by Thom Collins
Yes, Gabriel. Dominic is taken. It was a blessing for sure. Though Arnie told himself he wasn’t interested in any kind of relationship, in truth he thought about Dominic far too much. It was the beginning of an infatuation.
But Dominic was with Gabriel, so Arnie had to stay well away.
And he would.
He read for half an hour and was thoroughly engrossed in the book when AJ came over. The boy’s face was flushed and glistened with sweat.
“What time is lunch?” he asked.
Arnie glanced at his watch. It was almost one. “Whenever you want it? You hungry now?”
AJ nodded. “Can we have chicken nuggets?”
“Maybe tonight. Not for lunch. You can have tuna or turkey. What’s it to be?”
“Turkey,” he said happily.
“Okay then.” Arnie marked his place in the book and got up. “I’ll call you when it’s ready.”
From the kitchen, he could see through the open French doors into the garden and keep an eye on them. They had resumed their game with the Frisbee. Before starting on lunch, he went to the front door and looked out. The road remained clear. No reporters, no photographers. They must have given up, realizing there was no story or photo opportunity to be had.
Now he could take the kids out for the afternoon. Maybe to the cinema or the swimming baths. He’d see how they all felt after lunch.
Back in the kitchen, he checked his phone. There were several text messages. Nothing that looked important. He read the one from Sophie in case it related to Conner or Indina.
Have you seen the state of your ex in the papers today? The woman has no class.
Sophie had attached a link to save him searching for the story. Arnie had little interest in what Tara did these days, but he had to keep up with her trash stories in order to screen them from AJ.
Breast of Friends, the headline screamed. The photos that accompanied the article told him enough—he didn’t have to read the rest. Tara and Richie had been papped at a pool party in Ibiza. Tara cavorted topless in a Jacuzzi with another bare-breasted woman while Richie looked on. Each picture was more lurid than the one before. Tara and the woman laughed and pushed their silicone-enhanced boobs together as Richie poured champagne over them. Richie’s red shorts could not conceal his obvious hard-on.
Tara looked awful in all the pictures. She was bloated and boozy, with ratty hair and makeup smeared across her face. She’d gone up a breast size since meeting Richie, and the captions that accompanied each picture read Making a Tit of Herself and Bosom Buddies. They were obviously high as well as drunk. Tara had a glassy, faraway, dead-behind-the-eyes look in every shot.
It was easy for the press to snap unflattering photographs of celebrities and ridicule them in print, but Tara and Richie made no effort to protect themselves. They reveled in the attention, no matter how negative or disagreeable it got.
“Is it ready yet?”
The appearance of three kids at the French doors startled him. He shoved his phone into his pocket.
“Coming right up,” he said with a smile. “Wash your hands and set the table. The sandwiches will soon be ready. Turkey for everyone?”
“Yay.” All three of them answered at once.
They were so pure and innocent. It often felt like a losing battle trying to protect them from the harsh realities of the world.
* * * *
On the south side of the river, Dominic hit save on the document he’d been working on and put his laptop to sleep. It had been a productive morning. He’d written one thousand eight hundred words of his latest novel. Only two hundred short of his daily target. It wouldn’t take him long to reach it. He forced himself to write two thousand words a day, Monday to Friday. No excuses, whether it took till midday or six p.m., he wouldn’t pack up until he hit it.
He sat back in his chair and sighed, stretching his aching back and shoulders.
He had converted the second bedroom into an office. With a large oak desk and crammed bookcases, it was one of his favorite rooms in the house. It certainly had the best view, looking straight down the garden to the open sea. He looked out of the window at a perfect afternoon, cobalt-blue water with just a gentle swell, and a cloudless sky. When he finished his work, he would treat Brandy to a long stroll along the cliffs.
Dominic went to the bathroom and washed his hands. Jacob had invited him for lunch. His neighbor had come by early that morning to collect Brandy. He often took the dog on his morning walk into town to pick up a newspaper. On his return around eight o’clock, the old man had excitedly showed him a bulging carrier bag of freshly caught crabs.
