Page 43 of The Dramatic Life of Jonah Penrose
“Shit, is my nose broken?” His voice sounded shrill, and a cloud of pink embraced him and ushered him back into his dressing room. Bubble gum. Glitter. Sherrie.
“Babe,” she said seriously, crouching down in front of him after forcing him to sit in his chair. “Babe, look at me, can you see me?” Her face blurred as he tried to focus. “The first aiders are on their way.”
“What the fuck happened?” The next voice came from Colbie, her hair burning fire as she screeched in the hallway. “Has someone called the police? We had royalty here tonight; we can’t have a fucking security issue!” Her voice faded as quickly as it arrived.
More hands and more faces appeared, Bastien’s face pale, tears tracking his cheeks as he dabbed a tissue carefully at Jonah’s nose. Omari and Romana hovered in the corner of the room whispering to each other while glancing anxiously over at Jonah’s face. At some point, he thought he saw Evie’s blunt haircut out of the corner of his eye, but he couldn’t be sure. Then, of course, there was Dexter, with his skin flushed red, hair ruffled, shirt unkempt and speckled with drops of blood, typing something furiously into his phone.
“What a prick!” Dexter paced in the room, rage clearly having taken hold of him, and if Jonah wasn’t in so much pain he might have found Dexter’s protective side remarkably hot, but his nose hurt and he was pretty sure someone was pressing a million tiny needles into his cheek.
“Jonah.” This voice he didn’t recognize; the face he knew in passing, but their voice? No. But they sounded kind, and they pressed something cold against his face, and honestly, he could have made out with the fifty-something-year-old woman because her cold pack made him feel like he was in heaven. “He should be fine,” she said, talking to the others and not to him. “But someone should stay with him. Jonah, do you live alone?”
“Yeah.”
“Is there someone you can stay with? I have a pamphlet about head injuries with signs to look out for, and you need to be with someone.” She waved a white booklet in front of his face, then placed it in his lap.
“He can come home with me,” Bastien said.
“Or me,” Omari chimed in. “He needs some TLC on that face because it is going to look hideous tomorrow. Don’t worry, Jonah, I have a cooling mask in the freezer. We can pop it on as soon as we get inside.”
“Well, actually.” Dexter looked at them both. “I have a spare room at mine, and we are both in Camden. I can get him home to get some clothes then take him back to mine. If... if that’s okay with you, Jonah?”
He’d never felt so much like a child in all his life. To make matters worse, all he wanted to do was cry and call his mum. Oh, God, he would have to tell his mum about this; she’d find out some way or other if he didn’t; but not now, he could wait and worry her in the morning instead. He nodded at Dexter and saw the way Bastien narrowed his eyes at the man, forever his best friend, forever protective of him.
“It’s fine, Bash,” Jonah said, wrapping his hand around the ice pack and sighing. “I’m fine.”
“What about the cold face mask?” Omari asked. “Seriously, Jonah, you need a face mask.”
“I’m sure I have something he can use,” Dexter said, though he didn’t sound entirely convincing.
“Who even was that who hit you?” Sherrie asked. “Some random?”
“No,” Dexter said with a shake of his head. “Jonah, was it who I think it was?” Jonah nodded, and Dexter’s top lip curled slightly. “I’m actually gonna step out and just chat to Colbie and Evie about who he is.”
Jonah started to protest, but a sharp pain in his head told him to shut up. Why, oh, why couldn’t whoever planned the trajectory of his life give him a Goddamned break?
Nineteen
“Do you remember how oranges taste?”
—“What Do We Fight For?”The Wooden Horse, Act One
Jonah clicked on the light in his kitchen. The bulb flickered before bursting into a white glow, and he squinted at the intrusion from the darkness. Dexter wasted no time opening cupboard doors, raiding Jonah’s belongings, before he found a glass, filled it with water from the tap, and handed it to him. Jonah’s face didn’t hurt as much now, the painkillers Sherrie stuffed into his mouth before she left the theatre hand in hand with Romana finally taking effect. Dexter watched him, shaking his head each time Jonah tried to put the glass down, insisting he finish every last drop.
“You’ve got to stay hydrated,” he said when Jonah finally drank that last drop. “Omari said if I didn’t have a stupid face mask, I needed to at least keep you hydrated. What stuff do you need to take to mine? Pajamas, toothbrush, clothes for tomorrow, anything else?” His words were loud. Their taxi ride to the house had been filled with silence as they passed the gorgeous shadows of London, and now everything, including Dexter, seemed oddly deafening.
“I, um, actually I just want to stay here.” Castle Road pulled him into its arms the moment he climbed out of the Uber and it saw the bruising on his face. He didn’t want to leave its embrace; he could fall into a dreamless sleep and wake to find the world fuzzy and numb.
“Caroline told me you couldn’t be left alone.”
Jonah pinched the skin between his eyebrows, grimacing at the slightjolt of pain but breathing through it. “I honestly just want to get into my own bed and forget this night ever happened.”
“Well. I could sleep on the sofa, if that’s okay?”
Jonah dropped his hand and studied Dexter’s face. He knew Dexter wouldn’t agree to leave him alone. “Fine. Yeah. I’ve some clothes you can sleep in.”
“Can I ask you something?” Dexter asked, filling the glass up with water again and handing it back to Jonah. “Why did he do that? Wes? Because he still thinks you were sleeping with his boyfriend?”
Jonah gave a one-shouldered shrug. “I guess? Edward won’t have admitted the truth; he’s a coward. He’s been texting me, begging me to meet up with him. He even came to the theatre, all while still posting loved-up photos of him and Wes online.”
