“That would be unfortunate. Take those plates and start setting up the table in the back garden.”
“Oh, fine.”
Standing out back, I could picture fancy dinner parties being thrown in Eliot’s beautiful garden. Thanks to the high gate and dense line of trees, it was easy to feel fully secluded. The swimming pool was large enough for a proper swim, the water lucid and inviting. I imagined Eliot sitting out here in the mornings, drinking coffee while reading the newspaper.
I arranged the plates and silverware on the garden table before Eliot stepped out with a bowl of pasta and a plate of lasagna. He then went to bring garlic bread, a green salad, and a bottle of wine.
“You’ve made so much food,” I said as we sat at the table. I loved the rich smell of tomatoes and cheese.
“You should eat more.”
“Oh, it won’t matter. I’m naturally skinny; it’s gross.”
Eliot rolled his eyes. “Many adjectives can describe you, Jonah, yet ‘gross’isn’t one of them. Now, let’s fill our bellies.”
Everything tasted heavenly, and not just because Eliot had made this meal especially for me. I couldn’t help but moan in pleasure.
“I think you might be the first man to climax from pasta,” Eliot said.
I raised my napkin. “Good thing I have this.”
He laughed and drank more wine. I loved how he held the glass; the way his long fingers elegantly wrapped around it. It felt as if he’d been born with class, though he’d once mentioned growing up with hillbillies. The few times I’d tried to ask about his childhood hadn’t yielded results, so I stopped asking.
I managed to keep my mouth shut about the “possibilities” he’d mentioned earlier, but it wasn’t easy. I made a rule never to ask for his help with my career—not because I was against pulling strings, but because it might come across as taking advantage of him.
Unable to take another bite, I leaned back and rubbed my belly. “That was bellissimo!”
Eliot nodded. “Thank you. I love cooking, and you are a passionate eater.”
“I’m always hungry. Maybe I’m still growing—I wouldn’t mind.” At five-eight, I was shorter than the typical Hollywood actor, and I hated that. Every little thing could make a casting director choose someone else over you, including an extra inch.
“Do you sometimes throw parties here?” I asked.
“I used to, but they were too shallow to keep my interest. I prefer to keep my social interactions more meaningful these days.”
“AmIa meaningful interaction?” I felt silly once the words left my mouth. It was my insecurity at play, my doubts about what he got out of our friendship, and my fear he’d move on to someone more exciting and successful.
“You, Jonah, are the most meaningful interaction I have.” His smile was genuine, but I caught a trace of sadness in his eyes. I didn’t want to ruin his compliment, so I didn’t pry.
By now, my patience had run its course. “So…” I tapped my fingers on the table.
Eliot nodded and put the wine glass on the table. “There’s a role I’d like you to try out for.”
I straightened, my heart beating faster. “What’s the role?”
“It’s a secret. I can’t give you any more information.”
That might have been a good sign. Big roles were sometimes kept a secret because of the press.
“When can I audition? Do you have lines for me to rehearse?”
“This won’t be a regular audition. You’ll just have to make a good impression.”
“Okay, I can do that. But when?”
“Ever so eager.”
“Oh, you have to tell me! Iwilltickle you.”
