Silver Screens and Broken Dreams (Echoes of Us #2)

8.

“Love is always patient and kind. It is never jealous. Love is never boastful or conceited. It is never rude or selfish. It does not take offence and is not resentful. Love takes no pleasure in other people’s sins, but delights in the truth. It is always ready to excuse, to trust, to hope, and to endure whatever comes.” - 1 Corinthians 13:4-7

Austin

E ight months later

This production schedule is killing me, I thought as the director yelled cut and called time for the day. I looked around Sound Stage Six on the premises of Graywood Studios in London, currently made up to look like the interior of a highly technologically advanced surgical theatre. There were laser scalpels, tablets that could scan a person’s body, giving detailed descriptions of internal injury and disease, and needleless syringes that from what I'd been told used high-pressure sonic blasts to propel medications through the layers of skin without the aid of sharps. All of these things were currently lying on the wide props table covered in blood and gore.

I’d been filming this futuristic space-based medical drama for the last fourteen weeks, directly after coming off another project, also filmed in the same studios, where I played a Professor of Music in an indie movie that I'd been told was picking up some good buzz during the run-up to awards season.

I’d moved directly over to this new project where I was currently playing a surgeon who, as it turned out in a surprise twist that surprised absolutely no one, was an undercover operative for an alien race looking to take over the world. I wandered out of the studio towards the make up trailer to have them remove the forehead and neck prosthetics that apparently made me an alien.

“You have two whole days off,” Ginny the make-up lady grinned at my reflection in the mirror, “what are you going to do with all that time off?”

“I have zero plans,” I beamed back at her. “I plan to go home, take a very long bath, pour myself a glass of wine, get into bed with a nice steamy romance book and fall asleep early.”

“Woah there Diane Lane.” I grimaced and squeezed my eyes shut, already seeing my plans flying out the currently open make-up trailer door. “You aren’t a middle-aged woman and we have no plans to be under any Tuscan sun this evening.”

“Kyle, what the hell are you doing here?” I smiled, lifting my fist to bump his. “Last time I heard you were off to Paris to walk in Karlos’ show.”

“Don’t talk to me about that knobhead,” Kyle growled, leaning forward to pick up a lip-plumping kit from the table in front of me. Ginny smacked his hands away and shooed him backwards.

“Knobhead?” I chuckled. “You have spent far too much time in the UK.” Ginny chuckled, picking up a bottle of adhesive remover from the desk and dabbed it on my face with a cotton wool bud.

“Anyway, Paris was like three weeks ago. I’ve been a few places since then.” Kyle crouched down next to me and primped his hair in the mirror, accepting the fact that he would just be annoying Ginny with his mere existence.

Kyle hadn't been too pleased about my decision to move across the pond to ol’ Blighty. So much so that he said he would just have to rent a place with me in central London, to make sure I did come back home once filming finished. This had been the plan until the studio offered this new movie to me as I was finishing the last project. I barely got a chance to see him as his agent had him flying around the world to walk in whatever fashion house paid the highest.

“So what happened with Karlos?” I prodded gingerly. “The last I heard he was a sartorial genius and you were honoured to be in his presence.”

“Yeah, that was until he came on my face and left my hotel room before I managed to wipe it off.”

Ginny choked on air, leaning over whilst holding my shoulder. “Jaysus,” she croaked, the Irish lilt to her voice still strong as ever, “warn a girl before you choke her.”

“Amen, sister,” Kyle muttered, spraying his face with a setting mist he'd plucked off her table.

“Okay, so you won’t be working with Karlos again,” I sighed. I worried about Kyle and his career. He wasn’t shy of sleeping with whichever photographer or fashion designer he took a fancy to, no matter what reputation he might pick up along the way.

“I didn’t say that,” he shrugged. “He is still a genius. I’ll put him on my body, just not in my body.”

“So what’s the plan, big man?” I smiled as Ginny got back to work on my forehead.

“Well, I am back for a few weeks now. I have a show coming up for swimwear, so I need to bulk up and then shred for a couple of weeks before the show.” Seemingly pleased with the job he had done on his face, he stood and grabbed a stool from behind him, sliding it under his butt and taking a seat.

“So nothing but lean meat and fish for you soon, then?” I reached across and squeezed his knee.

“Don’t remind me,” he shuddered. “That’s why I’m here. We need to go out.”

Yeah, my plans were officially off the premises, flown away on a strong breeze and are now somewhere over the Scottish Highlands. “Why do your plans have to involve me?”

“Because you’re my best friend and I need my wingman with me tonight.” I felt a heaviness settle in my gut. It dawned on me that Kyle might have set his sight on yet another rung in his professional career, and I was about to be used as a draw to reel in some unsuspecting victim for him to climb.

