Chapter 3
Jesse
Jesse leaned against the elegant curve of his chair back and let his eyes roam across the table. At least fifteen dishes sat crowded together between where he and Cal sat, some only half eaten while others had been practically licked clean.
After struggling to make out a single word on the menu—at least he was pretty sure he knew what soupe was—Cal took pity and ordered one of everything. Jesse told him at least three times that he shouldn’t have done that, all the way up until the food started to arrive and he was too busy eating.
He’d asked Cal what everything was before he tried it, getting answers that settled his uncertainty for the most part.
This one was chicken in a thick mushroom sauce, that one was potatoes with cheese and delicate flakes of truffles on top, whatever those were.
He wasn’t too plain to recognize the dish with cut fruit and nuts that arrived with a variety of desserts.
His favorite had been aptly named cream puffs.
Jesse picked up the napkin he’d draped across his thighs and rid himself of the chocolate sauce he could feel at the corner of his lips.
Another waitperson came to very politely ask if they could take away any of the plates, but Cal waved them off.
The resulting look of anguish on their face as they returned to the kitchen made Jesse’s brows go up.
“I think we’re making everyone nervous with our mess,” he said.
“I only want to make sure you’ve had your fill,” Cal reassured him.
“If I cram one more bite of food in my mouth, there’s going to be a bigger mess than this to worry about.”
Jesse had learned that particular lesson at his screen test two days earlier.
An entire lunch buffet was laid out for him and anyone else who wanted it.
Turns out, eating like a movie star after surviving on canned beans and crusty bread for years is the perfect recipe for a miserable night.
He only hoped he hadn’t overdone it here, too.
The waistband of his new trousers wasn’t digging painfully into his gut, so that was something, at least.
His entire outfit was new. If he’d tried to come in this place wearing anything he already owned, they would’ve laughed in his face.
Luckily, the advance he’d been given after he signed his temporary contract also included someone in the costume department giving him the address of a nearby clothing store that had things he could actually afford.
After an hour of turning around in front of a wall of mirrors, he’d left with what the clothier declared “enough pieces to last a few weeks.” It had doubled his wardrobe.
“How are you enjoying your time so far?” Cal was similarly reclined in his seat across the table, though Jesse suspected that the strong drink he was nursing helped him in that direction. “I heard they’ve already had you busy down at the studio.”
“Busy is one word for it,” Jesse agreed. “I can’t remember the last time I was this tired.”
Bone-deep exhaustion was probably a better way to describe it.
In less than a week he’d settled his affairs back home, been shaken around like the last drops of sauce in a ketchup bottle on too many connecting flights out to California, and tossed into a whirlwind of bright lights and shouted instructions.
Even sitting here in this snazzy nightclub—the Pink Peacock, have mercy—he knew that if he stopped moving for more than a minute, he’d be asleep on the table.
“Just wait until we start filming,” Cal said, brows pinched with what looked like sympathy.
Jesse groaned. “Any advice?”
Cal seemed to consider it. “Do you drink coffee?”
“No. Never tried it.”
“Start now.”
Jesse laughed and reached for the water he’d asked for.
A dashing smile spread across Cal’s face as Jesse studied him over the rim of his glass.
The man was everything he’d imagined him to be from his theater seat.
Cal was charming in a subtle way. Polite and soft spoken.
A perfect gentleman, just as he’d said. He had mentioned something earlier about playing a role in public, but it seemed impossible that any person could maintain a character so effortlessly for so long.
A small part of him recognized that he should be more overwhelmed with his current situation.
Jesse was sitting across from a man he’d idolized for years, sharing a meal and easy conversation like it was a weekly tradition between them.
But stronger than this whispering awareness was a sense of calm and certainty he hadn’t felt in a very long time, possibly ever.
There was a bit of commotion behind Jesse that caught Cal’s attention. His expression turned serious. Before Jesse could turn his head to see what was happening, an arm landed hard around his shoulders.
