Page 64 of The Devil's Detail
The whole room is chaotic. Everyone is laughing. Xander pretends to trot off and Kell is holding him back. Actually sat on his back. The twins are banging on the lounge door to get in and join in the fun. It’s mayhem.
I go and let the twins back in. In seconds, they’re screaming and shouting, riding on their daddy and papa’s backs.
I cut everyone off other than Jonno. “What a mess. Are you bothered about sorting it, Jackson?” he asks thoughtfully.
“I don’t know what I feel at the minute.” I walk into another room, leaving the happy chaos behind me. “I feel like he played me. He knew all that time and never said.”
“Do you think you would have said yes to him earlier? Or was it only as you got to know him? And not in the biblical sense.” Jonno is asking all the questions today. “If he would have come clean in March, just after it happened, would you have dated him?”
“I don’t know, Jonno. I wasn’t looking for a relationship, and definitely not with a man. I just don’t fucking know anymore. I need time to decide. Carter is already hitting up all the phones. He’ll want to meet and talk it through, no doubt give me his reasons. But it doesn’t change the facts. He fucking lied by omission. Worked the angles as best he could, knowing things about me I didn’t know he knew. If that makes sense.”
“It does. Regardless of anything, you do need trust. That being said, I didn’t trust Aoife at first, or for a while. I thought she was a fucking thief, and a liar. So maybe you are in a bit of the same boat.” He pauses. “I’ll ask you the same question that Evie asked me. Do you care that he’s a liar? Would you take him anyway, because you can’t not?”
“That woman is a witch. I swear it. I’ll take that into consideration. But I’m not rushing to make Carter feel fucking better. He’ll have to wait it out.” I’m determined about that. “It’snot my job to make sure Carter is feeling good about himself. He fucking lied, and that is the top and bottom line.”
“Well, you know best about how you’ll feel. But I do think you’ll have to meet him at some point.” Jonno is working through all the scenarios.
“I don’t. Not if I don’t want to. If he’s around, he’s around. But I don’t have to do anything. I don’t have to talk to him. Ash can sort his security out until I can get a replacement company.”
“Are you going that far?” Jonno is giving me his soft voice. He wants me to think, to be calm. Rational. Reasonable.
“I’ll consider it. But at the minute, it’s a no. I don’t want the contract. If I can minimise all contact, I will.”
He sighs. “You know best. Keep me updated. I love you, brother. Stay sane.”
I hang up, and rejoin the chaos in the living room.
40
Carter
It is so typical.Just as one part of your life goes so well it’s ridiculous, that another side winds up becoming a raging dumpster fire. I’m sure I’ve heard people talk about it. When you're picking up accolades and selling out cinemas or concerts and tours, you're off the rails in your personal life.
My professional life has exploded in the best way, and, as I’ve said before, that’s really saying something since I was at the top of my game anyway. But now? Now it’s a constant conveyor belt of interviews—phone, internet, and face-to-face in person. The questions are mostly the same. My answers are the same. But I have to have some fun with it, otherwise I’d go mad. Groundhog day, every damn day.
Luckily I’m saved by my alter ego. Because Carter Fucking Maywood, A-list Hollywood Actor? He’s still in full form. Flirting with everything with a pulse. Sending the interviewers out the door with a smile.
The sticking point for me every time is doing my English accent. I’m not sure how I’m going to go through a whole filmwith it. It reminds me of nights I’ll never have again, a person I’ll never be in a relationship with. And I have to live and breathe it in order for it to be convincing. And to be honest, given half a chance, I’d dump it and do the whole thing as an American import into the secret service. But as the scripts are already written, and timelines are being moved up to ensure a release for late next year to coincide with nominations for Oscars, I know I won’t get away with it.
Every day my phone calls are ignored, I die a bit. Every day I speak in that voice, I die even more. I’m not sure there will be anything left worth having at this rate. Don’t even know why I bother calling. He won’t recognise me. Blindfold or not.
Day after day, week after week, my calls go unanswered. I’m politely warned to stay away from the twins' second birthday party. Kasey sends me pictures. It’s as if I’m watching a film of ‘here’s what you could have had.’ I’m a masochist. I must be, as I feast on them again and again.
Him holding the twins, a huge smile on all their faces. Them both pulling at his stubble. Him screwing his face up as they do. Him with Cole—Kasey’s son—on his shoulders. The twins again in his arms. Lots of family photos. In the background, talking with Evie, Kell, Xander. All the people I want to speak to, but who all seem too busy for me. Short staccato conversations. They want me off the phone. They don’t want to hear me beg.
I think Evie kills me the most. I can hear how upset she is for me. But her only comfort is ‘he’ll speak when he’s ready.’ And I hang onto that potential with the strength of a man dangling from a cliff by his fingernails.
But the killer photograph? Jackson with baby Rio. Him cradling her in his big arms. Looking down at the baby with love. A love I have actually seen in those eyes. And I admit it, I fuckin’ cried. Cried like a baby. Sank to my knees with want. And notjust his body, but him. I got a glimpse of what he was, but feel—know—there is so much more behind it. I had it. And I blew it.
“Schedules are in, Carter.” Freddie comes into the room and pointedly looks at me on my phone again. Staring at the same photographs.
“Not more prep. I’ve done enough,” I moan as I look at it.
“Well, you’re expected on set in Italy a week or so before Christmas. You hate Christmas anyway, so it’ll be good for you.” He’s all business, but he knows me well. We met the first week I was in Hollywood. He spotted me in a bar and came over to talk. A fledgling agent with only one other client. But we hit it off and have been friends ever since.
“I’ll set it up with Ash. Sort out all the logistics. Have you given him a schedule?” I ask him.
“Yes. Has that neanderthal tried to dump us? I thought I saw a termination contract from him. How dare he dump us. He was in the wrong. Henry Blake could have sued his ass.” Freddie is indignant. He knows Jackson’s tried to terminate our contract, but that I won’t sign the termination terms.