“Kyle!” I groaned, resigned to the fact that, no matter my protest, I was about to be roped into one of his impulsive escapades.

“Austin!” he playfully mimicked my whine, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“I’ve only got a couple of days off from all this.” I gestured to the prosthetics still clinging to my face, attempting to frown beneath the layers of latex and glue. “I just wanted to retreat from the world, take a breather, you know?”

“Well, you can save that for tomorrow while you’re nursing the hangover from tonight,” he declared, clapping his hands together with a sense of finality, as though that settled the matter.

“So, where else have you been?” I asked as Ginny stored the strips of textured latex and silicone in plastic containers.

Kyle’s eyes darted around the room, looking anywhere but at me. “Oh, you know, here and there.” He picked imaginary fluff from his trousers and threw a fake-ass smile my way. Kyle had never been much of a good liar, which is why I’d never suggested him for any roles or cameos on the shows I’d been a part of. Couldn’t act his way out of a wet paper bag.

“Okay… like where?”

“Paris, Italy, Singapore, Morocco and New York.” He mumbled 'New York' in such a way that led me to believe there was more of a story there.

“Kyle, what aren’t you telling me?” I turned my head to face him, earning me a quick slap on the side of the head from Ginny.

“Keep still, ya big eejit,” Ginny scolded. “If these tings rip, you’re gonna be sitting in this chair two hours before you’re meant to come Monday!”

I mumbled a quick apology to the pissed-off Irish lady and swiftly kicked Kyle in the leg. “Out with it.”

Sighing deeply, his shoulders sagged as he began, “Well, I was at a general industry party for a few big advertisers and magazines. You know, the type of party I’m talking about.” And I did. Several times a year, some studio head or publishing house would throw a big soirée and invite the who’s who of Tinsel Town and the Big Apple. It was a chance for advertisers to catch wind of what new shows, movies and TV shows were coming down the pipeline, and offer sponsorship and brand deals for their products to appear in whatever prime-time piece of real estate they could get their greasy little paws on. Magazine editor-in-chiefs tended to invite the top models of the season or the new kids walking the catwalk to attract advertisers and fashion houses to come along and scout out models for their next big shows. I’d been at enough of these events where I’d fielded several offers from rival production companies and agents trying to poach me from my current team.

“Okay, so that’s nothing new.” I shrugged. Finishing up, Ginny patted me on my shoulder and gave me some final advice about getting the remaining bits of adhesive from my eyebrows before quickly rolling up her kit and exiting the trailer. “So what was so special about this party to make you so cagey about it?”

“Well, have you heard that Jax Conway is about to star in a new cop drama set in New York?” I had heard some rumblings about a new show that was going to be airing in the fall about a gay cop. It wasn’t the first time that a show had featured a gay character, but several industry insiders were touting this show as something special to watch out for. There had been a scramble amongst the agents, trying to get their clients any part in the first season. The network had approached me about a part in the first season, but my hectic schedule hadn’t allowed it, so I’d had to decline.

“What do you know about the creative team?” He eyed me nervously.

“Nothing at all. The only thing I know about it is what my agent told me, and that was next to nothing.” I collected my phone and a few items from the desk and placed them into my brown leather messenger bag at my feet.

Kyle pulled out his phone and tapped away on the screen for a few seconds before handing it off to me. “Here,” he said simply, gesturing towards the lit-up phone in my hand.

“Exuding allure, intensity, and an edge of peril, Amore Blue has captivated critics with its tagline promise of being ‘Sexy, Sizzling & Seriously Dangerous.’ Set to become the crowning jewel in Howard Hughes’ Thursday night line-up, this up-and-coming police procedural drama is generating quite the buzz. So, what’s the inside scoop on the show that has everyone talking?

First and foremost, Hollywood heartthrob and all-round action star Jax Conway takes the lead in the role of Nico Amore, setting the stage for a riveting performance. Amore Blue pledges to immerse viewers in the gritty underbelly of the sprawling metropolis that is New York City. From the upper echelons of white-collar crime in towering skyscrapers to the raw realities of street-level gang violence and clandestine drug operations, the series aims to explore every facet of the city’s criminal landscape.

Curious about what the inaugural season has in store, we caught up with the mastermind behind Amore Blue , creator and showrunner Dylan Cooper. In an exclusive interview, Cooper provided insight into the thrilling narrative and pulse-pounding scenarios that viewers can anticipate in the show’s premiere season. Amore Blue seems poised to deliver an immersive and multifaceted portrayal of New York’s criminal underworld, promising an electrifying ride for fans of police procedural dramas.”

