6
I spotted Kate at Gatwick Airport before she saw me. Even at this time in the morning, she looked gorgeous, if somewhat disheveled.
Her face fell slightly when she noticed me at the check-in desk. She pretended not to see me, heading straight for the back of the queue. But I waved and loudly called her name—enough times for other people to turn around. She had no choice but to look up and acknowledge me. She feigned surprise and fixed a smile on her face.
Kate came and found me at the front. Her smile didn’t waver.
“Elliot, hi. I didn’t see you.”
“Didn’t you? Funny, I saw you straightaway.” I grinned. “Good morning. Fancy bumping into you here.”
“Are we on the same flight?”
“Looks like it. We can sit together and have a good old gossip.”
“I can’t.” Kate held up her script to her chest like a shield. “I need to work on my lines. I promised Gordon.”
“Don’t worry—I’ll test you on them. We can work all the way there. Now, give us your passport.”
Kate had no choice, we both knew that—if she refused to sit with me, it would start the weekend off on a bad note. So her smile remained firm, and she handed me her passport. We checked in together.
No sooner had we taken off, however, and the plane emerged above the clouds, than it became obvious Kate had no intention of practicing her lines. She stuffed the script into her bag.
“Do you mind if we don’t? I have a terrible headache.”
“Hangover?”
“Always.”
I laughed. “I know a cure for that. A little vodka.”
Kate shook her head. “I can’t possibly face vodka at this time in the morning.”
“Nonsense, it’ll wake you up. Like a punch in the face.”
Ignoring Kate’s protestations, I flagged down a passing flight attendant and asked him for a couple of glasses of ice—ice being the only thing on this flight that was offered for free—and though he gave me a funny look, he didn’t refuse. Then I produced a handful of miniature vodka bottles I had smuggled onto the plane in my bag. Given the lack of choice of alcohol on airplanes these days, not to mention the exorbitant cost, I find it more convenient—and economical—to travel with my own.
If that sounds irredeemably debauched, I assure you the bottles were tiny. Besides, if Kate and I were forced to spend the rest of this long journey together, we could both probably use an anesthetic.
I poured some vodka into the two plastic cups. I raised my glass. “Here’s to an entertaining weekend. Cheers.”
“Bottoms up.” Kate drank the vodka in one go and winced. “Ugh.”
“That’ll cure your headache. Now, tell me about Agamemnon. How’s it going?”
Kate forced a smile. “Oh. Really good. Great.”
“Is it? Good.”
“Why?” Kate dropped the smile and peered at me, suspiciously. “What have you heard?”
“Nothing. Nothing, at all.”
“Elliot, spit it out.”
I hesitated. “It’s just a rumor, that’s all … that you and Gordon haven’t exactly been hitting it off.”
“What? That’s absolute bollocks.”
“I thought it must be.”
“Total crap.” Kate opened another minibottle of vodka. She refreshed her glass. “Gordon and I get on like a house on fire.” She knocked back her drink.
“I’m relieved to hear it. I can’t wait for the first night. Lana and I will be there, in the front row, cheering you on.” I smiled at her.
Kate didn’t smile back. She looked at me for a moment—an unfriendly look, and silent. I can’t bear an awkward pause, so I filled it with an anecdote about a mutual friend going through an absurdly vengeful divorce, involving death threats and email hacking and all kinds of insanity. A long, complicated story, which I exaggerated for comic effect.
The whole time I spoke, Kate watched me stonily. I could see she didn’t find me or the story funny.
As I looked into her eyes, I saw into her mind … and read her thoughts:
God, I wish he’d shut up. Elliot thinks he’s so bloody funny, so witty—he thinks he’s No?l Coward. But he’s not. He’s just a fucking cun—
* * *
Kate didn’t like me much—as you may have guessed.
Let’s just say she was immune to my particular brand of charm. She thought she hid her dislike well, but like most actresses—particularly ones who like to think of themselves as enigmatic—she was incredibly easy to read.