“And that.”
Monty groaned but nodded. Then Hilliard took his hand and led him to the Cadillac.
They got to the theater early enough to deal with the reporters and the fans. They stayed close to each other as they made their way up the red carpet. They did the same as they got into the lobby and greeted their fellow studio employees. When Cal and Jesse arrived, they congratulated them on the film’s release and made plans for another dinner together. Seeing the excitement in Jesse’s expression as he gazed around the lobby, as well as the gentle way Cal’s presence seemed to soothe his nerves, made Monty’s chest feel warm with fondness. Jesse needed to experience this with Cal. Maybe that was worth losing the role.
When they got to their seats and the lights dimmed, Hilliard took his hand and clasped it in his lap. Monty took a deep breath as the orchestral arrangement of the title song played. And he watched the movie that he’d been so certain would be his.
It was a great picture. Of course it was. He’d known it would be. That’s why he’d fought so hard to be in it.
But he couldn’t deny that the chemistry between Cal and Jesse was electric. The looks they shared seemed to sizzle through the screen. The kisses made Monty feel as though he was watching something intimate.
And Cal’s role—well, Monty had to admit that the role seemed to be made for the man. Cal played the suave and cool dance teacher perfectly. As Monty watched with an assessing eye, he could recognize the lines that would have been his favorite, and the scenes he would have done differently. But he also started to feel a niggling sensation that the role in Together on Parade had been a lot more fun than this one would have been. Cal’s character was so rigid and elegant. Monty’s character was silly and funny. He thought of all the times Director Chen had accepted their first take and informed him that he’d performed the scene perfectly. Would that have happened in this one? He’d worked with Director King before. They were challenging and demanding but in such a different way from Chen.
As the film began to come to a close, Monty started to feel a new and unfamiliar emotion: he was excited to see his film, their film, the next time they were at the theater. He wanted to see what Director Chen had seen. He wanted to see what Ezra had apparently predicted all along—that the other role was a better fit for him.
When the lights came up, Hilliard turned to him. “Well?”
“It was a great picture.”
“It was,” Hilliard said, his tone cautious. “I imagine you knew it would be.”
“I think they were perfectly cast.”
Hilliard’s smile was slow and broad. “Indeed they were.”
They got up and congratulated the stars again before making their way to the Cadillac and home.
They were silent for most of the drive. Monty suspected Hilliard was giving him the time and space to process his emotions. Finally, he broke the silence and said, “I think I owe Ezra a ‘you were right.’”
Hilliard chuckled. “Perhaps. Although I suspect they already know it.”
“I’m sure they do. But it wouldn’t hurt to say it. And I think I might tell them that I particularly liked working with Director Chen, and you.”
Hilliard’s smile broadened. “I’d like that.”
“I still think you should be in a starring role of your own, though.”
“I’m good at the supporting parts.”
“And I was good at the B musicals. There’s room for more, for both of us.”
Hilliard gave him a sidelong glance before returning his gaze to the road. “Oh, I see. Now that you’re satisfied, you’re going to start giving me career advice, are you?”
“Not exactly. But here’s what I was thinking. Wouldn’t it be great if we were in a similar type of picture to the one we did, only with you as the main character and me as the supporting one? I think it could be a lot of fun.”
“We might get type cast if we’re playing too much in the same movies.”
“I wouldn’t mind,” Monty said.
“You’re liable to get sick of me. Working together all day and then going home together at night.”
“Never.” Monty slid his hand onto Hilliard’s thigh, careful not to touch him in a way that would distract him from driving. “I’m happiest when I’m with you, Hilliard.”
“The feeling is mutual, sweetheart.”
When they arrived home, Hilliard parked the car and killed the engine. Then he turned to Monty and said, “We’re home.”
Monty didn’t look away from Hilliard’s gaze. “Yes. We’re home.”
