Page 29 of The Dramatic Life of Jonah Penrose
“Yes. You do.”
“If I do, it’s only to drown out your nasal tone.”
“Oh, fuck off with the nasal tone.” Jonah nudged him with his elbow in the ribs as Omari shuffled about behind them, guzzling yet another bottle of water.
“You need to be softer,” Dexter said, rubbing his side where Jonah touched him. “Maybe I should give you some one-on-one vocal sessions. I bet I could make you sound better.”
“That sounds very erotic,” Omari said from behind them, and, really, thank God he was there, otherwise Jonah might have not been able to resist the urge to flick Dexter in the eye after the suggestion.
“There is nothing erotic about vocal sessions,” Dexter tutted and grabbed his own bottle of water but offered Omari a smile as he did so. “Unless Jonah wants them to be?” He looked back over his shoulder at Jonah, who could feel his cheeks turning a deep shade of red.
“Not with you,” he managed to say, keeping a shred of whatever dignity he had left.
“No?” Dexter smirked, and God, how Jonah despised the smirk. Oddly seductive. Far too attractive.
“Stop flirting,” Omari complained as he shrugged his coat over his shoulders. “Sickening, the both of you.”
“We’re not flirting,” Jonah protested, just as Dexter said the same thing.
Omari looked between them, an amused look on his permanently refreshed-looking face. “Is this where I say, suuuure, and we all know you’re both talking crap?”
Jonah opened his mouth to speak, but Omari raised a finger, hushing him. “I’m going to go, but if I hear you two have been having sex in the rehearsal studio, I will not be pleased. Think of the germs.” He didn’t wait for either of them to answer before turning on his heel and flicking his wrist dramatically as he left the room.
Jonah could feel Dexter’s eyes on him, and he slowly turned his head to meet his gaze.
“I can’t think of anything worse than having sex with you,” Dexter said.
“Me neither. I’m repulsed.”
“Totally repulsed.”
The roar of the crowd from West End LIVE boomed across the theatre district, jolting Jonah from his forbidden Dexter thoughts and reminding him that a looming army of theatre fans braving the stuffy June heat in the middle of Trafalgar Square were just beyond the safety barrier. The event, spread across two days, saw performances from a plethora of shows to an audience of thousands, all for free. Sparkling costumes found their way out of the theatres, and backstage casts brimmed with excitement. The event was a brilliant source of promotion, even for the longest-running shows. A red flag currently waved around on the stage, the cast ofLes Misrallying the crowd in a moving rendition of “Do You Hear the People Sing?” and Jonah smiled from the sidelines as he watched in his Grecian armor.
Dexter stood in the wings, stage left, a microphone in his hand because of course he was hosting the event, alongside Penelope Crossings, another darling of the West End. They made a strange double act, bouncing off each other effortlessly, but there was also an obvious tension between them with false smiles and overly friendly touches. Jonah decided not to pay attention to Dexter and instead looked at Bastien, who paced beside him as they waited for their time onstage. Sherrie stood to the side, staring down at her phone.
“What’s wrong?” Jonah asked, noticing the way the other man chewed his thumbnails absently.
“I’m nervous.”
“Why? You’re fabulous.”
Bastien stopped pacing to look at Jonah. “I know I’m fabulous, but I read that over the course of the weekend last year over four hundred thousand people came to watch this. That’s insane.”
Jonah hummed, then shrugged. “But there’s not that many people out there all at once, is there? Evie said about twenty thousand can fit into Trafalgar Square.”
“That’s still an insane amount of people!” Bastien exclaimed. “I’m going to watch cat videos to calm myself down.” He produced his phone from somewhere in his costume, and Jonah cocked an eyebrow as he watched him.
“Where were you keeping that?”
“I have my secrets, Jonah.” Jonah shook his head and grinned fondly at him. He could see the sound technicians by the side of the stage, setting up the next performers who would be on before him and Bastien, adjusting their microphones and talking to the cast with precise instructions. Jonah could barely contain his excitement; he’d always wanted to perform at West End LIVE. The event was one of the most important in the theatre social calendar, so to be there, backstage, readying himself to go on, felt completely surreal.
“Oh shit,” Bastien murmured and shot a quick, guilt-ridden look at Jonah. “Um, Jonah, my darling, have you seen the video circulating online... about you and Mr. Ellis?” As he spoke, Sherrie glanced up from her phone, interest piqued.
Jonah let out a breath. “Colbie wants people to be making videos and posting stuff. We are totally best friends, didn’t you know that?”
Bastien slowly shook his head with a frown. “Well, your best friend may have tried to humiliate you at the Oliviers.”
“What?”