“I saw one of the boats coming in and hung around to see what they had.” He’d beamed. “Come for lunch around one. They don’t get much fresher than this.”
* * * *
Dominic smelled the delicious aroma of boiled crabs as he walked up the front path. Jacob had been busy. He’d cooked, shelled and picked clean eight crabs, separating the meat into containers of white and brown flesh.
“Set the table outside,” he called as Dominic entered. “It’s a lovely day. We might as well enjoy it.”
They ate on the small front terrace, overlooking the bay. The crab meat was delicious. Jacob served the sweet white flesh with a simple salad and crusty white bread. Dominic added olive oil and vinegar to his.
“This makes a change from the usual tuna sandwich,” Dominic said as he finished mopping his plate with bread to ensure nothing was wasted.
“I’ll say it does. Stroke of luck to be there just as the boat came in. Most of the catch has gone off to market by the time I usually get down there. And that stuff they sell in the supermarket is days if not weeks old.”
Dominic told Jacob to sit and enjoy the sun while he cleared away afterward. He loaded the dishwasher and returned to the terrace with two cups of tea—good and strong, just how Jacob liked it.
“Arnie’s ex-wife has been making a spectacle of herself again,” Jacob said, handing over the newspaper he’d been reading.
Dominic’s eyes widened as he saw the double-page spread. He’d never heard of Tara Westmoorland-Hughes until earlier this week. He found it hard to believe her drunken exploits were so newsworthy, yet here she was with her tits unfurled across pages four and five. The woman and her friends in the picture were out of it. What a mess.
He looked at the photos of her new husband with interest. Drugs and alcohol must have destroyed her judgement, because Richie Hughes was no Arnie Walker. He’d never heard of Richie or Loctite, the indie-rock band he fronted. While idly searching online for info about Arnie, he’d learned that Richie’s working-class, hard-man-of-rock persona was just an act. He came from a privileged, upper-class family. He was nothing more than a rich kid trying to live the ‘sex, drugs and rock-and-roll’ lifestyle. Richie had greasy, shoulder-length hair, a multitude of ugly tattoos and a starvation-thin figure. He might be having a high old time, but the drugs had ruined what looks he used to have.
Tara’s standards couldn’t have fallen more dramatically. From the godly Arnie to a sewer rat like Richie.
“Have you seen anything of Arnie this week?” Dominic tried to make the question sound casual.
Jacob shook his head. “Saw his dad yesterday. According to Martin, Arnie has been keeping a low profile, what with all the press people hanging around town. Can’t say I blame him, especially with the way Tara is carrying on. But it looks like things might be calming down here. I didn’t notice any of those newspaper folks this morning.”
“I couldn’t do it. Being followed around like that, never sure where the cameras are lurking.”
“You’re used to lying low and keeping hidden. It’s second nature to you. People like Tara are just the opposite. It seemed like life isn’t worth living unless it’s in front of a camera. I think she might come to regret that in time. She can’t take those pictures back, after all. I expect Arnie will do all he can to keep them from AJ, but the boy will see them eventually. Maybe not today
, but when he goes back to school, you can be sure some little shit will fall over themselves to show him.”
Dominic folded the paper and pushed it away. “I’ve been watching one of Arnie’s TV shows on Netflix. The one where he played a doctor.” Dominic seldom made time for television, but across the week he’d committed to watching Arnie every night. The show was gripping and had become a regular part of his nightly routine, enjoying an episode of the six-part series before bed.
The writing was first-rate, with a story full of intrigue and suspense, and at the heart of the show was Arnie’s compelling performance of a man trapped in a nightmare situation.
“That’s a good one,” Jacob said. “I can’t believe you haven’t seen it already. Everyone was talking about that when it went out.”
“Don’t spoil it for me. I’ve got two episodes left to go.”
Jacob sipped his tea, watching Dominic across the rim of the mug. “You like him, don’t you?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know him.”
