The Director's Cut by Js Taylor (if you give a mouse a cookie read aloud txt) 📕

Way to go for subtlety Isabella!

“I mean, you were stepbrothers,” I add hastily. “That’s what I heard.”

Ben visibly relaxes.

“Yeah, sure, that’s right,” he says. “You could call us that. Berkeley hated me, of course.”

I set my face to ‘interested’.

“He hated you?” I ask, carefully.

My mother and I weren’t good enough for his family,” says Ben. “Berkeley tried everything he could to get rid of us.”

There’s no anger in his voice. It sounds more like rehearsed lines. Like it’s a story he trots out to win a sympathy vote.

“Really?” I try to seem intrigued whilst pushing down my outrage. From what I know, James was mostly in Hong Kong when his father remarried. It would be hard to try and drive Ben and his mother away from there.

Judging by Ben’s ease of storytelling, I’m by no means the first recipient of this version of events. Inside, I am seething.

How dare he spread malicious lies about James?

“Hey!” shouts Ben suddenly. “Can we get some drinks over here? We’re thirsty.”

I wince as the barman spins around and hastily finishes our drinks.

“That’s better,” says Ben, taking his glass from the bar. He rolls his eyes. “One thing I hate about Europe,” he says, “the waiting staff. Service is so much better in America.”

Ben takes a long sip of his drink. “Out there, they work for tips,” he adds. “That’s how you get good service. Money. That’s how the world works.”

He looks bitter.

“So, you’re not best friends with Berkeley,” I press, wondering where I’m going with this. I can hardly come out and ask if Ben is leaking information.

“Nope,” Ben takes another sip of his drink. I pick mine up and take a polite sip. It’s incredibly sweet and not my taste at all.

Ben looks at me expectantly.

“It’s nice,” I say politely.

“All girls love that one,” he says.

I make a mental note to caution Lorna never to accept Ben’s cocktails. They’d send her diabetes off the scale.

“So, yeah,” continues Ben. “We’re not friends. Do you know, James wouldn’t even visit my brother when he was sick?” He shakes his head in disgust.

“No,” I say, trying to sound shocked.

I notice that Ben doesn’t add that it was a mental illness.

“I think that was the reason why my brother…” Ben stops, as if remembering himself. “Well, that’s a boring story,” he adds.

He takes another swig of his drink, and his eyes glitter dangerously. “Why don’t you tell me about you?” he asks, settling his gaze on my face.

“Um, well, you know. Not much to tell,” I falter. “Except, that I’m worried about newspaper coverage when the movie is out,” I add, desperately floundering to bring the conversation back to something useful. “I’m scared they might say bad things about me. Can actresses ever avoid that?”

I’m blatantly fishing now, and Ben frowns and glances at me suspiciously.

“I guess it might not be possible to avoid bad publicity,” I add with what I hope is a disarming smile.

Ben smiles back.

“I think it’s possible,” he says. “Just keep your friends close and your enemies closer.” He gives a hard laugh. “Be nice to the underpaid people on set,” he adds. “They’re the ones who’ll take a pay-off to spread dirt.”

“Good advice,” I reply.

My mind ramps through the people he might mean. The hair and make-up girls? David, the props handler? None of these positions can command top salaries. But I can’t bring myself to think any of these people would be capable of leaking to the press.

In fact, Ben is the only person who seems capable of that kind of malice.

Can I ask Ben about him and Camilla? I sip my drink, framing how I might bring the subject up, when I suddenly hear Lorna’s voice.

“Issy?” She sounds shocked.

I turn to see my friend’s beautiful face mired in confusion. And I feel a blush rising up. What should I tell her? She knows I don’t like Ben.

But Ben, clearly accomplished in these kind of situations, knows instantly what to do.

“Hello there gorgeous,” he says, sliding off his stool and planting a kiss on Lorna’s cheek. “I bumped into Issy in the lobby, so I persuaded her to come try out a drink I thought you might like.”

Wow. He really is shameless. But at least Ben’s aptitude from lying has spared me any suspicion from Lorna. After all, I can hardly tell her I went for a drink with Ben to try and discover if he was leaking to the press.

Lorna melts towards Ben, and her face lights up.

“Wow, really?” she says. “That’s good of you, Issy. I know you don’t like cocktails.”

Her eyes rest on the pink concoction on the table.

“Is that the drink?” She points.

“Um. Yeah,” I say. “It’s much too sweet for you though,” I add, pulling it hastily towards me.

“Isabella.”

I start to hear James’s voice. And even though I can’t see his face, I can tell he’s not happy.

I turn, trying to fight the guilt which is inching onto my expression.

But once I see his face, my bravery evaporates.

James looks really mad.

Every muscle in his body looks tense. He gives Ben a tight nod, his head barely moving.

I set my features stubbornly. I can talk to who I like, after all.

“Hello, Ben,” says James.

Ben gives him a lazy smile. “Berkeley. I trust you saw the papers?”

The self-satisfaction in Ben’s tone is infuriating.

“I did.”

“Looks as though that reporter really took you apart,” says Ben, his eyes flicking to Lorna to include her in his snide assessment.

Lorna is looking back and forth between me and James, clearly uncertain of what to make of it all.

James gives Ben a smile which doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Part of being a director involves taking responsibility for your actions,” he replies. “It’s not something you’d know a great deal about.”

Ben flinches, as if he’s been struck, and the smile slides from his face.

So James does have some kind of hold over him… But what?

Ben reaches his arm out to Lorna and pulls her closer to his side, as though