Hard Pressed

Chapter 3-2

Gary Caldwell didn’t seem to be above baiting him, and Phillip found that somewhat intriguing. Although having Alex Lasseter stuff him into a cupboard had incensed Phillip, owing to his momentary loss of dignity and recollection of unpleasant times, he’d also been rather amused. He hadn’t told anyone what had happened, and as far as he knew, neither had Alex or Nick. People seldom answered him back. He found it…refreshing. Exasperating, as well. Nonetheless, the only person he’d ever been used to berating him to his face was his father, so having someone new do it was stimulating enough to dilute bad memories and associations.

Not only that, Gary Caldwell…well, something about the man was so damn relaxed; Phillip doubted the actor faked it. He’d woken up that morning, planning to unveil Gary for what he’d found many celebrities to be: insecure individuals at heart. The man always seemed detached, and Phillip had taken that for arrogance. Now he had to rethink. If asked to assess Gary Caldwell right now, he’d have to say the man didn’t give a f**k. Alas, he wasn’t sure that was bad. Gary’s attitude was one of death is a levelling playing field, that everyone was together in this journey called life. He’d arrived thinking Caldwell thought himself as superior to everyone else. He’d be annoyed as hell to discover he was wrong.

“Why do you do that?”

“What?”

“Insult me to my face. Most would assume that’s unwise.”

“I never claimed to be wise.” Gary displayed an irritating, infectious grin—one Phillip struggled against returning. “Anyway, insults…” Gary shrugged. Phillip raised an eyebrow. Gary gave him a lazy look. “Do you really care what anyone thinks of you? Man, you should only care what you think of yourself.”

“Easier said than done.”

“For some.” Gary regarded him. “I take it I’m not what you expected?”

Phillip hesitated, deciding how much to reveal. “On the face of it, no.”

“How so?”

“You’re rather…laid-back.”

Gary laughed. “You needed to spend a morning with me to find that out? What did you envision? Which fork to use for the caviar? Bollocks to all that.” His laughter trailed off, but the amusement remained; his whole expression positively danced. “What if I were to say the same applies in your case?”

“Oh, no,” Phillip said. “What you see is what you get.”

“I doubt that. People are seldom all that they seem. That’s what makes the human race interesting.” Gary glanced at his watch. “I’ll have to get going, or I’ll be late for this read-through.”

“Maybe if you didn’t get up quite so late…”

“Tell it to the guy who didn’t go to bed until three in the morning. I flew back from the States yesterday. I’m a tad jet-lagged.”

Rebuked, Phillip gave Gary a rueful smile.

As they stood to leave, Gary said, “I thought you would have saved your second question for something more searching.”

The smile fled. “That wasn’t…” The sod had tricked him again.

Gary turned back to him, one shoulder braced against the glass door. “Ah, don’t pout.”

Tension flared between Phillip’s shoulders. He was not pouting; he didn’t pout. Despite the pang of annoyance, he wanted to laugh.

Then Gary said, “Maybe the question wasn’t what you wanted to ask, but stick around, and maybe you’ll discover an answer you want to hear.”

While that sounded rather cryptic, the declaration intrigued Phillip enough to make the week ahead rather more interesting than he had anticipated, and it had only just begun. A fleeting twinge of regret took hold of him in a breathtaking grip. If he had no distractions and no agenda, maybe he could enjoy the time spent with Caldwell, but alas, Phillip seldom had anything he wished for granted.