Chapter 24
Hilliard
“Well, it doesn’t happen often, but I must admit I’m impressed.”
Ezra didn’t look up from the paperwork they were flipping through inside one of the seven folders in front of them. Hilliard and Monty had claimed seats on the opposite side of the desk, their moods significantly lighter than the last time they’d sat in the producer’s office together.
“Not only have you managed to curb your reckless behavior, but by all accounts, you’ve already started to pull your public image out of the trench you dug for it.”
Hilliard attempted to reply with even more praise for just how much Monty had improved over the previous weeks, but the man beat him to it with accolades of his own.
“Hilliard is the one responsible for that. I never would’ve learned the simple pleasure of staying home if it weren’t for him. It’s difficult to get in trouble when you’re settled by the fire with your slippers on.”
Ezra’s eyes flicked up to Monty, then Hilliard, then Monty again before returning to the endless pages.
“I hope you’ve thanked Mr. Burke for succeeding in a task we all feared was impossible.”
Hilliard tensed. He knew Monty well enough to predict the various ways he might choose to answer; anything from a suggestive smirk to a thinly-veiled innuendo.
To his relief, Monty didn’t say anything at all.
He just sat with his back straight and jaw set as he waited bravely to hear what else Ezra had to tell them.
The magic in Hilliard’s heart squeezed at the sight.
If that wasn’t proof enough of how much he’d grown, he didn’t know what was.
Ezra closed the top folder with a snap and leaned back in their chair, pushing their glasses up their nose with a fingertip before crossing their arms with a pensive look.
“You’ve also been spending time with Cal like I suggested.”
“Yes,” Monty said with a nod. “As often as our schedules have allowed.” This wasn’t technically true on Monty’s part, but anyone in the industry could understand the sentiment. Schedules rarely aligned the way everyone wanted them to during filming.
“We had him and Jesse over for dinner, and we spent the holiday together,” Hilliard confirmed with a smile. “It’s been lovely.”
Ezra remained focused on Monty.
“Director Chen plans to have filming wrapped in about two weeks, is that right?”
“I believe so.”
A long pause left them in silence as Ezra’s careful consideration lingered. Then, with a forced exhale, they unfolded their arms and tapped both hands on the edge of the desk.
“As I said, I’m impressed. I can’t make any final decisions, of course, but if you can keep this up I’ll have no choice but to offer my recommendation for a contract renewal when the time comes.”
The tension left Monty’s body so fast that Hilliard nearly reached for him to keep him from toppling out of his chair. He settled for placing his hand on Monty’s forearm and giving it a few celebratory pats.
Ezra caught the move and looked between the two of them again.
“I’m sure you’ll both be relieved to get back to your previous living arrangements.”
All the pride Hilliard was holding for his dearest friend melted away to nothing.
“Come again?” Monty asked, equally as confused by the simple words.
Ezra blinked at him. “When filming wraps, you’ll be free to return home. I know I said you’d stay on with Hilliard a little while after for good measure, but it doesn’t seem necessary. Give me the final two weeks and we’ll call it settled.”
Hilliard opened his mouth to speak, to protest, something, but found that he couldn’t. Monty sat just as silent beside him, brows pinched.
“I have another meeting in ten,” Ezra said, standing up as they collected two of the folders from lower in the stack. “We’ll talk soon.” With that, they shuffled around the desk and out of the room.
Hilliard and Monty both stared at the empty chair they left behind.
Two weeks. That was all the time they had left before Monty was free to return home.
Back to his sporty roadster, and his swimming pool, and his poorly stocked pantry and refrigerator.
Back to the life he’d been plucked from like a weed in Hilliard’s flowerbed, expected to return as nothing less than a flawless bloom for everyone to admire.
Hilliard sucked up every bit of emotion he had and forced a grin as he turned to Monty, squeezing his forearm this time.
“I’m so proud of you,” he said, his voice deceptively strong.
Monty’s eyes met his, briefly searching, before he pushed up out of his chair and stalked through the open door.
Hilliard followed, a little bewildered. When he caught up to Monty, he suggested that they go and get something from the commissary.
Most of what they served was mediocre at best, but a cup of thick pudding sounded good enough to soothe whatever worries Monty was having about the situation.
They collected their trays and found a table by the long wall of windows. Monty still hadn’t said a word, so Hilliard made another attempt.
“I’ll bet you’re looking forward to driving again.”
“Sure.”
The muscles in Monty’s jaw worked as he chewed a bite of bread and stared out the window beside him. Hilliard’s forced cheer faltered. He gave up in favor of his butterscotch pudding, sticking a spoonful in his mouth as he looked around the commissary, searching for something else to talk about.
