Six Months of Summer
GoodLife Fitness, Downtown Toronto, Canada, March 2016
"Come on, Matthew! Come on, you little bitch! Come on, you fucking pussy! Come on! Do it!"
Matthew groaned, grimacing as he pushed the bar slowly up off of his chest and extended his arms. A group of men gathered around watching him, one of them supposed to be spotting him through the exercise, but who instead seemed to be delighting in his suffering.
"Take it!" Matthew hissed, his arms shaking as his elbows threatened to give out, the bar suspended about halfway from full extension.
"No fucking way," came the reply from the spotter, balancing his hands underneath the bar but refusing to assist. "Push it up! Come on!"
Grunting from the effort, Matthew raised the bar the remaining inches and straightened his arms, pausing for a millisecond before his spotter finally took the bar from him and placed it back on the brackets of the bench.
"225, not bad, Matthew," the spotter noted, nodding his head and smiling as Matthew sat up and shot him a threatening glare.
"You lot are going to kill me one of these days," Matthew grumbled, shaking his head.
The boys laughed as they gathered around him, giving him their congratulations on hitting a new bench press personal best. Smiling ruefully, he went over to the wall and stretched out his arms and chest, then rejoined the group, picked up his water bottle from the floor and took a swig.
"Well, here's to rejoining the ranks of the unemployed!" one man said, raising his water bottle to his fellows. "Anyone got any plans?"
A few of them had jobs waiting for them in other cities. Most of them said they'd be heading back home now and wait for their agents to find them something. They were all living here temporarily, brought to one of the largest cities in North America to play roles in the chorus of the musical production of Beauty and the Beast. With the show's run now over, their services were no longer required and that meant searching for their next job. It was a rather transient existence, with work being relatively unsteady and no idea when their next contract would come in, but they were all used to it after years in the industry. Besides, leaving Toronto wasn't so bad. Though the city was spectacular, it was one of the most expensive cities in the world, and trying to get by on a meagre non-lead actor's salary was hardly easy, or fun.
"What about you, Matthew?" another man asked.
"I've got some money left over from that commercial I did, and there's a few auditions that I'm hoping to get called on," Matthew said. "I'll probably hang around for a month or two and see what comes up. If not, it's back to Manchester."
"Ah, well, United's season'll be over by then if you don't get back soon," one man noted.
"Doesn't matter. They've been rubbish anyway," Matthew complained.
"Figure that Van Gaal will get the sack, do you?" another asked.
"Guaranteed. They can't bring him back, can they? Even if they do qualify for the Champions League," Matthew replied. "They're just waiting until the end of the season. Mourinho will be in charge next year, I'd bet."
"That's a disaster just waiting to happen," one of the men laughed.
"Not necessarily. He's usually quite good in his first year at a club. You know, when he went to Madrid…" Matthew began.
"Hey, hey, check it out, there's my future ex-wife!" the spotter called out, pointing to one of the large television screens on the wall.
The men turned to see what he was talking about. As it was just mid-morning, the televisions were set to either sports highlights, the all-day news channel, or the all-day entertainment channel. He was apparently gesturing to the entertainment channel as a tall woman with dark brown hair was seen standing on a red carpet, a mob of paparazzi firing their cameras away at her, the flashbulbs doing nothing to faze her sharp eyes and sophisticated smile. The caption across the bottom of the screen told the tale as the volume on all the televisions was turned down in favour of dance music.
'Best Dressed from Awards Season: Mary Crawley'
Matthew frowned as a series of videos flashed onscreen, showing Mary wearing various designer dresses at different awards shows over the past month – the Primetime Emmys, the SAG Awards, the Golden Globes, even the BAFTAs back in London. She looked spectacular in all of them, the pose similar each time, her body turned slightly to the side, hand on her hip, chin raised just so, eyes playful, and above all, an elegant smile that was neither too snobby, nor too enthusiastic.
"She's so fucking hot," another man said reverently, shaking his head.
"Those legs…shit…" another exclaimed.
"So can you hook me up, Matthew?" the spotter asked, smiling at him.
Matthew blinked in confusion as he turned away from the television. "What? No, I…no. Why…how would I?"
"Well, she's your cousin, or whatever, right?" the spotter asked.
"Mary? No, we're not…we're not cousins. We're not related. We knew each other back in England. Our families knew each other. My Dad was good friends with her Dad, but that was years ago," Matthew explained, still frowning.
"Oh, so do you still keep in touch? Her show films here in the city," the spotter said, his voice tinged with disappointment.
"No, we're not in touch," Matthew said curtly, shaking his head and turning away, bringing the water bottle to his lips. "I haven't spoken to Mary in forever."
The Carlu, Downtown Toronto, Canada, March 2016
The security guard paced slowly back and forth along the carpeted floor of the immense lobby. All morning there had been people running around, moving equipment in and out of one of the large ballrooms, scrambling around talking into their phones and yelling at each other from one end of the space to the other. Some big client had rented out the entire floor for the day, and from what he saw, he guessed it was for a photoshoot. He continued on his usual rectangular tour of the event space, hoping that maybe he'd get a glimpse of one of the models. Then again, with his luck it could be a children's toy campaign and he'd have to put up with screaming babies all day.
His mood brightened when the elevator doors opened and a petite blonde came walking out at a brisk pace. Her hair was tied up in a tight bun, and she was wearing all the trademarks of someone important. Form fitting navy blazer jacket and matching skirt that stopped above her knees. Blue heels, not too tall to be slutty, but still tall enough to show off the muscles of her pretty legs. Smartphone stuck to one ear. Tablet tucked under one arm. He would have guessed she was an aide of some sort until he noticed the sparkling diamond ring on her finger and the Rolex on her wrist. Those trinkets were decidedly uncommon for assistants, so who was she? He ambled over to her, determined to find out.
"Good morning, miss, how may I help you?" he asked as she approached him, taking on an authoritative, but still as friendly a tone as he could manage.
"Anna Smith, assistant to Mary Crawley," Anna said crisply, lowering her phone for a moment to give the guard her name.
He checked his list, trying to stall for as long as he could. The advantage to being taller than her was that he had a nice view of the creamy skin of her neck and collarbone while he flipped the pages.
"Yes, Miss Smith," he said finally, nodding his head and giving her a warm smile. "They're right in there."
"Thank you," Anna said, nodding and walking away quickly in the indicated direction, bringing the phone back up to her ear.
He smiled and shook his head as he got a sweet view of her from behind. Rather pleased with himself, he strolled away, his day having gone much better already.
The sunlight streamed into the ballroom through the tall windows along one wall. Slightly behind schedule, Anna ignored the bustling street below and moved briskly to the far side of the room, where a temporary dressing area had been set up behind a wall of privacy screens. She dodged past crewmembers setting up the spotlights and brushing off the antique settee arranged in the middle of the room that would serve as the main prop for the photo shoot.
