Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 5

the producer. I'm not saying it was Sam, but..."
    I know he's just saying this to make me jealous, so I shrug. "Sam is completely faithful to me."
    Matt raises an eyebrow. "You sure about that?" Then he's gone.
    ****
    SAM
    The library has one VHS tape that displays in all its grainy, black-and-white glory the original 1945 production of Carousel , starring John Raitt as Billy. Through the haze, I can discern that he's handsome and his voice is smooth and robust. I don't always watch previous productions of shows I intend to star in; I want to add my own spin to any performance and not copy what's been done before. But I really want this part, and I need anything that will give me an edge. I'm too young, I've figured that much out, but I can play older. I'll have to. Every Broadway actor between the ages of twenty-five and forty-five auditioned for this role.
    John Raitt is soaring through his rendition of "If I Loved You" when Jess comes into our apartment. He pulls off those stupid fingerless gloves and tosses them on the kitchen counter before shrugging out of his coat. He's wearing a hang-dog expression.
    "Hey, babe," I say from where I'm sitting on the floor in front of the TV. "How was your go-see?"
    "They want someone younger," he says.
    I find this surprising. Jess is twenty-six, but he's still got a trace of teenage gangliness and such a pretty face that he could easily pass for a teenager. He's hardly changed at all since we met when he was eighteen. He often gets mistaken for being a teenager, in fact. Just last week, he got carded at a bar, and the bartender kept shooting me looks like I was some pedo. I'm only two years older than Jess, but that's often mistaken for ten.
    He drops onto the couch. It breaks my heart how sad he looks. I paused the tape.
    "Fashion week's coming up, right? You can get some runway work."
    He shrugs.
    "Jess," I say.
    He looks up at me. A tear smudges his eyeliner. He wipes it away, but that just makes it worse. He says, "This was never going to be a permanent career."
    "I know, but—"
    "I like doing photo shoots and stuff, but I'm only doing this modeling thing because no one will cast me for acting jobs."
    I nod. I know this. Everyone tells Jess that he's too pretty. I didn't think such a thing was possible, but apparently his more femme qualities stamp him as being gay, and his agent doesn't like that because he's only good for a narrow range of roles.
    Of course, it's these qualities that drew me to him to begin with.
    His eyes are amazing. That's what makes him a good print model. When you look at pictures of him, it's like he's looking into your soul. They're hazel, I guess, with green-ish accents, and I could stare at them all day.
    "Maybe I should go back to working at Lucky's," he says.
    He used to bar back at a gay bar in the East Village, but I talked him into quitting when I started getting enough acting work to support us. I know he doesn't like me to carry him, that he has a lot of stubborn pride that makes him want to earn his own money, but there's really no need for him to have a job on top of the modeling stuff. That, and I know he flirted with customers to get bigger tips; not to be a jealous asshole, but I'm not such a fan of that.
    "You don't have to do that," I say.
    "It'd be nice to have more money."
    "If I get this part, we won't have to worry about it."
    He sighs and crosses his arms over his chest.
    "What else is going on?" I ask.
    He looks at me, his expression surly, like he's looking for a fight, but he doesn't say anything.
    "Jess."
    "It really is nothing. I'm just in a bad mood. I'm sorry."
    "Hey, it's fine."
    I scoot back and then lift myself onto the couch. I put an arm around him. He leans his head on my shoulder, and the gesture is soft and familiar.
    "What are you watching?" he asks, placing a hand on my waist.
    " Carousel ."
    "Doesn't the movie have the mom from The Partridge Family ? And isn't it in color?"
    "It does, yeah, but this is recording of the original Broadway production. I'm studying."
    Jess nods, his face rubbing against my shoulder. "You think you'll get it?"
    "I'm going to do anything I can to get it."
    Jess lifts his head. "Anything?"
    I am not sure what he's implying. "Why do you think I'm studying?"
    He pulls away from me and squirms. He grabs the edge of his tee-shirt and pulls on it, his tell that he's nervous. "What about, you know. Like, the casting couch?"
    Is he really—? "Jess. You know that I would never—"
    "I