trojan one (working title)

an actor is unwittingly caught up in a fight he has no connection but soon finds out he wants to know more! this is only the first chapter and a first draft!

                One

Blake Hollingberry had come to the English countryside for a holiday. After the last four years of whirlwind success he had become a household name. Barely a movie went by with his name in the credits. Though it had never been his dream to be in the spot light Blake had shot to fame with acclaimed roles. Shakespeare had never been spoke in such perfection and the modern verse was gifted with graze. Blake’s baritone voice easily turned his fans to mush when he spoke. If you were to ask Blake himself he would insist he was nothing more than an odd looking man who had resigned himself to the period dramas. Though with the characters that had blown his life into the public eye resonated into the hearts of the young and old. He had never understood the sudden appeal he had to the women of the world, yet still they would scream his name when he walked the red carpets.

Last year Blake had received several nominations for academy awards winning almost all of them. There was a tear in his eye as he thanked the people who had given him the best jobs in the world.

Working for three years flat out had taken its toll on the young actor and he had decided to take some time off. Not to mention the break-up of a long term relationship. Blake had met Carla through their parents, child hood friends who later become sweet hearts. Blake would write to Clara from his boarding school telling her how the older boys would harass him about his famous parents. Still Blake had made some very good friends at Harrow; men that he would stay close to for the rest of his life.

It was rare for a week to pass without Clara replying to his letters and their friendship only got stronger.  The pair attended the same drama school and quickly took their relationship to the next level. Their families couldn’t have been happier for the pair as they watched their love grow with each passing year.

At the age of thirty one Blake had made a decision he thought would change his life. He had told his mother of the nerves that were bubbling inside him. The man had even visited Carla’s father in the hope he would be accepted warmly. With everything in place he arranged what he thought would be the most romantic night he had ever concocted.

Carla had other plans for the couple. Sitting at a table looking over the river themes Carla drew in a long desperate breath. Her chest was tight   with nerves but a different nerve to Blake.

He fiddled with the tiny square box in his coat pocket, awaiting the bottle of champagne he had ordered from the waiter. Trying to keep the little salvager he had left in his mouth where it was he cleared his throat.

“Carla, I have to ask you something.” He began letting the light of the candle on the table glint in the sparkle of his green/blue eyes. A gentle smile curled up the corners of his lips, his hand resting down on Carla’s. She slid it from his touch and held both of her small hands in her lap.

“I rather you didn’t Blake.” There was sadness in her voice.

Blake furrowed his brow trying to decipher the reasons behind her actions. Carla knew what he wanted to say but she couldn’t let him do it.

“We have to talk, Blake.” He winced at the words, everyone knew that was the kiss of death. He took a quick breath and braced himself.

“I can’t do this anymore Blake, I’m sorry.”

“What are you talking about, Carla?”

She took in a quick breath to steady the shaking of her chest.

“Please don’t make this any harder than it needs to be. I just . . . I can’t be in a relationship with you anymore.”

“Is there someone else?” there was a burning in his throat that wouldn’t go away. Carla shook her head, not saying he was wrong only that she didn’t want to answer.

“There is, isn’t there? Is it Mike?” the man had been Blake’s friend once, but over the last year they had grown distant from each other whilst Carla grew closer with him. Carla didn’t have to answer, her eyes told him everything he needed to know. Blake lowered his own eyes to the starter plate on the table.

“How long have you been seeing him?” his voice was almost a whisper.

“Blake, it’s not like that.” She reached her own hand over the table this time and tried to take his. He brought his eyes back to meet her but kept his hands tight to his side of the white cloth.

“I didn’t, we didn’t mean for anything to happen. It just did.”

“How long?” Blake’s voice had gone flat, losing all the excited inflections he usually exhibited. Carla didn’t answer, she didn’t want to. Blake pulled in a long breath trying to calm the anger inside him. “How long Carla?  Just tell me.” his eyes pleaded with her for an answer.

She dropped her head, a lock of her blonde hair falling over her face. A tear had escaped her left eye, even with the anger Blake couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pain for that tear.

“Three months.”

“Three months? You’ve been sleeping with him for three months?” Blake tried to bite back the tears that threatened his eyes.

“It wasn’t like that.”

