There was clearly more to this. Everyone already assumed there was a rivalry between the two former co-stars. Jacinda Lockwood had been linked with Oliver before rumors of her dating Gabe emerged—was this all part of a longer, deeper competition between the two of them? If Oliver had really been the first choice, then why didn’t he get the role?
“Have you seen his latest movie?” I asked. “Oliver’s?”
It was a period piece—romantic and epic—and the thirteen-year-old me that had been enamored with Oliver Matthias couldn’t wait.
“I’m going to the premiere tomorrow,” Gabe said. “Looking forward to it.”
“Jealous,” I said without thinking.
It wasn’t that I wanted to go to that particular premiere—it was that movie premieres still held an element of magic. I’d interviewed enough celebrities to hear plenty of stories about the parties they went to and it was hard not to feel a certain twinge of envy at spending a night dolled up and surrounded by beautiful people.
“They’re pretty boring,” Gabe said. “Premieres.”
“Maybe to you,” I said, wanting to refocus the conversation before either of us could get distracted. “You’ve stayed in touch? You and Oliver?”
“We’re friends,” he said.
There was something he wasn’t saying, but before I could ask, he’d waved Madison over.
“Can I get another one?” he asked, gesturing toward his empty glass.
“Sure thing, hon,” she said. “How about you?” she asked me.
I shook my head. That would be Gabe’s fourth beer, and he was definitely more than a little drunk. He slouched back in his chair more, and his eyes were hooded, flitting around the room, unable to focus.
I saw my opportunity, swallowed my guilt, and took it.
“Still friends even after the Bond decision?” I asked.
Gabe looked up at me, narrowing his eyes. For a moment, I waited, breath held, bracing for him to react negatively. To yell, or throw something.
Instead he just laughed, and wagged a finger at me.
“Nu-uh,” he said. “I see what you’re doing.”
I said nothing.
“We’re friends,” he said, enunciating each word. “And he said he didn’t care.”
“He said he didn’t care about the part?” I asked, sensing I was getting close to something really interesting.
But then, as if she had appointed herself the bouncer of Gabe’s wayward tongue, Madison reappeared with his beer.
“Y’all need anything else?” she asked.
If I didn’t know any better, I would have sworn she shot me a warning look.
“We’re fine,” I said, answering for the both of us.
But she waited until Gabe nodded, waving his hand at her.
“We’re fine,” he echoed. “Chani here is just raking me over the coals.”
Even tipsy, he could still get that perfect ch at the beginning of my name.
“He’s a good man,” Madison said.
I hadn’t been imagining it—that had been a warning look.
“I’m sure he is,” I said.
“It’s fine,” Gabe said, grinning at both of us, definitely sauced.
He took another long drink.
“It’s fine,” he said again, this time to Madison, his voice soft.
“Okay,” she said, and walked away, but not before tossing her beautiful hair over her shoulder in a very pointed manner.
“They’re protective of you here,” I said once she had left.
Gabe shrugged.
“You and Oliver…” I tried again.
“Are. Friends,” Gabe said, and then crossed his arms as if he was a child about to throw a tantrum.
It was clear he wasn’t going to say any more—not even drunk. I was disappointed but not defeated. I changed tactics.
“You’re working with a dialect coach,” I said. “Have you decided what kind of accent you’ll be using?”
“A posh British one,” he said. “With a hint of Scottish. A little homage to my favorite Bond.”
“Connery.”
“Connery,” he confirmed.
“Is that the biggest challenge with a role like this?” I asked. “The accent?”
He looked at me and drank his beer. He took his time.
“The biggest challenge with a role like this is doing it even when you know you don’t deserve it.”
Film Fans
TOMMY JACKS REVIEW
[excerpt]
By David Anderson