“Ahhh.” The exhale belonged to Monty Kincaid. He smelled like the air in Mrs. Nelson’s basement. “There’s my new partner.” His gaze shifted across the table to Cal. “And the man who stole him from me.”
“Monty—” Cal began.
“No!” Monty cut him off, waving the hand that wasn’t resting on Jesse’s upper arm. “Not just my partner, my whole damned picture.”
Jesse attempted to free himself, inadvertently creating just enough room for the two of them to share the cushion of the chair.
Monty plopped himself down in the open space, hip to hip, and reached for the martini Jesse had wet his bottom lip with and promptly abandoned.
After flicking the curl of lemon peel off the rim with his middle finger, Monty tilted it back and half was gone.
“What are you doing?” Cal went on, his voice hushed with obvious concern. People from the surrounding tables had started to notice what was happening.
“You invited me, remember?” Monty leaned his head against Jesse’s and pressed closer so that their cheeks were flush. “You said I could introduce you.” Suddenly there was a space between them again as Monty downed the rest of his drink.
It’d been easy to assume that the man was well-lubricated the night they’d first met, considering the location, but this was something else entirely.
This was drinking to soothe an ache. Jesse had seen it plenty on the streets back home; folks spending every last cent that came their way to help them forget how bad things were.
It was odd to see it now in someone who Jesse would’ve assumed had everything he could possibly want or need.
As subtly as he could, Jesse rolled his shoulders and pushed away from the man, moving into the chair beside Cal instead.
They exchanged a look before Cal sighed and rubbed a hand over his mouth.
Jesse could feel the way people were now openly staring at their table, exchanging whispers with their neighbors.
“We’ve been here for nearly two hours. If I’d known you wanted to join us, we could have waited.” Cal paused. “It’s a little late for introductions now.”
They hadn’t actually spoken much during the meal.
Not only had they been working their way through the entire menu, but the staff were constantly circling to make sure Mr. Campbell had everything he needed.
Somehow, they managed to exchange a few lightly personal notes between courses.
Jesse talked about how he’d left home at twelve to find work, since helping on the family farm wasn’t bringing in enough money to support him and his five younger siblings.
After a fleeting look of horror on Cal’s face, he decided to keep it a little more casual than that moving forward.
Monty hummed at Cal’s reply, nodding slowly as he pushed on the end of a fork until it clattered from the plate onto the tablecloth. A woman at the next table gasped as though he’d just stabbed someone with it.
“Yes, I’m sure you know all about each other already.” He set his sights on Jesse again. “Did he tell you he can’t dance?” A laugh bubbled up the back of the man’s throat. “How are you going to film a musical with someone who can’t dance?”
Before Cal had a chance to defend himself, a man in a blinding white suit appeared beside the table, one hand fisted on his hip and the other flat on his chest just below a bright yellow and pink neckerchief.
“Montgomery,” the stranger admonished in an accent far more honeyed and Southern than Jesse’s.
“What did I tell you about going out tonight?” He clicked his tongue and turned to Cal.
“I put him to bed an hour ago, honest. I was just about to turn in for the night myself when I got a feeling and phoned the house. What do you know? No answer.”
“I believe you,” Cal said.
“I don’t need you to look after me,” Monty grumbled. He was looking sullen now, if not a little pale in the odd club lighting.
The other man had what appeared to be soft leather driving gloves in his hand. He smacked them lightly against the center of Monty’s chest.
“Of course you do. Look at you, embarrassing yourself in front of Cal and his little date.”
Heat rushed to Jesse’s face.
Cal coughed. “Hilliard, this is Mr. Jesse Morgan. He’s the studio’s latest acquisition.”
The man finally looked at Jesse. “Oh! Beg pardon, doll. Hilliard Burke. I’d shake your hand, but...
” There was no further explanation before Hilliard was dragging Monty out of his chair.
