Yowzah Oneshot Collection (2)

183(M)Mattex

                       Fixed point

imaginationandheartbreak (alexgrey)

It’s an area of London she has always loved a little bit, truthfully… walking past the creamy buildings, Bentleys out front, High St. with a decent bakery. But God, she’d also thought Islington was so boring when she was at RADA… a horrid, stale kind of life. But now? Things change.

Alex walked with purpose toward the Almeida, ticket in hand.  Ticket? God… yes… an actual ticket. She’d thought about calling Matt, just asking to be put on a guest list, but somehow it seemed too forward… there was a distance between them that she’d invited, cultivated even, and now, well, it was coming back to bite.  The show had been sold out and it had been forever since she’d had to get tickets to anything and she’d finally had to call her agent to do it.  She was only in town two nights and was hardly going to moon around the stage door without actually seeing him sing.

Sing? She gathered. God, he was lovely and brave. She’d seen the publicity stills, too, and had marveled at his body – how could that also be him? – before settling her gaze on his eyes… last, late… a bit scandalous, maybe, to be so fixed on the smooth skin of his stomach, imagining herself kneeling in front of him, looking up, pressing a hot kiss to his thigh, her reaching hand… that she had almost skipped his face altogether.

Shaking her head she rounds the bend to the Upper St. and presses on toward the theatre. What did she want? Him.  So simple.  And so disastrously complicated.  She. Wanted.  And it would be a disaster because she’d already told him no. Absolutely no.  It would have been a very hot and very glorious fuck, but her heart had betrayed her cunt and she’d said… no.  Not even just no, but absolutely, shut-the-door no.  How do you shut a door and lock it?  By saying any two of these things, in any combination: ‘grow up’, ‘you only think you do’,  ‘yes, I’ve had better offers. Even just this morning’,  ‘that kiss meant nothing. We’re actors, ’ ‘No, I don’t feel it.’  Fuck.  She’d said all of them. Another beautiful, perfectly-executed plan, Alex.  Be careful of what you wish for, she thinks, adjusting her bra and smiling, in spite of herself, when the theatre itself comes into view.

Anything can happen in live theatre. The Almeida is tiny, really, she thinks – and it’s exactly what she loves: audience so close to the stage you can see them in certain lights.  She ducks immediately into the bar, left of the front doors, orders a large glass of Ravenswood and just plants herself, back to the crowd and it’s ridiculous, but her breath is already speeding up and she’s nervous like she’s the one about to go on stage.  Bloody hell. She tries to nurse the drink but the theatre is so tiny they still haven’t opened the doors with 15 minutes to go so she orders another. Finally the doors open and she gets inside, front row (note: send agent flowers) and she can feel someone take a picture but just doesn’t turn.   In two hours she will say hello to him. 

Finally the music starts and soon Matt emerges through the floor, wearing nothing but underwear and there, safe in the dark, she can just ogle him and listen to that ridiculous accent – he could be anyone.  ‘You can be what I need, Matt’ she almost says aloud.  The theatre is so small and she is so close she almost thinks he’ll recognize her… but she knows what it’s like behind those footlights, the focus. He’s staring out into the balcony.

But then something with the lighting changes…. And he’s looking right at her section, breaking the fourth wall.  “You like…” he begins… oh, fuck… he is staring at her.  Is this supposed to happen?  Of course it’s supposed to happen … it’s commercial theatre.  No mistakes.  But he sees her. And he’s clearly startled.  “Nice tits” he manages, smiling lecherously before continuing: “You like… “ he gives the audience time to imagine what she likes and they STARE and he gestures to the set behind him  “… the painting.”  He ends with a triumphant smirk. Audience laughter.  And she can barely think.  Does he always say that? Does he really know it’s her?  The play is glorious but she’s now officially a mess. If she’s thrown him off he’ll kill her.  And was he being sarcastic about the tits? Damn.