“Dylan?!” My voice turned unnaturally high-pitched, so much so that it scratched the back of my throat, making me cough and splutter. “What the fuck?” I realized at that moment that because of my stupid shooting schedule, I'd missed out on an opportunity to work one on one with fucking Dylan. A tsunami of loss washed over me, making me sink back into my chair. “Dylan?”

“Yeah, that what’s I was going to talk to you about later.” Kyle laid a hand on my shoulder. “I ran into him and some of the other cast and crew of his new show.”

“You ran into Dylan?” I craned my neck to look at him, strangely jealous that he got to be in the same room as the man I loved, whereas the last time I got to see him, he'd been fleeing a high school.

Kyle nodded. “Yeah, I didn’t expect to see him and from the look on his face, he certainly didn’t expect to see me.” I chuckled, picturing exactly what his face must have looked like when he came face to face with one of his arch-nemeses.

“Was he… I mean, I don’t know if you guys had a chance to… But did he say…. I mean, maybe I don’t want to know.”

Kyle shook his head sadly. “Austin, I spent around ten minutes chatting with him. He made it quite clear when I showed up that he did not want to discuss anything about your relationship with me.”

My heart sank deeper into the earth. “So, what did you talk about?”

Kyle started to open his mouth to speak when I suddenly realized I couldn’t take it anymore. “No, actually don’t. I just can’t talk about him right now. It’s too hard.” I laid my hand on my chest and felt my heart rate increase. “It’s clear that he wants nothing to do with me, and I have to respect that. I have to get over him, and I’ve spent a long time forcing myself not to look him up or see what he has been up to because it’s just so damn hard.”

“Austin, I’m…” Kyle’s head bowed, as if he couldn’t bear to meet my stare.

“What?”

“Listen, I promise I won’t talk about it any more than this, but I have to say something, for my sake, more than yours.”

Intrigued, I turned to face him.

“I’m sorry." Confused, I gestured for him to continue. “It was the same thing I said to Dylan when we chatted. I didn’t give him a chance at college. I always thought that having someone you were so connected to was stopping you from having the true college experience and maybe I was right, but it was a worthwhile trade-off. You had your soulmate and I guess I was jealous. I didn’t make it easy for the two of you back then, and neither did my brother.”

My hackles rose at the mention of his brother, whom I now considered the catalyst for the beginning of the end of my relationship with Dylan. The break-up had all been my fault, but we'd been fine before that.

“Kyle, listen…”

“No, let me finish.” He powered through. “Dylan was and is a good guy. You know, he thanked me before we parted ways at the party. He said he was glad that you had someone who was looking out for you. He said that he didn’t like to think of you alone in the world and the fact that you still had me gave him some peace.”

“Fuck Kyle.” I didn’t dare say anything else in case the dam broke and I crumbled into a thousand pieces.

“You made a mistake, Austin, and I’m the one who helped you make it.” I hated him for a second in that moment. “If you ever get your chance with him again, you hold on tight and never let him get away.”

I didn’t think I ever would get my shot with my Dylan again. If wishes came true and he even so much as hinted that I had a shot with him again, I would give up everything and everyone for just one more day with him. For one more Sunday morning cuddle. To be waiting on the sofa for him when he got back home from his shift at the coffee shop, to feel that kiss on my forehead before he hung up his jacket. I would give up all my success and every dime I had made to feel his hand in mine. To feel the warmth of his smiles and the safety and shelter of his love.

“Kyle, I appreciate the sentiment, but I have one request from you right now,” I begged.

“Anything buddy,” he smiled.

“Please take me out and get me very, very drunk,” I sighed.

“Now that I can do!”

I slowly came awake the next morning with a pounding in my head akin to that of a jackhammer against my temples. Shocked at the intensity of the pain in my skull, my hands flew to my head, pressing downwards as if to stop my brain from exploding across the room. My stomach rolled and I forcefully pried my eyes open to find myself not in my apartment, but in some strange room that looked like every roadside hotel I’d ever had the unfortunate pleasure of being a guest in. Saving my freak-out about how I got there till after I'd emptied the contents of my stomach in the nearest toilet, I rushed to the en suite bathroom and took care of that particularly urgent task.

Swilling out my mouth and brushing my teeth with a plastic toothbrush in a thin plastic wrapper and the tiniest tube of toothpaste I’ve ever seen, I stumbled back to the bed. I saw my clothes and shoes discarded on the floor, my wallet and keys strewn on the nightstand alongside a paper wrapper with a half-eaten dinner kebab. That explains the violent evacuation of my stomach, I thought as I tossed the remnants of the mystery food into the trash can.

