It was early enough in the evening that the entrance to the club still had a corral set up for the reporters trying to earn a living asking their invasive questions. Hilliard was rarely fazed by such antics anymore. He’d discovered that flashing a smile and being personable was enough to settle most of them. Of course, he was hardly top brass. Watching his friends like Cal Campbell and Edie Haywood get shouted at every time they set foot outside was yet another reason why he had little interest in seeing his name in bold letters across the next promotional poster.
Once inside, Hilliard breezed through the place, needing no directions after being there so many times. The few occasions he’d relented and allowed Monty to drag him here for a night out, they’d spent most of the time dancing to whatever the band was playing. He much preferred a table with a larger group so that he could people watch since it was usually too loud to have any meaningful conversation. Of late, he’d only been coming to collect one man in particular, who was usually slumped over the bar by the time he arrived.
A fruitless scan of the people along said bar forced Hilliard to continue his search. It didn’t take long for him to spot Cal sitting at the center table that was always reserved for the most notable guests. He only meant to say hello and offer his congratulations on the new picture, but as he approached, relief washed through him when he recognized the other familiar figure seated at the table.
“Montgomery,” Hilliard chided, placing extra emphasis on that hard consonant in the middle like the good Southerner he was. “What did I tell you about going out tonight?” The slow, heavy way Monty looked up at him told him everything he needed to know. He could only imagine what trouble he’d already caused for Cal and the other young man sitting beside him. “I put him to bed an hour ago, honest,” he explained. “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.” He tried to say all of this with some levity, but it pained him to have to say it at all.
Cal nodded. “I believe you.”
Monty had dragged his arms up to cross over his chest. “I don’t need you to look after me,” the man slurred.
Ignorance really was bliss, it seemed.
As much as he hated to admit it, Monty’s waspish personality was painfully endearing. Hilliard liked it far better when it came in moments more sober than this, but still, it tugged at the magic in his heart as if Montgomery Kincaid had tied a rope around it and held the other end in his grumpy little hand.
Hilliard smacked his gloves lightly against Monty’s chest with a scoff.
“Of course you do. Look at you, embarrassing yourself in front of Cal and his little date.” Cal was a generous man, but by the look of the meal he’d just shared with his companion, Hilliard could only deduce that he was aiming to impress. He hadn’t dated much since his marriage with Edie ended. Leave it to Monty to interfere with Cal’s love life because he was upset over a damned musical.
Cal was quick to correct him. “Hilliard, this is Mr. Jesse Morgan. He’s the studio’s latest acquisition.”
Hilliard wanted to be just as quick to tell him that information didn’t have anything to do with this being a date or not. Instead, he introduced himself to Mr. Morgan and put his mind to getting Monty out of their way.
“Up we go,” he encouraged under his breath as he pulled Monty to his feet. He was one sway away from collapsing in front of a hundred people and Hilliard simply would not allow it.
He wrapped his arm around Monty’s waist and hugged him close against his side. Monty leaned into him, head on his shoulder. It was fortunate for both of them that Hilliard was the taller of the two. As for the extra bulk on his shoulders and the softness around his middle, he couldn’t claim it was entirely to help support the weight of his friend in these moments, but it certainly didn’t hurt.
To his credit, Monty pulled himself together enough to walk all the way to Hilliard’s waiting LaSalle. The light blue Cadillac was the most unreasonable purchase he’d ever made and he adored it.
Henrietta’s head popped up in the passenger window as they approached. By the time Monty was securely in his seat, she’d wiggled her way onto his lap and was licking his face with fervor.
“Stop it, Henrietta,” Monty protested weakly, eyes closed. He patted her back with an open hand the way he always did, the way someone might soothe a gassy infant. The sight made Hilliard’s chest warm. He grinned to himself as he put on his gloves, eased out into the flow of traffic, and set them toward home.
They sat in silence for much of the drive. It was a warm night with clear skies, perfect for riding with the top down. Hilliard only took his eyes off the road a few times to glance over to his right. Monty’s slick hairstyle had grown as tired as he looked. A couple loose strands of hair fluttered across his smooth forehead. Hilliard was only a couple months shy of thirty, but he already had creases forming on his own forehead that seemed to deepen every day. He supposed it was the price of worrying about Monty and his other friends so much, which he was more than willing to pay.
Monty eventually mumbled something beside him.
“I didn’t hear you,” Hilliard said.
“He’s not even that cute,” Monty repeated a little louder.
Hilliard snorted. “Who, Mr. Morgan? Applesauce! That boy is adorable.”
Monty huffed, his face crumpling with a pitiful frown. “And he’s such a good dancer.”
Ah. Maybe there was more to it than the picture, after all.
“Sweetheart, if there’s one thing I’ve learned about you, it’s that your crushes usually only last a few weeks.” He knew that Monty was aware of this, too, but his friend was still in a delicate place. His magic squeezed in his heart as he went on. “Let Cal have this one, hm? Someone else will come along and send you all atwitter in no time.”
“I know,” Monty conceded sadly, eyes still closed. Henrietta was curled up between them on the seat and had her chin on Monty’s thigh. His hand was still on her back.
Hilliard had to guess that it was no easy thing having the sort of magic that Monty possessed. He could charm his way in or out of nearly any situation, so long as the other party was open to being swayed. He was also a notorious flirt with a reputation to match, philandering his way in and out of people’s beds just as easily. It was no secret that Montgomery Kincaid was a playboy. What most people didn’t see was the loneliness underneath.
It was likely that Monty wasn’t actually interested in Mr. Morgan beyond his purported dancing skills and big blue eyes.
Hilliard found himself in the role of mediator as he so often did, trying to find a suitable answer for all of his friends at once. He wanted Cal and Edie to gracefully move on from the scandal of their divorce. He wanted Monty to find a better solution for his lonesome nights than drinking himself silly. It would all work out as it always did. He just needed some time to make it happen.
Monty finally cracked one eye open far enough to ask, “You’re taking me to your house?”
