Page 7 of Need to Know

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Isn’t it?”

“No, dude, no! Trust is beautiful, it keeps your heart open to new opportunities,” I insisted. “If someone chooses to betray your trust, that’s on them.” I said those words passionately, for a moment forgetting my personal predicament. Then I heard myself and grimaced.

“Well, those who betray me lose out because I don’t give second chances,” Jack insisted firmly.

“Exactly,” I agreed. “You know your worth.”

“You remember what my life mantra is, don’t you?”

I recalled that when we’d shared a trailer Jack used a kohl pencil to write at the top of the dressing table mirror. “Yeah, I remember. Don’t ever dim your light to make others feel comfortable.” He lived by those words, out, proud, unashamed.

“Well remembered,” he grinned. “Don’t let Erik’s infidelity take the spotlight off you and everything you’ve achieved in your career.“ Jack reached across the table and took my hand.

“I know you’re hurting and I’m sorry you’re going through this, but we’ve worked our tight little bottoms off to get this movie out. Today, we’re going to dress up in fabulous designer suits that make us look like sex-on-legs and then we’ll work it on the red carpet. Fuck the gossips. We deserve to celebrate.”

The earnestness of Jack’s speech connected with my withered heart. I rubbed my thumb over the back of his hand, considering the eroticism of the veins, and his long, elegant, fingers with manicured nails. He had such beautiful sculptural hands. A wave of emotion choked me and I was uncharacteristically tongue-tied. I nodded and released his hand. “It’s a good plan,” I said finally.

Jack rose and after a moment returned with a huge bowl of fruit salad and yoghurt. He sat and began wolfing it down, the juice glistening on his lips.

“I don’t know if you got the memo,” he said between spoonful’s, “But I’m wearing Versace and you’re in Gautier. Oh, and Lucy’s Eurostar gets in at midday.’’

This surprised me. “I thought Killian was your plus-one for the European dates?” I quizzed, confused.

“Oh god no!” he spluttered. “That’s been over for ages. I’m single and ready to mingle, baby!” he revealed with a saucy wag of his brows.

“Shit, sorry, what the hell happened? I should have known!” So much for being a friend! Was I a self-consumed douche, so wrapped up in my bubble that I hadn’t known my husband was a serial cheater or that Jack was nursing a broken heart?

Jack batted my questions away with his spoon. “How could you know if I never mentioned it? It was like, six months ago, not long after we wrapped. Killian and I were fuck buddies for a couple of months before I flew to Toronto. Honestly, I barely knew the guy, so, no biggy,” he said dismissively. He took a gulp of tea and then glanced up. I hadn’t looked away or continued with my breakfast.

“What?” Jack asked. I eyeballed him.

“Look,“ he sighed, his shoulders sagging. “It’s just so fucking…embarrassing,” he confessed. “I was furious when it happened and didn’t want to talk about it. But believe me; I did want to rip his fucking balls off. You know what the worst thing was?” he directed animatedly with his spoon. “The self-doubt. I’m a good-looking, confident guy, and consider myself a pretty good judge of character, but when someone fucks me over I think, What the hell did I do wrong and why didn’t I see this co—oh, sorry…too soon?” he winced realizing how relatable his words were.

I shrugged, and yeah, that was the exact headspace I now inhabited. What did I do wrong in my marriage and why hadn’t I noticed that Erik was cheating? I met Jack’s coffee brown eyes and gestured for him to speak on.

“Out with it. Tell me!” I demanded.

“Killian didn’t cheat on me. I would have understood that, cos he was an insatiable fuck with a massive cock…but...” Jack sat back. “You remember how long the days were for our shoot?”

I rubbed a hand over my face, “Oh yeah, eighteen-hour days sometimes.”

“I flew back from Toronto exhausted to my bones, went to bed, and was comatose with jetlag for like, four days. When I finally entered the real world again there were these messages from Killian, the usual shit…dick pics, him wondering where I was and when we could hook up. There was also a message from a guy called Georges Calloux, a costumier I’d worked with on Harmon Hall, the historical series I was in.

“Yeah, Lord Bertie,” I enthused. “That was the first show I first saw you in. You lit up the screen. Seriously, dude. I thought damn…who is he? He’s got star quality!”

“Darling, you are too kind!” Jack said in Lord Bertie’s crisp British accent. “Well, it turned out that Georges saw costume accessory props for sale on eBay—props that he’d gifted to me when we wrapped on the final season. He’d given me Lord Bertie’s collapsible top hat, his silver topped cane, white kidskin gloves, and his monocle. I’d kept them in a box in my walk-in closet…or so I’d thought,” Jack paused and licked the last of the fruit juice from his lips, and yeah, I allowed my gaze to consciously follow the sweep of his wet pink tongue. From this day forth I shall give myself permission to ogle beautiful men and not feel a moment of guilt.

“While we were filming in Toronto, I’d given Killian the key to my house so he could water the plants and feed my cat. It turns out the bastard stole from me and was flogging my items online. I tell you, I was so very fucking livid when I saw him, and I was not a gentleman!”

“Wow…wow…oh my god…I did not see that coming! Did you get the props back?”

“Yeah, I contacted eBay and they cancelled the listings. I told Killian he’d better return my things or I was going to the police and the press. He worked as a sound engineer in the West End and there was no way he’d get a job at any theatre in the country if it got out he was light-fingered. I sent a warning message to a few contacts anyway!”

“What an asshole! I can’t get my head around how any lover could do something so awful…to you!”

“Touché luv!”