And that was Quentin’s return to Nana. His return to me.

He fell asleep very quickly, he was exhausted, but I lay thinking for a while, listening to his breathing slowing and deepening. Were we together now? Just like that? Wouldn’t he come to his senses in the morning when he saw me, mousy haired me, and compared our lovemaking to the brilliant sex he said he’d had with Bree? I didn’t perform that well, I reckoned; I just laid there and cried and whimpered and peaked. How much fun was that? For me it had been a profound, beautiful experience, but I kept thinking that for him… he was probably used to extremes I couldn’t even imagine.

Eventually, however, Quentin’s warmth engulfed me and I dozed off, dreaming fretfully of losing him again.

While we were sleeping, night had set in and he had spooned up to me. He had an arm wrapped around me, but he was such a stove that I woke up from being too hot. I was sweating and where we touched, we were practically glued together. It was fast becoming uncomfortable, so I carefully lifted his arm and moved away to turn over. At that, Quentin suddenly shot upright, surprising me completely.

‘Tazzie where are you,’ he said, panic in his voice, eyes unseeing, hands feeling the air in front of him. Bad dream, and by the looks of it not all that different from the one I had had.

I sat up as well. ‘Quent, I’m here,’ I softly said, stroking his back. ‘I’m here, shh, I’m here love…’

Slowly, slowly, awareness dawned in his eyes. ‘Taz…’ he blinked, ‘I was dreaming… you were gone, didn’t know where you were…’

‘I’m here,’ I repeated, still stroking his back.

He leaned against me, laid his cheek against mine and whispered: ‘…don’t leave me…’

I melted. Could it be true? Could this beautiful, beautiful man say something like that to me, and mean it? I hugged him and whispered in his ear: ‘I’m not going anywhere…’

‘Stay with me Taz,’ he went on, low, ‘I don’t want to lose you – I’ve lost everything else…’ and then he kissed me, sloppily and with a note of desperation.

I put my hands to his face and held him still, taking control of our kiss. We slowed down. Slowed down and intensified. Slowly, we fell back into the pillows, still kissing, that unmistakable heat slowly building, building... His hand between my legs, softly touching and asking permission... I was moist again from just kissing; his fingers were doing the rest. I reached down and he sprang to attention in my hand, hot and hard.

‘Taz, come here,’ he pleaded, and he grabbed me and rolled me on top of him, positioning me so that his tip teased my entrance. I felt the urgency sparkle like an electric current and rubbed against him, slick and ready. His eyes burned feverishly as suddenly he pushed me down on him, down, down, all the way down. I whimpered, still a bit sore from earlier on, but adjusted quickly to being filled up so completely. The feeling was indescribable.

We found a gentle rhythm, gaining speed as the arc of our desire steepened, and then suddenly he rolled us both over, never losing stride, ground out ‘Gotta finish, Taz,’ and pounded into me again.

I would never have guessed this untamed, uncontrolled, almost violent lovemaking would provoke such searing lust and abandon in me – we rooted like animals and ended in a gasping, quivering heap of limbs that quickly turned to jelly.

‘Christ, Tazzie...’ Quentin managed after a while, ‘You’re... I dunno what happens when we’re... I forget everything and I just wanna...’ He sighed contentedly and snuggled up to me.

‘Well, a little sex is doing wonders for your eloquence,’ I grinned into his neck.

He vibrated with ripples of mirth as his wonderful silly giggle bubbled up and he spluttered into my hair: ‘Wha... No, hang on, I was just, hee hee... Oh bloody hell... You kill me, Taz, you’re...’ He laid a hand against my cheek and looked into my eyes, fragments of smile still clinging to his face. ‘I’ve never known a woman fucked me so hard I couldn’t string two words together afterwards, then take the mickey before I even had time to...’ another giggle, followed by a very, very tender kiss. ‘Love you,’ he whispered to my lips.

‘Love you too,’ I said soundlessly, overcome by happiness. We fell asleep again in a tangle.

~*~

The next morning I woke up to find Quentin studying me, his head in his hand. He smiled when I opened my eyes.

‘Just making sure you’re still here, luvvie…’ he softly said.

‘Oh… shouldn’t you get some more zeds in? You must be so tired from everything, and… we didn’t get that much sleep, with all the… exertions…’ I reached up to stroke his cheek. The scratches looked less inflamed, less violent already. His bruise was still a vividly coloured splotch of modern art on his face. ‘How’s the shoulder?’ I inquired.

