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night to be over.

Chapter 5
    Seated at the kitchen breakfast table, Christopher Sage’s head was splitting and his stomach queasy while the dryness in his mouth rivalled the Sahara. He groaned, wishing he was dead as he looked at the equally stricken Dan Costyn seated across from him.
    The only saving grace was the script had made it to Dan’s home with him.
    The two men regarded each blearily. They’d slept all evening and night and had finally woken up around eight A.M.
    “I wish I’d never bloody met you yesterday.” Sage glared at his friend. “The only time I ever seem to feel this way is when I’ve been with you.”
    Dan squinted at him from bloodshot eyes. “That’s a bit harsh, Sage. It also sounds a little bit wrong, you know? I’m not sure I would have phrased it that way myself.”
    He took a gulp of the piping hot black coffee in front of him. The friends were silent as they watched the news on the TV, the sound turned down because of their headaches.
    “And we didn’t even get to go home with the waitress and her friend.” Dan’s face was comical. “At least if we had, this might have been all worthwhile.”
    Sage looked at him in amazement. “Dan, if we’d gone home with them yesterday the only thing either of them would have seen would have been us puking our guts out, then falling comatose on the bed. I doubt either of us would even have been able to find it, let alone get it up.”
    Dan looked at him. “Speak for yourself. I know where mine bloody well is.” He chuckled.
    Sage grinned weakly. “I have to set some ground rules, Dan, if I move in here. I won’t be able to do this. I need to be sure I can get up in the morning or no one’s going to take me seriously. I really want this TV series to be a success. Do you promise me that when I say no I mean it?”
    Dan laughed. “No means no. I’ll try not to corrupt you too much whilst you’re here. Scout’s Honour.”
    “I don’t bloody well believe you, but it’ll do for a start.” Sage stood up slowly, lest he lose his balance, still feeling fairly drunk despite the long sleep and vowing to turn over a new leaf. “I need to get off home and get cleaned up. I feel bloody awful and I smell it too.” His nose wrinkled in distaste.
    Dan nodded. “Fine, buddy. I promise to behave, honestly. I know how important this job is to you.” He narrowed his eyes. “Just as long as you promise to keep those Irish moods at bay. Sage in a strop is one of the most bloody annoying creatures I’ve ever seen.”
    Sage grimaced. He didn’t do it often but he’d inherited his father’s predilection for what he’d affectionately called “The Black Irish,” and what his mother had tautly called a “sulk and a fucking menace.”
    When Sage’s mood crept up he knew he became sullen, moody and impossible to talk to. While it lasted, he was a definite downer on anyone around him. His mother had to put up with the two men in her life being awkward sods, and how she’d done it without taking a knife to their throats whilst they slept had always confounded both Sage and his father.
    Sage reached over, gripping his friend tightly on the shoulder. “Thanks. I appreciate that. I promise I’ll try and keep the moods to a minimum. I’ll probably get here a few days before we start filming, just to settle in. I’ll give you a call. I’ve got the spare key anyway, so I can let myself in if you’re at work.”
    Dan worked as an investment advisor at one of the major London banks. He kept long hours and made an obscene amount of money, hence the three-bedroom luxury apartment in King’s Road and the natty suits he wore.
    The two friends could not have been more different. But they’d known each other since they were twelve years old and at school together. Dan had helped Sage through many a crisis in the course of his burgeoning understanding of his homosexuality. There wasn’t a man Sage trusted more, other than his godfather.
    Sage finally made