Page 76 of Let’s Make a Scene

“Oh well, it was only an idea.” Lorna shrugs. “Maybe some other time.”

“Maybe,” I murmur unconvincingly.

“Do you need anything else from me, Lorna?” Cynthie asks, slinging her handbag over her shoulder.

“No, no.” Lorna shakes her head. “But let me see you out so we can discuss tomorrow’s schedule.”

The two of them leave, and only Lorna bothers saying goodbye to me. I want to bash my head against the nearest wall. I wish I could go home, order a pizza, watch a movie, but the icing on the cake of this awful fucking day is that I have to head to some stuffy restaurant for a stilted dinner with my parents instead.

My phone rings, and seeing Nico’s name on the screen, I pick up the call with a sigh. “Talk about perfect timing.”

“I had a feeling,” Nico’s voice drifts down the line, full of his usual laughter. “Didn’t you say you had all those interviews today?”

I sigh. “Yeah, and it went pretty much as you’d expect.”

“Well, guess who happens to be in town for one night only… Fancy a drink?”

“You’re in London?” I ask. Nico has been on a “gap year” that is currently well into year three. He travels all over the world falling in and out of trouble, making friends, and taking incredible photographs.

“I’ve got a connecting flight and I’m off again in the morning, thought I could buy you a beer and let you pour out all your troubles.”

“I’d love that,” I say. “Unfortunately I have dinner with my parents.”

Nico inhales sharply through his teeth. “Oof. Not a fun evening. Is Lee going?”

“No, she and Gran are starting the BBC Pride and Prejudice box set again.”

“Nice!” Nico says thoughtfully. “I wonder if I can crash. Do you think Gran’s made her ginger biscuits? I dream about those things when I’m away.”

“If she hasn’t, she’ll probably start whipping up a batch the second she lays eyes on you,” I say. “You are her favorite grandchild.” It’s barely an exaggeration, Nico is so much a part of our family.

Nico hums happily. “Maybe I’ll pop by her place then. We could meet for a drink when you’re done with dinner?”

“Sounds good,” I agree. “I’ll text you.”

I head out of the hotel feeling lighter. Nico is my best friend, and even though he doesn’t know the whole story about me and Cynthie (I did promise her I wouldn’t tell anyone we’d slept together), he knows enough for me to be able to vent. Maybe he’ll even have some advice on how I can make things less tense. Nico is great with people. All I have to do is get through dinner first.

Unfortunately, when I arrive at the restaurant it’s to find my parents have invited a director friend of theirs along. Apparently wanting quality time at “family dinner” was a halfhearted ruse, and instead I’ve found myself thrust into an impromptu audition over plates of tiny, fussy French food. I wish I could say this was the first time something like this has happened.

“So, Jack.” Guy, the director, beams while my dad tops up his wineglass again. “You trained at RADA, just like your old man?”

“That’s right.” I try to sound easy while anxiety simmers in my veins. I need to make a good impression, and I’ve had no time to prepare.

Guy turns to Mum. “Remind me, Caroline, were you at RADA too?”

She takes a sip from her own wineglass. “Certainly not, I was a Central girl. I thought Jack would have been better off there, but you know Max, he likes to get his own way.”

“Central is fine.” Dad waves a hand through the air, his words softer at the edges, and I’d guess this isn’t the first bottle the three of them have put away while waiting for me. “But RADA is the best.”

“I’m sure Olivier would have disagreed,” Mum says wryly, flashing Guy a conspiratorial smile. “I worked with him, you know, in the 1980s. Such a charismatic man.”

“Some pretty big shoes to fill, Jack.” Guy laughs.

“You have no idea.” I manage a wan smile.

When Guy excuses himself to use the bathroom, I turn to my parents, who look extremely pleased with themselves. I hate it when they pull shit like this. My palms are sweating, my heart hammering. I’m scrambling, trying to remember Guy’s past work, to think of something insightful to say about it.

“Why wouldn’t you warn me Guy was coming?” I keep my voice low. “I could have prepared. I don’t even know if I’m interested in whatever part this is.”