Crying in the Rain (Hiding Behind The Couch Character and Festive Episodes)

4 Company

Kris

“M r. J ohansson ?”

“Yes?” Kris startled, though he wasn’t overly surprised, given he’d met the man’s gaze, briefly and by accident, but he couldn’t recall having met him before.

“Ade Simmons,” the man said and held out his hand. “I’m working on the play with you today.”

“Ah. That makes sense.” Kris shook Ade’s hand and gestured to the seat opposite by way of invitation. “I prefer Kris, if that’s OK.”

“Got it.” Ade sat. He seemed a cool operator, very formal. Maybe they use last names here.

“Sorry.” Kris backpedalled. “Mr. Johansson is fine, but…he’s my dad, not me, if you see what I mean.”

Ade’s smile was very controlled, almost fake. “My dad passed years ago, but I’m just the same.”

“Sorry about your dad.” It was a silly thing to say, and Kris felt foolish. Ade didn’t seem to notice.

“Thank you, although he didn’t live with us, so…”

One of the serving staff appeared next to the table. “Your coffee and eggs, sir,” she said, placing the mug and plate in front of Ade.

“Thanks, honey.”

She hovered until he looked up at her but said nothing further, just gave him a sad smile and, with a courteous nod for Kris, returned to the counter.

“My mate,” Ade said. “Pip. ”

Kris hadn’t planned on asking.

“We go way back.” Ade lifted a minuscule amount of egg to his mouth, knocked most of it back onto the plate with his top lip and swallowed with a grimace.

Kris averted his eyes, no desire to watch Ade eat, particularly as he seemed self-conscious doing so in front of someone else. The script was a handy tactical retreat, and it wouldn’t hurt to go through his lines…yet again. He’d never forgotten them during a performance, but that didn’t diminish his fear that he might, which was higher than usual. For some bizarre reason, it mattered to him that he didn’t embarrass himself in front of Ade.

I’m working on the play with you today , Ade had said. One of the other actors? Kris’s script only indicated his part, not who was cast in the other roles. Production team? He couldn’t very well ask the question when the guy was eating—or trying to eat was a more accurate description, and the little progress he had made with his breakfast came to a complete stop when he realised Kris was looking at him again. Rumbled, Kris blushed.

“Sorry. I was wondering…” His explanation petered out when Ade flinched and pressed his hand to his cheek. “Toothache?” Kris guessed.

Ade tilted his head from side to side—a ‘kind of’ response—and pushed his plate away. He gestured to the script. “What do you think?”

“It’s fab. I’ve been in one of O’Connor’s plays before—the one about the air crew and the passenger who gives birth during the flight. I can’t remember what it’s called. I think I’ve used up all my memory on my lines.” Kris smiled nervously.

“You’ve learnt your lines?”

“Yeah. I always do, and then I forget them all again, until I have to perform them for real. Like now? If you were to ask me to recite any of the script, I’d fluff it within about three words. Once I get into the studio? No problem.”

“We have digital editions in the studio, so no page-turning… ”

“I know, I know. I just prefer to learn them beforehand. It gives me a better chance of getting properly into role. So would I be right in thinking you’re part of the production team?”

“Yes,” Ade confirmed. “As in it’s my team.”

“You’re the producer?”

Ade nodded.

“Cool.” That did nothing to settle Kris’s nerves. He sidetracked. “I wish I could remember the name of that play.”

“The one about the plane?”

“Yeah. Do you know the one I mean?”

“I do. And you’ll to kick yourself when I tell you.”

Kris made one last concerted effort to remember and shook his head.

“ Air Born .”

“Of course!” He laughed at his temporary stupidness. “I wouldn’t mind, but it was only a couple of years ago.”

“I don’t think I caught that, but I have heard you as Doctor Derbyshire. You’re a talented actor.”

“Thanks, although it’s an easy role…” Kris sighed and reconsidered his comment. “I probably shouldn’t say this to someone from a rival station, but it’s not a good work environment there, which is why I auditioned for On Sunday . I’m considering going for some TV auditions too.”

Ade nodded in approval. “You’d go far, especially with the obsession with Scandinavian shows at the moment. That’s a guess on my part…”

“You guessed right,” Kris said. “I’m Swedish, but I grew up in England.”

“Hence no accent.”

“No, but I can fake it if I have to.”

“Like a Swedish ’Allo, ’Allo! ” Ade mused.

Kris laughed. “Can you imagine?”

“A BAFTA winner, for sure.”

“Oh, totally.”

“Plus, if you don’t mind me saying, you are a handsome man. ”

Kris smiled, bashful but flattered. “Why would I mind you saying that?”

“Some people don’t like it—a man telling another man he thinks he’s good-looking?”

“Hey, I’ll take compliments however they’re packaged.”

Both of them laughed at that, until Ade drew in breath sharply and squeezed his eyes shut. Whatever was going on with him, he was clearly in a lot of pain.

“Have you taken anything for that…toothache or whatever it is?” Kris asked.

“No. I meant to buy painkillers on the way in but forgot.”