“Up we go,” he cooed. Monty leaned into his side, head falling against the taller man’s shoulder.
“Hurry now, I’m parked in traffic.” Hilliard tossed a final glance at Cal over his shoulder and winked. “Carry on.”
Jesse watched as the duo shuffled toward the exit. In their wake, the rest of the onlookers slowly returned to minding their own business, but not before eyeing Cal and Jesse in equal parts annoyance for ruining their fine evening and gratitude for giving them something to talk about.
“Apologies,” Cal said, breaking the silence between them.
“That wasn’t your fault,” Jesse reasoned with a small shrug. “Is Mr. Burke your friend, too?”
Cal blew out a breath that puffed his cheeks. “I’d hardly consider Monty a friend. We’re colleagues, at best. But yes, I’ve known Hilliard for years. We signed our first contracts with Powell around the same time.” Cal’s easy grin finally returned. “He’s been in more pictures than I have.”
“I haven’t seen that many pictures,” Jesse admitted.
“Oh? Have we got a critic on our hands?”
“I guess you could say that.”
Cal tilted his head. “And what do you look for in a film, Mr. Morgan? Witty banter? An intriguing story? Grand dance numbers?”
Jesse looked at his lap and pulled his bottom lip between his teeth in a weak attempt to hide his smile. It remained as he gave his answer: “Cal Campbell, sir.”
The soft surprise that swept across Cal’s face melted into something like self-satisfaction that made Jesse’s insides go fizzy. Cal reached over and picked up the half-empty glass of water he’d been drinking, narrowing an eye at it.
“All right, bub. I think I’m going to have to cut you off after a line like that. You’ve clearly reached your limit.”
Jesse snorted. “You’re probably right.”
“I’ll take you home.”
Cal remained a perfect gentleman, opening the door for Jesse when his car was pulled around outside the nightclub, and again when they stopped in front of the studio dorms where Jesse would be living at least until he figured out what the hell he was doing.
They paused just outside the building entrance and Cal studied the brick facade.
“Which floor did they stick you on?”
“Fifth,” Jesse told him.
“They must like you better than they liked me,” Cal said.
“You lived here, too?”
“For two long years.” Cal’s hands slipped into his pockets. “It’s nothing fancy, but it gets the job done.”
Jesse thought of the room he rented back home. The mattress that was more metal springs than foam. The splintery floorboards. “I don’t mind it, just as long as I can keep up with paying for it.”
“You will.” Cal said this with a confidence that made Jesse look up at him. “Work hard, stay true to yourself. You’ll go far.”
“Thank you.” It was the first thing anyone had said to him since he arrived that made him believe he wasn’t a fool.
Cal pulled a hand from his pocket and clapped Jesse on the upper arm, offering a gentle squeeze. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“What’s happening in the morning?” Jesse asked, turning to watch as Cal made his way back to the waiting car.
“Your guess is as good as mine,” he called out the window after he’d gotten in and shut the door. “That’s what my secretary is for. All I know is what time to show up.” He raised his hand with a departing wave as the car pulled away from the curb. “Don’t be late!”
Jesse stood on the sidewalk until the car disappeared into the traffic that was still surprisingly heavy for such a late hour. He found the last of his energy to send down to his feet so that he could make it up the flights of stairs to his room.
After locking the door behind him, he slowly shucked his clothes until he was down to his undershirt and striped shorts and fell into his bed.
On his dresser sat a paper with the time he was supposed to arrive at the studio in the morning, but it didn’t matter.
He was up before the sun every day anyhow.
Jesse laid on his back for a moment and stared up at the ceiling, the weight of the evening finally engulfing him in one fell swoop. His shoulders started to shake with silent, bewildered laughter.
“I just had dinner with Cal Campbell,” he whispered to nobody.
With one final great effort, he pulled his knees up to his chest as he rolled onto his side, arms tight around his new pillow. He fell asleep with his grin pressed tightly into the soft fabric of the pillowcase.