Plenty of public couples feign the role of homebodies, hoping to burnish their celebrities-are-just-like-us cred, but Tatum and Dewan aren't the sort of actors who can fake the part this convincingly. Tatum's no fool: He likes his life, enjoys the hillside home, the pool, the Escalade, the seven-figure, name-above-the-title leading roles. But he'll tell you without prodding that he doesn't much like living in Los Angeles. It's a necessary evil. He's moved his parents an hour south of here, and that helps some, but still, he may be the one person who, given the choice, would rather be in Tampa.
"L.A. sucks for going out," he spits, and for the first time I get a taste of the spring-loaded rage he brings to his best work. "Everything here is a 'lounge.' Everyone just sits around at a table, drinking a cocktail, looking at each other. There are no dance clubs. Back in Florida, I'm gonna go into a club, get drunk, get sweaty, dance, have a good time, and get a taxi home. There's no place here that does dancing like that." He rises, offers me a final beer from the fridge, then sits back down alongside Dewan. "I miss it, man. I miss it."
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