Jacob chuckled. “Then I’ll rephrase it. You fancy him. Would that be more accurate?”
Now Dominic laughed. “It would be hard not to fancy him. He’s beautiful.”
“So, what’s the problem? Go on, ask him out. He won’t eat you.”
“I already told you. He’s famous. I can’t be bothered with all that crap.” He gestured to the newspaper. “I’m not going to be tomorrow’s news. Like Tara and what’s-his-face.”
“Arnie isn’t like that. That’s all Tara. He’s never been interested in the publicity.”
“Yes, but the press is interested in him. Didn’t you just tell me he’s been hiding all week to avoid them? I don’t want to get mixed up in that. I like my life as it is. Simple.”
“And alone.”
“But not lonely. I’ve got you. I’ve got Brandy. Friends. The lifeboat.”
“That’s not the same and you know it. I think you are lonely in that house by yourself. I know I am in here. You need someone. You deserve more than an old man and a dog.”
“I don’t need an actor. Or a guy with an ex-wife who’s all over the papers on a daily basis.”
“Don’t be so judgmental,” Jacob said. “You don’t even know the man, and you never will unless you make the effort. Take him for a drink and a bite to eat. You might get a pleasant surprise. And it’s better than one of your booty calls with Gabriel Mayne.”
He laughed. “What do you know about booty calls?”
“That’s what it is, isn’t it? You and Gabriel.”
“You could say that.”
“I am saying it. So, you’ve got nothing to lose in asking Arnie out.”
“I’ve told you, I don’t know him. I can hardly go knocking on his door. He’s got a kid.”
Jacob tutted. “You’re making excuses. Bad ones at that. This weekend is the lifeboat fair. Arnie will be there with his family. Ask him then.”
“And what if he says no?”
Jacob grinned. “I don’t think he will. You guys will be perfect together. I know it, and I’m never wrong.”
* * * *
Arnie took a sip of red wine before setting his glass on the side of the huge bath and dipping his shoulders beneath the foaming water. This was a luxury, being able to stretch out in a tub. His height meant he often had to sit with a straight back and his knees bent. The tub was massive, and he intended to enjoy it as much as possible while they were here.
AJ was in bed, fast asleep, blissfully exhausted after a day with his cousins and their dog. Arnie felt pretty tired too. He’d underestimated how much effort it required to take care of three kids, being used to only one.
After lunch that day, he’d bundled them all into the car and driven south, down the coast, stopping at some of the towns and villages he used to enjoy as a kid himself, places he hadn’t revisited in years. He’d taken them for a walk along the beach at Newbiggin by the Sea, before enjoying ice-creams at the Italian café that had been on the promenade since his dad was a boy. On the way back, they’d stopped on the outskirts of the town, before returning to Nyemouth.
AJ had insisted on picking up chicken nuggets for dinner. Arnie had relented, figuring they’d all had a decent amount of exercise for one day. When he’d put the boy to bed, he’d seemed to fall asleep as soon as the covers were drawn over him.
He had seen no reporters and hoped they’d gone for good. There had been a hairy moment in the café when he’d realized someone at the next table had left a newspaper open on the topless pictures of Tara. He’d managed to distract the kids while he’d gotten rid of it. Despite such minor hiccups, it had been an enjoyable day.
He prayed it would continue and he could give AJ the carefree summer he deserved.
No more stress. No more violence. They’d had enough to last a lifetime.
Arnie sighed and sank lower, allowing the water to come all the way up to his chin.
His thoughts turned to Dominic Melton. It seemed he was rarely ever out of them. He had around three chapters remaining of Hard to Kill. When he got out of the bath, Arnie planned to do nothing more than slide into bed and finish the novel. Though he was tired from his day with the kids, he knew he wouldn’t sleep until he was done with the book. It was the most exciting thing he had ever read.
No surprise, when it was written by the most exciting man he’d ever met.
Really?
Yes.
