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My Mr Knightly indeed. The only resemblance he had with the Phantom was the mystery of his whereabouts. He hid behind a mask of indifference, mentoring me, coddling me, then keeping me in the dark.
I wasn’t the child he once knew. He made me so angry. And yet, his good opinion was the only one that mattered.
Ah, bollocks. I needed a real hobby. Preferably one that didn’t involve recognition from the masses. Perhaps I’d take up knitting.
It was the final week of filming. After Friday, all of our on-location scenes would be completed, and only a few B-unit sequences to finish—mostly wide landscape shots. No actors.
Jaxson was every bit as cheery as usual. He never explained the nature of his New York visit, nor did he bring up the conversation we left hanging the Friday previous. It was as if nothing had happened. But something was off with him. He didn’t show it, but I knew. Lunches became very quiet—he’d leave before I could change out of costume. He was avoiding me, and it hurt more than it should have.
The whole week was rather flat. I continued to film behind-the-scenes videos for my vlog, but I was quickly bored of them—and so was Annie. Half the time I didn’t know where she’d gone off to. I knew my week had reached the zenith of pitiful when small talk with Henry Crawford was the height of my social interactions. He would waffle on and on about his new adventure in producing tour companies. I wasn't paying attention.
I was cheesed off, I desperately wanted to eat a whole banoffee pie, and I was too proud to confront Jaxson. The days ran long so we could stay on schedule, but when I’d return home late at night I was restless, so I’d eat crisps and watch movies. Evenings were incredibly flat without our late night phone calls and video gaming.
A recommendation for Love Never Dies appeared in my Amazon Prime Video queue. I would have rather seen it in the theatre as my aunt suggested—take your Mr Knightly she said. That wasn’t an option. And so I watched it on my couch and I cried. I ugly cried, and for that, I was grateful I was all alone. I looked like a bee sting victim with a sunburn.
The show was filmed at the Regent Theatre in Melbourne. That made me think of Jaxson because he performed there as a child. And then I ugly cried some more. I was like that mouse who asked for a glass of milk to go with his cookies except it was more an endless loop of self-pity.
Something had to be done.
I resolved on taking Jaxson aside on Friday morning. The final day of filming. He would no doubt be busy, but as it were, there were very few scenes to finish. All those long days earlier in the week lent for a very short day on Friday. We’d be done by three, and there would be a wrap-up party—but I’d hoped to cut out of there early to spend some time with Jax.
There was, however, a problem. I had already promised Randall and Annie (separately) a celebratory dinner at Five Palms. Jaxson would have likely made the reservation already, and Five Palms was the type of restaurant that charged six hundred dollars for a cancellation. After three cancellations, you were not invited back. I imagined Jax had at least one cancellation on his record. I couldn’t take the chance.
I also couldn't take the chance of messing things up with Randall and Annie. It was my last opportunity. I had to make it work. Therefore, it was imperative Randall and Annie find themselves alone together in the most romantic restaurant in Beverly Hills when Jaxson and I stole away for pizza. Slip of the Ace. There was no other way.
The warning from my aunt rang in my memory. Did Jaxson suspect something more than friendship between Randall and me? It was a ludicrous notion. He was far too clever to make ridiculous assumptions. To illustrate my point, I might add that Jaxson appeared rather pleased to drive Randall to the restaurant when I suggested it. He was all smiles, eager even, declaring how it was wonderful his friend could join us, how thoughtful it was to include him, and what a brilliant way to spend an evening. He was almost too thrilled about it. I could only imagine how he was going to react to the idea of Annie as a fourth to our party. I really wasn't in the mood for a chewing out. I’d tell him later.
***
ANNIE DIDN’T STICK around for the wrap party. I was more than a little concerned about her frequent disappearances lately, but she promised me with sober assurance she wouldn’t miss dinner at Five Palms. It may have also had something to with the guilt trip I laid upon her. It wasn’t my finest moment, but the events of the previous weeks had made me feel rather impetuous.
I arrived at Five Palms alone, dressed to kill, and fifteen minutes early.
Table for four.
I reminded myself as I was seated that although my actions were somewhat rash, they were for the greater good. Everything would pan out and Jaxson and I would be laughing about it over chips in a matter of hours. Chips are good buffers. I like chips.
I was musing over the fantastic qualities of deep-fried food, wrinkling my nose at the posh menu Five Palms had to offer when I noticed Jaxson enter the dining hall. My heart quickened. He looked absolutely dapper in a smart Armani suit, custom tailored for his lithe form. His appearance was an apparition, the stuff of legends. Think of all the great classic films or the epic performances on stage where the hero comes into the light from the mist or a cloud of smoke. Think of Humphrey Bogart, Clarke Gable or Paul Newman. That was Jaxson at that moment, except the cloud of smoke was the crowd of patrons, and the dramatic swelling of music was the rush of blood through my veins.
For a brief moment, we shared a heightened enchantment—how well we’d cleaned up after a tiring week I supposed. He cleaned up remarkably well. I hadn’t seen him in anything but jeans for months. His eyes moved over me with arresting endearment, then an expression overshadowed his face akin to sorrow or regret.
“You look . . . beautiful.” His voice was a little strained as if he had bad news to deliver—like I had months to live and he was treading lightly on my emotions. I wasn’t comfortable with touchy-feels. I didn’t do sappy. My only defence was to make a joke.
