Page 41 of The Dramatic Life of Jonah Penrose
It was Jonah’s turn to feel the stirrings of something in the pit of his stomach. Butterflies, maybe. Or probably just carnal desire, but butterflies sounded better.
“Take me for a drink and we can find out.”
Dexter nodded. “After the show.”
“Huh?”
“After my first show as Hector, I’ll take you for a drink then.”
Jonah’s eyes flicked down to Dexter’s crotch. Despite the way he sat, being so close to him meant Jonah could still get a good view of him, and he could see the outline of his erection clear as day. “That’s in a week,” Jonah stated, bringing his eyes to meet Dexter’s again. “Why wait a week?”
“It’ll be better that way.” Dexter cleared his throat as the cast in front of them slowly chanted the next song. He waved to Peter, who still stood at the front beside Colbie, and gestured to the bag on the floor next to him. Peter rolled his eyes and kicked it across the floor to him, where it hit Dexter’s shins. He wasted no time in opening the bag to pull out a lavender-colored jumper, and Jonah noticed the embroidered lemons on it right away.
“Piniquo?” Jonah asked, earning him a surprised but delighted smile from Dexter.
“Yes,” he said. “Fashionable and also doubles up as a boner protector.” He stood and held the jumper loosely at his waist, covering his crotch entirely as he smirked down at Jonah. “Now, leave me alone; I’m incredibly busy and important.” He sauntered out of the room to the sound of the cast singing aggressively about the gods and spoils of war.
God. Jonah wanted to touch every inch of his skin and he couldn’t believe he was thinking this way about Dexter bloody Ellis. The thought terrified and excited him in equal measures. A drink in a week, seven days. He reminded himself that good things come to those who wait.
Eighteen
“Is their blood there for you to take? Or do we stain our souls with the color of the people we are told are our enemies? Who is he to say who we must hate based on one man’s inability to keep a wife?”
—“What Do We Fight For?”The Wooden Horse, Act One
The atmosphere in the theatre buzzed with electricity. The Persephone glowed as if filled with rivers of gold, the red velvet of the chairs pristine, the carpets fragrant, like orchids. During warm-up, Jonah stood at the front of the stage and looked out at the auditorium. A deep clean over the weekend seemed excessive, but it totally paid off; the place looked fit for royalty. Which, if rumors were to be believed, would be in the left-hand box for the show tonight. Famous people did come to watch, actors and singers who often were allowed onstage afterward to have photographs with the cast. But royalty? Shit, royalty was a different bag entirely. He didn’t even know who it might be; they’d not been allowed the super-secret information, but Jonah knew he wouldn’t be able to resist a glance into the box as soon as he stepped onstage.
The nerves, however, at having such a prestigious guest only added to the new cast’s anticipation for their first performance. But pressure creates diamonds. And, as much as Jonah adored the original cast, this new group would soar even higher than their predecessors, he just knew it. He’d watched them all week; he’d acted with them, sang with them, moved his body in tandem with theirs. He knew their talent, and together they would take the show to a completely new level.
Despite his excitement at taking the stage with the people surrounding him, he also couldn’t stop the anxious turning of his stomach knowing tonight he would go for the long-awaited drink with Dexter. Part of him didn’t want it to happen; he’d built it up too much in his head, he’d perfected things to say and ways to sip a cocktail sexily, practicing in the mirror just how to wrap his lips around the straw, because he really was that much of a complete and utter loser. But he wanted to make a good impression. He’d spent so long not giving a toss what Dexter thought of him, so long not even remotely liking him, and now he wanted more than anything to kiss him and touch him and make the most gorgeous sounds leave his mouth. He supposed it made sense, the mutual dislike turning into something sexual. He’d seen it played out in enough films and shows to know physical tension blossomed between rivals. He just never thought his life would turn out like a weird romance film with three dodgy sequels on Netflix.
“And here is Jonah Penrose, our fabulous Achilles. Jonah, say hi to the people watching.” Jonah closed his eyes and took in a deep breath before turning to look at Dexter, who stood behind him with his phone lifted to Jonah’s face. “We’re live!” he exclaimed, pointing to the phone.
“Hey,” Jonah said, smiling, not knowing if he should look at Dexter or the device in his hand.
“Can you tell everyone what’s happening right now?”
Dexter stepped closer, bringing his phone even closer to Jonah’s face. “Well, it’s warm-up, so we do our movement warm-ups first, led by Omari, who is our dance captain, then we move on to the vocal ones. Then we get dressed for the show.”
Dexter panned the phone around the others, who were busy stretching, as Jonah talked, before quickly swinging back to Jonah. “People have been sending in questions, and this one is for you.” He smiled at Jonah from behind the screen. “Apart fromThe Wooden Horse, what would you say is the best show in the West End right now?”
Jonah twisted his lips as he thought for an answer. “You can’t beatLes Misérables, can you?” he said after a moment. “It was the first West End show I saw.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, my dad took me to see it. I didn’t have a clue what was going on and the gunshots scared the life out of me, but I loved it.”
“Aren’t you just adorable?” Dexter tapped his screen then put his phone into his pocket. “Sorry,” he blurted. “They want me to keep hopping on to do live updates tonight. I’ve even got to do them in the interval.” He seemed harried, his cheeks carrying a red blemish to them and his hair pushed back with the bloody elastic band he’d been wearing the entire week of rehearsals. “Colbie doesn’t seem to care it’s my opening night tonight and wants me doing all this social media shit.” He glanced around them before leaning slightly closer. “Apparently, I need to do more damage control over trip-gate. At this point, I think she just wants me and you to make a sex tape and post it onTheWooden HorseInstagram.”
Jonah tutted and shook his head ruefully. “You know, I don’t even think a sex tape would cut it. Tripping someone on their way to get an award is pretty low, Dex.”
Jonah smiled as Dexter rolled his eyes. “I didn’t actually trip you,” he said, words he’d repeated multiple times over the rehearsal week as Jonah dug into him over it. “And I’ve said I’m sorry, what more can I do?”
“Dexter, honestly, I’m over it.” Jonah placed a hand on his bicep soothingly. “Seriously. Though, if you don’t take me out for that drink tonight, I might change my mind and make your life a living hell.”
“I doubt that.”
“Oh, you wanna fuck around and find out?” Jonah smirked.
