Chapter Twenty-One
Twenty-One
“My body, I can feel it falling, turning to stars. I will be with you there, and no one can tear us apart.”
—“Eternity,” The Wooden Horse, Act Two
Melanie Cowperthwaite holed herself up in a tiny office in Richmond. Jonah hated going there; the minute he stepped off the
tube the world changed from shades of gray to shining silver. Richmond exuded wealth, and no matter how nicely Jonah dressed
he always knew he didn’t belong there. Richmond had no time for boys from the coast who dreamed of sand between their toes.
But Melanie called him, her voice filled with passionate concern, and when Melanie called and told him she needed a face-to-face
meeting, he went.
Her office, up six flights of stairs with no elevator, welcomed whoever stepped inside with shades of peach and pink. A white
fluffy computer chair sat behind a light oak desk, and there, sitting in it, was Melanie, tapping away enthusiastically on
her laptop. She looked up as Jonah entered the room, the bright smile on her face fading as soon as she saw the bruises on
his face.
“Jonah,” she said in her rich Trinidadian accent. “What are we going to do with you?”
“You say that as if I did this to myself.” He didn’t wait for her to invite him to sit in the luminous pink chair opposite her desk, and instead made himself comfortable and crossed one leg over his lap casually.
“And I’m starting to think I’m actually being held responsible for this?
” The question came off the back of Melanie’s call; not long after, he received a message, not even a call, from Evie telling him to take another day off to “get himself together.”
“Colbie Paris is a witch,” Melanie said, standing from her seat to go to the little coffee station she’d set up in the corner
by the window. “I don’t know why that woman thinks she’s God’s gift to the theatre. Seriously, people need to stop giving
her awards. She’s not that good. She called me late last night on my personal number saying she needed to speak urgently regarding you.”
Jonah could feel the ground beneath him slowly sinking. “What did she say?”
“That the assault was because of personal issues in your life and that she is deeply unhappy you brought those troubles to
the theatre,” Melanie said as she poured them both a cup of tea. “And she wants you to take the rest of the week off and have
a social media blackout for at least two weeks to let the drama subside so it doesn’t overshadow Dexter Ellis joining the
cast.”
Jonah couldn’t tell if the feeling brewing inside his chest came from rage or despair. “What happened wasn’t my fault. I could
never have known he would come to the theatre. I mean, I only met the guy once for about two minutes on the tube,” he explained
as he took the tea from Melanie.
“Like I said, she’s a witch.” Melanie sat back down and twirled one of her brown curls in her ring-adorned fingers. “I told
her she can’t control your social media, and the world doesn’t revolve around Dexter Ellis. But, I do agree you should take
a few days to recover from this.” She made a vague gesture toward his face. “I will be honest with you, Jonah, I didn’t like
the way she spoke. So, it’s time for me to ask you: Are you wanting to extend your contract there once this one has ended?”
Jonah hadn’t allowed himself to consider life outside of The Wooden Horse; the thought of starting over again terrified him almost as much as being unemployed. But then, people didn’t stay with shows
forever. They moved on, they carved different paths for themselves, and he knew he would one day have to leave Achilles behind.
He just didn’t expect it to be so soon.
“I love the show. I love the people I work with. If they offered me another year’s contract, then I would take it.”
Melanie nodded, then sipped her tea. “Okay. If a contract renewal isn’t on the table, would you want to take some time out
or have something lined up?”
“Is there a chance my contract won’t be renewed?” he asked. “Did Colbie imply that?”
“I think there’s been a lot going on behind the scenes there since the moment you landed the role,” Melanie admitted. “There’s
been a shit ton of drama surrounding Dexter Ellis and his insufferable agent, and his name being connected with the show again
says a lot about what’s going on with the big bosses. I think we need to make some smart moves here.”
“What kind of smart moves?”
“I’ve got a few projects you’ve been invited to audition for,” she said, tapping at something on her laptop then making a
content noise from the back of her throat. “I think if things come through you are even remotely interested in, we should
get you an audition. You know these things take months. Auditioning now would mean you’re set up for when your contract ends.”