Snatching up my phone, I fell backwards onto the bed. Regretting this sudden movement immediately, I groaned, clutching my stomach and shimmying backwards up the bed until my head rested against the flat off-white pillow. Sliding open my phone, I dialed the last called number, which, as it turns out, I'd dialed four times late last night as well.

“Good morning Princess,” the cheerful voice said at the end of the line.

“How do you sound so awake? I feel like I’ve been forced through a meat grinder.”

Kyle’s chuckle only served to irritate me more. “You told me to get you very drunk, and I fulfilled my brief there.”

I leaned across and grabbed a bottle of water from the mini-fridge underneath the bedside table. Quickly unscrewing the lid, I poured the sweet hydrating nectar down my throat, swilling away the remnants of toothpaste and last night’s mystery meat in pitta bread. “No shit Sherlock,” I grumbled, “what the hell was I drinking?”

“Well, after a few lagers, you told me that British beer tasted like warmed-up piss and demanded that I buy a bottle of tequila and then drank most of it,” he said, thereby solving the last clue in the mystery of violent heaving into the hotel bathroom. Flashes of last night came rushing back to me. Being in a club, dancing on the floor with a variety of men, drinking far too heavily and Kyle yanking my phone out of my hands for some reason.

“Did you steal my phone at some point?” I glanced at the phone in my hands to make sure I had, in fact, the correct phone.

“Yes, that was kind of necessary to save your dignity, the respect of your best friend and your professional career.” He proceeded to, once again, aggravate me by chuckling down the phone as if my brain wasn’t currently oozing out of my ears.

“Do I want to know?” I rubbed at my temples with my free hand.

“Well, it all started when you said you were completely over Dylan. You said that if he could get over you so quickly, then you could do the same. Which lasted exactly fifteen seconds, at which point you started to wail and cry in the middle of the club that you loved him and didn’t want to get over him. It was at this point that I saw several cameras fly up out of nowhere and press record. Against the vehement insistence that you wanted to ‘ be with the people’ , I spoke with a bouncer who escorted us into the VIP area.”

“Oh, shit,” I wailed, sitting up and pressing my back hard into the headboard.

“Oh, I’m not done,” he chirped, “it was at this point in the evening when you told me that videoing your love would be the best idea. You were halfway through a TikTok video professing your undying love for your ex-boyfriend when I wrestled the phone out of your hands.”

“Kyle, I’m so sorry,” I moaned, my arm wrapping around my midriff to stop any further violent rumblings.

“Again,” he sang, “I’m not done. I’ve just sent you a news article.”

Panicked, I looked at my phone and clicked on the link he'd just forwarded me. There in all my shameful glory was a picture of me with my shirt undone, sweating profusely and open-mouth kissing Kyle behind a red velvet rope. Whilst the shock of seeing my lips on Kyle’s was somewhat jarring, it wasn't the picture that had the blood draining from my face. No, it was the caption underneath.

“The sounds of broken hearts are on the rise around the world as none other than Austin Ridge steps out with artist boyfriend Kevin Richards, brother of modelling hunk Kyle Richards.”

“Fucking Kevin?” I bellowed down the phone, jumping out of bed and shimmying into my trousers.

“Yeah, that was the other thing,” Kyle sucked air in through his teeth, “I maybe told the paparazzi guy that snapped that photo that I was my brother.”

“Why the hell would you do that?” I shouted angrily at the phone.

“Well, because my agent said it’s not a good look for me to be whoring it around on page eleven anymore, and you don’t have a twin, so I couldn’t pretend you were someone else.”

Pulling my shirt over my head I sank back down onto the bed. “Man, this is all so fucked.” My phone vibrated with a message. I pulled the handset away from my ear and winced as I saw a message from my agent asking for a meeting about my new relationship. “I love you, Kyle, but you have really fucked me over on this one.”

“I know, and I’m so sorry. It seemed like such a good idea last night.” Another message popped through on my phone. Expecting yet another message from my team asking me to come in straight away, I swiped the phone to unlock it.

Hailey: I mean, it surprised me, to say the least, that you have a boyfriend. But Kevin? Come on, man.

Hailey: Anyway , I just wanted you to know that ‘he’ has seen the paper and he told me to tell you that he wishes you guys well. He definitely doesn’t want any contact with you, so please just honor that, yeah?

Hailey: I love you Austin, but you sure know how to make a bad situation worse. Whilst Dylan might not be happy, he is on the road to being happy.

Hailey: Contact me anytime you want. We will always be friends, but please leave him alone now.

I was officially fucked.