Flaming

“Do you want to—” starts Jonatho.

“I’m gonna head inside,” says Zakary at the same time, the words tumbling out. “I need to … check Tiger’s food bowl.”

Jonatho blinks. “Tiger?”

“My ‘sorta’ cat.”

“Oh. Your ‘sorta’ cat named Tiger? That’s … adorably confusing.”

“Everyone can dream to be something bigger.” Zakary smiles again, thrusts his hands as deeply as they go into his pockets, then bites his lip. This time, he doesn’t care what it does to the playwright. “Goodnight, Jonatho. And, um … thanks again for the company.”

Jonatho, seeming lost in thought, only nods slowly, a hint of a smile on his lips. “Night.”

Zakary turns to face the door again, prepared to let himself inside. Then he catches sight of his own reflection—and for a second, he doesn’t recognize himself. A tall young man with bright and curious eyes stares back at him, with lips parted … and his hair red and flaming. The person in the reflection is someone else: a warrior, a go-getter, a fearless champion … Is this how a fearless champion lets his night end? By bidding the famous playwright farewell so easily? By going up to his apartment alone when an opportunity of a lifetime is within his grasp?

Zakary spins back around. “Hey, you want to come up for a quick drink and dry off?”

Jonatho hasn’t moved an inch from his spot. He smiles.

4

The Interior Scene

Zakary fetches a couple of towels and hands one to Jonatho. They dry off and sneak glances at each other, smirking playfully. Drinks are soon poured. The two of them are seated on the couch with music playing. The window is cracked open since the rain stopped, letting in the cooler night air brought by the weather, and welcoming Tiger, should she decide to return at some point tonight.

And whatever confidence inspired Zakary to welcome the playwright up to his place has long since fled. He’s a nervous wreck. He doesn’t know what to say. He can’t seem to start up a conversation. His leg keeps bouncing in place. What is it going to take for him to just relax?

Other than this glass of rum and Coke in his hand.

Maybe his loud red hair doesn’t have magical powers after all.

“Have you ever acted before?”

Zakary’s fingers drum along the side of his glass as he shrugs. “Not really.”

“That doesn’t sound like a no …?”

“I did a few skits in college. But they were part of a required class, even if you’re pursuing a technical degree. I think I played a few roles in high school, too, but I was always, like … Tree #3.”

“You played a tree?” Jonatho considers it for a second. “Yeah, you’re tall enough, I believe it.”

Zakary chuckles and shakes his head. “Thanks.”

“Hey, it’s a compliment! I could sure use some of your inches in me!” blurts Jonatho.

Both look at each other suddenly.

Jonatho’s eyes drop to his drink, then he looks away. “Some of your inches … on me. Ugh, that doesn’t sound any less sexual. Maybe I should have found a different way to say it before letting those words fly out of my mouth. There’s a reason I’m a writer and not an orator.”

It isn’t often that Zakary isn’t the embarrassed one in the room. “It’s okay,” he says, deciding to go along with it. “I’d give you some of my inches if you needed them so badly.”

Jonatho snorts, then shoots Zakary a look. “Alright, ha, ha, funny.”

“Honestly, I would,” he insists, his tone changing. “I’ve been tall my whole life. My mom swore I had five growing spurts through junior high. I sometimes would really rather just … not be stared at. I always liked keeping to myself and not standing out so much.”

“Says the guy who just dyed his hair the color of the sun.”

“The sun is more yellow than red.”

“Maybe you’re trying to tell yourself something.” Jonatho smiles when Zakary meets his eyes, then takes a sip of his drink before giving him a sort of toast. “Is Zakary tired of never being looked at? Is Zakary ready to be the one everyone is looking at?” Jonatho lowers his glass and studies Zakary appraisingly. “I’m certainly looking.”

Zakary parts his lips.

What is it about Jonatho that makes Zakary feel so at ease—yet completely thrown off balance like he’s already downed ten rum and Cokes in a row?

“I like this song,” Jonatho decides, hopping off of the couch. With his glass in one hand, he starts to dance casually in the middle of the living room, eyes closed, a sweet smile on his face. When he peeks an eye open, he catches Zakary staring at him in wonder. “What? Don’t you dance to music? Doesn’t it get into your bones when a good song comes on?”

“Y-Yeah, of course.”

“So? Come and dance with me.” Jonatho takes a sip, then sets down his glass and gets more into the music, moving his hips.