Building off the last ask, I was holding this back until tomorrow but seems like a decent time for this WIP. It’s the Mrs Gerstmann story, but it’s also about how Jonathan is at odds with his family. Over his former actress girlfriend they didn’t like, about his insistence that Lonnie go fuck himself and how he feels they’re not really looking out for him.
“I mean, I preferred Rick, anyway,” Jonathan noted, adjusting himself on the mattress with a cough that drew her attention. In the end, he just sagged lightly against his headboard.
“Rick?” she asked, the name sounding vaguely familiar.
“Will’s first boyfriend, the one before Mike. Was a good guy. Mid-20’s, had a motorcycle, which drove mom nuts. Really loved Will.”
“And you liked him more than Mike?”
“Oh yeah, totally,” he admitted. “Rick never stole my shit.”
“Mike is stealing things from you?” An anger simmered under the surface. At the thought of Jonathan left alone to a family, her family, that took advantage of him.
“All the time, Nancy, all the time.” Jonathan swiped at his hair in annoyance. “Two years ago, after ‘The Consumer’ premiered, I was out in LA for a few weeks, taking meetings. In between them, one of my former classmates at Tisch invited me to the writer’s room for ‘The Simpsons’, to help with their Halloween episode. They all loved my movie. Anyway, it paid nothing, but I got my name in the credits, which thrilled mom. But they did send a big box of merchandise to me a few months later. Hats and shirts and sweaters and a really garish jacket. Which I thought I had lost. Few months after that, Elena and I are having dinner with Will and your brother, and who comes strutting into the restaurant in that Simpsons jacket? Mike Fucking Wheeler.”
Nancy laughed at the absurdity. Both Jonathan’s indignation and Mike’s brashness. A sense of loneliness built inside of her. She tried to stuff it down, but found the act more difficult than it usually was.
In the end, what she realized was just how much she wanted to be there. By Jonathan’s side, defending him, fighting with Mike and smiling the whole time. She tried to think of Tim, back in Boston, and felt nothing.
“It’s not funny,” he pouted, glumly.
“It’s a little funny,” she responded, beaming brightly.
Jonathan had to look away to keep the smile off his face.