"Yes, Lady Rosamund, we're running a bit late but we built in an extra hour just in case," Anna said into her phone, her tone even and professional. "Yes, ma'am, we were here early. The photographer got a bit lost, it seems. No, ma'am, the magazine knows it wasn't our fault. Yes, the television crew is here. We're going to do a quick hit for them and it should be on tomorrow's broadcast. Yes, it's a Canadian show but the magazine cover will go all across the United States. She'll be on magazine stands everywhere and on the website. Yes, ma'am, I'll have her call you later. Good morning, Lady Rosamund."
Anna hung up the call and smirked as she stepped behind the privacy screens and tucked her phone back into the pocket of her blazer jacket.
"Your aunt says good luck," she called out as she headed over to the makeshift hair, makeup and wardrobe area.
"I doubt that highly. It was probably closer to 'don't fuck this up'" Mary replied, looking straight ahead at her reflection in the mirror as the stylist applied the finishing touches to her hair. It fell past her shoulders in long waves, with the ends curled loosely. Her makeup was already finished. Mary didn't usually use a lot of cosmetics, just enough to emphasize her alabaster skin and perfectly thin eyebrows. For this photoshoot, most of the attention would be on the brilliant diamond teardrop earrings provided to her and the diamond choker around her neck.
"Well, what do you think?" she asked Anna, turning her head side-to-side as she appraised her look.
"You look gorgeous," Anna said, smiling and nodding cheerfully. "This is going to be big, just the thing to build up the buzz for the new season."
"God, I hope so," Mary said, sighing as she stood up and undid the belt of her robe. "We're three seasons in now. The novelty's worn off and while our established base is intensely loyal, we need to draw in the casual viewers to give us legs for the coming years."
"Now you're sounding like Lady Rosamund," Anna joked, laughing and shaking her head.
Mary rolled her eyes.
"Excuse me, Lady Mary, if you could just take off your robe," the makeup girl asked meekly.
"Of course, and please, just call me Mary," Mary replied, giving the girl a kind smile.
Anna watched as Mary removed her robe and dropped it on to the chair behind her, standing up straight, her arms at her sides. The makeup girl went about the task of applying tape to Mary's bare breasts, and makeup to cover the tape and match the pale skin tone. Mary stood still as the makeup girl did her job with robotic efficiency, finally putting her robe back on and tying the sash once the work was declared complete.
"I don't think I'll ever get used to that, no matter how many times I see it," Anna said, turning and walking with Mary out of the dressing area. "You're sure it isn't uncomfortable?"
"I've gotten used to it," Mary replied drily. "Besides, better to endure a few moments of discomfort than let Henry get a real peek. His imagination is already bad enough as it is."
Anna nodded in agreement as they came on to the set. Mary put on a brilliant smile as the reporter from Entertainment Weekly magazine came over and greeted her breathlessly.
House of Gourmet Chinese Restaurant, Chinatown, Downtown Toronto, Canada, March 2016
"What is this, again?" the man asked Matthew, looking at the food on the table with a mix of suspicion and disgust.
"BBQ pork, fried tofu with Chinese broccoli, hot and sour soup, chicken fried rice," Matthew recited, pointing to each dish. "I don't see why you're so scared. This is tame compared to other items on the menu."
"I was just hoping we'd grab a burger, or Chipotle, or something," he replied, stabbing at a piece of tofu with his fork.
"This is cheaper for the amount of food you get," Matthew said, using chopsticks to take a slice of pork and bring it to his bowl. "And, it'll fill me up for the rest of the day."
"The glamorous life of an actor. Cheap Chinese food in the middle of the day. Shit, we must be crazy to live like this, all to chase some stupid dream," the man said ruefully, glancing around at the decided lack of décor in the restaurant and the waiters scurrying about. Fine dining, this was not.
"All it takes is one big break," Matthew said, sounding more optimistic than he felt.
"Even after you make it big, you'll still be eating at places like these, right?" his friend asked.
"Probably. They're open late," Matthew replied.
The man laughed and picked up his can of Coke.
"Well, cheers Matthew, it's been good working with you. Hopefully run into you again when we're both on the big screen someday. Best of luck," he said.
"Same to you," Matthew said gamely, raising his cup of jasmine tea in reply, then taking a sip as they continued with their lunch.
The Carlu, Downtown Toronto, Canada, March 2016
"If we could just get a casual shot of the both of you before we start. We'll post it on Instagram and Twitter to promote the TV interview," the reporter said, raising her phone and pointing it towards Mary and Henry.
"Smile, darling," Henry said quietly, putting his arm around her waist. "The fans love seeing photos of us happy together."
Mary grinned and turned slightly towards Henry, putting her hand on his chest.
"Perfect. Perfect. You guys look great!" the reporter gushed, taking the photo and handing her phone to an assistant to take care of posting it to social media. "Okay, I'll start with Lady Mary, and Henry, you can just wait over there."
"Will do. Have fun, darling," Henry said, kissing her cheek as he released her and walked over to the other side of the room where the table of fruit, snacks and drinks was set up.
Mary smiled and pulled the neck of her robe closer together as the reporter watched Henry go with a dreamy smile on her face. Returning to Mary, she took out a second phone and turned on the recorder.
"Okay, so Mary, first about the show – you're shooting the fourth season of Paladin now and fans are eagerly anticipating it. You started as a bit of a cult hit in season one and now you've got more of a mainstream following. Do you feel that you're more legitimate now, more accepted by the general public?"
"Yes, I do," Mary nodded. "Because we're a cable show, I think the standard for what constitutes success and popularity is different compared to network shows, but we've always been different. We're not a period show, but we have elements of the medieval version of what a Paladin is, with the code and the morals, and the dueling, and we're not entirely a supernatural or fantasy show either, because it's set in modern times, so I think maybe at the beginning, people didn't know how to classify us, and so the fans who read the books were onboard, but it took a while for people to just appreciate the show itself, to judge us on what we do, rather than compare us to anything else that's out there. Now we're really hitting our stride, I think. There's a lot of excitement coming into this season."
"After the cliffhanger at the end of season three, everyone of course wants to know who your character – Jade – will choose as her champion. It seemed she was leaning towards Frederick, but there was a hint that maybe Solomon still had a chance? What do you think?"
"Well, I think that she's fighting herself a bit," Mary explained, choosing her words carefully. "Everyone wants her to choose Frederick, both on the show and among the fans, but a part of her likes what Solomon represents. He's stable and safe, and respectful. I know some fans think he's boring, but part of her likes how simple her life is when she's with him. She and Frederick, they're so volatile, right? They're at each other's throats all the time, whereas I don't think she's ever had a single argument with Solomon. But no question she finds Frederick to be quite exciting, more take charge, so she's conflicted. That's what I love about playing her. She's quite complex. When you think you've got her figured out, she goes and does something that is so surprising, and our writers are so talented at throwing these twists at her and coming up with different ways for her to react. She's a blast to play, really."