His eyebrows shot through the roof; apparently he had already forgotten all about it. He rolled his shoulder carefully and reached around with his other hand to poke it. ‘Don’t feel a thing… did you do that?’ He reached out, put a big hand on me and just literally shoved me into his chest, into his embrace.

I didn’t resist; instead, I nuzzled his chest fur and kissed his stubbled jawline.

He growled happily and pulled me in even closer. ‘You’re a little witch, luvvie, with your clairsentience and your magic hands. Better not tell anyone or they’ll come to get you…. They burn ‘em here in Oz, you know?’

‘Mmmm, I was afraid of that…’ I mumbled against his neck, putting my lips against that soft spot right where his stubble ended, and sucking his skin gently.

‘Hey, what ya doin’, givin’ me a hickie?’ he chuckled ungrammatically; then he squirmed when I sucked a little harder. ‘God, Taz…’ he breathed, and I felt him harden against my belly. His hands started to roam, kneading my breasts, cupping my buttocks, trying to reach around to touch my sex. A frustrated little sound when he found he just couldn’t get there. ‘Come on up here, I can’t…’ he muttered, trying to hitch me up higher.

I accommodated and slithered up his side, continuing my nuzzling journey behind his ear and putting a wanton leg over him. He grabbed hold, took aim and deftly rubbed his throbbing tip against my clit. I yelped into his ear and he immediately froze. ‘You sore, luvvie?’ he softly asked, gently stroking my flank and leg, rolling on his side, gathering me in against him.

I marveled at how considerate and caring a lover he really was. ‘No, no, I’m fine, love, just a bit sensitive, don’t stop please,’ I reassured him, kissing his ear, his cheek, his nose, and finally his mouth.

Our lips locked for a drowsy exploration that was more loving, and joyful, than lustful. Quentin was still stroking my side languorously and he smiled in between our kisses, little crinkles forming by his eyes. He hummed a soft and happy ‘Hmmmm?’ cuddling me; all thoughts of another round of primitive mating seemingly dissipated.

I let my hand glide down his back, enjoying his surprisingly soft and smooth skin. His buttocks were lightly furred and round and muscled. I squeezed; I just couldn’t help myself. ‘Love your bum,’ I smiled to him.

‘Love your bum too,’ he grinned right back, and returned the squeeze.

We felt around and squeezed appreciatively some more, all the while drowning in each other’s eyes, grinning like fools. And then suddenly Quentin sighed a deep, profound sigh, his eyes turning serious. He had his hand on my leg, right below my buttock, fingers precariously close to where the wetness started – how could I be here with him, kissing, petting, and not be ready – and he leaned his erect cock against me. He moved his fingers just a tiny bit, but it was enough to bring all that stunning sexual tension back. ‘May I…?’ he husked, moving his fingers again, ever so slightly inching towards my slit.

I shivered in anticipation, whispered: ‘Yes… please…’ and let him touch me. His fingertips slid up and down the length of it, appreciating the slickness and softly probing, gliding between my folds and rubbing sweet little circles around my nub. I arched against him, then pulled him on top of me.

Slowly, tenderly, Quentin positioned himself between my legs and relaxed against me, his cock finding its bearings without hesitation. We moved against each other, eyes locked, and I felt him slip inside, slowly, tantalizingly slowly.

‘Not too bad, luvvie?’ he whispered, concern in his eyes.

By way of an answer, I wrapped my legs around him and pulled him in as much as I could, lifting up my hips to receive him completely. His breath hitched and he opened his mouth a bit, tongue poking out a little way, like a big, dreamy, chestnut cat. I contracted around him and he gasped, closing his eyes.

‘Christ, Taz, you doin’ that on purpose?’ he breathed, setting a rhythm of long, slow strokes.

My hands ran over his back and kneaded his buttocks, pulling him in as deeply as I could on each down stroke. He groaned in appreciation and plucked at my lower lip, sucking it in and licking it. Then, he worked a hand in between us and started rubbing my clit as he increased his pace. I felt the promise of an earth shattering orgasm gain momentum as he worked me both inside and out, and in my urgency, I buried the fingers of one hand between his buttocks, squeezing, digging.

He made a surprised but delighted sound and heatedly grunted in my ear: ‘Oh fuck, so good, Taz, don’t stop…’

I dug and squeezed some more and he upped his pace again, breathing going ragged, growling as I increased the pressure.