“Wouldn't be dead for quids, eh?” I was an official tosser.
His eyes crinkled at the corners. “Do you mind if I sit?”
“This is your table.”
He claimed the seat to my left, delicate in his approach, fluid in his movements. He carried himself as a dancer—unable to shake the many years of training. His muscles tensed and flexed with graceful and effortless execution.
And that was just Jaxson sitting in a chair.
“I’m afraid I can’t stay long,” he whispered with a pronounced frown.
“Why?” My heart was breaking just a little more. After the week I’d had, I needed my friend back. Plus I had no intention of ordering anything off that menu. They didn’t offer chips. I don’t even think they had potatoes. “Are you cross with me?”
“No.” He was quick to respond. “I’d never be cross with you.” He lifted his elegant hand and brushed aside a lock of hair from my collarbone. I was unravelling like a sweater and he was pulling the string.
“Actually,” I said, “you are cross with me quite often.”
His movements halted and his eyes shot to mine—a sea of green blazed through them.
“I’m sorry you feel that way. But I’m not cross with you now. I just have some business to attend to, that’s all.”
“Can it wait until tomorrow?”
“No, Emma. I have a plane to catch.”
“Again? “ I blurted. “Where are you going this time?”
He sat back in his chair and fiddled with the place setting. “New York.”
New York! Again with the New York! What was this secret he was keeping from me? Or was he only trying to put distance between us?
“What’s in New York?” I asked flippantly with a laugh. “You trying to score Hamilton tickets?” Whatever it was, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know—unless it really was Hamilton tickets of which I was doubtful.
He shifted his gaze to the air around him, avoiding eye contact. People do that shifty thing with their eyes when they’re thinking up a lie. He’d never lied to me before, at least not to my knowledge. Scratch that. He lied to me on my birthday when I guessed the gift he’d bought me. He was making that same face now that he made back then.
“Why do you keep going to New York, Jaxson?”
He drummed his fingers on the table—stalling.
“I’m only visiting some people, that’s all.”
Some people? I knew all his people. Every. Single. One of them. His people were my people, too. Why was he keeping me in the dark? Phantom!
“I promise I’ll tell you when the time is right.” He stood from the table, ready to excuse himself. I was about to get livid.
“But what about—”
“Randall?” he snapped. “He’s on his way, don’t worry about that.”
My mouth fell open. Where was this coming from? He took a few steps away but turned back before he left.
“I left instructions the bill should come to me. Order anything you like.”
And with that, he was gone. Disappeared into the shadows of the wings.
Table for three.
I was left staring at the door for an indiscriminate amount of time. It wasn’t until a voice roused me from my daze that I became aware of my surroundings.
“Am I late? I was in the middle of my workout when I realized the time.”
Annie was already unfolding the napkin onto her lap. She was a vision. Not only was she wearing a gorgeous dress that accentuated her curves, she was aglow with a profound contentment. I imagined she was rather happy to get a break from wigs and bad studio catering.
“You’re not late,” I said, recovering. “And even if you were, it’s fashionable.”
“Zumba makes me ravenous. What’s good here?” She picked up her menu and winced—probably at the prices.
“I don’t know,” I said. “There’s not a potato in sight.”
I was well aware I was pouting. What did Jaxson say my face did when I pout? Overly active eyebrows. Check. Bottom lip puffed out. Check.
Something very obnoxious and hillbilly resounded from her purse and it was definitely not The Brian Setzer Orchestra. It was . . . country music? I did not see that coming. She quickly reached in to silence her phone, and upon retrieving it, frowned at the screen.
“Sorry,” she said with a slight blush. “I didn’t realize my ringtone was so loud.”
“That couple over there almost got up to line dance,” I said.
She put her phone away but didn’t take her hand from the inside of her bag, acting as if it would detonate any moment.
“I didn’t know you liked country music,” I said, making casual conversation.
“It’s kind of a recent interest.” She was rather flushed. Her eyes glazed over and appeared a little sallow. “Oh dear,” she said covering her mouth. “Do you know where the ladies room is?”
Perfect! Not another case of bad sushi. This girl!
“I thought I saw one in the foyer.” I pointed in the general direction. She shot up clutching her handbag, lurched her head with a gag, and sped off. I said a silent prayer she wouldn’t honk in the koi pond on her way to the loo.
I was once again left to my own devices. If anyone was watching the dodgy activity at my table, they might have come to the assumption I was selling black market Netflix subscriptions. I was getting sordid scowls from the wait staff because I hadn’t ordered anything. I wasn’t even supposed to be there when Randall arrived. Where was that man? On cue, my mobile buzzed. A text from Randall.
Plumbing emergency. Sorry to cancel. Let’s reschedule.
Ah, bollocks! Table for two—the wrong two.
Annie returned looking frightfully feverish. Her face was wet with beads of sweat and her hairline was damp. She didn’t have to say anything.
“You didn’t vomit in the koi pond, did you?” I winced.
She shook her head. I could tell she was afraid to disappoint me. No matter. Randall had already done that. So had Jaxson.
“Go home and rest,” I said with resignation. “Are you okay to drive? Should I get you an Uber?”
She shook her head again. “I can drive okay. I’m so sorry. Twice in a row—”
“Don’t worry about it,” I said giving her a soft hug. “It wasn’t meant to be.”
And I was then again alone. Table for one.