"I'll selfishly say I hope she chooses Frederick!" the reporter gushed. "He's so hot, which brings me to the relationship between you and Henry. Your characters have such amazing chemistry onscreen and the two of you seem to get along really well offscreen, as well. Does that help, when you're acting opposite someone that you're so close to?"
Mary fought the urge to roll her eyes and barely succeeded.
"Henry and I have known each other for a long time," she said carefully. "We're used to each other and we know how to play off of each other and show the characters interacting in a way that moves the story along. Obviously we spend several months a year working together every day, so of course we're quite used to each other by now and I think that translates on the screen, that sort of comfort level."
"It must make the love scenes so much easier when you're comfortable with your partner. That was one of the things that everyone was talking about from season one – how hot the sex scenes were. I mean, Henry's gorgeous, so that must be a really fun perk for you!"
Mary gave her a tight smile. She'd gotten used to this question over the years. It was so predictable, as was her rehearsed answer.
"He's nice to look at, yes," she agreed, smiling and laughing just enough to make her sound believable. "And we wanted to be faithful to the way the relationship is shown in the books, because they are very passionate people, the two of them. That comes across when they fight, whether together against the demons or against each other, and of course there's always this tension between them. It's a challenge to portray those different dynamics and get it right, and make sure the focus is on the characters and the story. I don't think any of the love scenes are gratuitous, so while they do get a lot of attention, it's more about how do I bring the character to life in a way that connects with the audience."
"Well, millions of women would love to trade places with you during some of those scenes!" the reporter cackled. "Now, a few questions about you. A lot of people over here in North America don't know that you actually come from an acting family. Your grandmother, of course, the great Violet Crawley, two-time Oscar winner, and your mother, Cora, was on Coronation Street for years. Is there any pressure on you to live up to what they did?"
"I put a lot of pressure on myself as it is," Mary answered candidly. "Granny and Mum don't really get involved in my career, which is great. I can go to them if I need to, but they want me to sort of rise or fall on my own merit, so I'm quite proud of my family history, but I'm trying to make it on my own, as it were. That's why the show was such a great opportunity and I jumped at the chance. I'd been doing plays and smaller things back home in England, but to come over and shoot a pilot for North American television was a big risk, and I think it's turned out great. Let's hope it continues."
"Right, right," the reporter said, nodding enthusiastically. "All right, I think that's all for now. We'll just have you and Henry start out on the settee and the photographer will give you directions from there."
"Right," Mary said, nodding and going over to the settee.
"All right, let's do this," Henry teased as he came to her side. He took a seat on the settee, stretching his legs out and leaning back against the curved arm covered in plush cloth. He undid his robe and cast it aside, smiling up at Mary as he got comfortable.
She pursed her lips as she straddled his bare thighs, careful to avoid the modesty patch covering his genitals. In the three years that they'd been starring opposite each other, she'd seen him in this state of almost-nakedness countless times. His lack of any real clothing did not bother her nearly as much as the fact that she knew he enjoyed parading around like this.
"There you go. Hop on and get comfortable, darling," he said, leering up at her.
She avoided his eyes and removed her robe. An assistant came forward and adjusted her skirt, ensuring there was plenty of thigh visible. Henry reached forward and took hold of her, his one hand across her hip, the other sneaking down and cupping the exposed curve of her bottom.
"Ah, perfect," he said, grinning wide. "Now this is a winning cover shot."
She looked right at him, quelling the disgust and fury in her stomach and focusing on the job. It wasn't hard to give him a fiery stare under the circumstances, and as the photographer snapped away and the reporter called out encouragement, she reminded herself that this was all in the name of promoting the show, and in turn, her own career. She arched her back and put her arms across his shoulders, ignoring his hand on her ass as the click of the camera droned on in the background. The racy photographs would give the appearance that they were locked in an intimate embrace, though since they were out of costume, there was no real indication that they were in-character. That was of course done deliberately, blurring the line between their characters and themselves, fueling the rabid fantasy of the two of them being together in real life. The very idea was a complete joke to Mary, and a horrid one at that, but she couldn't deny that the show was built on the relationship between the two main characters, and in today's 24-hour news and gossip cycle, the beast needed to be fed with fresh content for everyone to devour. Putting the both of them in the spotlight was a convenient way to keep the show, and themselves, in the public eye until fresh episodes could air and the cycle begin all over again.
"And lean in a bit," the photographer called. "Just do what you two normally do."
"No problem," Henry said, grinning at her. "We've got loads of practice, don't we, darling?"
He lifted his chin and parted his lips, his eyes moving down to her mouth. She moved closer to him, mimicking the same gesture until they were practically sharing the same air. As she usually did when she kissed him on camera, she immediately thought of other, far more pleasant thoughts, such as the time that he fell during a stunt and cried like a little child for close on ten minutes.
"They must be totally banging each other, their connection is so hot," the reporter whispered to Anna, giddy with excitement as the photographer guided Mary and Henry through various positions and poses, all of them provocative and suggestive. Mary's breasts were often shot from the side, or pressed against Henry's chest, to cover up the strategically placed patches. Though she knew the truth of Mary's feelings towards Henry, or the lack thereof, even Anna had to admit that the couple did look quite sexy clinched together like this.
"No comment," Anna replied, checking her phone and counting the minutes until they were due to be done.
Apartment of Matthew Crawley, Downtown Toronto, Canada, March 2016
'Elena, the girl you beat half to death, her life's gonna go on. Yours is gonna end right here on this funky floor over $9800 dollars. You should have taken the money.'
"Elena, the girl you beat half to death….the gurl you beat half to death…ha-af to death…" Matthew repeated, looking at himself in the mirror, trying to replace his English accent with an American one. He swiped his tablet and restarted the scene, looking back at the mirror as he practised his accent once again. After going over that line, and others in his playlist of television and movie clips, for an hour, he left for the kitchen and got a bottle of water from the fridge, bringing it over to the living room windows before opening it and taking a sip.
He stared out the window on to the street below. One of the things he liked about this building was that it was a low-rise, being older than the towering condo skyscrapers that had gone up all over the city seemingly constantly as of late. Though his view was rather obstructed by the glass and steel behemoths all around him, he liked being able to see the street and the people passing by actually resembled people rather than distant specks. The bustling entertainment sector was to the West, and the bank buildings of the financial district stood in the East, leaving him in this quiet wedge of downtown, with courthouses and hospitals and insurance companies and a remarkable amount of quiet in the evenings. He walked or biked everywhere, sometimes took the subway, the traffic being too dense to make driving efficient and he didn't have a car anyway. Each day he passed students, men in designer suits gabbing away on their smartphones, and tourists taking selfies or browsing through the shops and boutiques nearby. There was a beggar who sat on top of the heat vent across the street everyday asking for change, and a hot dog vendor on the corner who sold hot Italian sausages and soft drinks until 4 a.m. His neighbours were older couples and young families and they kept to themselves as much as he did. For a temporary abode, this was a lovely enclave. A family friend allowed him to use it, which saved him from sharing a cramped apartment in a worse part of town with roommates he didn't know.
