Chapter 29
Twenty-Nine
“Come with me. We don’t need their war. We can bathe in rivers and feast on the fruits of the vine.”
—“Come with Me,” The Wooden Horse, Act Two
Julianna kissed Jonah’s cheeks before cupping her hands around his and smiling warmly at him. He knew he performed well, but
he wasn’t expecting such an emotional response from her. He had just finished singing “I Don’t Care Much.” He saw the way
she watched him as he performed, her eyes following his every movement before she tried, and failed, to blink back tears.
“You were amazing,” she said, leaning close to him before letting out a giddy laugh. “Isn’t he just perfect?” she called over
her shoulder to the rest of her team, who gave a whooping cheer and clapped their hands together. “I knew this role was made
for you the moment I saw you onstage at the Persephone, but I needed to make sure, and I’m so glad you came here today and
did what you just did up on that stage.”
“Thank you,” Jonah said, and she hugged him, then bobbed up and down on the balls of her feet in excitement.
“I’m going to be calling Melanie as soon as you leave. I really hope you take this part, Jonah. We are going to be making
something truly magical, and you’re going to be at the heart of it. And, on a completely personal level, thank you so much
for coming here today. Melanie told me these past couple of weeks have been hard for you. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“Oh,” Jonah said, flustered. “Thank you. It’s been . . . I don’t even know where to begin.”
“I lost my mum last year,” she said. “I understand how overwhelmed you must feel right now.”
“It’s an odd feeling more than anything.”
“Melanie said you’re back onstage tonight. Are you sure you’re ready?” Julianna asked.
“Yeah. Dad wouldn’t want me moping around. He’d probably be cross with me for taking any time off, actually.”
“Well, break a leg, okay? We are all rooting for you.”
Jonah felt like a broken record as he thanked her and the rest of the casting team again and again. He was still floating
in a sort of daze. She loved him. They all did. He took the song, a song he once played on the piano with his father, and
placed everything else to the back of his mind. He hadn’t felt like this since his audition for Achilles. He left the room
back then with a small glimmer of hope that he might get the role, and he did, and now . . . now Julianna Orwell was asking
him to be part of one of her shows.
He kept his hands in his pockets as he walked, turning the month’s events over and over in his head. His father’s death, the
funeral, breaking up with Dexter, and now, to finish it off, auditioning for Julianna. He stopped on Brick Lane and grabbed
a coffee, balking at the cost of it but paying anyway. He walked down the street and sipped it as a small burst of rain splattered
from the sky. The coffee tasted bitter and burned the back of his tongue, but he’d be damned if he didn’t pretend to enjoy
his five-pound cortado. As the rain gained momentum, he ducked down the metal stairs that led to the Brick Lane vintage market
to avoid the downpour.
He’d been here a few times with Sherrie and stood by as she fawned over retro jackets and oversized sunglasses.
He’d even been here once with Bastien when he insisted he needed a particular style of cowboy boots and got it in his head they would be waiting for him at the market.
They weren’t, and he left in a mood before buying some overpriced sliders at a pop-up fashion shop in Covent Garden.
Jonah preferred regular stores; he didn’t like having to search through racks upon racks to find something he liked only to be disappointed when it wasn’t his size or cost more than his monthly rent.
Today, however, the market wasn’t as crowded as it usually was, and he meandered around without the pressure of Sherrie needing to find all the bargains or Bastien darting toward anything that resembled a cowboy.
He took little interest in the clothes, looking down at his phone rather than actively browsing, absently scrolling through
Dexter’s Instagram. He’d archived a lot of the photos of them together, the ones of them messing about backstage that the
Dexah fans went wild over when he posted them. Now the gossip forums were filled with #RIPDexah hashtags, though neither of
them confirmed a breakup. They had nothing to confirm, given they never made anything official on social media, but Dexter
removing the photos spoke more than words ever could. He hadn’t, however, deleted the photo he posted of Jonah the day after
Wes attacked him, and Jonah read and reread the caption until he could see it even when he closed his eyes:
@Itsjonahpenrose I promise to always make you smile like this, even on the days when smiling is the last thing you want to
do.
He didn’t know if Dexter left it there deliberately or if he’d forgotten to remove it when culling Jonah from his social media,
but he hoped it was the former, that the promise still stood. Jonah just needed to sort himself out, which was exactly what
he was going to do. As he slipped his phone into his pocket, deciding he’d had enough of Dexter’s salad photos and pouting
selfies, he stopped in his tracks and stared at the garment in front of him.
A jumper. Forest green with a Golden Labrador embroidered on the front. It truly was as hideous as Jonah remembered it. He
ran his fingers along the collar then down the sleeves and turned it inside out to look at the label. Piniquo. And there,
just beneath the label, was an ironed-on name tag reading Dexter Ellis. Because of course Dexter ironed his name into his atrocious items of clothing.
“What are the bloody chances?” Jonah muttered to himself as the woman behind the till craned her neck to look at him.
“That’s a Piniquo. It’s part of their limited collection. They didn’t make many of those,” she said with a smile.