And suddenly he reached his peak, almost shouting: ‘God, fuck, yeah, oh… fuck…’

I was right behind him; as I felt his warmth bloom inside me in a few bursts I spiraled into a blissful nothingness that slowly filled up again with his smell, his hair tickling my face, his body crushing me most deliciously…

A colossal shiver ran through him, seemingly starting at his feet and working its way up his entire body. I retrieved my fingers from between the cheeks of his bum and gave him a satisfied pat, enjoying the soft fuzz. When I moved my hand up his back I could feel beads of sweat standing on his skin.

He lifted his head, damp tangle hanging in his eyes, and looked at me without speaking, his intensity almost palpable. ‘Taz… that was amazing…’ he got out after awhile, as I stroked his hair back.

‘Yes…’ I whispered. I could feel his wonder, his quiet amazement, that matched my own. It was like it was the very first time I had ever made love. Compared to what I felt with Quent, none of my earlier experiences even came close and certainly weren’t worth being called lovemaking.

I continued running a hand through his lovely thick silky hair, when suddenly his stomach gave a ridiculously loud rumble. He grinned, intensity dissipating. ‘What do you reckon, luv, we should get some brekkie before we fuck ourselves into starvation, hey?’

‘Maybe shower first?’ I suggested, sniffing his armpit and wrinkling my nose.

‘What, Taz,’ he giggled, trying to get away from me, ‘you don’t like me all sweaty? Should have thought of that before, woman!’

‘You ticklish?’ I grinned, coming after him, poking a finger in his side.

He squealed and escaped from the tangled bedcovers, bounding into the bathroom flailing limbs in all directions and locking the door with a clearly audible click. I heard a satisfied ‘Hah!’ from the other side of the door.

I climbed out of bed, made my way over to the bathroom and knocked. ‘Quent? I need to pee, let me in there!’

‘No-o,’ he said with his most beautiful Ozzie vowel to date, mischief in his voice, ‘you’ll just have to wait until I’m done.’

‘Oh, no, please, please, Quentin, I can’t hold out much longer,’ I said, scrabbling at the door.

The lock clicked, the door opened a tantalizing crack and Quent poked his head out. ‘Beg, luvvie!’ he ordered, grinning like a fiend.

‘Uh, OK… whatever tickles your fancy, I imagine…’ I said, feigning bewilderment; I then knelt in full view of him and asked seriously, eyes downcast: ‘Please, Quentin, I beg you, may I come in for a pee?’

For a moment he looked owlish, then he exploded in a loud guffaw and yawned the door wide. ‘Come on in then, crazy sheila, before you ruin the carpet,’ he chuckled, extending a hand.

I stuck out my tongue at him, then grabbed his hand and let him pull me up and into the bathroom.

‘No more tickling though,’ he warned me, one finger in the air.

‘Or what?’ I lowered myself onto the seat and sighed my relief, marveling at how completely at ease we were with each other. All it had taken was one night. And what a night it had been.

‘Or I’ll hafta… hmmm…’ Quentin scratched his balls unselfconsciously and squinted in the mirror, studying his shiner. He turned, distracted, and asked out of the blue: ‘Taz, you reckon I’ve got anger issues?’ He leaned his magnificent arse against the sink, crossed his legs, folded his arms and looked down at me.

I peered up at him from the toilet seat. ‘I dunno… You can be a bit of a temperamental fellow, but that’s not all that unusual, is it? I mean, it’s not like you’re a mental case when all you do is…’

 ‘…a bit of a temperamental fellow?’ he interrupted, quirking a brow, imitating my accent perfectly, ‘fuckin’ hell, the way you say it I’m a bloody poofter.’ He pranced around, flapping his hands dramatically, head cocked, voice pitched too high, going: ‘Oh-my-God!’

Even though he was naked and gloriously all male, it was totally convincing and I screeched with laughter. ‘Oh, very good, very Oscar moment, but not bloody likely after last night’s performance… I won’t be able to walk straight for a week.’

‘No but honestly,’ he continued, serious again all of a sudden. He studied his toes and pursed his lips in thought, ‘I mean, Bree was always on my case, constantly telling me I should get counseling for my anger issues, but…’ He sighed.

‘But what?’ I asked gently.

‘Well, I don’t feel like I’m necessarily doin’ anything wrong, getting upset over people asking me stupid questions, butting into my life where they don’t have the right to, stuff like that... I mean, wouldn’t anyone?’ He ran a hand through his hair and looked at me earnestly.

‘They probably would, yeah, although not everyone would try to punch the offending party’s lights out, I reckon. Besides, you do have some sort of responsibility, you’re a role model of sorts, don’t you think? Whether you like it or not. People are going to look up to you.’

