The gleam in Richard’s eyes took on a more dangerous aspect. “Define rubbed.”
Her indignation beat a swift retreat at that look. It indicated he would shortly be happy to define right hook for Will. “It was just Will mucking about for the cameras, as usual.” She didn’t mention the Crystalle breakup or the belated show of remorse. There was an even chance that Will been knocking back whiskies in his limo and didn’t mean a word of it. She would bet her entire twenty pounds that he left the venue tonight with another woman, regardless.
“How was your speech?” she asked, determinedly changing the subject. “Were you audible? Eloquent? Sober?” She grinned at him. “I envision a standing ovation and at least one pair of knickers being thrown.”
“That would have been disconcerting.” Richard’s mouth twitched reluctantly. “Given that I was addressing the almost entirely male body of the Westminster Operatic Guild. And there wasn’t a woman there under the age of sixty-five.”
“I’m sure that’s the prime age for knicker-tossing,” Lainie said. “They would have practised their overarm throw during the height of Beatlemania. You’re almost as cute as Ringo Starr.”
Richard looked into his glass. “I think I need something stronger.”
She pushed a bowl toward him. “Have a wasabi nut.”
Without ever having been to a major awards show, Lainie considered herself a veteran. She live-streamed the Oscars, BAFTAs, Tonys, Emmys and Golden Globes every year, and she didn’t always mute the speeches or take tea breaks. She had been not-so-secretly incredibly excited about tonight, despite the fact that she was only nominated for an ensemble cast gong, which she couldn’t fool herself was anything but resting on the laurels of Richard, Will and Chloe. It was still her first nomination. Of many, she told herself, looking around the glitzy, crowded room. She would take a note from Richard’s book of self-confidence and feel inspired and ambitious instead of small and unworthy.
By the three-quarter mark of the ceremony, the effervescent buzz had dulled to a halfhearted fizz. It turned out that sitting on an uncomfortable chair for three hours, intermittently clapping and having to listen in polite silence to the long acceptance speeches, was dull. A fast-forward button wouldn’t go astray. And they lost the ensemble category, although the award went to a production that Lainie had enjoyed so much she couldn’t be totally sorry.
As the winner for the best one-man show giggled self-consciously into the microphone, Lainie heard Richard let out a heavy, annoyed breath. She glanced over at him. He appeared to be playing both sides of an improvised chess match with the leftover wasabi nuts. She hid a smile, and he scowled at her when she ate one of his pawns.
“This is your category,” she muttered when the host returned to the stage. “Sit up and quit fiddling with your nuts.”
The elderly scion of the RSC snorted a laugh into his napkin. Richard looked unamused.
She hadn’t been looking forward to the announcement of this particular award. Both Will and Richard had been nominated for a leading actor statue, Will for The Cavalier’s Tribute and Richard for his most-recent-but-one role in a festival run of Richard III at the Old Vic. It seemed likely to prove an awkward few minutes no matter who won. She had weighed the other nominated performances and decided that none of them were of the same calibre. And unfortunately she had come to the conclusion that, in a fair judgement, there was only one possible winner this year.
The voting panel had agreed with her.
Richard’s face was completely blank as Will went up to the stage to collect his trophy, but there was a telltale flicker in his jaw. First warning sign of an almighty male sulk.
The Cavalier’s Tribute scooped another major award with Alexander Bennett taking the directorial honour. Lainie was thrilled on behalf of the production. She managed to muster some goodwill toward Bennett himself, although he made the task more difficult by giving the smuggest speech of the night. He could do with learning from Richard II’s mistakes. It was wiser not to compare oneself to a deity.
When the host closed the prize-giving portion of the evening and directed everyone’s attention toward the bar, there was a mass rising of bodies and an immediate outburst of chatter. Lainie turned toward Richard. “I’m sorry you didn’t win.”
He grunted, and she continued serenely, “Although you can’t say it was unexpected.”
That woke him out of his disgruntled apathy. His dark brows snapped thunderously together. “What?”