“Thank God for that,” Jonah said back, which earned him an unhappy look from her. Clearly the Labrador had more fans than
just Dexter. “How much is it?”
“Well, it is Piniquo,” she said, clicking her tongue against the back of her teeth. “I’ll let it go for seventy.”
“Seventy pounds?” Jonah almost choked on his own spit.
“It’s Piniquo.”
“Where did you even get this? It belongs to my friend. It’s got his name in it.” Jonah pointed to the name label.
The woman shrugged. “People bring stuff in all the time, and I buy it off them. Your friend must have brought it in.”
Only, Jonah knew that definitely wasn’t the case, but he wasn’t about to argue with a stranger over an ugly Labrador jumper.
“Seventy seems a lot.”
“They sell for over two hundred brand new. And that one’s in mint condition.”
Two hundred pounds. Dexter had spent over two hundred pounds on the ugliest jumper known to man. “Fine,” Jonah said, and he
almost wept as he handed over his debit card and the woman packed up the repulsive thing and popped it into a paper bag.
“Enjoy your new jumper,” she said with a smile that said, you’re an absolute mug for paying that much. And Jonah just nodded and walked away from the daylight robbery.
Dexter opened his dressing room door and smiled when he saw Jonah standing on the other side. Jonah wasn’t quite sure of the
reaction he would get from him. They had texted only once since Dexter left Cornwall, then they left each other alone like
any normal people who had just broken up would do. But the smile he gave Jonah told him he’d missed him, and it made Jonah’s
heart yearn for him yet again, because Jonah missed him too. He really, really missed him.
“I got you a present,” Jonah said, holding up the paper bag with a grin.
“What? Why?”
“As a thank you for driving me to Cornwall.”
“Jonah, seriously, you didn’t have to—”
“Open it,” Jonah said, shoving the bag into Dexter’s arms before moving past him to go into the dressing room where he sat
himself down in Dexter’s chair. “You’re gonna bloody love it, trust me.”
Dexter raised an eyebrow and opened the bag, peering inside. A brief flicker of confusion worked its way over his face before
he pulled the jumper out of the bag, his mouth spreading into the brightest of smiles.
“You got me a new one,” he said under his breath while running his fingers over the embroidery at the front. “Jonah, this
is honestly too much, I know how much these things cost.”
“Actually,” Jonah said, standing up again to take the jumper from him and turn it inside out so he could point at the name
ironed inside. “It’s not new. It’s yours.”
Dexter stared for a moment, then an obscene pout formed on his lips. “So, you did steal it that night? I knew you swiped it from me, I just knew it.”
“No.” Jonah laughed. “No, I swear to God I didn’t steal it. I hate it. I hate it even more now I had to buy it from an overpriced
vintage stall. But I found it, and it had your name on it, so I couldn’t just leave it there, could I?”
Dexter eyed him suspiciously. “You promise you haven’t been hiding this for months to then look like the hero for bringing
it back?”
“You could just say thank you, you know. Now I can’t afford to eat for a week because of that thing.”
Dexter’s expression softened, and he rubbed the material between his fingers, acquainting himself with it again as if saying
hello to an old friend. “Thank you,” he said, then hesitantly made a move to hug Jonah, but stopped, only for Jonah to finish
what he started. He wrapped his arms around him while Dexter did the same.
“I’ve really missed you,” Dexter whispered. “I’ve had no one around messing up their blocking or fumbling their lines to gloat
over at the end of the show.”
“Fuck off.” Jonah laughed, stepping back to smile at him fondly. “I’ve missed you too. Even missed those pesky little critiques.”
“I’ve wanted to call, but I didn’t want to intrude. But I’ve thought about you every day, Jonah. There’s so much I’ve wanted
to tell you.”
The clock above Dexter’s dressing table clicked loudly into the room, telling them they didn’t have time, they didn’t have
the luxury of being able to just stop and talk to each other; Troy waited for them, their onstage deaths needed to be carried
out before anything of importance could pass between them.
“Do you want to go for that drink we never went for?” Jonah asked. “Tomorrow morning, coffee?”
Dexter nodded right away. “Yeah.” He clutched the jumper in his hands. “That would be nice.”
“And I think I know what it is you need to talk to me about.”
“You do?”
“Yes. It’s about ironing name labels into your clothes, isn’t it?”
Dexter chucked the jumper at him then, hitting Jonah square in the face as he laughed. “You need to shut your face, Jonah
Penrose. I used to live with six other people when I first moved to London and had to label all my shit otherwise I’d never
see it again. There’s nothing wrong with being organized.”
“I wasn’t judging you.”
“Yes, you were, you prick.” Warmth spread through Dexter’s voice. “Now leave me alone so I can get ready. I need to look perfect
so I can upstage you.”
Jonah watched as Dexter sat down and grabbed some of the powder by the side of his mirror to brush over his face. The ease
with which they settled into each other again made him believe it might be okay. Even if their romantic relationship couldn’t
be salvaged, there would be a friendship left in the foundations, one Jonah would take and hold onto forever. He needed Dexter
in his life.