Page 7 of The Dramatic Life of Jonah Penrose
“I am breathing,” Jonah said through gritted teeth, his world spinning, the pain mixing with an overwhelming sense of embarrassment. “I’m just... I’m just gonna finish there I think.” He marveled at how well he stood, the pain should have doubled him over, but his body pushed it aside so he could flee. He quickly bent to pick up his water and shoes and kept his head down as he made his way out of the class, knowing the next time he went there everyone would think about his dick, if only for a split second, but they would absolutely think about it. Dexter somehow ridiculed him by squashing his penis with his stupidly enormous foot all while remaining oblivious to their rivalry; he didn’t know Jonah from a stranger on the street. The nemesis who not only bruised his ego but also his balls in the space of an hour.
He hated him.
Five
“And now I know, he waits for me beyond the city doors, pacing back and forth, the drums hounding me in my sleep. We cannotescape,we have no tears to weep. Andromache, promise to cover your eyes. For this is it, my final outing, the Gods have planned my demise.”
—“Achilles Waits,”The Wooden Horse, Act Two
Bastien covered his mouth while biting down on the inside of his cheek as Omari turned away from them, a wry smile twitching at the corner of his lips. Bastien sucked in a breath, seeming to compose himself, and let his hand fall to reveal a remarkably grim-looking frown.
“Sorry, I think you might have to repeat that. What happened?”
“His foot kicked me right in the dick.”
Bastien gave a solemn nod, a smile appearing despite his best efforts. “Who knew Dexter Ellis would take aim at your sex life by wounding your little soldier?”
Jonah rolled his eyes and turned his attention to his reflection in the dressing room mirror. “Little soldier? Also, a pointless attack given I have no sex life to speak of.”
“You need to get yourself out there,” Omari said, leaning over Jonah’s shoulder to inspect his remarkably perfect umber-colored skin in the mirror. The skin peels were clearly working.
“You’ve not found any noble young steeds to ride since Edward?” Bastien asked.
“There are a million things wrong with that question, Bastien.”
Bastien reached forward and adjusted a couple of Jonah’s curls at the back of his head. “You know what they say, the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.”
Jonah batted his hand away. “Who? Who says that?”
Bastien shrugged. “People. Me. I say that. Go out and sow your wild oats.” He went to the clothing rack at the back of the room and thumbed through the costumes Jonah wore throughout the show.
“Sow my oats? Little soldier? What old lady has possessed you, and how do I get rid of her?” Jonah looked over his shoulder at him then pointed to the costume on the far right, the deep-blue and teal cotton ensemble he wore at the end of the first act. Bastien pulled it from the hanger and handed it to him.
“Old ladies are full of wisdom. Besides, sowing your oats wouldn’t be a bad thing. I know Lucian has a thing for you.”
Omari scowled slightly. “Lucian? He has a thing for everyone, no? Pretty sure he was hooking up with one of the front-of-house girls last week. The little ginger one, Enid, I think? Anyway, I slept with him way back during our previews, I wouldn’t recommend.”
“Even if he wasn’t trying to fuck every person in this theatre, Lucian eats mackerel sandwiches before going onstage, even when he’s covering you, Bash, and I have to kiss him repeatedly for most of the first act. Mackerel. Every time,” Jonah said seriously.
Bastien scrunched up his nose. “Is that what it is? I always thought he smelled of cabbage.” He went to the second rack in the room, the one not usually there but that had been wheeled in early that morning to make space for the extra bodies changing in the building. “Fuck, I’m nervous,” he murmured, taking his own first costume off the rack before looking at Jonah. “They got the same photographer again even though I begged them to choose someone else.”
“Your ex? Bennie with the bad lens?” Omari asked, going over to another rack with his costumes hung neatly on it.
“The one and only. And I bet he will take as many shots from beneath my chin as he can just to make me look like I have saggy jowls. I mean, it’s been eight years since we’ve been together. You would think he’d be over the petty shit he pulls.” Bastien tutted as he removed his clothing. “Though, I am nowlooking forward to you coming face-to-face with Dexter penis-destroyer Ellis.” He pulled his light-green tunic on over his head, then grinned at Jonah. “I don’t for a second believe he didn’t know who you were.”
“No, me neither. Which makes the foot slip even more painful. I mean... what’s he going to say to me today? Oh, you’re that guy whose dick I kicked at yoga yesterday? Or will he pretend it never happened?”
“Money on pretending it never happened,” Omari practically sang as he slipped his shirt off.
A light knock on the door interrupted them before it cracked open and the familiar face of Sherrie peered round it. She smirked at them as she stepped inside and gently closed the door behind her. Her cheeks, rounded, flushed with a rose and gold swipe of color finished with a glitter dust settling between her freckles, complimenting the cotton candy pink of her hair. Jonah always found her endlessly refreshing. A rainbow caught in a droplet of water.
“Darlings,” she said, waving her hands in the air with a flourish before curtseying to them. “How are my favorite people getting on?”
“Fabulously,” Bastien said, adjusting the sleeve of his tunic while trying to get a glimpse of himself in the mirror over Jonah’s shoulder. “Have you come to tame my hair? Look at it, it looks like a bird nested in it overnight. I need you, Shez.”
“Sherrie, can you get the steamer from my room, please? I think my sinuses are getting blocked.” Omari pinched the skin between his eyes lightly. “I’m aging as we speak.”
“Your hair looks fine, Bash,” Sherrie said, moving toward him despite her words to work her fingers through his brown hair. “Nothing that a bit of my magic can’t fix. And, Omari, you can get it yourself.” She ignored the glare he sent her way. “Colbie wants full makeup, she said no half-arsing it today, she wants the photos to be perfect. Apparently the new program is going to be A4 and glossy, to hell with the environmentally friendly recycled paper ones from before.”