The cup in Jonah’s hands burned his palms, but he gripped it tighter as Achilles moved further and further away from him.
“Well. What things have I been invited to audition for?”
“They’re planning a revival of Oklahoma. They were keen to talk to me about you putting yourself forward for that. Then there’s Crazy for You, which I actually think you’d be perfect for. You’d be a brilliant Bobby.”
Jonah raised his tea to his lips and swallowed a mouthful despite the liquid scalding the back of his throat. “Um,” he said,
grimacing slightly as the drink made its way down his esophagus. “What role are they thinking for Oklahoma?”
“Curly.”
“Then, no, he’s a dick.”
Melanie laughed, the sound melodic. “Fair enough. What about Crazy for You then?”
“Sure.” Jonah nodded, gripping the cup even tighter. “If you think there’s a strong possibility I won’t get a new contract for The Wooden Horse.”
Her smile faded, leaving a grim expression in its wake. “She didn’t say outright. But, I think their plan is for Dexter Ellis
to take over the role. At least, that’s what I’ve heard on the grapevine, and her call this morning seemed to be laying foundations
for that decision to be made.”
She didn’t know her words winded him, and Jonah did the only thing he thought he should do: smile and nod as if he didn’t
have a care in the world. For who wouldn’t be flattered when they were told they had been asked to audition for West End shows?
He knew how fickle the industry could be, how quickly someone could be on top, then find themselves without a job and wishing
they hadn’t turned their backs on the opportunities they once had. He didn’t want to say goodbye to the world he loved, to
the music and movement, the beautiful stories he could tell. If Achilles no longer belonged to him, then he needed to find
someone else to embody. But the thought of leaving, of stepping away from the thing he worked so hard for, the role that put
his name into the mouths of important people and won him the Olivier, well, it felt like Edward leaving him all over again.
For someone else. Dexter.
“It’s dance heavy though, you know that, right?” Melanie said, snapping Jonah out of the twirling vortex of doom he threw
himself into. “Big tap numbers.”
“Yeah,” he said blankly. “I know. That’s fine. I can . . . yeah . . . if you can set up an audition that would be great.”
Melanie offered him a sad smile. “I know landing Achilles was huge for you, but I don’t think it’s the role you will be remembered
for.”
“You think Bobby Child is?”
Melanie tapped the handle of her mug with her nail. “No. I think we’ve yet to come across the role people will remember you
for. Achilles got you your first Olivier, but you can get more. I believe in you.” She spoke with such sincerity Jonah believed
her. Achilles, his first Olivier, but it didn’t need to be his last. The Wooden Horse was his way in, and now he had the keys to Troy, and he would conquer it.
As Jonah left the office, he took a deep breath and looked up to the sky.
Endlessly blue. It took him back to Cornwall, to the scorching summers and romance of the sea.
He fished his phone from his pocket and scrolled through until he got to his mum’s number.
He could call her. He should call her. In so many ways he still felt tethered to her, a child searching for her hand, the umbilical cord stretching but
not letting go. She’d been there for him when he scraped his knees, when he failed his stupid art exam, and when he accidentally
threw up all over the front doormat after returning home drunk. So why did he feel scared to talk to her?
“Hello, Jonah,” she said, answering after five excruciating rings. “How is your face?”
“Not too bad,” he said as he moved through Richmond. “How are you?”
“Oh, fine.” She seemed distracted, words a little quiet, slightly slurred. “Doctor gave me some new medication. You know,
to help with the nerves.”
“The nerves?”
“I’ve been finding it a little difficult to just . . . sit still lately.”
“Is the medication helping?” he asked, keeping his tone light.
She hummed before answering. “I’ve got to go, Jonah. There’s a cat outside.” He could definitely hear the words slurring together
as she spoke and he knew, he just knew, from the calls with Penny with hints of his mum’s drinking in their conversations,
medication may not have been the cause.
“And that means you have to go because . . . ?”
“Have a nice day, sausage.” She didn’t wait for him to say goodbye. He looked down at his phone as he stopped in his tracks,
the fear he felt before calling her having now multiplied. Shit. He needed to talk to Penny.