It was true. None of the men he’d encountered on film sets or in TV studios came close. No matter how good-looking, none of them had what he had. Not even the stuntmen, who were some of the toughest guys he knew.
What Dominic did, what all lifeboat volunteers did, required fearlessness. There were no safety wires or standby teams when they went on a rescue. The danger was real. It took guts and bravery to go out in those boats.
And Dominic had those smoldering good looks to go with his bravery. He was a complete package.
He also has a boyfriend. Your oldest friend.
That put him out of bounds. There’d been too many secret relationships in Arnie’s past. All those years he’d spent in the closet, married to Tara while sneaking around with other men, many of whom had wives and girlfriends of their own. Or the star fuckers—guys who were prepared to forget their other halves for an hour or two so they could make it with a celebrity.
Arnie had been so desperate to make contact with other guys back then that he’d made mistakes and gotten involved with a number of wrong men. None of it had made him happy. His days of twenty- and thirty-percent relationships—of making do—were over.
He wanted a man who could give him one hundred percent. No sharing.
Pity, when Dominic was perfect in every other way.
Arnie ran his hands across his body beneath the water. Thinking about Dominic gave him an erection. It seemed to happen every time. The fact that Dominic was in a relationship with Gabriel did nothing to quell his sexiness. Arnie wouldn’t ever make a move on him—no chance. It didn’t mean he couldn’t think about him now and then, even fantasize a little.
He wrapped his hand around his engorged dick. He hadn’t beaten it in days, maybe the best part of two weeks. His balls ached and thinking about Dominic meant he was very horny. If he couldn’t have the real thing, he could at least do something about this.
Arnie raised his head. He’d left the door ajar so he could hear if AJ got out of bed. Silence. The boy had been fast asleep last time he checked.
Settling back into the water, he took his cock in a firm grip. He moved his left hand lower and tugged his balls, enjoying the tension. He closed his eyes, easily envisioning Dominic, imaging that perfect face coming close to his, their lips touching. Gently to begin with, before moving deeper into the kiss. He could almost feel it, Dominic’s mouth on his, inhaling his hot breath.
He moved his hands faster, slipping the foreskin back and forth over the head. It had been far too long. The sensation was exquisite, each stroke building the pleasure. He
moved his other hand lower, behind his balls, reaching between his thighs, to the tight cleft of his anus. He found the opening and pressed, groaning as he imagined Dominic touching him there, probing, exploring, entering him. Arnie gasped, pushing his feet against the far side of the bath. Hot water and foam splashed and spilled over the sides. He jerked his hand faster and faster until he could take no more.
“Dominic.” He sighed as he came.
Afterward, cleaned up and toweled dry, Arnie put on a robe and carried his wine glass to the master bedroom. He felt better, having released some of the frustration he felt about Dominic, and a lot of the tension that had built in him this week. It was surprising how things crept up.
Now he looked forward to finishing Hard to Kill and getting a good night’s sleep.
He went to check on AJ before turning in. He’d already locked up downstairs and had set the alarm before taking his bath. Standing outside his son’s bedroom, he listened to the reassuring rhythm of his breath. Satisfied, he crossed to the landing window to take a look out the front.
The motion detector spotlight that covered the front of the property was on, illuminating the path and the road beyond. Arnie pressed his face to the window and looked thoroughly in both directions. There were no cars parked outside, no people walking past and most importantly no reporters.
It was probably nothing, he reasoned. A passing vehicle, or a cat, maybe a fox could have activated the light. They were in the country here, sharing the space with nature. He couldn’t take alarm at such minor incidents.
One last look verified there was nobody there.
Convinced, he turned out the hall light and headed for the bedroom.
He had a date with Dominic Melton, aka Jack Cole, and the final few pages of Hard to Kill. Not as good as the real thing, he was sure, but it was better than nothing.
* * * *
Across the road, a figure lurked in the shadows. The range of Arnie Walker’s security light did not stretch this far. On the open grassland, leading to the edge of the cliff, the darkness was complete. From there the figure had watched the house unseen as Arnie had come to the window.