‘Yeah... yeah, reckon you’re right... It’s just, you know, Taz, all I want to do is work in films, play a little music... I didn’t ask for people to look up to me as a role model – I just want to be left the fuck alone and live my life when I’m not working... It’s difficult enough to deal with the people I want to have in my life... I don’t want to have to deal with the ones I don’t... well you know...’ He floundered around in his sentence, then decided to give it a shrug and leave it at that.

I got up, wiped, flushed and washed my hands. Then, turning to face him and putting a hand on his upper arm, I said, ‘Well maybe you should just try to...’ I thought of what Jo had said, ‘...count to ten sometimes, especially when you’re somewhere where folks can see you...? I don’t mind you being a...’ now I smiled, ‘...temperamental fellow, but perhaps it’s wise to remember where you are, sometimes...’

His hands were on my hips and he drowsily pulled me into his embrace. ‘You don’t mind me bein’ a temperamental poofter?’ he said huskily, hands running over my back. ‘You don’t think I should get therapy?’

‘I didn’t say that,’ I grinned, feeling his groin coming to life again.

‘Wha...?’ he muttered in my hair, engrossed.

‘You’re too easily aroused,’ I whispered to his earlobe.

‘And I should get therapy for that?’ he went, pulling me into the shower with him.

‘Mmm,’ said I, as he turned on the water and soaped my back. I returned the favour. ‘On second thought though, maybe we should just leave it...’ I started on his front and when he was all frothy, I slithered up and down against him.

‘What the fuck are you doin’?’ he grinned, seizing the opportunity to grind his hard-on against my belly.

‘Using you for a life size loofah,’ I said, looking into his eyes with my best mischievous smile, ‘you’re nice and hairy, helps me to get rid of all these nasty dead skin cells.’

He exploded into laughter again, getting into it as well and rubbing me right into a corner in the shower, rumbling happily as he did so.

I squealed when I felt the cold tiles against my back.

‘You clean yet?’ he said menacingly, covering me with his big sudsy body.

I wrapped my two arms around him and wished I had more tentacles to hold him with – I couldn’t get close enough to him. So I wrapped a leg around him also, hooking my heel around his calf. The prospect of falling flat on my arse didn’t appeal to me, or else I would have used the other leg as well and I would have climbed right into him from wanting to get closer.

He grinned and did some more slithering, hitching up my leg. ‘…’s not me, luvvie, it’s you,’ he said, his gravelly voice alone making me shiver in anticipation, ‘…can’t get enough of you… c’mere, Taz,’ and with one last expertly aimed slither he sheathed himself firmly.

‘Oh… Quent… We’ll never…’ I panted.

‘What?’ He scrabbled for purchase, trying to gain traction on the wet tiles, but soon as he had, he set a lazy, luxuriating pace, slowly pumping in and out, breathing in my ear, ‘What, Tazzie-luv, what you wanna say?’

‘We’ll never… get properly cleaned up like this…’ I managed with difficulty, sinking my teeth in his shoulder.

‘Ow, vampire,’ he grunted, and pumped harder.

‘More, Quent,’ I ground out, breathing in episodes, ‘fuck me harder, please… plea-…’

‘Say it, luvvie,’ he growled, plowing into me with all his strength.

‘Harder… Oh sweet Jesus…!’

I came so hard that I couldn’t keep myself upright, and then Quentin shouted in my ear, breath going ragged: ‘Fuckin’… bloody… Christ… on a stick…’ and his legs buckled as well. We slid to the floor, panting.

‘…Christ on a stick?’ I asked of him after a bit, stroking his hair out of his eyes. I seemed to be doing that a lot, but I just loved it, how his eyes turned soft when I did, how something deep inside him seemed to unclench at my touch.

He wrapped his arms around me a little tighter and we sat there on the shower floor as the water splattered down on us. ‘…did I really say that?’ he inquired, giggling softly. ‘Fuck, that’s embarrassing… wonder where that came from…’

‘Yes, you did, you actually said that, rather loudly,’ I grinned, ‘…if we keep the sexual activities going in this fashion, you’ll not manage two intelligent sentences in a row and you’ll curse like a girl… Don’t think I’ll want to go out with you if you’re going to be like that…’

‘You want to go out with me then?’ he whispered, putting a hand to my cheek.

‘What do you think, you bloody fool?’ I smiled at him and kissed the tip of his nose.

‘We-ell… I thought you just wanted to shag me silly and dump me the mornin’ after,’ he giggled, kissing me back sloppily.