It wasn't Manchester, or London. He still wasn't entirely used to the different coins and bills they used here, or that they drove on the wrong side of the road, and some of the words and phrases they used made no sense to him at all. But the city was vibrant and diverse, the food was incredible, people were friendly and he felt entirely safe at all hours. This was home.
He sighed as he looked at a group of lawyers deep in discussion as they walked back to the courthouse across the street. How different his life would have been had he gone to law school as his father wanted him to, rather than join a theatre company and pursue a career in acting. It was hard to explain what had driven him to make such a choice. It was so unlike him, so illogical and emotional, driven by the thrill of performing, of connecting with an audience, rather than any reasonable analysis of the pros and cons. Fame and fortune had never entered his mind back then. He liked the analytical side of it – the dissecting of a character, a script, figuring out how best to present a role in as poignant and powerful a way as possible. Every part he played was a challenge, a puzzle to be solved, and he attacked them with zest and relish. There was no feeling like knowing you'd nailed a role and seeing the reaction of the audience. It was a joy beyond words.
There were other parts of acting though, cold and ruthless parts that he became familiar with as he got better at his craft and began staking out a living doing what he loved. The business side, the socializing, the self-promotion, the subversive competition between thousands of actors vying for a single role – these all grated on him; how the industry wasn't based entirely on talent, how the rules seemed to change all the time, or didn't exist at all. The best roles were often given out to the most beautiful people, or those who knew someone influential, or were willing to do whatever it took, right or wrong, to get what they wanted. He was insulated from all of that at first, but the better he got, the more high profile roles he wanted, the uglier things became.
If he had chosen the law instead, he'd likely be a solicitor now, something safe like industrial law, or wills and estates, practising at a small firm in Manchester, minutes from his childhood home. His work would be boring, but lucrative, making far more money than he did now, and he'd be closer to his mother, his friends. He could leave the office behind each night and have a healthy balance between work and personal time. Life would be so much easier, far more predictable.
Who knew? Maybe he'd even be married by now.
Finishing his water, he went back to the kitchen and threw the empty bottle in the recycling box. Going over and settling on the sofa, he checked his email once again, confirming he'd received nothing in the hour since he last checked it. No news from his agent, no callbacks from past auditions, just the same list of cattle calls that he would be lining up for with hundreds of faceless others. Sighing tiredly, he considered taking a nap, but his mother's patented speech about work ethic and discipline rang in his ears. He rolled his eyes and got up, heading back to the bathroom mirror and another round of work on his accents.
Café Boulud Restaurant, Four Seasons Hotel, Yorkville, Toronto, Canada, March 2016
"Yes, Aunt Rosamund," Mary said, rolling her eyes at Anna as she listened to her aunt – and agent – prattle on about how important the morning's photo shoot for Entertainment Weekly magazine was for her and her career. She stayed silent for a while, as her aunt clearly had a lot to say.
"She'll have the kale and romaine salad, no raisins, no garlic and dressing on the side, please," Anna said to the waitress. "And the smoked salmon tartine for me, thanks."
"Very good," the waitress said, reaching for their wine glasses. "And sparkling water is all right for now?"
Anna glanced over at Mary. She wasn't paying attention, instead frowning and drumming her fingers on the linen tablecloth impatiently as her aunt continued on.
"Better bring her a Grey Goose and tonic, with lime," Anna said, smiling at the waitress conspiratorially.
"Will do," the waitress nodded. "Umm, do you think I could get a picture with Mary later on? I love her so much! I actually dressed up as Jade for a cosplay event at…"
Anna smiled at the waitress patiently. "If you could make sure that we aren't bothered while we eat, I'll be sure to ask her afterwards. She can be a bit testy when she's hungry, you see."
The waitress grinned happily and left to go put in the order and fetch Mary's drink.
"Mary," Rosamund's haughty voice rang in her ear. "You haven't gotten back to me on the scripts that I sent you last week. Your hiatus is coming up very shortly, you know. You really ought to have something lined up for the summer."
"None of them really interest me, to be honest," Mary replied indifferently. "They're all more of the same. The prostitute with the remarkably sage advice to give. The mistress who dies a horrible death. The estranged daughter who comes to terms with her father on his deathbed. These roles are bland, and shallow, to say nothing for the fact that none of them are overly significant. They aren't even supporting characters."
"We've been over this time and again," Rosamund replied. "In England your name has some cachet, but in America, you're just a television actress. No one is going to give you a lead role until you prove that you have range beyond playing a princess."
"She's a knight, Aunt Rosamund," Mary corrected her. "And what possible range do any of these roles demonstrate? From what I can tell, I'd be playing a piece of ass, nothing more."
"The point is to get you noticed," Rosamund continued. "It's all about getting your name attached to as many projects as possible so that you're in the discussion whenever a future role comes up. We need to get all the important people actively thinking about you, Mary. Your last nomination was two years ago, which is an eternity in this business, and you haven't won anything yet, besides."
"Yes, I'm well aware, thank you," Mary said, seething on the inside. "Just find me something I can sink my teeth into, please."
"Very well," Rosamund sighed in exasperation. "I'll get you something, but you must at least go to this next batch of auditions, and have an open mind. The last thing you want is for casting directors and producers to think you're difficult and consider yourself better than what they're offering you."
"That's just it. I am better than that," Mary replied, rolling her eyes again. "Goodbye."
She pursed her lips and put her phone down on the table, shaking her head before turning to Anna.
"What am I having?" Mary asked.
"The kale salad and a strong drink," Anna replied. "And you have to take a selfie with the waitress before we leave."
Mary smirked knowingly. "All right. Thank you for ordering. I'd be lost without you."
"What are personal assistants for?" Anna joked. "You told Lady Rosamund what you thought of those ridiculous roles, finally."
"I did. She thinks I'm being a snob," Mary answered. "I know that I'm lucky, I do. I'm the lead actress on a popular television show and I don't have to fight to get scripts and beg to get into auditions. I'm in the door already, as they say. But I'm still not given the respect and opportunities that I want. Everyone thinks that all I'm good for is taking my clothes off and making out with Henry onscreen, and those are the types of roles I'm getting. The pretty scenery in the background that never gets to say anything remotely interesting. Well, I've done that already, more than enough times, really. I won't do it anymore just to supposedly get noticed."
"I just don't understand the theory behind it, because obviously you've been nominated for awards and such, so you're already known," Anna offered. "You're not an unknown actress. When you go to those awards shows and parties, everyone has a kind word for you."
"You can't really trust that. Everyone's best friends in Hollywood, until it's time to actually get down to business, then no one remembers your name," Mary said drily. "Aunt Rosamund seems to be worried about my profile over here. I understand her point. She wants me to take whatever I can get and build my list of roles, but the problem with that is if I'm seen playing the same person over and over again, no one will believe I can do anything else. How am I supposed to convince the powers-that-be that I can carry a film if the only roles I get have barely ten minutes of screen time?"
