowing quickly.
“They kinda want me to join them. You could come too!”
“Ooh, yeah! I’ve never been to Canada…!” She picked up her phone from the blanket and opened her calendar app. “When is it?”
“Three days after Lairds wraps…we’d have to fly out on August 31st. The con runs Friday through Sunday. Truth be told, I could really use the cash. Mum’s house emptied my savings, and the con would be a quick payday.”
Alex squinted. “Shit, my attachment starts on the 30th…”
“Aw, really? Christ, you can’t bail on the National.” Mark bit his lip. “It’s just a con…I don’t have to go…”
“Don’t skip it because I can’t go. With all the Lairds gang, you’ll have a great time. I bet the organizers will do Q&A panels and group photo ops, and the fans will love it. Really, Mark, you should go.”
“Are you sure? It means I’ll only see you for, like, two days before I’m off again.”
“I know, but you’ll be back down the weekend before that—”
“What’s the weekend before that?” He pulled out his phone.
Alex glanced at her calendar. “That industry BBQ thingy in Greenwich.”
“Ah, right. Yeah, I totally forgot to put that in my schedule. God, I feel like a yo-yo…up and down between Aberdeen and London.”
Alex scrolled through a list of industry events in her phone, and one caught her eye. As much as she’d prefer to have Mark home with her, she didn’t want him to miss out. “You know, maybe you should stick around for your movie at the Toronto International Film Festival? It starts after the con.”
“I already told the director no, but…” He looked up from his screen. “I guess I could do TIFF. I’ve never done a film fest before…”
“That South Africa shoot was almost a year ago. It’ll be fun seeing your castmates again—”
“Yeah…yeah, it would.” Mark added the con and TIFF to his phone’s calendar.
“And you’d still be home for a few days before you leave for country number seven…”
“Austria? Yeah, that shoot’s gonna be a tough one.”
Alex left her phone on the blanket and twisted a grape from its bunch. “Hey, remember that clip? The one of Whishy at TIFF for Cloud Atlas? So many fans!”
“Yeah, it was fandemonium! I’ll have to stock up on Sharpies.”
She popped the grape in her mouth. “Aw, I really wish I could go, but…I’m excited about my attachment.”
He pulled her close into a hug. “As you should be, Mouse. They don’t just invite anyone.”
Alex sank into his chest. “That’s why I have to stay, give it my all.”
“Someone’s gonna be writing up a storm while I’m fighting off fangirls and schmoozing at TIFF! You’ll be too busy to miss me.”
“Yeah, won’t even notice you’re gone!” She sat up and returned to his Lairds script. “So, that ditch in Dunalastair? Start at the top?” Alex smiled longingly at Mark and snatched his half-eaten croissant.