Last Chance Saloon - Marian Keyes [97]
Joe sighed to himself. He could have done without this. He had a lot on his mind, including an important presentation to a breakfast cereal company the following day. Playing nursemaid to spoilt-brat actors wasn’t really his thing. Especially considering he hadn’t even cast the commercial – it was something he’d inherited when his predecessor had been sacked from Breen Helmsford. But at the end of the day the responsibility was his.
Lorcan assumed a defiant and provocative glare, as he itched for a fight. Gleefully, he wondered if he’d be able to make Joe Joe Roth cry – it’d been a while since he’d had such an opportunity. But to his dismay, Joe just gently reiterated his suggestion that Lorcan say the lines in a friendly, unhammy way. Which shook Lorcan. Who was this prick with his fat salary and pretty-boy looks and unexpected self-possession?
Joe Roth was tougher than Lorcan had assumed. Stronger measures were called for. To even things up, Lorcan became even more over-the-top with each subsequent shot. Eventually on take twenty-two, out of pure badness, just because he knew he could, he whined, ‘What’s my motivation here?’
‘A pay cheque?’ Joe deadpanned, leaning against the wall, his arms folded. No more Mr Nice-guy.
‘I am an artist,’ Lorcan declared haughtily.
‘Maybe that’s what’s wrong,’ Joe said, drily. ‘We asked for an actor.’
Lorcan narrowed his eyes.
Mandii and Vanessa nudged each other and looked at Joe. Sexy.
‘OK. Here we go again,’ the director called. ‘More toast, Melissa! Take twenty-three, and, Lorcan…’
‘Real butter?’ Lorcan said, in just the right pitch.
At last, everyone thought, in a frantic exhalation of relief.
Lorcan took a bite from the slice of toast, smiled wolfishly at the camera, and in the same beautiful, mellow voice said, ‘It gives you heart-attacks.’
34
‘OK, Lorcan,’ Joe strode forward, a pleasant smile on his face. ‘It’s clear you don’t want to make this commercial. Let’s put you out of your misery right now. You’re officially off the job.’
Lorcan opened his mouth to say something scathing, but Joe continued briskly, ‘Naturally you won’t receive your fee and you may be obliged to compensate us for the costs incurred this morning.’
As Lorcan gaped, Joe turned to the room at large. ‘Everyone, sorry about your wasted time. Please bear with us while we try to get another actor. Jeremy, what do you reckon? How about Frasier Tippett?’ Joe turned back to Lorcan, who was in a pose of frozen languidness on the couch, his face a picture of surprise. ‘Still here?’ Joe asked. ‘Would you mind leaving, please? Our insurance doesn’t cover us for people on-site who aren’t working.’
Lorcan was shocked. It seemed he’d greatly underestimated Joe Joe Roth. It did not do to call his bluff. ‘Hey,’ he said, with an awkward wave of his hand. His voice came out as a croak. ‘Lighten up, would you, man?’
Joe ignored him, as Jeremy handed him a mobile saying, ‘It’s Alicia, Frasier Tippett’s agent.’
Joe spoke quietly into the phone, before announcing with a big smile, ‘Good news, everyone, Frasier Tippett will be here in an hour. Amuse yourselves until then. Go for a bite to eat, get some air.’
Then Joe turned his back and walked away. Lorcan was speechless with astonishment. No one had ever done this before to him. Of course Joe was joking about Frasier Tippett coming, but all the same it was a pretty elaborate hoax.
Lorcan continued to sit on the purple sofa, as he waited for Joe to return and the shooting to recommence. But, to his alarm, everyone appeared to be leaving. Picking up bags and jackets, drifting off in twos and threes, chattering about going to the pub for a quick pint or a sandwich. There went the cameraman with Mandii and Vanessa in tow, off went the best-boy with the hairdresser, there went Melissa and Ffyon. ‘Let’s go for a toasted sandwich,’ Ffyon suggested.
Melissa paled. ‘Not toast,’ she said quietly.
Soon there was almost