"It's so ironic, considering Jade is a complete departure from the roles you had back home," Anna said.
"She is, which is what I love about her," Mary agreed. "But the show won't last beyond 2-3 more seasons at most. We've almost come to the end of the story in the books already. I've got to get my break now, otherwise it won't be so easy when the show's over. Out of sight, out of mind, and all that."
"Lady Rosamund will find something for you," Anna said. "All you need is one shot, and you'll run with it."
"God, I hope so," Mary said softly. "Now, what's going on the rest of the day?"
"You've got a spa appointment at 3, and we're going to the studio to do voiceovers at 5," Anna said, scrolling over her tablet screen. "The cast is going out for drinks at 10 tonight."
"Damn, that sounds like just the thing I need, something to help me forget about all of this other nonsense for one night," Mary complained.
"Yes, but you have early call tomorrow," Anna said.
"I know that, thank you," Mary said, arching her eyebrow at her. "And besides, I suppose you aren't coming along anyway?"
"You suppose right," Anna said, smiling and nodding her head. "I'll be with you through dinner, but I've got an ornery husband who will feel very neglected if I don't get home at a half-decent hour. I've barely seen him all week."
"I would object, but I can't bring myself to do it. He is rather patient with you, to be fair," Mary joked.
"I give him good reason to be," Anna said, smiling mischievously as she took a sip of water.
Mary smiled and nodded in understanding as the waitress brought her drink to the table.
"Grey Goose and tonic, with lime," the waitress said proudly, placing the drink on a coaster before Mary as though it was ambrosia itself.
Mary smiled and nodded. "Thank you. Now, we're taking a selfie together, aren't we? Go on and hand your phone to Anna and come sit down. It'll turn out better that way. She's great at taking photos."
Office of Alexander Lewis, Bay Street, Downtown Toronto, Canada, March 2016
Alex walked around his office tossing an autographed soccer ball in the air. He frowned slightly as he listened to the voice coming through on his wireless headset. After a short pause, he replied in perfect Mandarin Chinese, then went quiet again as he listened to the reply.
The glass door of his office opened and his secretary, Mrs. Chen, came through. She placed a thick stack of papers on his desk and reached out her hand to him, giving him her stern 'I've raised four children all older than you' glare. He rolled his eyes and handed her the soccer ball, which she promptly restored to its place in the glass display case against one wall of his office.
"Matthew Crawley is on line 2 for you," she said quietly, drawing his attention.
He nodded his head before picking up his conversation again. She gave him a stern glare, then left his office and closed the door behind her. After a minute or two, he ended the call with a polite goodbye and switched over to line 2.
"Some of us are actually busy during business hours, Matthew," he said, not bothering with a hello. "What can I do for you?"
"And a good afternoon to you," Matthew replied sarcastically. "I was just checking on where we're going for dinner?"
"Nota Bene," Alex replied. "6:30, reservation is in my name."
"Perfect. I'll let you get back to your most important job."
"Hang on for a second, actually, would you? I'll just be a moment," Alex said, an idea coming to his mind. He put Matthew on hold and went over to his desk, bringing up a number on his computer screen and dialing it.
"Alex!" a woman said pleasantly when she answered his call. "How are you? Please say you have good news for me."
"I not only have good news for you, I have great news for you," he said, smiling as he turned and looked out his office window at the sun shining over the lake in the distance. "My Chinese clients are in. You've got your full budget again."
"Fantastic!" the woman squealed over the phone. "Alex, you're a lifesaver. I have no idea how you did it, but I thought I was going to have to slash a ton out of this film because we couldn't afford the original scope. The studio heads have been on my ass to fix this, and because of you, I have. Thank you so much!"
"My pleasure," he said, nodding his head. "It would have gone far more smoothly for you if you'd have just come to me in the beginning instead of using another financier, you know."
She laughed. "I guess I deserve that. Well, I've learned my lesson. I'll have Lori send you over the list of our upcoming projects and you can have first crack at whatever you like."
"Excellent," Alex said, smiling smugly. "Now, about the current project, I was looking over the plans once again and I think it makes sense to shoot it here. In addition to the Chinese money, I've got a preliminary approval on your tax credits from both the provincial and federal governments. Factoring in the currency exchange, you'll save at least 30% compared to other possible locations."
"That works for me. I love Toronto in the summer," she said. "Send me the documents and I'll sign them right away."
"You'll have them later this afternoon, along with my account," he said cheekily.
"Of course," she said, laughing easily. "You've earned every penny, or nickel I guess, since they don't have pennies up there anymore."
"Much appreciated. I was also hoping I could put in a name for one of the roles in the movie. No commitments. I just want to get him an audition," Alex said.
"Your wish is my command," she replied. "I can't push for anything else, but I can put your name on the list, no problem."
"Thanks, and congratulations," Alex said. "I'll call you next week."
Hanging up the call, Alex switched back to Matthew.
"Still there?" Alex asked.
"I'm here," Matthew replied. "I was just reading a script while you had me on hold. You need to change the music, by the way."
"Duly noted," Alex replied. "I'll save the details for dinner, but I've got good news. I managed to get you an audition."
Apartment of Mary Crawley, Trump Residences Toronto, Downtown Toronto, Canada, March 2016
"Mary! The sushi's here!" Anna called, closing the front door and bringing the plastic bags into the dining room. She set out the rolls and sashimi on plates and poured the soy sauce into small bowls. Opening the bottle of sparkling water, she poured two glasses for them.
"Wonderful. I'm starving," Mary said, coming out of the bedroom and sitting down at the table. She picked up a pair of chopsticks and took a dollop of wasabi and placed it on her plate. Looking over the various rolls, she brought a selection over to her plate, licking her lips at the coming meal.
"You're all glammed up," Anna noted, smiling as she took in Mary's sleeveless crop top and skirt. "Have you changed your mind about going out with the cast?"
"I'll meet them for drinks downstairs, but that's likely to be it," Mary said, spreading wasabi on one end of a spicy salmon roll and dipping the other in soy sauce before popping it in her mouth and savouring the taste. "Mmm…so good!"
"Apparently Henry requested changes to the script for episode four," Anna mentioned, eating a cucumber roll as she gauged Mary's reaction.
"What a fucking ass," Mary said, shaking her head. "Let me guess – he wanted more lines, or a dramatic close up or something."
"He wanted the speech to the soldiers to be from him, rather than from you," Anna said.
"Of course he did," Mary replied, rolling her eyes. "And they catered to him again, no doubt?"
"You're sharing the speech now," Anna said. "It's annoying, but not a total loss."
"And of course he waits until we're about to start shooting to bring this up, rather than raise it at the read-through, when he knows I'd object," Mary said.
"It's almost as though he's trying to get a rise out of you," Anna joked.
"His bait doesn't interest me, not even a little," Mary said, looking at her knowingly. "It's a pity, you know? He actually is quite talented, but his ego's always getting in the way, and he's not the only actor to suffer from such an affliction, I'll admit."
