Page 66 of The Dramatic Life of Jonah Penrose
“Absolutely,” Julianna agreed. Stephen excused himself and went back to his table, where Dexter looked at Jonah with wide eyes.
“Anyway, what were we saying,” Julianna said, snapping her fingers together as she tried to recall her train of thought. “Ah, yes, casting. Jonah.” She placed her hand over his on the table and he stopped caring about his sweaty hands and tore his eyes from Dexter. “I would love to have you come in and read for the Emcee. It’s totally informal, not an audition, more of a compatibility exercise so we can see if you can work with my directing style.”
She was practically handing him the Emcee on a plate and, if the paperwork sitting in the middle of the table across the room was what he thought it might be, then he needed to eat up whatever Julianna served.
“I would be honored to. It’s literally my dream role.”
“This production is going to be very dark, raw, fueled by the threat of war and raging emotions. But I want it to be more sexual than ever before, for it to really skirt the line of the darkest time in our history with carnal desire. I want to show aCabaretno one’s seen before, and I think, after seeing you perform, we could create something very special.”
Jonah looked over his shoulder again only to see Colbie leaving the restaurant, Dexter following behind with Stephen’s hand placed on the small of his back, his thumb moving in small circles.
“When are you hoping to open the show?” Jonah asked, giving Julianna his full attention again.
“Next June, so, not long at all.”
“That would coincide well with Jonah’s current contract,” Melanie said.
“That’s if you’re ready to pass Achilles onto someone else,” Julianna said, her tone playful, and Jonah simply smiled back at her, knowing it didn’t matter if he was ready; Achilles had just been handed over to Dexter right in front of his eyes.
Twenty-Six
“I’ll kill him, I’ll drive my sword into his flesh and allow the Gods to feast on his blood. My gift to them before I give myself over to the underworld.”
—“Answer Me,”The Wooden Horse, Act Two
The atmosphere backstage at the Persephone could only be described as icy. It reflected the rain pouring outside onto the pavements as the headlights of cars bounced off the wet asphalt. Bastien stood in the wings, his own body language tense as he side-eyed Jonah, who gazed intently at Dexter waiting in the opposite wings. Jonah had avoided him from the moment they signed in, and it seemed Dexter was intent on avoiding him too; they didn’t go to each other’s dressing rooms as usual, they didn’t stand near each other during warm-up, and Jonah could feel the vacant space by his side where Dexter should have been in the time leading up to the show growing larger by the second. Bastien clearly picked up on the sour note between them but didn’t say a word, probably knowing by now that the best thing to do when it came to Dexter and Jonah’s relationship was to stay well out of it.
As the orchestra played the opening notes of “The Road to Paradise” and the ensemble moved onto the stage, their bodies contorting as they weaved themselves together to the music and raised their voices to sing, Jonah tried to push all thoughts of the meeting earlier that day to one side. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Sherrie’s bright hair in the wings, contrasting with Romana’s darker features, but they were gesticulating wildly, an argument performed in whispers before Sherrie turned on her heel, wiping her eyes. Part of him wanted to go after her, to see ifshe was okay, but he couldn’t, not now. The stage was calling. He stayed still as he watched the cast, the choreography precise and beautiful, and he could still see Dexter on the other side of the stage, his eyes on him. It strangely felt like lines were being drawn. Battle ready. Jonah didn’t want to think of Dexter doing anything behind his back, but seeing him at a meeting with his agent and Colbie shouldn’t have come as any surprise; Melanie warned him this was Colbie’s intention. But actually seeing it happen left Jonah with a cavernous feeling in the pit of his stomach.
He trusted Dexter. He threw caution to the wind and put his trust in him and waited for Dexter to say something, anything, even a hint at what he must have known was going to happen. But then again, hadn’t Dexter already told him months ago when drunk in the back of the Uber?Achilles is mine.The words fell from his mouth loud and clear.Mine.Jonah should have listened, he should have taken those words seriously. But he didn’t; he allowed Dexter to become something else entirely, and now he loved him and the pain of being basically usurped hurt, like Dexter was driving a dagger directly between his shoulder blades.
