Page 2 of In Frame
He only…
…wasn’t quite certain where he fit.Ifhe fit. Fitting into the group implied a place, a matching space, belonging.
Jill and Colby had known each other almost as long as she’d known Andy; Jillian Poe and Andy Connors had been director and assistant director on the coming-of-age romantic comedy that’d been Colby’s first major film role. Jason, of course, came attached to Colby these days, but even if not, they would’ve all liked him: that easygoing friendliness and passion for good storytelling had won over everybody on set instantly. The glorious physique and obvious devotion to Colby’s happiness didn’t hurt, either.
A few more people hadn’t made it tonight but would join them tomorrow. Andy’s older brother, who taught economics at a laid-back Southern California university. A couple of film-school friends. All people who knew Andy well and were thrilled about his upcoming nuptials. Everybody liked Adrian, too; Andy’s parents instantly adored anyone who loved their sons, with the fiercely enthusiastic embrace of a pair of former hippie activists, and would joyously square up to fight anyone who argued about pronouns or Adrian’s introduction as Andy’s boyfriend. Affection unquestioned, Andy’d said. He loved his family; that’d been evident with every syllable. His family, and his friends. The people in his life, close-knit and loyal.
Leo himself was good at jokes and diversions. Shallowness. A puddle, not a vast ocean full of deep thoughts. He wasn’t certain he’d ever had any.
“It involves drag queens, let’s say. But food first.” Colby leaned against Jason a bit more, answering the question about their next stop. “Mmm. You feel so nice. Big and comforting. Cinnamon buns. Massive ones. And delicious…”
“Okay,” Jason said, “you’re not as sober as you think you are, come here, I’ve got you, want me to find you coffee?” and cradled Colby in the shelter of epic muscles. “I can get you coffee. Jill, don’t we have a limo?”
“It’s coming,” Jill said. “Colby, here, have a pretzel.”
“You brought pretzels?” Colby took it and regarded it with interest. “Ooh, sourdough. Where were you keeping those?”
“That’s what this giant bag is for. I’ve been feeding Andy.”
“Cheers,” Andy said, grinning. More drunk than Colby, though not much, Leo estimated. Fair enough: it was his party.
Really none of them were much beyond a little warm and fuzzy; the goal’d been taste-tests and fun. They’d already wandered around rare-erotica book exhibits, a fantasia of an ice-cream parlor, and a quirky antiques shop specializing in pocket-watches; tomorrow there’d be a classic Hollywood-themed escape room. Colby and Jillian, as co-best-persons, knew Andy well. Colby, with that upper-class background and that leading-man income, had a lot of money to spend on friends.
Friends, Leo thought again. He didn’t quite sigh.
He took out his mobile phone and took a picture of the night, instead: blurry shimmers of light, splashes of riotous color. He’d post it later.
He said to Colby, who might need distractions to focus on thatdidn’tinvolve nuzzling Jason’s chest, “I tried mead once. FilmingThe Green Knight. The director wanted to be very authentic. Lots of ale, mead, medieval food, or what would look medieval on camera. He tried to get us to learn medieval drinking songs, and then we ended up cutting that bit anyway. Do you know any? And how can I bribe you to sing one?”
“Oh!” Colby brightened right up. “I actually do know some, in fact. Er…would you want to know any lyrics?”
“Totally,” Jill said. “We’re doing that musical, remember, we’ve all said we are! Also I do love it when we can get you to sing. We love your voice.”
“Medieval drinking songs yes!” Andy pointed at Colby. “Teach us songs! You’re thebestnerd. Well, aside frommynerd. But he’s not here and you are!”
Colby looked up at Jason. A bit of his tumbling hair fellinto one eye.
Jason stroked it back. “Love you. Go ahead and show off.”
Colby did, a bit shyly. He really did have a gorgeous voice, elegant and mysteriously European-accented from living in all those countries and flawlessly on key; he hummed a tune, paused, explained lyrics, taught them very earnestly a few lines about bringing in the ale, more ale, no beef or bacon or mutton—”Good,” Leo muttered, which earned him a dirty look from Jason—or eggs or anything else.
Jill was laughing; she and Andy and Jason jumped in to sing along, and Leo did too, letting Colby teach them all centuries-old drinking songs under dazzling Vegas twinkle: leaning on each other, celebrating together, swept up in shared elation.
Andy even draped an arm around Leo, which might’ve been for support but felt nice. An off-key line about rejecting venison in favor of, yes, more ale, landed in Leo’s ear. He winced but didn’t pull away.
A camera-click sliced the night. They all spun that way.
Colby tripped over nothing and nearly fell; Jason caught him and literally scooped him up and petted him protectively. No strangers allowed. No intrusive bodies anywherenear.
The camera went off again. A flurry.
Andy yelled, “Hey, come on!” Jillian put a hand on his arm.
Leo took a step in front of Colby and Jason and said, “Let’s not, seriously, not cool, we’re just out trying to celebrate.”
The man ventured a few steps closer. The camera loomed. “Yeah, and you’re in public, and I’m just doing my job.”
“Your job is making my friends uncomfortable.”
