Eliot nodded. “I’ve seen too many good people perish because of that horrible disease. How’s your food?”
“Great.”
“Then why don’t you look happy?”
“Huh? I’m happy.”
He closed the newspaper and slid closer. “Are you really?”
I put down my fork. “It’s just… I’m nervous about meeting that guy.”
He cocked his head. “And here I thought it might be related to our kiss.”
Count on Eliot not to beat around the bush. “Well, maybe. I’m quite confused, to be honest.”
“Why are you confused?”
“Because I don’t know how to act now. What can I do and say?”
“You’re a grown man. Say and do what you want.”
“You know it’s not so simple.”
He nodded. “I can see why you might feel confused. Maybe I was out of line last night.”
I raised my fork. “If you’re taking it back, I’m attacking.”
He lowered my hand, his warm fingers resting on mine. “I’m not taking anything back. I just wish for you to focus on the audition, not on me.”
“Iamfocusing on the audition.” Though that wasn’t the whole truth.
He patted my hand. “Good. Focus on making a killer impression, and not on me fucking you senseless later.”
I gawked at him, then the doorbell rang.
Eliot glanced at his watch. “Someone’s early.” He gave me a nervous smile and hurried to open the door.
*
I wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, but I could tell when someone didn’t like me, and The Director didn’t like me. For the last thirty minutes, he had been talking directly to Eliot while we sat in the garden around the table. Eliot had tried, unsuccessfully, to involve me in their conversation, but it wasn’t like they spoke about anything interesting—just of people they knew and a bit of politics. What happened to talking about movies? I’d never met a director who didn’t talk about movies at every opportunity.
Thomas—though I remembered not to use his name—didn’t even look like a director. He came across as ex-military with his cold expression and frigid posture. His face was handsome, I suppose, with his high cheekbones. His short, graying hair suited him well, and his dark eyes seemed to blink once every five minutes. He wore plain, all-black clothes.
The only times he seemed less robotic were when his eyes lingered on Eliot. There was no denying the fondness there, and it clearly went both ways, for reasons I couldn’t figure out. I had met some of Eliot’s friends in the past couple of months, and they were usually more outspoken and lively.
As time crawled by, I drank more wine than I should have, but it wasn’t like I had anything better to do. The Director didn’t ask me anything, making it the weirdest audition in history. Maybe Eliot had gotten confused about this alleged role and was now too embarrassed to tell me.
With the alcohol level in my blood steadily climbing, my tongue loosened, and I ended up asking, “Were you in the military?”
The Director turned to look at me. “Why do you ask?”
“Because of how you sit and talk.” My face grew warm under his stoic gaze.
He shook his head. “I came from a strict upbringing, but it wasn’t military.”
“Oh. I came from a Christian upbringing—very strict as well.” I cleared my throat, seizing the opportunity. “So, Eliot told me you’re working on a new production.”
“Did he now?” He glanced at Eliot, who didn’t seem pleased. “What did he tell you about it?”
