I Wrote Him Savage Reviews, Now He Thinks They're Love Letters novel · Chapter 3 of 24
Chapter 3: Again
Rehearsing the poisoned tea scene, Kit gives notes mid-take and Dorian thanks him each time, until the director says the only thing she ever says and the producer hears Dorian ask for Kit to have more scenes.
By the third day of rehearsal, Vera had stopped reading the script around a table and put the poisoned tea on its feet.
The scene was simple.
The Earl sat at a small table in the morning room.
His brother poured him a cup, dropped something into the sugar bowl with one unhurried finger, and let him stir it in himself.
Kit played the brother.
He had been waiting three days to be this nasty.
Rupert sat at the back with his phone.
The nine teacups from the prop cupboard stood in a row on a tray.
Kit had counted them twice, because a man who poisons a household needs to know how many cups he is lying about.
"Take one," said Vera.
Kit poured.
He dropped the powder.
Dorian lifted the cup and gave the room a small, thirsty look.
"You're acting thirst," Kit said, not in character, just under his breath.
"A man who's about to be killed isn't thirsty. He's polite."
"Thank you," said Dorian, sincerely, mid-sip.
"That's extremely helpful."
"Again," said Vera.
"Take two."
Kit poured.
This time he let the sugar spoon clink twice against the bowl.
The brother was nervous, and Kit had decided to let the audience see it.
Dorian's Earl began his speech about family honour.
"You're leaning too hard on 'honour'," Kit murmured.
"It's the second syllable that matters."
"Is it?" said Dorian, in the Earl's voice, with the Earl's eyebrows.
"Thank you. That's wonderful."
"Dorian," said Vera.
"The Earl is accusing the man in front of him of stealing a will."
"I know, I know," said Dorian.
"He is not thanking him."
"I'm so sorry," said Dorian.
"It's the note."
"Again," said Vera.
Rupert's voice came from the back.
"Thoughts, not notes. Can we get more menace out of the brother? By a third?"
"A third of what?" said Kit.
"Menace."
"There isn't a unit for that."
"Love it," said Rupert.
"Keep that energy. Lose the quibbling. Another third on top, if you can."
"That's now a third and a third," said Kit.
"Which is more than half, and the brother is supposed to be charming."
"Love that, too," said Rupert, and made a note on his phone that Kit suspected said nothing.
Dorian was grinning.
He was failing to hide it behind his script.
"Take three," said Vera.
She did not sound like a woman with hope.
Kit poured.
He dropped the powder.
He was watching Dorian's hands, which held the cup in a way that was neither frightened nor suspicious but simply pleased to be involved.
"Don't thank me," Kit said, very low.
"Look at my hands."
Dorian looked.
The brother's right hand was still holding the sugar spoon over the bowl.
It had stopped moving.
A man who is not poisoning anyone puts the spoon down.
Dorian's Earl stopped talking in the middle of a line about honour.
He looked at the spoon.
He looked up at Kit's face, and something had changed in his own, and it was not acting.
Kit had written about that expression once, in October, under the heading A Moment Of Real Suspicion In An Otherwise Dull Episode.
"Brother," said the Earl.
The word came out flat and short.
Kit let the spoon touch the bowl.
"Cut," said Vera.
Nobody had moved.
"Hold there a moment."
She walked up to the table, picked up one of the cups, looked into it, and put it down.
"That," she said, "was a scene."
Kit realised he had not blinked for some time.
He coughed once, dryly, and blinked.
"Nobody's said a hard thing to my face since my first agent," said Dorian, to the tablecloth.
His hand was shaking very slightly on the saucer.
"I'd forgotten it could feel like that."
Kit looked at the hand.
He did not say anything about the cup, the saucer, the angle, or the tea.
For once he had nothing to correct.
Vera caught his sleeve on the way to the break.
"He has never taken a note that wasn't a compliment," she said.
"Keep giving him them. In the room. Out of the room, I'll kill you both."
"I haven't been giving him anything," said Kit.
"He keeps thanking me."
"Then he's finally listening," said Vera.
"Don't stop."
She went to find coffee.
Dorian came over with his satchel on his shoulder and a look Kit had learned in three days to dread.
"I've asked her to give the brother another scene," he said.
"A good one. With somebody looking at him."
"You what?" said Kit.
"You deserve a scene where the audience loves you."
"They shouldn't love me," said Kit.
"I'm the poisoner."
"They can love a poisoner."
"It's not my job to be loved," said Kit.
"It's my job to be correct."
"That's what I mean," said Dorian.
Rupert had come up behind them without a sound, which was unusual for a man whose phone pinged.
"Thursday," he said.
"The magazine. One hour, both of you, one sofa. I've told them you can't stand each other."
"We've drawn up a treaty," said Dorian.
"Love it," said Rupert.
"Don't mention it."
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