Jonah channeled his warring emotions into his performance, determined to put the previous disastrous week behind him. He could feel the audience glued to him as he commanded the stage. When act two rolled round and he stepped on to perform “Answer Me” opposite Dexter, the tension between them reached a boiling point, and the audience witnessed what Jonah could only describe as a real fight. Their moves may have been rehearsed, the blows against each other planned and meticulously rehearsed, but Dexter put strength behind his actions, a strength Jonah couldn’t contend with. And it suddenly dawned on Jonah that Dexter was angry withhim. What for, he couldn’t say. Yes, he’d seen him at a meeting with Melanie and Julianna, but meetings happened, and he wasn’t going behind his back, he wasn’t signing contracts that directly impacted Dexter. So, when they got to the part where Dexter pulled him closer and he would usually step to the left, the move Dexter messed up so many times back at rehearsals in June, Jonah moved out of his reach. Dexter faltered for a millisecond and stepped right, tripping over himself before falling to his knees with a loud thud.
Jonah heard the audience gasp, not knowing if the fall was intentional or part of the scene, and he saw Dexter look up at him, eyes wide, panicked, before he lunged forward and continued their routine seamlessly. God, Dexter was a professional, even after Jonah just did the most unprofessional thing he’d ever done in his entire career. As Jonah got him back onto the floor and straddled his hips, he raised the dagger over his head and braced himself for Dexter to stop it from plunging into his neck. But he didn’t move. Instead, he looked up at Jonah, hands by his side as if in complete surrender. A tear rolled down his right cheek, away from the audience, the emotion entirely Dexter’s and not part of Hector at all. Jonah hesitated, his own breaths pulling at his chest, and he wondered how the unspoken words between them could speak such volumes without really saying anything at all. He didn’t know what Dexter could be thinking, why he felt anger toward him, because Jonah hadn’t gone behind his back to steal a role from him. Yet, there he was, the perfect image of a man betrayed, and Jonah didn’t understand it.
He brought the dagger down toward Dexter’s neck, hitting the blood pack like usual, and watched as vibrant red spilled out over Dexter’s skin. The stage revolved as they were plunged into darkness, and Jonah climbed off Dexter’s lap and reached out to touch him, but Dexter flinched and moved away from the stage as fast as he could. Jonah stayed on his knees for a few seconds until he knew he couldn’t stay there any longer, and he got up, positioning himself back in the wings, ready for his next song.
“Why did you do that?” Dexter’s voice bounced off the walls in Jonah’s dressing room. They’d remained professional until the end of the show, bowing together as usual, smiles plastered on their faces. But as soon as it finished Jonah could feel Dexter slipping away from him, moving so quickly there could be no words spoken. He watched Dexter slam his dressing room door closed before going to his own, then several minutes later Dexter appeared, face flushed, stage blood still staining the skin around his neck and cheeks, making his outburst seem all the more dramatic.
“You deliberately changed your move, knowing I would fall. Why?”
“I didn’t—”
“Yes, you did!” Dexter exclaimed as he threw his hands in the air in defeat. “Why try to embarrass me? What have I done that’s so wrong, Jonah? You’ve ignored me all night, then you do that, why?”
“Are you going to pretend I didn’t see you today with Stephen and Colbie?” Jonah asked as he scrubbed the fake blood from his hands in the sink beside his mirror. “Or is this another case of selective amnesia like not knowing me at yoga?”
“You haven’t let me say anything to you about it because you’ve not been near me tonight,” Dexter snapped back, his voice trembling slightly. “Just like you didn’t tell me about your meeting with fucking Julianna Orwell.”
“I didn’t realize I needed to tell you about every single thing I do, Dexter.”
“Do you realize how hypocritical you sound right now?”
Jonah did, in fact, know how hypocritical he sounded, but he was already digging himself a hole, and he would be damned if he didn’t finish the job. “Youdon’t tell me your plans, Dexter. What do you do every Monday, huh?” He continued to scrub at his hands despite the blood being long gone.
“Is this why you’re being like this? Because I don’t spend every waking second with you? Get over yourself, Jonah.”
Jonah turned then, water dripping from his hands as he looked at the man opposite him. “I don’t want to spend every second with you. You’re the one who needs to get over himself. The world doesn’t revolve around you, despite what people have made you think.”