All of a sudden we both turned serious. He reached up to turn off the tap and we looked at each other, dripping. ‘I… I really don’t know you at all, Quent,’ I said softly. ‘yet it’s like…’

‘…like we’ve been like this forever…’ he finished my sentence for me. ‘I feel so at home with you, luvvie, like I could really be me… I’ve never… usually, people expect me to be…’

I smiled at him.

‘…will you stop looking at me like that? I can’t think when you…’ He kissed me again, making soft humming noises.

‘Sorry…’ I mumbled in between kisses, to which he replied: ‘You know how it is, luv… no apologies, hey,’ and then he kissed me again until we shivered, the heat from lovemaking and showering finally dissipating, leaving us cold and wet on the tiled floor.

~*~

Half an hour later we were at breakfast: washed, combed and dressed in clean clothes. Quent looked a lot better than the day before, never mind his black eye and scratches. He had his damp hair slicked back and was comfortably munching on a sandwich, his free hand hanging over my knee.

Jo beamed at us so hard it was almost indecent.

One by one, everyone trickled in to say hi, pound Quent on the back and tell him that the US of A could go fuck itself; Oz was the place to be anyway so who gave a fuck, hey? Quentin joined in heartily, laughed with them, said he’d finally have the time to put in his fair share at the station. Martin grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, shook him and said to him: ‘Aaaaaright then, little bro, you can start by givin’ me a hand with that bleedin’ cabin; we’re rebuilding the roof today!’

Quent of course couldn’t let it lie and got up to scrum a bit with his brother, to Jo’s dismay.

‘You boys, lay off now. Off! Out the kitchen, before you destroy something. You’re both mental; shoo, shoo!’ She actually tried to push them out the door, these two big, burly men. Surprisingly enough she almost managed, too. Quentin was already halfway down the corridor when I heard him call out: ‘Taz! Fuckin’… help me out here, I’m losing!’

I just sat giggling on my stool. Sadie came in and she wrapped her arms around me in one of her famous girly hugs, giggling with me. ‘So happy he’s back here with you, Taz!’ she whispered in my ear. ‘Now everything will be all right for my crazy uncle…’ I hugged her back and thought I could not be happier than I was at this very point in time.

Quentin in the mean time was trying to climb over his brother, who was blocking the doorway for all he was worth. He shot me mock desperate glances and bellowed: ‘Oi, Marty, ya fucker… let me back in, I wanna… Taz! Hey!’

I nearly dissolved laughing. Finally Martin let up and Quent galloped back in and plonked himself down on the stool next to me, leaning over for a quick kiss. His happiness was so overwhelming, now that Quentin Radio was back on air, that I sat reeling, grinning like an idiot.

After breakfast, we slowly walked over to the cabin, arms wrapped around each other. I still had difficulty believing it was all real; I had to look at him every now and again to make sure I wasn’t daydreaming. I wasn’t; it really was Quentin Finch who had his arm around me and who kissed me or nuzzled my hair every couple of steps. Unbelievable, wasn’t it? That little voice in my head spoke up again. Yeah, that little voice. The one that couldn’t give it a rest when Quentin had first kissed me, the one that drove me crazy bringing it up, making it impossible to forget about him. And what did it say, my little voice?

Too good to be true, Taryn.

What?

Too good to be true; he’ll get distracted, you’ll lose him…

Shut up, shut up, shut-up-shut-up-shut-up! He was here, now, with me, wasn’t he; he had broken up with Bree and he had come back. To me. Because he loved me. He’d said it. How much more proof did I need?

Yesss… the voice was serpentine, but would he have done the same thing if he had gotten his permit back? Is he with you because that’s what he wants most or…  is he with you only because the other option is closed to him now…? Too good to be true, Taryn...

I shivered.

‘What is it, Tazzie-luv,’ Quent asked under his breath, ‘…you cold? You want my jumper?’

I shook my head. ‘No, I’m fine… just…’

‘What?’ he softly said, stopping and pulling me into his arms. ‘You look troubled, luvvie… Did I do something wrong?’

I shook my head again.

‘You sure?’ he asked, his eyes all worry. ‘I’m famous for it, you know; Bree always said I’m a fuck-up waitin’ to happen, so… just say it if I’ve done something, okey doke?’

My heart clenched up; I could just kill Bree for making him feel so bad about himself. I touched his cheek, ‘No, love, you didn’t do anything, don’t ever think that you did because you didn’t… I’m just… I feel insecure, a bit... overwhelmed I reckon…’

He sighed, relieved, and locked me tighter into his embrace. ‘Well that makes two of us, luvvie… I’ve never done this either; not this… I dunno what… how…’ he mumbled into my hair, kissing the top of my head lightly.

