Twenty-One
London, Tuesday, January 9, 2018
Alex’s mind wandered as she tiptoed over a sheet of ice that made the pedestrianized walkway of Tower Hill one face-plant away from a lawsuit. The bright sun did little to take the edge off the freezing temperatures or melt the glistening hazards that lingered after the sleet storm the night before.
“Shit!” Freddie pushed his glasses up his nose. Six busloads of boisterous eight-year-old schoolchildren clogged the Tower of London’s entrance. “Don’t people believe in birth control anymore? We’ll be stood here forever. Freezing my dick off was not on today’s agenda.”
“We can do something else.” Alex pulled off a glove and opened Google on her phone, wishing she were back in bed. Lucy had insisted she join her friends this Tuesday morning instead of being “a mopey arse” alone at home. It was a big ask—January 9 was circled in red on her Lairds calendar.
“No, you’ve always wanted to come here, and we’ve got tickets.” Lucy glared at Freddie. “And besides, we’re English—queuing is what we do best.”
“Do they have anything to drink here that’s hot, low sugar, low fat?” Naomi shivered, her over-the-knee black leather stiletto boots tapping out a tune on the cement.
Lucy rolled her eyes.
“What?” The actress peered over Lucy’s head towards the riverside café. “The wardrobe mistress will kill me if I pop the seams on my costume tonight.”
“One hot bloody chocolate isn’t going to make you sprout hips like mine, Naomi,” said Lucy.
Alex’s fingers scrolled her phone. She flashed a quick smile, determined not to be that irritating, heartsick girl that bummed out her friends. “We could tour Westminster Abbey instead—”
“And risk bumping into my boss on Victoria Street? Fuck that.” Lucy steered Freddie and Naomi to the line. Alex followed.
“At least your boss knows you exist.” Freddie pressed his lips tight. “The promotion went to someone else.”
Alex’s face fell. “What, again?”
“Freds, that’s awful,” Naomi scowled.
“Yep. Third time unlucky.” He flung his scarf over his shoulder, just missing the nose of the woman lined up behind him. “My boss can officially go fuck himself.”
“So that’s why you were so quick to skive off today.” Lucy hugged him.
“Screw ’em. I’ll end up making a mint with my YouTube channel, and one day, the BBC will come crawling back to me, crying, We used to know him. Fuckers.” He released Lucy and exhaled, a cloud of breath rising skyward. “But all is not lost…bunking off work, the Crown Jewels, hanging with my girls—things are looking up.” Freddie laughed with a shiver. “As long as my dangly bits don’t fall off.”
Naomi turned to Alex. “Have you talked to Mark today?”
Lucy gritted her teeth. “Naomi—”
“It’s okay.” Alex shook her head. “I don’t know what I would say right now other than fuck you.”
“How ’bout off with his head?” Lucy’s attempt at Tower of London humour missed its mark.
Alex jumped back in. “I hope he feels even a fraction of the pain I feel and can’t show up to his precious job. But I bet he’ll get up, arrive on set, and pretend—that’s what he’s good at. Asshole.”
Naomi patted her arm, her eyes darting to Freddie. “I know you’ve talked to him. It’s written all over your face.”
“It’s my best friend’s birthday—of course, I’ve talked to him.”
Alex sighed.
“You didn’t mention that we were taking Lex out today, did you?” asked Lucy.
“No…” Freddie looked through her towards the Thames.
“You did, didn’t you! Freddie!” Lucy dug her thumb and forefinger into his upper his arm and twisted.
“Ow, ow, OW. Okay—OKAY.” He shook her off. “All right, I did…sorry, Lex.”
She mouthed, “It’s fine.”
“I knew it.” Lucy stuck her finger in Freddie’s face. “You’re picking sides.”
“I’m not. Shit, I’ve totally lost feeling in my arm now.”
“You’re here to report back to him. Admit it, spy.”
“I’m not. Jeez, Lucy. I wanted a fun day out, not a trial by fury…” The four friends edged forward in line.
“Freds, if I discover that you’ve told Keegs anything, I will tell Simon all about you skipping spin classes.”
“You can’t prove that!”
“Oh yes I can. I screen-capped your lunchtime Insta stories, wandering around Topman eating Cheesy Wotsits.” Lucy laughed, a visible puff of her warm breath floated away.