"It's amazing how different he is in front of the media and all that," Anna agreed, taking a sip of water. "He's always so charming, and even comes across as humble. That's why he has so many followers."
"Groupies, more like it," Mary muttered. "He had a chin-up bar installed in his trailer, can you believe it? He probably asked the writers to put in all those scenes where he takes his shirt off on purpose."
"That's funny coming from you," Anna said, glancing at Mary's firm stomach bared by the crop top.
"That's different and you know it," Mary retorted. "I do it because it's demanded of me. Henry revels in showing himself off."
"It works for me, I don't have to talk to him," Anna joked.
Mary laughed and shook her head as she ate a piece of tuna sashimi.
"Do you ever wonder if it's all worth it?" Anna asked, smiling at Mary wistfully. "Not your career. I mean moving over here, leaving everyone back home, basically living out of a suitcase for months at a time?"
Mary sighed and smiled kindly at her assistant. She had known Anna since they were teenagers. She was her best friend, not just her employee, and had been with her through thick and thin. Mary had two younger sisters, but in many ways she had a closer bond with her assistant. She certainly spent more time with Anna than she did with either Edith or Sybil. Anna was the one who she never argued with, and could be completely honest with about anything. When Anna got married two years ago, Mary was her maid-of-honour.
"Never," Mary said firmly. "I've sacrificed a lot, lost a lot, and it hasn't come good as quickly as I would have liked, maybe, but when I came here to shoot the pilot, there was no guarantee the show would be picked up, and look at us now. I may complain about how I don't yet have the career that I want, but I think my decision has paid off handsomely, by any measure."
"Professionally, you mean," Anna stated.
Mary arched her eyebrow and looked at her pointedly. "Yes, professionally. That's all that counts. My family understands why I'm here. I miss them, but it is what it is. You know I'm not one to be sentimental."
Anna smiled and nodded. When Mary had come up with the idea to leave England to build her career, Anna had agreed to come with her without question. They'd been inseparable for years, and she never imagined for a second that she'd find another job, even though she'd never been to Canada, or the States before. The past four years had been quite an adventure. They spent five months in Toronto to shoot the show, another four months in America for promotional duties, and filming whatever project Mary picked up during her hiatus, and parts of the remaining three months back in England. It wasn't a normal schedule, particularly with so much travel, but Anna couldn't see herself doing anything else. They'd been through too much together to not see it through and find out if Mary's gamble to make it in America paid off.
"That's not all there is to life, Mary, work and family," Anna said gently. "There's love, too."
"I love my work," Mary answered automatically. "I love the direction that I'm going, what my future will be."
"There's room in your heart for more than just your career," Anna said encouragingly.
"Oh Anna," Mary smiled wryly, reaching for another piece of sushi. "I don't have a heart. Everyone knows that."
"Then everyone doesn't know the real you," Anna said, smirking as they kept eating.
Nota Bene Restaurant, Downtown Toronto, Canada, March 2016
"Easy, Matthew," Alex said, smiling as he watched his friend devour a $100 piece of Wagyu beef imported from Japan. "There's no need to rush."
"Sorry," Matthew said, dabbing his mouth with a napkin. "It's just really good, is all."
"And let me guess, you're bulking up again," Alex said wryly. "That's all you do is eat, sleep and go to the gym, it seems."
"More or less, especially now that I am officially unemployed once more," Matthew said, taking a sip of his water. "And I'm not bulking up, I'm getting lean actually. The protein is fuel for my workouts."
"Well, just don't overdo it. I don't know what body type they're looking for on this new film, so don't walk into the audition with no neck or something," Alex warned.
Matthew laughed. "Thanks again for that. I'll try not to embarrass you."
"Don't embarrass yourself. Don't worry about me," Alex replied.
"Which role do you think I should go for?" Matthew asked.
"There were rumours that Matt Damon was interested in the lead role a few years ago when the picture was in development," Alex said. "Who knows who will be in the running now? I would recommend you take the safer route and go for the supporting role. There's still a decent amount of screen time for it, and your lack of experience won't be counted against you as much."
"Right," Matthew said, nodding his head. "Sounds smart. Hard to compete for the lead when I don't have much of a career to show them."
"One step at a time," Alex said, smiling at Matthew's dour expression. "No one's an overnight success."
"Don't I know it," Matthew said drily, giving Alex a half-smile. "It's going on eight years now that I've been trying to become an overnight success."
The Calvin Bar, Trump International Hotel & Tower Toronto, Downtown Toronto, Canada, March 2016
"All right, let's get moving everyone! The cars are here," Catherine announced, waving her phone around. "Musik is holding our VIP booth for another 20 minutes, at most."
"Ready, Mary?"
"I'm going to pass, this time," Mary replied, getting up from the table. "I've got early call tomorrow so I'm just going to head upstairs and turn in."
"Oh come on!" Catherine whinged. "Don't be such a fucking bitch. Come out dancing for just a bit. You need to loosen up a bit, have some fun!"
"I can't imagine why I wouldn't with such a lovely invitation as that,' Mary joked. "Sorry. Saturday, for sure."
Catherine rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Fine. Suit yourself. It just means you won't be getting laid tonight, is all."
Mary laughed and traded cheek kisses with her castmates, leaving them to head out to the waiting cars as she turned for the elevators. Rather than call for the lift though, she waited for several minutes until she was sure they were gone. Coming back out into the lobby, she took out her smartphone and sent a quick text.
"You up?"
Home of Alexander Lewis, Rosedale, Toronto, Canada, March 2016
Alex typed away on his laptop, pausing to look over the draft contract before continuing with the next paragraph. The problem with being in finance, and specifically the financing of the entertainment business, was that he had clients all over the world. At any given hour during the day and night, he had emails and messages coming in. Investors in China. Studio executives in California. Directors and producers in New York and London. Though they were all in different countries and time zones, they shared two things in common – they expected instant service, and they had a remarkable knack for forgetting what time it was in Toronto.
As a result, his work hours changed often, depending on what project was currently his top priority. Previously, it wasn't uncommon for him to be answering emails and taking calls at 3 a.m., which was 3 p.m. in Hong Kong and 8 a.m. in London. He'd done a decent job in the past few years of tempering expectations and working more normal hours, and in not responding right away to every email and text, especially after midnight. He controlled the money, so for all the bluster and demands of his clients, he got to call the shots to a point. His reputation was now far more established and esteemed, so he had the clout to push back a bit and still keep his impressive client list.
He also had other things in his life to care about now more than money.
A smile crossed his lips as he heard the front door being unlocked and opened. Glancing at the clock on his computer screen, he nodded in mild surprise, impressed that she'd made it home before 11 p.m. for once, though only just.
"Hello," she called.
"Hello yourself," he replied as his wife came over and sat down on the sofa next to him, giving him a quick kiss and snuggling against his shoulder. "How was dinner?"
"We got sushi delivered. It was all right," Anna replied. "We ordered through Uber Eats. A proper restaurant would have been better, I imagine. You?"