To his surprise, Jesse Morgan emerged from the line looking a little lost. Hilliard waved him over, expecting Cal to be somewhere close behind, but Jesse was alone. He sat with a puff of fatigue that drew even Monty’s distracted attention.
“What’s the matter, doll?” Hilliard asked him with a slight frown.
“I’m beat,” Jesse said over the rim of his water glass before chugging away at it.
Monty finally found his words.
“You been dancing?”
“Yeah,” Jesse sighed. “They needed the sound for the tap scenes. All of them.”
Hilliard winced. No wonder he was so exhausted.
Monty asked where Cal was, and when Jesse revealed that he’d been recording by himself all morning, the sour mood began to make more sense. He and Cal had become inseparable, both on and off set. It only made sense he was feeling lost without his constant companion.
“Is anything else bothering you?” Hilliard asked carefully. “I’m not sure I’ve seen you looking so serious since that night at the Pink Peacock when our friend here was making a fool of himself all over you.”
“I was making a first impression,” Monty argued. When Jesse reminded him that they’d already met before that night, Monty paused, pursed his lips, then said, “I was making a second impression.”
“You’re lucky there was a third, or else I’m sure Jesse would’ve wanted nothing else to do with you,” Hilliard told him.
Monty let out an offended yelp, smacking a hand over his heart.
“You don’t mean that.”
Hilliard was unable to maintain his serious expression for long. He offered Monty a grin instead, and some of the tension that had been lingering between them lifted when Monty returned it.
“No, I’m sure he would’ve been just as willing to forgive you as the rest of us always are, magic or no magic. Isn’t that right, Jesse?” Hilliard waited a few seconds for Jesse’s reply. When one never came, he turned back to the young man to discover his melancholy had deepened even more. “Jesse?”
His big blue eyes snapped up, full of worry that twisted at Hilliard’s heart. Monty seemed to see something else entirely.
“He’s fine. I’d recognize that look anywhere.”
“What look?” Hilliard asked.
“The same one he was giving Campbell in the back seat of your Cadillac,” Monty purred, putting a special smack of emphasis on the end of Cadillac.
“Cal?” Hilliard watched Jesse’s expression go from disheartened to downright abashed with pink cheeks to match. The reaction to one simple word–one simple name–spoke louder than any other explanation could. Hilliard’s magic softened him from the inside out. “Cal?” he repeated gently.
Jesse hid his face in folded arms for a moment, then lifted it with a frown and muttered, “I think something’s wrong with me.”
Monty attempted to reassure him by explaining that Cal was a very desirable man, and that his feelings were perfectly normal, but it only seemed to embarrass Jesse more.
When he revealed that he and Cal had been intimate, or at least attempted to be with less than favorable results, Monty sobered in his advice.
“Happens to the best of us from time to time. You know, a little liquid courage wouldn’t hurt–”
“Montgomery,” Hilliard warned under his breath, not wanting to draw attention from the people sitting around them.
“I’m just saying, is all!” Monty threw his hands up in a show of innocence, crossing his arms as he pushed his chair back, balancing it on two legs. “Nerves can wreak havoc on even the most willing of peckers. You gotta relax.”
Hilliard rolled his eyes at the words of wisdom, if they could even be called such a thing. He tried to think of something more actionable to offer, but Monty went on before he had any ideas of his own.
“I know what you need. You need to work your own magic.”
“My magic?” Jesse asked, clearly skeptical.
“Your dance magic,” Monty enthused. “I saw it myself that night we first met. You were the brightest light in the place, so confident and sure of yourself. It was sexy as hell.”
Hilliard’s heart puddled for an entirely new reason. Monty offering compliments without the undercurrent of his magic to boost them was new and, frankly, just as alluring as any show of dance magic. He was genuinely trying to help Jesse with his situation, and Hilliard could’ve kissed him for it.
“The four of us are going out dancing on Friday,” Monty announced, “and you’re going to jitterbug your way right back into that bed for a night full of–”
Jesse agreed hastily, cutting Monty off before he could finish the end of that sentence.
The invitation pulled a nervous laugh from him, too, but then Jesse picked up his fork and began eating his previously untouched meal.
Monty looked satisfied as he also started to eat again, this time with intent.
Hilliard’s magic all but glowed as he took another bite of pudding, so pleased with Monty’s efforts at being a supportive friend in Jesse’s moment of need that he didn’t dare voice any protest against the surprising change of their Friday night plans.
He could suffer through an evening out if it meant bringing Jesse and Cal closer together.
And he supposed a night dancing with Montgomery Kincaid wasn’t all that bad, either.