Alex stifled a giggle.
“Nice one, Luce,” said Naomi.
Lucy shot her a dirty look.
“Fine.” Freddie crossed his arms.
“Your arse is mine, Mr. Ryan. So, maybe now you’ll tell us what really happened in Dublin?”
Freddie maintained a poker face.
“You said you’re not picking sides, so what’s stopping ya?”
“Keegs’ memory, that’s what.”
“Of course, you would take Mark’s side,” said Lucy. “Mark could spin Moriarty over his head, fling him into the Thames and you’d still say he’s innocent.”
“Lay off. It’s not like that. Would you remember anything after a skinful and an E?” Freddie’s eyes bulged and he slapped a fingerless gloved-hand over his mouth. “Ah…shit.”
Alex’s face blanched. “E? He took ecstasy?”
“Er, yeah.” Freddie turned away, biting a fingernail.
“He didn’t tell me that. He said he smoked a joint…” Alex’s stare darted from Freddie to Lucy and back to Freddie.
“Don’t look at me.” Freddie’s shoulders crept up to his ears. “That’s all I’ve got. End of.”
“If Keegs was that trolleyed on booze and drugs…” Naomi blew out her cheeks. “…anything could have happened.”
Lucy looked at Naomi. “Why? Did Mark cheat on you, too?”
“No, but you know what he’s like when he’s drunk. He’s giggly, flirty…forgetful.”
Freddie sighed. “Aren’t we all?”
“Some of us more than others. It doesn’t make us bad people.” Naomi wrapped her arm around Alex’s shoulder. “I’m not telling you anything you don’t know, right?”
Alex nodded.
“I bet he was boozed up and BAM—a momentary indiscretion, a mistake.” Naomi squeezed Alex’s arm and let go.
“Oi, get your tickets ready.” Lucy pointed at the entrance, now five people away. A chilly gust blew in from the river.
Naomi tugged her faux fur leopard print coat tighter. “I slept with an ex behind my boyfriend’s back once, at drama school. I still feel bad about it.”
A blue-haired senior began punching their tickets at the gate.
Naomi rambled on. “That said, I have shared my boyfriends with others, though—at sex parties.”
The ticket puncher’s cheeks reddened, but she pretended not to hear.
Freddie’s eyes lit up. “Ding dong! Do tell.”
Naomi nudged him. “I could tell you things that would make your toes curl…”
“Why am I not surprised?” Lucy whispered to Alex as they left the speechless Tower of London employee behind.
Freddie rubbed his hands together. “Oh, goody. Why sample one sexual entrée when you can devour the entire buffet?”
“Freds, would you? Have you?” Alex handed him a Tower of London pamphlet.
“Actually, no.” His shoulders deflated. “I just like to file those images into my wank bank, all those fingers roaming, plunging—”
“Not just fingers,” blurted Alex.
Naomi leaned into Freddie. “And I’m partial to an occasional ménage à trois.”
“With Tom?” he asked. “I can see him up to his knob in three-way shenanigans.”
“With Tom.” Naomi smiled. “A few times now.”
Lucy sneered. “Ugh. Caprice?”
“Oh, good God, no—never.”
Alex tugged her hat down over her ears. “I thought when you got married, you guys stopped…”
“Shagging around?” Naomi laughed. “We did, but we’re married, not dead! We both like a featured player now and then. That’s the thing, Lex: what you see publicly isn’t necessarily the whole story.”
Alex inhaled sharply, her hand squeezing the pamphlet. “Did you have threesomes with Mark?”
“No, sweetie. He’s Mr. Monogamous. That’s why I reckon New Year’s was a shitty fluke. He’s been falling all over himself, trying to prove that ever since. If I were you, I’d give him a second chance.”
“See?” Freddie nodded, his nose beginning to run. “Naomi agrees.”
“Oh, sure, give the guy a medal—he only cheated once!” Lucy shook her head. “What’s the difference between cheating once and a million times? It’s still cheating.”
Naomi put her hand on her chest. “I know the pain Mark’s feeling, breaking the trust of the person you love.” The corners of her eyes crinkled as she looked back at the entrance.
“She’s right, he is.” Freddie sniffed, glancing over Lucy’s head. “Oh, lock up your chastity belts, ladies.”
“Hello, skivers.” Tom strode over to his friends with a cigarette bobbing between his lips.
