Page 30 of The Dramatic Life of Jonah Penrose
Bastien tapped his phone screen a couple of times as he worked his bottom lip between his teeth. “I don’t know if I should show you this.”
“What is it?” Jonah reached for his phone, but Bastien managed to sidestep him and kept it from his grasp. “Bastien, show me.”
“I don’t want you to get mad.”
“I’m gonna get mad if you don’t show me. What is it?”
Bastien reluctantly handed the phone over to him, and Jonah pressed play on the video paused on the screen as Sherrie peered over his shoulder. It was the Olivier Awards ceremony, a shot from the crowd as Jonah walked toward the camera, his name having only just been called. Bloody hell, he barely remembered the moment, so seeing himself looking as dazed as he felt seemed strange. But then, there, in the audience, on the aisle seat, sat a familiar head of blond hair on a body who didn’t rise to give Jonah a standing ovation. Dexter. Fine, Dexter not wanting to applaud him was totally on-brand for his personality, but then Jonah saw it, the detail the whole video focused on. Dexter looked over his shoulder to watch Jonah getting closer and he extended his foot out into the aisle, right in the way for Jonah to trip over it.
He could see it now in his memory, the flash of movement in the corner of his eye, the sweep of blond hair and body moving as he tried to remember how to walk to the stage. A foot out, moved only at the last second, and Jonah didn’t notice at the time, but there it was, in startling detail. Dexter wanted him to fall. He quickly scrolled down to the comment section and scanned the words as quickly as he could:
OMG he tried to trip him!
What a prick.
Dexter Ellis totally tried to trip Jonah Penrose. Jealous, much?
So much for #Dexah.
OMFG he’s a snake.
At least the comments were on his side. No one tried to explain Dexter’s actions away. They all condemned him, his name well and truly dragged through the mud. And he deserved it. Jonah wiped a hand across his eyes as he passed the phone back to Bastien, unable to fathom why watching the clip made his eyes water, because there was no way he would be crying over Dexter Ellis. But Dexter had wanted to humiliate Jonah on the most important night of his life, he wanted to see him fall in front of his peers and God knows how many people watching the ceremony at home. How could he?
“Are you okay?” Bastien asked, reaching out to pull him into a hug. Jonah allowed it, finding comfort in his friend, and he repeated to himself that he would not cry, he would not cry, he would not cry. “He’s a massive bell end,” Bastien whispered.
Sherrie wrapped her arms around the both of them and pressed her face against Jonah’s neck. “He’s such a twat.”
“It’s fine,” Jonah said as he pulled away from him. “I don’t want to think about him. I just want to get this over and done with, then go home and eat cheese in my bed.”
“You’ve got to stop with the cheese. Omari will kill you.”
“It’s all I have left.” He paused for a moment, then groaned. “What’s the betting Colbie will blame this on me somehow? Dexter’s her golden boy, and this is fucking terrible publicity. She said we can’t have animosity behind the scenes, it’s bad for ticket sales.”
“Then Colbie is also a bell end,” Sherrie said evenly. “We’ve had a full house every night this week, so she can shove that where the sun doesn’t shine.”
“Are you guys ready?” A technician asked as he waved them over tohim. “Three minutes till you go on. Let’s get you set up.” Bastien took Jonah’s hand into his and gave it a squeeze. Thank goodness he had him and Sherrie by his side.
Dexter bounded over to them after their performance, his hair shining beneath the sun, a Golden Labrador who’d just chewed up every shoe in the house then shit on the floor and was still happy with himself. Jonah handed his microphone off to the technicians, turning away from Dexter and his blossom-pink lips. Bastien spoke to him, his tone clipped. Jonah couldn’t make out what they said, but the cadence of Bastien’s voice alone told him the conversation wasn’t a pleasant one. Bastien, his own little bodyguard, a chihuahua snapping at the dopey retriever.
“Jonah,” Dexter said, moving closer to him and out of Bastien’s range. “Jonah, I’m so sorry.” The smile on his face from moments before was gone. “I’d no idea that video would come out.”
“You’re apologizing for the video coming out, but not for what you did in the video? Unbelievable.” Jonah shook his head and stepped away from him, taking a towel from a backstage member to wipe the sweat from his face.
“Let me explain.” Dexter followed after him. “Please, it was a momentary lapse of judgment. I didn’t actually trip you, did I? I stopped.”
“A round of applause for you, then,” Bastien said from behind them, jogging slightly to keep up with Jonah’s pace as he worked his way through the backstage madness of the event.
“Can you just stop?” Dexter asked, and Jonah readied himself to feel the man’s hands on him to halt him, but he didn’t. Dexter let him continue to stomp through the area. “Let me explain, Jonah!”
Jonah turned on him, face red from exertion, eyes flaming with rage. “What is there to explain?” he hissed at him, determined to keep his voice down, given the dozens of people surrounding them and the thousands of theatre fans just beyond the barriers. “I need to get to the theatre and take off this costume so I can go home. I don’t want to hear any convoluted explanations from you.”
“Jonah, please, let’s go somewhere private.”
“There isn’t anywhere private around here.” Jonah saw a stagehand hovering close to them. “And you have a job to do. So go host, Dexter, have fun, and don’t trip on your way back to the stage.”
Dexter pursed his lips. “Come and speak with me privately.” His voice came out stern, authoritative, and Jonah could see why he’d been cast as Hector. He exuded dominance, but there was also a kindness there, something soft behind the way he stood, vulnerable like the night in the Uber.
“Bash?” Jonah directed his words at his friend who stood by his side, loyal, a true Patroclus. “Can we meet back at the theatre?”