“What was it like? He listened to you more than I did?”

“Blake don’t be-” she was interrupted by the waiter arriving with a bottle of champagne. They waited as he poured out two glasses placing them on the table. Blake thanked him before he left and downed the glass in front of him.

“Why?” he finally said through gritted teeth.

“It just happened.”

“It’ doesn’t just happen Carla!”

There was an anger inside Blake that he hadn’t known he could have. Blake wanted answers, to know why the one woman he loved had done something so deceitful to him.

“You were away.”

“It’s my fault? I thought it would be. It’s my job Carla, it’s your job as well encase you’ve forgotten.”

“Yes Blake I know.”

He shook his head took out his wallet and threw two fifty pound notes on the table. Blake stood up to his full 6’ 4” and straightened his suit, buttoning the jacket.

“Excuse me I need to . . . um . . . I need to leave.” He turned leaving Carla at the table.

It was that night that spurred Blake into furthering his career. He devoted himself to the job and was quickly the go to man for any director or writer looking for a perfect fit to their characters. He would turn his hand to any genre and proved himself to be a competent impressionist. So three passed by and Blake had become a household name there wasn’t a talk show that went by without his appearance or a magazine that hadn’t snapped a picture of him.

Blake was suited and booted in his smart Blake perfectly tailored diner suit looking in to the mirror of the hotel room. He felt a headache creeping up into the left temple. With a sigh he gulped down to paracetamol tablets, telling himself it would go if he ignored it. Blake was started to grow used to the headaches over the last two months as they grew in intensity.

A knock at his door drew him from the self-pitying moment a voice telling him it was time to go, the red carpet was waiting. It was usual for Blake to attend the events alone but on this occasion he had agreed to arrive with his co-star. Another male actor who had become a close friend of Blake during their time working on a television show. Thomas was already in the limo when Blake climbed in. they greeted each other with a friendly hug and lots of banter. Though the headache wouldn’t pass and Blake often dropped his head in to his hand.

Crowds of fans screamed for the pair as they stepped out of the limo and placed their feet onto the red carpet. The pair waved and smiled respectively to everyone; often stopping to sign slips of paper, pictures and one girl who wanted Blake to write his number on her arm. A particularly attractive girl with a microphone stopped them and started asking a few questions. She was a reporter from the early morning TV show on channel 3. As he tried to focus on her words, Blake couldn’t help but notice the blurring of his vision. Her words grew to little more than whisper to him though he could see she was talking into the microphone. A rush of nausea swirled in Blake’s stomach. He touched his hand to Thomas’ wrist. Thomas turned to him just as Blake’s knees buckled and he fell.

He couldn’t tell what had happened after that moment because he had no memory of it. He woke up the next day in a hospital bed, wrapped tightly in the orange blanket, his mother and father sitting in chairs across the room. The doctor explained that it was fatigue that had caused the body to collapse. He was exhausted, every ache inside him screamed their agreement with the doctor.

 Finally his mother; who had been an actress before him; put her foot down and told him to take some time off. Though Blake protested against her at first he knew he would eventually agree with her. There was only one place Blake could think to go, though he loved to travel the earth when he really needed time to get away, escape the press and be alone Blake would go to the countryside of his youth. The rolling hills of the English countryside brought a peace of mind to the actor that he never found anywhere else.

He didn’t think anything could get to him out there and so he settled himself in to his family’s getaway cottage. The first few days Blake didn’t leave the house, he enjoyed the quiet of the simple décor and peaceful library. It was in that room that Blake felt completely at home. A room where he could find infinite pleasures through the lives of so many others. The actor who used his own body to give life to the words on page found he felt more alive between the pages of an ancient book than taking in part in the modern world.

Blake settled himself into the leather sofa and opened the old book. For a minute he simply took in the smell of the pages, relishing the scent that he so adored. The letters on the pages flowed off in gentle streams taking their rest inside his mind twisting with his imagination to form pictures.  It was a book he read a hundred times and Blake knew almost every word by heart. Still each twist and turn gave him the same exhilaration as the first time and he would laugh and cry along with the characters. Drifting out of his real life and into the lives in the book, Blake let his body take over and his eyelids slowly dropped until he slept.

Author's Note

a first draft of a new novel,