Page 72 of The Dramatic Life of Jonah Penrose
“Thank you.”
“Bash asked if you could call him when you feel up to it too. He’s worried about you.”
Jonah nodded. “Sure.”
“Jonah.” Dexter went to reach for his hand then stopped himself. “I’m so sorry. If there’s anything I can do, please just say.”
“You’ve already done enough, Dex, seriously. You’ve done more than most people would do. Driving me here... I wouldn’t have got here in time otherwise. Thank you.”
“You don’t need to thank me.”
Jonah wiped his eyes as he tried to stifle a yawn. “I need to go lie down. I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep but... fuck, my body hurts.”
“I made the bed,” Dexter said quickly. “So, it’s all good for you up there... you don’t want to try and eat something first?”
“It smells amazing, but I don’t think I can stomach anything right now.”
Dexter gave an understanding nod. “Well. I’m going to head back first thing in the morning. I’ll sleep on the sofa tonight, if that’s okay?”
“Oh, you can... you can share the bed with me, it’s fine, honestly I—”
“I’ll sleep on the sofa,” Dexter said with a sad smile. “If you’re stillasleep by the time I have to leave I won’t bother you, but please message me when you get up? Just because we... I’m still here for you.”
Jonah nodded, then pushed out of the chair to stand. He felt wobbly on his feet, as if he’d been drinking for hours, but he knew it came from the emotional fatigue he’d slumped into. “I’m still here for you too,” Jonah said as he left the room, looking back at Dexter one last time before heading up to bed.
Colbie Paris didn’t possess a single compassionate bone in her body. She spoke to Jonah with nothing but contempt on the phone as she expressed a deep frustration at him for taking time off work, even though his dad just died, and told him just how difficult he was making things for her. After her last call he screamed into his pillow, covering his face with it entirely, willing the feathers inside the case to absorb all the animosity he felt toward her. He’d only just got home, and she somehow knew he’d arrived back in London and plagued his phone with calls and texts, asking if he would be on as Achilles the next day. He knew Colbie was crossing professional lines; the way she was operating could not be ethical under any circumstances, but she made him believe he had done something wrong, that his father’s death was nothing but a major inconvenience.
“I’ll sort it out,” Melanie said when she called him to check in on how he was doing. “It’s bloody unacceptable. If she has an issue, she can talk to me from now on. Don’t answer any calls from her.”
“I just,” Jonah said between tears. “I thought I could take compassionate leave.”
“You can.”
“But she said—”
“I don’t give a flying fuck what she said. This is why you have me, to handle situations like this.” She sounded angry, but luckily not with him. “How was the funeral? Did you get my flowers?”
“Yes, they were lovely, you didn’t have to do that.”
“It was the least I could do, Jonah.”
“And the funeral... well, it was a funeral, can you even say a funeral went well? It was nice, loads of people came, and we listened to his Phil Collins records afterward.”
“I’m glad it went as well as it could. Look, I want you to take a few days and call me next week so we can discuss work, but until then don’t give it another thought. I mean it, Jonah, turn your phone off if you have to, and if you’re not up to talking next week, just drop me a message and we can figure it out from there.”
“Thanks, Melanie... You’re not mad I wasn’t around for the follow-up with the people fromCrazy for You?”
“No,” she said with surety. “Family comes first. Other jobs will come along. Keep well. You’ve got this, okay?” Thank God for Melanie Cowperthwaite and her no-nonsense attitude. He would crumble without her, and he made a mental note to send her a thank-you card and a box of chocolates the next time he ventured out of the house.
He didn’t want to turn his phone off, though. He could screen his calls from Colbie, especially as he’d now set Melanie on her, but he wanted to stay connected with everyone else; he’d never felt so lonely. He needed Bastien and Sherrie; he needed Omari to tell him to stop eating ice cream and cheese because his body was practically made of mucus at this point. And he needed Dexter, though he couldn’t reach out to him, not now that he’d fucked everything up. Not long ago, he had been trying not to sing while walking down the street, a spring in his step as he danced through a rainstorm. Now there would be no singing in the rain; he didn’t have anything left to sing about. His career was in a downward spiral, his family was broken, and his love life had disintegrated right in front of his eyes.
As he lay on his bed, he thought about his first night in London all those years ago. He didn’t know anyone, he didn’t have a job, an agent, a boyfriend, nothing to really call his own. But Castle Road took him in and he built his way up, and now he would have to do the same thing all over again. At least this time he had friends, he had an agent, and his career would hopefully survive the wrath of Colbie Paris. And as for his love life? Well, that could remain on the back burner.
“Hey, love,” Bastien said as Jonah opened the door, and Jonah could see him trying not to judge the clothes he was wearing.
“Don’t judge me,” Jonah warned, stepping aside to let him in. “I feellike I’ve not slept in a year, and I got home to find I had barely any clean clothes, so it’s the old tracksuit or nothing.” He slammed his front door after Bastien let himself inside and closed out the gale force winds pummeling down the road.
“I don’t care what you look like,” Bastien said as he hugged him. “You smell gross, though, darling.”