"Nota Bene," he said. "It was about as good as it usually is. Matthew says hello."
"Mary says hello," she said tiredly. "She's got an early call tomorrow so I need to leave at six."
"Sheesh," he grumbled. "I'm shocked that she didn't make you stay over."
"She would have, but I told her that I had to go home and do my wifely duties," she teased, lifting her head and smirking at him.
"Now that sounds intriguing. And what do your wifely duties involve, exactly, Miss Smith?" he asked, his eyes bright and playful.
"That's Mrs. Lewis to you, sir," she shot back. "I was planning on running a bubble bath for us, giving you a massage and wearing that outfit you bought for me last week."
"That sounds good, love, and dare I hope to have all of your attention tonight? You won't be summoned away to rescue Mary from a club in the middle of the night?" he asked.
She laughed and shook her head. "Not this time. She promised me she would just have drinks in the bar then go straight up to bed. I'm all yours, until five."
"Well then, we had best get moving, Mrs. Lewis," he said, kissing her quickly, then scooping her up in his arms. She laughed and whispered all the dirty things she was going to do to him as he carried her upstairs to their bedroom.
Apartment of Matthew Crawley, Downton Toronto, Canada, March 2016
Matthew finished his glass of water and sighed, turning away from the windows and carrying it to the kitchen. He refilled his glass and set it aside, then took out a fresh glass from the cupboard and prepared a Grey Goose and tonic water with lime. Just as he finished stirring the drink, his front door opened and he closed his eyes as he heard expensive high heels being removed and cast aside.
"Be strong. Be strong," he repeated over and over in his mind, but his inner monologue faded with his resolve as light footsteps approached.
"Hi."
He opened his eyes, then slowly turned around and saw rosy cheeks, full lips curled in a teasing smirk and mischievous brown eyes.
She wasn't wasting any time tonight, apparently. She was already giving him her best come-hither look, and it was working.
"Hi," he replied, handing her the vodka and tonic.
"Thank you," Mary said, taking the drink and having a sip as she left the kitchen and went through the living room and out to the terrace. He frowned, fleetingly thinking of staying indoors before he slowly followed after her.
"How was your day?" she asked as he joined her outside, leaning on the railing and looking at the hotel across the street.
"Fine," he replied. "I met up with some of the lads this morning. A bit of a going away get-together."
"Oh, is the show done with, then?" she asked.
"Yes," he confirmed. "Everyone's moving on to other things, most people are leaving the country and going back home until their next gig comes along."
"Ah," she said with disinterest, taking another sip of her drink.
"What about you? Get up to anything fun?" he asked, searching for anything to keep them talking.
"We did a photo shoot this morning for Entertainment Weekly," she said, smiling smugly as she looked up at the evening sky. The wind was crisp and cold and she liked it, her blood racing through her veins delightfully. "They're giving us the cover and a feature article to promote the new season. ET Canada was there covering it too. I think it's going to be on tomorrow night's show."
He nodded. "A cover feature. Well, that'll be good, it'll increase your profile."
"Hopefully," she said. "Up fronts are in New York in a few months' time, but they wanted to get an exclusive. It seems every week we have different media coming to visit the set."
"I see. Just you on the cover, is it?" he asked.
"And Henry," she answered, her voice level and casual.
"Ah," he said curtly.
She finished her drink and handed the empty glass to him.
"Another?" he asked, taking the glass from her.
"No," she said, giving him a smirk and a knowing glance before she went back inside.
He watched her go, watched her step back into the apartment, round the sofa and disappear into the bedroom. Closing his eyes, he waited for his inner voice to stop him, but nothing came. He hated how she could do this to him still, after all these years and all that they'd been through, all of his vows to not let her get to him again. Yet despite the small pang of indignation, his body was already responding to her, as it always did.
Opening his eyes, his shoulders sagged slightly as he followed after her, closing the door to the terrace and placing the empty glasses on the coffee table. Staring at the shadows beyond the bedroom door, he walked over and crossed the threshold.
She pounced the moment he came in, grabbing him by his shirt and pressing him against the wall. Her mouth seized his, her lips easily opening him up so she could push her tongue past his teeth. She released him just long enough to yank his shirt up and over his head, before she was on him again, moving to his neck, nibbling on his skin lightly before she alternated kisses and licks down his front, her hands tracing their way across his chest and stomach as she sank to her knees.
His belt and trousers were quickly opened, his hands closed into fists at his sides when she pushed his boxer briefs to the floor. A pleased hum flew from her throat as she took hold of him, an answering groan from deep in his chest as she stroked him to full arousal.
"You're so fucking big," she whispered just before she closed her mouth around him and took him deep.
His head fell back and hit the wall as he felt the warmth of her mouth all over him. Gritting his teeth, he stared down at her, her eyes looking up at him, a scandalous symphony of moans and swallows flying from her throat. The dim lamp on the nightstand cast a glow around the room, shadows playing over them as she licked and sucked and stroked, her mouth and hands driving him mad. She was on her knees servicing him, and yet he knew better. She set the pace, controlled his pleasure, made it clear with her eyes and mouth and voice that she was bestowing a favour upon him. She was here with him not to give, but to take, and even though he knew all of this, still he couldn't resist. Almost without thinking, he thrust forward, matching her rhythm, giving as much as she could take.
After several glorious minutes, she released him, raising up and kissing his chest and neck once more. He moved his hands finally, sweeping up her legs, across her hips and back down to lift her skirt and cup her bottom, pulling her to him. She smiled and laughed in approval, grinding against him for a moment as she licked his earlobe.
"Fuck me, Matthew," she hissed, her voice filling him like a drug. "Take my clothes off and fuck me like you mean it."
She knew just how to get him worked up, the precise sequence of action and words that would break his control and unleash his passion. She always knew how to get what she wanted from him. He wasn't naïve enough to think that her sultry voice and wanton behaviour was reserved just for him anymore, but it didn't matter. He would take this piece of her and like it, and they both knew it.
He stepped out of the tangle of clothes on the floor and pushed her backwards, pulling her top over her head in the short time it took to reach the bed. She undid her bra and cast it aside, moaning in satisfaction as he dropped his head and kissed all over her breasts, his hands reaching around and unzipping her skirt, shoving it past her hips and down to the floor.
She pulled him back up and kissed him hard, her tongue stabbing at his briefly before he spun her around and pushed her on to the bed. She crawled forward on her hands and knees, taking hold of the headboard and looking back at him over her shoulder with a wicked smile. She arched her back and wiggled her ass back and forth, rewarded by his leering snarl as he scrambled over, taking hold of her hips and settling in behind her.
"Yes!" she shouted, throwing her head back as he pulled her panties aside and pushed into her. She was wet and ready and he wasn't gentle, giving her a quick thrust, then pulling back before plunging in deeper. She pushed back against him, meeting each stroke with one of her own, her hands tight around the rails of the headboard, her hair loose about her back and shoulders as they rocked back and forth.
