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‘Oh, what a flirt! Perfect for Romeo,’ Leona responds, appearing pleased that she doesn’t have a dull guest on her roster.
Rowan’s smile turns into a half smirk. ‘I’d say it was one of the requirements for getting this role.’
‘Huh,’ Zayan says, and my heart thuds loudly in my chest at the dip in his voice. It’s not impolite in any way, but his tone sounds like the serrated edge of a knife – one wrong move, and it will slice into your skin. ‘I suppose the LSDCATS have many requirements for their roles. It’s interesting to finally see who has been cast.’
While Zayan speaks, hinting at the LSDCATS’ racist casting, his arm moves from his lap to settle round the back of my chair. We’ve all been given stools to sit on, and now Zayan’s arm rests solidly behind me, his body languid, looking like a king upon his throne. His fingers play with the thread tassels on the sleeves of my outfit. It’s comforting to feel him there, like a safety net under a tightrope.
I also realize it probably looks great on camera.
Rowan’s neck flushes red, but Mary’s glossy smile remains sweet. ‘The LSDCATS are known for seeking the best of the best.’
Zayan’s smile warms as he looks down at me. I kick into gear, smiling back at him like he’s the brightest thing in my life. ‘Yes, I only like to work with the best of the best too.’
Leona’s face is scrunched up at how cute Zayan and I are. ‘Speaking of working together, tell us, Farah, what was it like meeting Zayan for the first time?’
Horrible. I wanted to strangle him. Instead, he kind of choked me with my dupatta. Romantic, no?
‘It was the best day of my life,’ I say dreamily. Or at least I hope it’s dreamy. From the way Zayan’s lips twitch at the corners, I know he wants to laugh at me. ‘He’s been such a delight to work with. He’s taught me so much.’
‘Ah, you had a lot to learn then?’ Rowan asks innocently. So much for the flirty nice-guy act.
Embarrassment threatens to silence me, but with the solidity of Zayan by my side, I bite back. ‘Anyone would, if they had the privilege of working with a multi-award-winning actor.’
And you have none, so shut up goes unsaid.
‘Of course. And working with Zayan, Farah, has it been fun?’ Leona asks, steering the conversation back to us. ‘He must have some interesting quirks; all big actors do.’
Zayan laughs, a sound so plastic I almost cringe. But everyone else seems to buy it. ‘I’d say I’m pretty normal, right, love?’
Leona’s eyes go as wide as saucers, and I play into our game a little more. ‘Well, I would say waking up to work out at 6 a.m. every day is a habit I can’t get into.’ I give Zayan another lovesick glance before smiling sweetly at Leona. ‘But this guy, he’s just so dedicated. When he wants something, he goes for it with a hundred per cent effort.’
‘Even a TV series?’ Mary asks, her tone equally innocent to Rowan’s from before.
I turn to give her a withering glare, but Zayan’s foot gently knocks into mine. I force my body to soften, but my mind is still plotting ways of exacting vengeance upon Mary.
‘I joke, of course,’ Mary continues, unaware of how I wish to skin her alive. ‘I think it’s admirable when an actor is able to pick themself up after a bump in the road.’
‘I agree,’ Zayan replies, his tone level. ‘I also think the worth of a person – or an institution – stands on their ability to admit that they’ve stumbled.’
‘Rather than simply covering their tracks,’ I add, hinting at how hastily the LSDCATS cast a person of colour for Tybalt. ‘It takes more strength to admit failure than pretend you never made a mistake in the first place.’
‘Yes, well …’ Rowan blusters – for the first time, he looks genuinely caught out. ‘You see, the ethos of the LSDCATS is to preserve the authenticity of literature and playwriting. We just want a cast that accurately represents the past.’
‘That sounds like a great way to give only one type of an actor a chance on the stage,’ Zayan says, his tone scornful.
‘And at the end of the day,’ I say, ‘Shakespeare’s characters are open to interpretation. The character’s looks play only one part in the storytelling. Does it really matter if they don’t look …?’
I pause, the words dying on my tongue. I was going to say classically British. But, for the first time, instead of shame, I feel this crackling sense of anger for myself when I think of Henry. Not on behalf of The Tragedies. Not for anyone else. I can’t help but feel indignant as I realize that Henry’s decision to give me feedback that I can’t work on – because I can’t fundamentally change the colour of my skin, or the shape of my mouth, or the embedded features of my face – is so incredibly unfair. I deserved the truth. Henry held so much power in that audition, and he chose to wield it in a way that would cut me down as an aspiring actress, not help me grow.
‘Farah?’ Leona prompts lightly, pulling me out of my thoughts.
Zayan’s looking at me with concern, and a part of my brain is screaming that I’m messing this interview up. The whole thing. But I can’t get myself to finish my sentence, because what if I’m not ready? What if I tell the world what Henry said, and the LSDCATS do tell me the truth – that they only gave me the critique they did because they didn’t want to say, You’re not a good enough actor. Could I really handle that?
Another minute passes, and I force myself to push that question out of my head. This interview isn’t the time to answer it – this is still about Zayan and his career.
I press a smile on to my lips as I collect myself, choosing my next words carefully. ‘As I was saying, the landscape of theatre is wide and vast. We’re delighted both plays can coexist.’
Leona nods sagely, taking in our comments like they’re words of pure wisdom. Rowan and Mary look disgruntled, their eyes narrowed on Zayan like he’s going to attack.
