Page 9 of The Actor and His Secret

And then I look up into the face of the man who gave me the poster. Into the face of my father.

‘Nikos.’ His Greek accent is so thick, it should remind me of home. But in truth, the sound bores into my soul and pierces me like a knife.

I can barely move, trapped in his stare. The few people around him hold up phones, filming the moment, not really knowing exactly what this moment is.

My smile falters. I begin to worry the skin on the inside of my lip. I hand back the half-finished signature and go to move away, but a firm hand grips my wrist. No one notices, but I do.

The words that come out of his mouth are just for me. Without context, no one would understand the power. But I do.

‘I need more.’

‘Yes!’ those around him scream. ‘We want more. Nikos Ridge. Nikos Ridge.’

Father smiles at me, looking like a feral dog about to bite. I break free of his hold, although the skin around my wrist aches. Part of me longs to reach over the barrier, drag him over and beat him just like he beat -

‘Film is about to start,’ Selina says, apology written over her face, as she saves me from the moment. ‘Better get our darling star inside.’

The crowd continues to react, but I can’t help but search it again for my father.

He’s gone. Left, like the demon he was, vanishing in a plume of smoke.

‘Well done, darling. You’ve done well. Sold the dream.’

I can’t open my mouth to reply to Selina as she guides me off the gold carpet and into the theatre. My mind is fixed on his face, those endless eyes and sinister sneer.

I need more.

It can only mean one thing.

Money. More fuel to feed his twisted sense of revenge. And he knows that I’ll give it. I’ll do anything to stop him ruining my life, my career.

‘I need to use the restroom,’ I say, pulling free as I see the glowing sign ahead of me.

‘Well, Nikos. There are nice clean, special toilets for the talent. We’ll be there as soon as the film begins - ’

‘No,’ I snap, hating how much like my father I sound. ‘This will do.’

I hate the look in Selina’s face. It’s fear, like she’s seeing the truth of a person she always believed possible, but never met. Now, she’s witnessing it in full force.

‘Then I’ll wait for you,’ Selina says, frowning, her red-painted nails looking as threatening as weapons. ‘Or do you have something to say about that too?’

I want to apologise, to beg for her forgiveness. But people are threading around us, and if Selina knows anything, it’s keeping up appearances. ‘Be quick, darling. The crowd will be waiting for you.’

That pressure on my shoulders is so heavy now, I can barely take the steps towards the restroom. I push the door open, glad for the empty, bright space. I lean against the sinks and bury my face in my hands.

That’s when the tears begin.

5

OLI

There’s no amount of concealer that can fix the bags under my eyes.

Even if everything had been going swimmingly, the past week would’ve been a killer. I’m swaying on my feet from lack of sleep, since I’ve spent every waking minute - and plenty of minutes where I should have been sleeping too - pushing content for the premiere.

I still have a migraine from the hours-long conference calls I’d been on soothing the rightfully terrified author, who was walking her first red carpet. I think I must be severely dehydrated because I’m having a hard time swallowing and breathing and I also think my heart may be about to give out.

Who am I kidding? It’s not the work. I live for work. I thrive on being busy. It’s the heartbreak that’s reduced me to a gross-looking shell of myself.

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