He leaned over her and kissed his way up her spine, increasing his pace and giving her all of him with each plunge. She turned her head and found his mouth, kissing him sloppily as he brought her to the edge. A harsh moan signalled her first release and he kept at her, his hands moving up and cupping her breasts, his hips slowing momentarily until he was sure she was ready to take him fully again.
She let go of the headboard and lowered her head to the pillows, tilting her hips to give him an even more devastating angle. His hands moved back to her waist, leaning forward for leverage and changing from rapid thrusts to deep and deliberate lunges. Every push was accompanied by a heated moan from her open mouth. The louder she screamed, the harder he pumped, until she fell apart a second time and he held still, waiting for her to calm just a bit before chasing his own climax. He knew what this meant to him. He knew what it didn't mean to her, and as he watched her bent over before him, her usually perfect hair splayed about, a ragged moan coming from her open lips, her eyes shut tight, not even looking at him, focused only on herself, anger and lust fused into one and drove his passion higher. He would show her that she had to pay him at least some attention as she drowned happily in her own pleasure.
He spanked her hard, once, twice.
Her eyes opened. Her teeth flashed as she smiled back at him, then laughed harshly and taunted him to give it to her harder.
He complied.
In the back of his mind, where the last rational part of him hung by a thread, he realized what he was doing, and that he couldn't lose himself in this, whatever this was. Her voice was somewhere far away, barely audible above the roaring rush of the blood in his veins. He heard her pleas, her demands, her instructions, fueling his hunger and spurring him on. Perhaps she wanted it this way. Perhaps a part of him did as well. Their past relationship had burned away, leaving only the raw heat of this – the one thing they had together that had never gone wrong.
Just before the animal inside of him took over completely, the smallest scrap of restraint flared anew. This wasn't some dirty fuck to help him forget the day and go to sleep easier. This mattered to him, still, after all this time, and he wouldn't ruin it in a fit of primal greed and selfishness, no matter how much she might want him to.
"Mary!" he grunted, pulling out of her and sitting back on his haunches.
She turned around quickly on to her back, her hands reaching up and taking hold of her breasts, presenting them to him. He stroked himself quickly. They bared their teeth to each other, breathing raggedly. Brown eyes met blue. He growled. She begged.
He spurted violently and she caught it all.
He blinked several times, opening his eyes finally and adjusting to the darkness. A sliver of light and the running of a hair dryer told him that she was in the ensuite bathroom. He slowly sat up and got out of bed, fumbling around for his underwear, pulling it back on and wandering out into the living room.
Stretching his arms and neck, he went to the kitchen and got a bottle of water from the fridge, opening it and taking a long sip as he came back into the living room and leaned against the couch. With his pulse and his breathing back to normal, he glanced out to the blinking lights of downtown, the vibrant images and sounds of what he and Mary had just done tempered by what he knew was soon coming.
They weren't tired after the first round of sex. They never were. Watching her clean every trace of him off of her had only aroused them all over again, and they were soon back at it, but more slowly this time, leisurely, playing with each other rather than rutting desperately. They laughed and tickled each other, stayed embraced in a tangle of arms and legs as they kissed and fondled and acted as though they had all the time in the world, as though the night would never end so long as they never left each other's hold. It was perhaps even more cruel than the first round.
When he was ready again she got on top of him, working her hips and riding him, firm but unhurried. He steadied her, then reached up and played with her breasts, finally offering her his fingers which she gladly kissed and licked in time with his thrusts. Their eyes met, the fierce heat from before long gone, replaced by a warmth, a knowing connection that was unwavering despite everything. She whispered his name. He exhaled hers. They both closed their eyes as they went over together, and everything they'd ever done to hurt each other was washed away for another brief moment of bliss.
As he sipped his water and waited for her, he was already pushing tonight's memories into the recesses of his mind, to be kept hidden lest he dwell upon them and crumble.
Minutes later, she emerged, immaculate and perfect, hair restored, face wiped clean, clothes back in place. She looked nothing like a woman who had just spent over an hour in his bed, and every bit the one who was quickly on her way out.
"Go back to sleep," she said kindly, though her voice didn't sound kind to him at all. "My cab's downstairs."
She pecked him on the lips as she passed him, patting his cheek as though he was a puppy she'd rescued from a puddle and was now leaving behind. He watched her go to the foyer without a second glance, slip back into her heels and reach for the door.
"You could always stay," he called out, a small part of him hopeful, a larger part entirely disgusted with himself.
She glanced back and smiled, her eyes looking at him with pity, like a parent about to explain something basic to a child.
"I've got an early call tomorrow," she said simply, the easy excuse not quite enough to erase what was left unsaid. She wouldn't have stayed even if she had the day off tomorrow.
"I see," he said, looking down at the floor.
"Matthew," she called slowly, trying to make her voice sound nicer.
He looked up at her.
"You are all right with our arrangement, aren't you?" she asked, arching her eyebrow at him. "I should hope you don't have any expectations beyond this. That would be foolish."
"No, I don't," he replied after a lengthy pause, nodding his head slowly. "Everything's fine."
"Good. Bye," she said shortly. The lock was turned, the door opened and she was gone down the hall to the elevator in a flash. The sound of her fading footsteps and the click of the door closing were like punches to his gut.
He stood there for minutes, watching the door, wondering if the lock would turn, the door fly open and Mary come running back in. Eventually, he took a deep breath and rubbed the back of his neck, stealing one more glance at the unmoving door before he finally gave up and shuffled back to bed.
Apartment of Mary Crawley, Trump Residences Toronto, Downtown Toronto, Canada, March 2016
The valet opened the rear door of the cab and nodded as Mary stepped out and walked past him and the doorman and into the private lobby. She passed the late night concierge and was soon in the express elevator up to her rented condo.
This suite had been home for the past three years, ever since the first season of Paladin received a full order. She'd managed to bring over some photos and keepsakes from England to make the place seem more hers. At first this was just a place to sleep, somewhere to stay whenever she wasn't at the studio or working on location somewhere in the city. Now, it felt like her private, personal space, a refuge where she could escape from life for a few hours at a time.
Within minutes she was tucked into bed under the soft duvet, changed into boxer shorts and an oversize t-shirt. She checked to make sure the alarm was set on her phone. Anna would call at 6 a.m., the hotel wake-up call was set for 6:20 and her phone alarm for 6:30. She stretched out on to her side and snuggled against the pillows, closing her eyes, a wave of fatigue washing over her as she felt delightfully relaxed. The morning would bring fresh challenges. She was still stressed about finding a movie role for the hiatus in a few months' time, and all the baggage that came with being Mary Crawley would need to be carried again. For now though, she was pleasantly sated, and a satisfied smirk crossed her lips before she drifted off to sleep.
Author's Note:
Many thanks to AmeriGirlTN for the original prompt, which, after much thought and brainstorming, bears very little resemblance to what the story is, and will become. Thank you in advance to all my loyal readers, old and new, for coming along on another modern AU journey with Mary and Matthew.