5. Monty #3
“No, I’d say mine has ears,” Forsythe said, looking thoughtful. “Yours sniffs out your good stories and mine—well, mine is like a little alarm bell in my head.”
Miss Dupree gave a snort and sipped her drink.
For his part, Monty had no idea how his private pity party had turned into an actual event. So much for laying low. He cleared his throat. With nothing to add to the strange topic of discussion, he switched to social niceties. It was safer. “Nice to meet you, Miss Dupree.”
“Did Freddie say you needed cheering up? What seems to be the trouble?”
Monty opened his mouth to say it was nothing, but Forsythe beat him to it. “Our friend is grieving being pulled out of the musical category.”
“It’s not that,” Monty protested. “It’s not just that,” he amended.
Miss Dupree leaned her chin on her fist. “What is it then?” At his wary glance, she flashed him a smile. “Strictly off the record. Promise.”
“I’m not sure I’m ready to talk about it yet.”
Forsythe pulled a cigarette case out of his pocket and flicked it open, holding it out for Monty. Monty shook his head, but Miss Dupree took a cigarette and tapped it against the table top. Forsythe struck a match against the side of the table and lit hers first before lighting his own.
“Is it girl trouble?” he asked.
“No.”
“Boy trouble?”
“No.”
“Love trouble in general?”
“For goodness’ sake, no.”
“Hmm.” Forsythe blew out a slow stream of smoke.
“Believe it or not,” Monty grumbled, “this isn’t making me feel better.”
“Of course it isn’t. You aren’t telling us what the trouble is.”
“I barely know you.”
“Are you worried about your new role?” Miss Dupree asked, leaning forward. “It is a big deal to switch from musicals to a comedy like that.”
“That’s part of it,” he admitted.
She flicked her cigarette over the ashtray and gave Forsythe a smug smile and tapped the side of her nose. “And,” she continued, drawing out the word, “I’m guessing it has something to do with your little outing last night?”
Monty winced. “Yeah, that too.”
“Oh, well that’s easy,” Forsythe said.
“Glad you seem to think so. I was under the impression that my career was at stake.”
Forsythe took a drag of his cigarette. “Is that what Ezra told you?”
Shit. “No.” It wasn’t exactly a lie.
“Freddie’s right,” Miss Dupree said. “If it’s a public image issue, then there’s nothing to it.”
“Yeah, I know. I just gotta lie low and keep out of trouble for a while. That’s all.”
“That’ll help,” she agreed, twirling one of her pearl earrings thoughtfully. “But I was going to suggest something a bit more…proactive.”
“Oooh!” Forsythe squealed. “A feature? Oh, Joanie, please give him a feature. Our boy has never graced the cover of your rag.”
“Don’t call it a rag.”
“It’s the best rag in the country and you know it.”
She rolled her eyes but smiled as she took another puff of her cigarette and refocused on Monty. “I’ve always liked you, you know.”
“I’ll bet you say that to all the boys,” he responded drily.
She barked out a laugh. “I do! But sometimes I mean it. You’re not at all how you appear in pictures.”
“That’s because you’re seeing me at my lowest point.”
“No, it’s because I’m seeing you as a real person. You’re so charming in the movies. So gorgeous, it hurts. So sweet, my teeth ache.”
“So shiny, my eyes itch,” Forsythe supplied.
“Okay, okay, can we get to the point?” Monty asked.
“But you’re different in person. You’re funny and down-to-earth. And sad,” she added. “I kind of like that, too.”
“Happy to oblige, I guess.”
“You’re real. People like real. Especially when it comes to movie stars. They want to believe the stars are just like them. People with real emotions and real problems.”
He held up a hand. “Believe it or not, I don’t think the solution is me airing my grievances publicly.”
“But,” Forsythe cut in, waggling a finger, “you could still show the real you.”
“Exactly!” Miss Dupree said, bouncing in her seat.
“I can run a feature on you. I can come over to your place and we can talk about you—the real you, the Montgomery Kincaid that no one gets to see. We can talk about your childhood, your family, your friends, what you like to cook, how you decorate your house, your favorite places to eat, that kind of thing.” She paused to take a drag.
“If I’m honest, the fact that we found you at this hidden gem of a bar did wonders for my impression of you. ”
Monty opened his mouth to politely turn her down, but then he paused to consider her offer.
He hadn’t used magic throughout the entire conversation, and here these two people were, saying they liked him for it.
When he thought even further, he realized that he hardly ever used his magic on Hilliard either.
Was that the answer? Letting people see who he was underneath the charm?
He downed the rest of his drink and beamed at her. “I’ll do it. When do you want to talk?”
She grinned and pulled a notepad out of her purse. “How about next week?”
“Fine. I’ll—”
“Montgomery.” Hilliard’s voice pulled his focus instantly.
Hilliard was standing at the edge of the table, looking disappointed, and Monty felt all of the encouragement he’d recently acquired melt away immediately.