Page 75 of The Actor and His Secret

‘This way.’ The production assistant grabs me by the scarf and tugs me along, and we’re at the side of the stage and Selina is there.

‘Oh thank fuck,’ she whispers, hugging me. She shoves some blank cue cards into my hands, along with a marker. ‘They’re taping, but for the love of God, tell him how you feel, Oli. Help him find a reason to be his real self. The self he is with you.’

Her eyes are shining with unshed tears, the only crack in her otherwise perfect facade. It’s clear that she cares about Nikos far more than just as a client, and I realise that she’s good for him. She’ll be good for Megan, too.

‘Ok,’ I whisper, as I pull the cap off the marker. I put my tongue between my lips, trying to figure out what I say, and then I start to write. And when I’m done laying my heart out, I nod.

‘Go,’ the production assistant says, pushing me forwards. And with a deep breath and an arm full of cue cards, I step out behind the cameras to go save the love of my life.

30

NIKOS

Harsh studio lights blind me. It’s like I’m sitting in a room, engulfed in unnaturally white light, the silence of the crew watching on almost deafening. The interviewer is a striking woman with red-painted lips, wide green eyes, and pin-straight brown hair that looks as manicured as the pre-written questions she has on the interview cards waiting on her lap.

I take it all in, the raised plush chairs we sit on, the empty one at my side, the fake flowers, flashing screens with pictures of my face followed by images taken of me and the ‘mystery man’ in Greece.

Maybe I should’ve paid more attention to the script I was given. All my excuses were in there, written down for me by someone else trying to navigate the story of my life. Not that it would matter anymore.

Big issue, though - Michelle is nowhere to be seen. Not that I can blame her. Now my head is clear, I’m already plotting all the ways I can make it up to her. I don’t feel like a bunch of flowers is enough for someone like her, but I would give it a go.

I’m going this alone. And instead of running away, this time I’m forced to face it.

‘Live from New York in ten seconds,’ the red-faced show runner calls from stage left.

The interviewer leans forwards, tapping her nails on my knee. ‘Are you ready to break the internet, Nikos?’

I swallow hard, forcing down the sickness to the pit of my stomach. ‘I am.’

‘Five seconds!’

I close my eyes and take the deepest breath I can in through my nose. I’m aware of some commotion just off the set, but I don’t care enough to look. I think of Oli - my Honey - his warm smile, kind eyes, and gentle, encouraging touch. I imagine he’s here with me, his presence guiding me through the next ten minutes.

Ten minutes - that’s all I have. Ten minutes to re-write my story. To forge a web of lies so strong, it’s ironclad and unbreakable.

When I open my eyes just as the ‘live on air’ button flashes red, I adorn the mask of the actor and leave everything else behind.

The show’s jingle plays around us, silencing in time for the interviewer to unleash the same welcome she’s given every morning for as long as she’s been doing this job. I look at her and smile, unable to gather the strength to find my camera and face all of America who are watching.

I’m hot beneath my suit. I see the glass of water on the coffee table before me, plastered with the logo of the TV show, and find myself dying for a drink. I take it, just as the interview turns her attention to me and introduces me.

I lift the glass to my lips with shaking hands, and I almost choke when she goes silent, leaving the floor to me.

‘Thank you for having me,’ I say, catching a drip of water from sliding down my chin, with my thumb.

‘You must be exhausted, what with all the movie’s release, press, and your secretive trips to Greece. It’s an honour you’ve fit us into your busy schedule.’

I lift the glass in salute. ‘It’s my pleasure. Although I admit, I’d rather be sunbathing on a beach than being back here at home. There’s just something less aggressive about the birds in Greece - the pigeons in the city are deadly.’

The interview barks out a laugh. ‘Coming from the dragon riding warrior we’ve all come to swoon over! Do you hear that America? Nikos Ridge is scared of some little birds.’

‘Little? Have you seen those pigeons? They’re the size of small dogs.’ I give her my winningest smile.

She narrows her eyes at me, flaying me open with a single look. ‘Now, are you trying to distract us, Nikos?’

‘Whatever from?’ I retort, my heart beating in my throat.

I can’t move before she strikes out and lifts up my hand. There is no time to stop her, before she focuses on my finger - to the place an engagement band would’ve been if I were Michelle.

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