“Bite your tongue.” Lucy handed Freddie a tissue for his nose. “I booked today off.”
“Hi, mate, all right?” Freddie patted the newlywed on the back.
“Hello, Miss America.” Tom smiled at Alex but got a smirk in return. “Okay, what have I done?” Tom’s gaze swung around the group, settling on Naomi.
“What haven’t you done, Tommy boy.” Naomi kissed him on the lips. “Good audition?”
“Bollocks. I thought it was a modeling gig for a health magazine, but it was info pamphlets, you know the STI ones at the chemist?” He snapped his knuckles. “Crikey. Do I look like Gonorrhea Guy?”
Lucy snorted. Alex stepped on her friend’s foot.
“Not at all, babe,” said Naomi.
“They can shove their STI propaganda. Guess who’s off to Dublin and the Promise shoot?”
Alex and Lucy looked at each other.
“But they turned you down…” said Naomi.
“Some dude dropped out. I got the call on my way here. They need someone who can do a French-Canadian accent. I leave ce soir.” He waved his cigarette with a Gallic flourish.
“Congrats,” Alex and Lucy chimed in at the same time.
“Looks like hanging out with Simon paid off.” Freddie gave a thumbs-up.
Naomi laid a smacker on his mouth. “Did Mark put in a good word?”
“Maybe.” Tom stuck out his bottom lip. “Don’t know. I’m just chuffed to have a proper acting gig for a few days.” He dropped a lanky arm around his bride and looked over his shoulder. “Man, this place brings back memories…my first proper snog was in the Wakefield Tower on a school trip.”
Freddie looked up from his pamphlet, the cold making his eyes water. “Says here the Wakefield Tower is home to instruments of torture.” He snickered. “Rather fitting, eh, Tom? You BDSM beast, you.”
“Hey, if the fetish gear fits…” He laughed and kissed Naomi on the forehead. “We joining one of those Yeoman Warder tours, then?”
“We can now.” Naomi pulled her hubby towards the sign listing the tour departures. Alex, Lucy, and Freddie followed, their noses stuck in their pamphlets.
Tom extinguished his cigarette with the heel of his boot. “I need a piss first. Be right back.” He set off in search of the washrooms.
“I need one, too.” Lucy chased after him.
Freddie sniffed his runny nose. “Lex…you know, Keegs got in real shit for flying out after you on New Year’s Day. He was due on set the next day, but he blew it off, hoping to patch things up with you.”
Alex smirked, her gaze settling on Traitor’s Gate. “This is Mark we’re talking about. He doesn’t skip work.”
“On January 2nd, he waited at your flat. When he didn’t hear from you, he caught the last flight back.”
Her expression softened.
“The director gave him a right old bollocking.” Freddie shoved his hands deep into his pockets. “They had to scrap filming. Keegs was in every scene.”
Naomi nodded. “I’ve seen directors tear into actors when they’re late but not showing up at all…” She winced at Freddie. “Did they fine him?”
Alex blinked rapidly as her eyes volleyed back and forth between her friends.
“Yup.”
“That won’t do his reputation any good,” said Naomi. “If directors or producers hear he’s unreliable, fat chance he’ll get hired again. Word gets around.”
Freddie rounded his shoulders, seeking warmth. “Well, let’s just say he’s not the most popular person on set right now. The cast and crew waited hours—in the cold. He said his agent was terrific, trying to smooth everything over with the production staff.”
“I wanted to make him pay for what he did, but not like this.” Alex’s phone vibrated in her coat pocket. Joan hadn’t been feeling well lately, so she peeked.
Mouse, your present…thank you. I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve you, but you’re all I want. I miss you. I love you. x
She hid the evidence in her pocket.
“I’ve never seen Keegs in such a state. He’s beside himself over what he’s done to you,” said Freddie. “I’m not saying he’s not been an arse, Lex, but he was trashed—he didn’t even know his name that night, let alone who he was in bed with. Won’t you even try to make up with him?”
Naomi laid a reassuring arm around Alex’s shoulder. “I don’t think one terrible error in judgment is worth ending your relationship. He risked a lot, coming here. If last week doesn’t prove how badly he wants to fix things, babe, I don’t know what does.”
Dump him…keep him. Never mind the Tower—Alex was imprisoned in her own thoughts.