Read Online Saving Alexander by Susan Mac Nicol - Free Book Online
Authors: Susan Mac Nicol
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milk?” Alex called out.
“Just black please. No sugar.” Sage called back. He sat down in an easy chair. Alex soon appeared with his coffee and a plate filled with various biscuits. “Sorry, no Jammie Dodgers. Just chocolate digestives and the ginger nuts.”
Sage took his coffee and smiled. “I’m not fussy when it comes to biscuits.” He took a chocolate one, dipping it into his coffee. Drops of liquid dribbled down his chin and he wiped them absently with his sleeve.
Alex shook his head in amusement. “You’re very unusual, Sage. Very down to earth, not at all like I’d imagine an actor to be.”
Sage peered at over the rim of his coffee cup as he sipped it. “Do you think we’re all living the high life, in suits and classy outfits, always at shows and with a different person on our arm each time?” He raised an eyebrow in query.
Alex mused for a moment before replying. “I suppose I’d say yes. It seems to be what it’s all about. But you’re different. You stay away from the limelight. Shun it, almost.”
Sage looked down at his coffee cup. “I’ll do whatever’s needed to promote myself and the film or TV series that I’m in. Jenny makes sure of that; it’s her job and mine. I have a responsibility toward the producers, the film’s shareholders and the rest of the cast. But that doesn’t mean I’m always available to be on show. I value my private life. I’ve had it invaded once before and that didn’t turn out so well. So now I play it by my rules, where I can at least.” He smiled wryly. “Sometimes it isn’t possible.”
Alex nodded. “I understand that philosophy. I like to do the same as you’ve noticed.” Sage noted Alex didn’t ask him about his cryptic comment about his life being invaded.
I suppose he feels he doesn’t share his past, so why would I return the favour? I admire him for that.
“I like your Banksy piece.” Sage waved toward a large print on the wall depicting a street artist. “I’ve always liked his sense of irreverence when it comes to what he paints.”
Alex nodded. “Me too. It’s a little unorthodox.” He yawned, covering his mouth with his hand. “Sorry. It’s not your company. It’s just been a long day.” Alex looked at Sage curiously. “Tell me about your dad. You said he was a bit of a gambler. What did he gamble on?”
Sage smiled. “Horses of course. We’ve a bit of a family tradition when it comes to the ponies. In fact I have two of them at home. My dad was a trainer for some horse owners in Southern Ireland where I lived after I was born, in a town called Shannon, in County Clare.
“We moved to England when I was twelve. Of course Dad always had to put a bet on the horses.” He grinned. “My mum was always very tolerant of his gambling but when he pinched her housekeeping money one day to place a bet, she laid down the law. He had to tone it down a bit after that. Mum was fairly fiery. You wouldn’t have wanted to get on the wrong side of her.” He smiled at the fond memory.
“Do they live close by then or are they in Ireland?” Alex asked curiously.
Sage’s face shadowed. “My folks were killed in a plane crash when I was nineteen.”
“God, Sage. I’m sorry. That must have been very difficult.” Alex laid a hand on Sage’s and Sage clasped it, enjoying the feel of another man’s warm skin beneath his. His groin still tingled with the Alex’s nearness.
Sage nodded, his eyes distant. “Dad had got his pilot’s licence and he bought himself a small plane, a little Cessna 152. He and Mum used to go back to Shannon to see my aunt and uncle. They’d only been flying about half an hour and a flock of birds flew straight into the propeller. We’re not hundred percent sure, but the crash investigators said it looked like Dad was forced to pull back fairly sharply on the control wheel and the engine stalled. There were no survivors.” He shrugged his shoulders. “It was just one of those things, no
“Just black please. No sugar.” Sage called back. He sat down in an easy chair. Alex soon appeared with his coffee and a plate filled with various biscuits. “Sorry, no Jammie Dodgers. Just chocolate digestives and the ginger nuts.”
Sage took his coffee and smiled. “I’m not fussy when it comes to biscuits.” He took a chocolate one, dipping it into his coffee. Drops of liquid dribbled down his chin and he wiped them absently with his sleeve.
Alex shook his head in amusement. “You’re very unusual, Sage. Very down to earth, not at all like I’d imagine an actor to be.”
Sage peered at over the rim of his coffee cup as he sipped it. “Do you think we’re all living the high life, in suits and classy outfits, always at shows and with a different person on our arm each time?” He raised an eyebrow in query.
Alex mused for a moment before replying. “I suppose I’d say yes. It seems to be what it’s all about. But you’re different. You stay away from the limelight. Shun it, almost.”
Sage looked down at his coffee cup. “I’ll do whatever’s needed to promote myself and the film or TV series that I’m in. Jenny makes sure of that; it’s her job and mine. I have a responsibility toward the producers, the film’s shareholders and the rest of the cast. But that doesn’t mean I’m always available to be on show. I value my private life. I’ve had it invaded once before and that didn’t turn out so well. So now I play it by my rules, where I can at least.” He smiled wryly. “Sometimes it isn’t possible.”
Alex nodded. “I understand that philosophy. I like to do the same as you’ve noticed.” Sage noted Alex didn’t ask him about his cryptic comment about his life being invaded.
I suppose he feels he doesn’t share his past, so why would I return the favour? I admire him for that.
“I like your Banksy piece.” Sage waved toward a large print on the wall depicting a street artist. “I’ve always liked his sense of irreverence when it comes to what he paints.”
Alex nodded. “Me too. It’s a little unorthodox.” He yawned, covering his mouth with his hand. “Sorry. It’s not your company. It’s just been a long day.” Alex looked at Sage curiously. “Tell me about your dad. You said he was a bit of a gambler. What did he gamble on?”
Sage smiled. “Horses of course. We’ve a bit of a family tradition when it comes to the ponies. In fact I have two of them at home. My dad was a trainer for some horse owners in Southern Ireland where I lived after I was born, in a town called Shannon, in County Clare.
“We moved to England when I was twelve. Of course Dad always had to put a bet on the horses.” He grinned. “My mum was always very tolerant of his gambling but when he pinched her housekeeping money one day to place a bet, she laid down the law. He had to tone it down a bit after that. Mum was fairly fiery. You wouldn’t have wanted to get on the wrong side of her.” He smiled at the fond memory.
“Do they live close by then or are they in Ireland?” Alex asked curiously.
Sage’s face shadowed. “My folks were killed in a plane crash when I was nineteen.”
“God, Sage. I’m sorry. That must have been very difficult.” Alex laid a hand on Sage’s and Sage clasped it, enjoying the feel of another man’s warm skin beneath his. His groin still tingled with the Alex’s nearness.
Sage nodded, his eyes distant. “Dad had got his pilot’s licence and he bought himself a small plane, a little Cessna 152. He and Mum used to go back to Shannon to see my aunt and uncle. They’d only been flying about half an hour and a flock of birds flew straight into the propeller. We’re not hundred percent sure, but the crash investigators said it looked like Dad was forced to pull back fairly sharply on the control wheel and the engine stalled. There were no survivors.” He shrugged his shoulders. “It was just one of those things, no
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