“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.”
