You're the only one I trust to direct my first production.
My brow rose.
A Tennyson Wright Production, huh? He'd produced before, but a creative producer was a step above that, and they were a rare breed these days because of the risks. They went in with only their own money and ran the entire show, from casting to final say in edits. Too much could go wrong, and someone with an underdeveloped idea was more likely to sink the whole ship than to make it float.
If he was doing this, and he wanted me to direct it, it was a huge fucking deal.
After everything he'd done for me and my career, I couldn’t ignore this.
That asshole.
I tossed the script onto the coffee table and scowled.
"He knows I gotta read it now—" I cut myself off when I glanced over to the kitchen. Well, hey. Nicky was working my nephew. Flirting and whatnot.
Julian had his back to me as he unpacked groceries, so I couldn’t see his face. Was the flirting appreciated? Reciprocated? Was he even gay? Fuck if I knew—or cared. But he and Nicky were around the same age, and if they hit it off, then great.
A rock of unease settled in my gut, though. He hadn't even been here a week yet, and he seemed to be doing much better. I was the one whining like a fucking kid. Maybe the script had arrived with perfect timing.
Ten minutes later, Nicky left, and I lured Julian over to the couch with chips, dip, our lunch, and beer.
"Are you sure the beer is okay?" he asked.
"Hell yeah." I straightened up a bit and found a music channel that actually played music. "Not enough alcohol in beer to get me wasted before I piss it all out again."
He chuckled and got more comfortable.
"So did Nicky ask you out?" I'd never been one to beat around the bush.
Julian's earlier smile vanished, and he grabbed his beer. "I'm not gay."
Oh…so that's what's up.
Way too defensive.
"There's nothing wrong with it, you know." I frowned, wondering why he kept that hidden. Sure, there was a chance he was telling the truth, but his reaction to my question raised some serious doubts. "I've had my fair share of fun, so no prejudice here." It wasn't necessary to mention my friendship with Daniel and Zane.
Julian took a long swig from his bottle and did his internal battling for a while. I was learning his tells, and he always waited with the questions until he'd gone back and forth a bit first.
Then he shrugged and averted his gaze. "I'm not gay, is all. Those who are…I don't care. S'just not me."
Uh-huh.
There was clearly something he struggled with there, but I wasn't gonna pressure him. Living in LA would loosen him up eventually.
No pun intended.
I grinned, unable to help it. Maybe my crass—sometimes fucking juvenile—sense of humor was returning.
Turning back to the TV, I ate my sandwich and watched a few music videos, and the tunes were brightening my mood a bit. Julian seemed busy with his phone, and I felt like being useful for once. We didn't have anything planned for today, and neither of us wanted to go out, but a nice meal couldn’t hurt.
"I'm gonna start on dinner." I stood up and brought my beer to the kitchen where I opened the fridge to see what he'd bought.
"We just ate! Wait…you cook?" he asked from the couch.
"Well, the old me did." I scanned the fridge and started pulling out vegetables. "The new me can't be assed to do much of anything, but I reckon it's time I get back to who I used to be." At least, as far as I could take it.
I was pretty sure I was changed permanently in some ways. Trauma did that, but I had to live.
As I grabbed a box of pasta sheets, Julian joined me and hopped up to sit on the kitchen island. "I didn't really know the old you."
"Someone was always too cool to show up at reunions." I shot him a smirk over my shoulder and then got cracking. My vegetarian lasagna was fucking stellar; even my pops had loved it. Starting now would make it even more delicious. It'd be a while before we got hungry, but that meant more time for the flavors to soak in properly.
"I wasn't too cool," he argued. "I…had m-my reasons."
"How cryptic." I finished washing the vegetables. "I can't imagine what those reasons would be, but if you don't wanna say, so be it. At least it couldn’t have been my fault you didn't show up. Otherwise, you wouldn't have flown all the way out here to move in with me."
Come to think of it, it was a shame we didn’t know each other better. I remembered him as a gangly kid back in the day. He'd adored his little brother, but he'd had a soft spot for Linda.