CHAPTER THREE #2
“Ah, yes, Lorca, our great poet. You’re directing Blood Wedding, aren’t you? How could I forget?”
“I am, in my own way.”
“Meaning what?”
“It’s more of a dance piece. One woman, my friend Joanna. It’s an interpretation.”
Jago mumbled something through another bite of his sandwich, hurriedly swallowing it before clarifying. “Change it.”
“What?”
“The movie Saura’s making? Have you heard about this?”
“Yes…”
“It’s about a dance company producing Blood Wedding. He’s all but finished it.”
Alex pressed his fingertips harder into the cool glass of his drink.
“You know? Carlos Saura, the filmmak—”
“I said I’d heard about it.” He caught a look from Victoria and instantly lowered his voice. “I mean… that’s great. It might make people more interested in our show.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m not trying to… When do you open?”
“Two weeks and a bit.”
“Ah! You see? Ignore me. Saura’s film won’t be out until at least next year. If anyone’s heard of it, like you said, it will probably just make them more curious.”
“Honestly, I’m more worried about our timeline.”
“Feeling the pinch, mister director?” Jago squeezed the sides of his glass, leaving fingerprints.
“I’m feeling frustrated. There’s another production hogging the space and…” From the corner of his eye, Alex watched Vicente take off his sunglasses as he strode toward the counter carrying his football kit bag. “Over here!”
“Hey.” Vicente pulled up a seat backwards at the table and straddled it. “Big night? I stopped by but you weren’t home. Didn’t answer the phone.”
“I was out.”
“Getting fucked?”
“Getting robbed.”
“What?”
“I really wish people would stop saying that.”
“Damn, I’m sorry, man. You know, never mind. I’ve got those lighting cue changes you asked for and… Sorry, hi.” Vicente offered his hand to the bemused stranger at their table.
“Jago.”
Alex watched them shake mismatched hands, Jago’s tanned and smooth, Vicente’s pale and shrouded with sandy hair. The combination was kind of sexy. “This is Vicente, our stage manager.”
“You must be good. I know Alex is a perfectionist.”
Vicente raised an eyebrow at Alex.
“He’s also banging our star,” Alex said.
“Banging? Fuck you.” Vicente lightly punched Alex’s arm. “It’s been almost a year.”
“I know.” Alex laughed. “That was for that look. Don’t think I didn’t see it.”
“And where, may I ask, is your star?” asked Jago.
“Resting at home. She wants to give it everything she’s got tonight.”
“Oh? You’re rehearsing?”
“Like I said, two weeks.” Alex watched Victoria approach them with a small platter of meats, cheeses, bread, and several of the gildas. He turned to Vicente. “Did you order?”
“He did not,” answered Victoria. “This is now your lunch break. Twenty more minutes, mister director. Good to see you, handsome.” She patted Vicente on the shoulder.
“Awww, thank you so much,” he beamed, looking over the snacks. “You didn’t have to do this.”
Victoria left them with no further comment.
Alex couldn’t deny Vicente’s way with women, and his naivety was one of his sweetest qualities.
He’d never quite clued on to Victoria’s attempts to lure him back into Alex’s love life.
When they’d broken up, Alex had heard nothing else from her for almost a month.
Jago picked up one of the gildas. “I haven’t had one of these in… must be ten years.”
Alex watching him pop the entire pepper, anchovy, olive monstrosity in his mouth in one bite, then slide the skewer from his lips. He couldn’t. No way. The briny smell of the fish still burned his nostrils. “Ten years? Wait, how old are you?”
“How old do you think?”
Vicente shrugged. “Twenty…. wait.”
Jago began tilting his hand toward the ceiling, gesturing for them to guess higher.
“Thirty-two?”
“Thirty-eight.”
“What?” Alex snapped. “No way.”
“Christ, man, what’s your secret?” Vicente asked.
Jago smiled with a broad spread of flawless white teeth. “Curiosity and an appreciation of beauty.”