“I’ve got some.” Kris picked up his bag from the seat next to him and rooted out the packet. “They’re co-codamol. Is that OK?”

Ade took the offered pills, poking them between his lips with his fingertip and following up with the smallest slurp of coffee.

“You probably know already,” Kris said carefully, “but you have bruises.”

“Have I? Where?”

Kris indicated on his own face, positioning his fingertips and thumb either side of his chin.

A flash of pure horror passed over Ade’s features, so quick Kris would’ve missed it if he hadn’t been staring straight at him, but then Ade rolled his eyes. “That’s the last time I down so much wine on a work night.”

Never mind BAFTAs or ARIAs. Ade should’ve been starring in the play, not producing it, because that performance was award-winning. Kris might’ve been mistaken, but Ade didn’t seem the type to get into drunken brawls, and those bruises, four on one side of his jaw, one on the other, were from someone who’d got up close and very personal.

“Anyway, I disturbed your rehearsal,” Ade said, standing. “I’ll leave—”

“No, don’t,” Kris interrupted. It was a fight not to reach out and offer comfort, lay a hand on Ade’s, something he’d never do without permission even with people he knew well, but… He couldn’t explain it, and now he’d made the situation more awkward by pressuring Ade to stay.

“I mean, don’t go on my account.”

“If you’re sure…”

“Really.”

Ade sat back down and took out his phone. “I’ll take a look at my checklist for today. Give you some peace.” He winked.

Kris smiled, though his heart was still racing from the total hash he’d made of what should’ve been a casual coffee with the producer. The trouble was it felt more than casual, and he was staring again. He put a stop to that right away and dug into the script, but the words were a nonsense blur, so he reverted to looking out the window, pretending he wasn’t aware of every little move Ade made. Typing on his screen. Scrolling. A sip of coffee. Another sharp inhale when he touched the biggest of the bruises on his jaw.

Inevitably, Kris’s gaze drifted back to Ade, who immediately put his phone face down on the table and attempted a smile.

“I need to tell you about the thing,” he said.

“The thing?” Kris shook his head. “It’s none of my business.”

“No!” Ade’s eyebrows shot up in alarm, a coppery auburn, same as his hair. He grunted and bashed his forehead with his fist, flattening some of the short, gelled spikes. “I didn’t mean…” He held up his hands, gesturing to himself. “It’s a me thing. Nothing sinister.”

“OK?”

“I always tell new people…well, not always . But…” Ade rolled his eyes again. This time, he wasn’t hamming it up.

Kris sat back and folded his arms, still a little worried what Ade was about to reveal, although it was refreshing to meet someone who shared his gift for cocking up conversations.

“I mean, I don’t bother if I’m just buying a coffee in a new café or, I don’t know, exchanging hellos with someone I’ll never meet again or…” Ade stopped rambling. “I have a speech impediment.”

“You do? ”

“Yes.”

“Sorry. I wasn’t doubting you. I just didn’t notice.”

“No. You wouldn’t, because I’m careful with how I speak. It only affects one letter. Well, the sound of it.”

“Would it be weird if I try to work it out?”

Ade shrugged. He seemed amused that Kris would want to.

“It is weird, isn’t it? Never mind.”

“It’s kind of funny, but a nice change. Most people get all edgy and shifty-eyed when I mention it. Anyway, you go ahead.”

Kris accepted the invitation at face value and replayed what Ade had said so far. “OK. Your ‘S’s are fine. ‘Th’? No—you pronounced ‘thing’ correctly.” He was unpicking their conversation like it was a script, looking for something that wasn’t there while trying not to cringe at his own contributions, including this one. “Is it…‘R’?”

“Yep.”

“Woohoo,” Kris cheered quietly. Ade laughed and made a decent show of hiding that it was killing him. “That’s a pretty common letter. It must be hard to avoid.”

“Like I say, it’s the sound of it but only in certain words. There’s a name for the condition, which I can’t say because guess what? It contains that sound! I can usually…circumvent with cunning use of synonyms.”

“That’s brilliant!”

“Thanks?” Ade’s eyebrows rose again, but this time in definite amusement. “However, faced with communicating with an actor whose name contains that letter…”

“Ah. Sorry.” Kris felt terrible, as if he was to blame for choosing his given name. “If it’s easier, you can call me K or KJ or even Mr. Johansson.”

Ade smiled. “Thanks, but I have to get it over with sooner or later. It’s just a little less of a nightmare doing it this way. And now I can see you analysing what I say.”

Kris blushed. “Sorry. And I seriously need to stop apologising.”

“I don’t mind you analysing or apologising, but so you’ve heard me say it, let’s start again.” Ade held out his hand for it to be shaken. Kris accepted. Looking him right in the eyes, Ade said, “Hi, Kris, I’m Adrian Simmons, but I prefer Ade. I’m the producer.”

Kris held the eye contact, enthralled. He couldn’t stop the smile as he said, “Hello, Ade. I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“The feeling is mutual, but I’m afraid I really do need to go and start setting up.” Ade rose to his feet. “You’re welcome to come with me.”

“I will,” Kris said. “And on the way, you can tell me how you came to be working in radio production.”