“Come on, you can’t say something like that and then not spill the details.” He wagged his finger at her, undeterred.
She bit her lip. “Alice…isn’t exactly my name. At least, not my full name.” Rupert leaned forward, but Alice still hesitated. “You can’t tell, I’m warning you.”
“Scout’s honor.”
“And I’m only divulging this in the service of baby naming, as a cautionary tale.” Alice continued. She wasn’t even exaggerating: nobody but her parents—and now, Alice supposed, Ella—had ever known the full horror of her birth name. By the time it came to her christening, even her father had seen sense and ensured that the elderly vicar welcomed plain Alice Love into the world.
Rupert waited. “Now I’m really intrigued.”
Taking a deep breath, Alice admitted, “My real name is actually Alicia. Well, Persephone Angelique Alicia Love.” She recited the name like the prison sentence it was.
Rupert blinked. “Wow. Um.” He coughed. “Wow.”
Alice nodded slowly. There was a method to the madness, she’d been assured. Her mother had wanted an exceptional name for what would surely be an exceptional child, and matching the goddess of the underworld with a more heavenly name made perfect sense. By modern London standards, it wasn’t particularly shocking, but twenty-nine years ago, in their small Sussex village? It was only the memory of his recently departed mother that made her father Richard tack on the last, simpler name, thus saving little Persephone from a childhood of woe surrounded by Kates, Angelas, and Stephanies in the local school.
“So, you see, it may be tempting to bow to every one of Keisha’s wishes now, when she’s highly-strung and emotional, but trust me,” Alice warned Rupert, thinking of her own blushes every time a new teacher pulled out her records, until finally she insisted Persephone Angelique be banished altogether. “Little Napoleon will be cursing you every day of his life if you let her have her way.”
“Right. Yes, well…Wow.” Rupert was still recovering. Alice didn’t blame him. The name had never fit her, any more than the ribbon-trimmed bonnets that plagued her early years. Her mother had given her what she wanted for herself, a mark of someone extraordinary, and Alice—even the small, wide-eyed child—had never really been that.
“Anyway, enough about me. What about you? Any new projects lined up?” Alice was so eager to change the subject, she realized too late she’d plunged them straight into even more contentious waters.
Rupert shrugged, pushing back his flop of fringe with an absent gesture. “Nothing to speak of…There was a callback a few weeks ago. I told you about it, I think?”
“Mmm…” Alice made a noncommittal noise, busying herself with her cake.
“It doesn’t matter. I didn’t get it in the end.” Rupert sighed. “I was so sure too…But that’s how it goes, I guess. You never know what they’re looking for.”
Alice stopped chewing. Vivienne had assured her Rupert knew full well about the switch, but looking at Rupert, so downcast, Alice’s conscience returned, with annoying clarity.
“You don’t know what happened with the part?” she asked, just to be certain.
Rupert frowned. “What do you mean?”
Alice paused. Vivienne would kill her if she knew. No, Vivienne would have her checking foreign residual payments for all eternity. But Rupert had signed a contract with Grayson Wells, a small voice reminded her, for them to act in his best interests. And if Vivienne wasn’t going to hold up her end of the agreement…
Alice felt a surprising flash of determination. Fuck Vivienne.
“They gave the role to Nick Savage. Do you know him?”
Rupert shook his head.
“He’s a new signing at Grayson Wells,” she explained carefully. “He’ll be working for less than scale. Vivienne arranged it.” Alice paused, and then, just to be absolutely clear, she said it again. “Vivienne arranged it all.”
Rupert’s eyes widened in recognition. “But…” He trailed off. “Why would…? I mean, she didn’t say…”
Alice didn’t blame him for his surprise. The client-agent relationship was a tricky one, but it was based on a foundation of blind, unquestioning trust. Your agent told you to grow a moustache and learn a Russian accent? You did it. Your agent said to hold out for another two percent? You swallowed that panic and obeyed. And if your agent said that there were no jobs going and that they were doing absolutely everything they could? Well, you believed it.
“Are you sure?” Rupert said it quietly, as if even questioning Vivienne’s wisdom was sacrilege.
Alice nodded. Now that she was actually doing this, breaking all the codes of confidentiality, it didn’t feel the way she’d thought it would—like a victory. No, it felt like she was trampling the hopes of a good man. She braced herself. “This guy, Nick, he’s the new number one priority. He’s you, but…younger, flashier, an utter arsehole.”
“So in other words, the perfect leading man.” Rupert was deflating in front of her very eyes, shrinking back into the upholstery and becoming smaller, paler somehow.
“Look, she shouldn’t have been putting you up for those roles in the first place.” Alice leaned forward. “You’re not cut to be the dashing hero, and I think you know it.”
“Thanks.” He looked hurt.
“Come on, Rupert, you know what I mean. They’re all, what, six three, with chiseled bone structures and muscular thighs?” Alice made a face. “You’ve got something different—you have the best comic timing, and there’s a…quirky charm about you.”
Rupert was still slumped there, as if she were giving him an “it’s not you, it’s me” breakup speech, but Alice pressed on. She knew what she was talking about, despite what Vivienne may think. “I’m telling you, change things around, start going for the sidekick roles: the best friend. It wouldn’t be your name getting first billing, but you’d steal every scene.”
He gave her a weak smile. “Or maybe I should just jack it all in. I’ve been tutoring, to bring some extra money in, and I could teach, perhaps…” Rupert’s face took on a tint of despair as he contemplated a future away from stage and screen.
Alice fixed him with a stare. “You shouldn’t give up. This is hard, I know, but it’ll just take some work.” And a new agent. The words hung between them, unspoken.