Alex shook his head. This guy…
“Also, water, sleep, and very few sweets. No Christ, though.”
“More like magick,” Vicente said with a laugh.
“Magick can’t fix everything, my friend.” Jago drained the last of his vermouth, putting the glass down firmly on the table.
Alex ate a slice of Manchego, unsure how to answer that. “Lighting cues, you said?”
“Yeah.” Vicente fished a notebook from his kit bag and set an open page in front of Alex. “We can try them tonight. Shouldn’t take long to set up.”
“May I come watch?”
The two of them looked up at Jago, making no effort to hide their surprise.
“If that’s all right. I have a special fondness for Blood Wedding. I would love to see what you’re doing with it.”
If only for a second, Alex found himself confused by the look that crossed Vicente’s face. It was defensive, as if their unfinished work had been cornered for some premature critical scrutiny.
“We’re still working things out,” he said quietly. “I’d be embarrassed to—”
“Embarrassed? You should never be embarrassed just because the work isn’t finished. You told me yourself, you’re worried about having so little time to prepare. I’m not asking to judge. Only watch and help if I can.”
“We don’t need help,” Vicente said, eating a slice of sausage.
In truth, Alex wasn’t so sure. Curiosity and an appreciation of beauty?
“Sure,” he said at last. “Seven o’clock, Cervantes Culture Forum, studio—”
“Seriously?” Vicente burned him with a glare before turning back to Jago. “I mean, no offense, man, but we’ve just met you and—”
Jago lifted another gilda from the plate, turning the skewer in his fingers as if studying the strange ingredients impaled on it.
“Everything that can cut a man’s body. A beautiful man, tasting the fullness of life…
I’ve always thought that line danced on its own.
I’d love to see how it dances on your stage, if only that.
You say you owe me? This would more than pay your debt. ”
“I… okay, sure? I guess?”
“Uh, excuse me,” Vicente said, raising a hand as Jago swallowed the gilda in one smooth bite. “I’m also still here. Do I not get a vote in this?”
Jago smiled. “You’re right. I’m sorry. It was rude to put you on the spot. Another time, perhaps?”
Alex winced as his mind leapt to the notes he’d made after their last rehearsal. “No, tonight would be great.” He turned to Vicente, hoping his apology looked as sincere as his desperation. “It couldn’t hurt.”
Vicente curled his fingers so hard, Alex was sure he’d scratch the table. “Okay,” he said at last, getting up. “You’re the boss. I’ll see you both at seven.”
Alex nodded, trying to regain some semblance of directorial authority. He was close to calling out ‘love you,’ a habit he’d tried to break himself of since Joanna had entered their lives, but he managed to bite his tongue.
“Your friend doesn’t like me.”
“He’s protective. Don’t worry, he’ll come around.”
“I don’t want to cause you trouble. You need him more than you need me.”
“It’s settled.” Alex popped another piece of Manchego into his mouth, glad he’d talked Victoria out of her plan to find a new supplier. “He’s just worried if these new cues look like shit, he’ll look a fool.”
“All art looks foolish until it’s done.”
“That’s what I try to tell him.” Alex sighed. “He’s not such a creative guy, but he’s a genius with tech.”
“That’s perfect. Too many mediocre creative talents out there. Not enough true genius.”
“Thanks?”
“Not you. At least, I trust you’re not mediocre. I can usually read these things.”
Alex caught an evil eye from Victoria. “I’ve got to get back.”
“Until tonight then?” Jago took Alex’s hand in his and with a sweeping bow, kissed the back of it.
Alex’s eyes widened. “Until tonight.”
Jago grinned, tipping his head to Victoria as he departed.
Alex watched him cross the Plaza Mayor until he disappeared under the portico leading to Sol. He’d forgotten to give him their room number for the rehearsal, but Jago seemed the type who could figure these things out without too much trouble.
“Someone’s cup overfloweth,” Victoria teased.
Alex cleared their table, picking up Jago’s glass and remembering the request for the used napkin.