‘Oi, quit the pashin’ and get a move on,’ Martin shouted from up ahead, ‘We’ve got stuff to do here!’

Quentin groaned and reluctantly let go of me, holding on to my hand as we continued walking. ‘He’ll never let me hear the fuckin’ end of it,’ he muttered, but then a stunner of a smile broke through on his face, making his eyes sparkle. ‘But then again, I’m the one who got you, hey?’ He beamed at me. ‘Oh, I know Marty had a thing for you as well, at first; that was why we ended up havin’ a blue before I sodded off to Sydney to see Bree… Stupid twat that I was…’ He shook his head at himself, ‘…I should have bloody well read the signs…’

‘How do you mean…?’ I looked at him sideways.

‘Well I… I really… fancied you… when we met… I liked your piccie on the dust jacket of your book, but when I saw you for real, I was… you were…’ He faltered, drew breath, tipped his chin up and said to the sky, ruefully: ‘Fuck, I’m really bad at this! Can’t someone give me some proper lines to say in this scene? Bloody hell!’  He shook his head again and combed a hand through his hair.

‘You fancied me?’ I said, smiling at the show he made of his insecurity, but at the same time truly amazed by his revelation, ‘Why? I mean, how…?’

‘Well, you know, like a bloke fancies a sheila? Happens all the time, reckon.’ He looked down, speaking in a small voice.

I glanced at him again. ‘Yeah, but... why?’ I went on, ‘I mean, you’re constantly surrounded by all these beautiful women, women like Bree, I mean, so… how can you fancy someone like…’

‘Look around you, Taz,’ he interrupted.

I did as he said.

‘You see any of those so-called beautiful women around?’

I shook my head.

‘Well there you are,’ he said, making his point. ‘I really don’t meet that many women that I honestly fancy, you know. I fancied Bree, yeah, but I also... reckon I felt being with Bree was like... a prize. A prize to be won. Something to prove. And I can be a bloodthirsty bastard when something speaks to my competitive streak. I know it’s not pretty, but who said I was perfect?’ He sighed, hand running through his mane again. ‘With you I don’t feel any of that; I just... think about you all the time. Wanna be with you. Simple as that.’ He squeezed my hand.

‘But I thought you just hated me when we first met, you know, for coming to visit without your Mum checking with you first… You were shouting at me, remember?’

‘Oh, fuck, don’t remind me… I was on the piss, truth be told, and then I saw you talking to my brother… and you were so fuckin’... special… like nothing I could say or do would make any difference... I wanted to do something, but I hadn’t a clue what, so I just noised off… And later when I came to get you for your tea I thought I was prepared for it, but then we touched, remember… before I bloody well knew what was goin’ on I was kissing you… I felt really rattled afterwards, but you were just so... composed... I was messed up as it was; wasn’t looking for any more complications. Guess I just thought I couldn’t handle it, and then Bree rang me and...’ His ramble petered out. He squeezed my hand again and shot me a glance. ‘I was just bein’ bloody stupid. Look, Taz, what I’m trying to say, I’m actually sort of a shy bloke, deep down… I can handle the whole Hollywood gig fairly well, but that’s basically because it’s so unreal, in a sense… It’s almost like it doesn’t count. You know what I’m tryin’ to say?’

I nodded, but I wasn’t entirely sure. ‘Think so…’ I said, hesitantly.

‘I kind of like to hide, you know? In that world? Forget about the fact that I’m an insecure bastard with a big mouth who never even went to uni, forget about the fact that the only thing I’m any good at is pretending, and a little guitar playing…’

‘What are you on about, Quent, you’re a bloody A-list actor!’ I shook my head at him, interrupting him. Smiling in disbelief.

‘Yeah, but it’s still only pretending, at the end of the day. I know, I’m serious about it, I treat the craft with respect. I mean, it’s what I do, so I’d better be serious about it, hey? But from time to time I do wonder... what the fuck it is that I do for a crust... Especially now, as I’m, you know, unemployed...’ He kicked up the dirt as he walked, then continued softly, not looking at me, ‘...you’re real, Tazzie.... you’re the genuine article. I’m not… that good… dealing with that, I think…’

What is he saying, Taz? The little voice piped up. Is he preparing you for something?

We walked on in silence, holding hands, until we reached the cabin.

Chapter Eleven

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