by K. C. Wells
They got into the elevator and Jase leaned against the mirror. “What floor are you on?”
“Fifth.”
He smiled. “Hey, me too. Good to know.” Jase covered his mouth as he yawned. “Sorry. I think my early morning and lack of sleep are catching up with me.”
“Why don’t you have a nap? If you want, we can meet up for a bite to eat.”
Jase’s smile reached his eyes. “That sounds great. Just give me an hour, then bang on my door? Room 5020.” The elevator came to a stop and they got out. He peered at the sign. “I go left.”
“And I go right. See you in an hour.” Chris tugged his case along the hallway to room 5067.
That shower was going to feel so good.
JASE left his case unopened. He had a more important task to complete before he would think about unpacking. He rooted through his bag, pulled out his phone charger, and plugged it in. Once it was recharging, he scrolled through his contacts.
“Hey, are you in Vegas yet?” Juliet asked him as soon as the call connected. “I thought you were traveling today.”
“I just got here. I was calling to see if there’d been any news.”
Juliet paused. “We’ve talked about this, remember? As soon as I hear anything, I’ll call you.”
“Yeah, but if you thought I was traveling, you might wait and—”
Juliet sighed. “Then I’d still call you and leave a message, okay?” Her voice softened. “I do know how important this is to you, Jase. And I know how much you want this part. What I need to know is, do you want me to keep looking for audition calls, or do you want to wait and see if anything comes of this?”
Jase groaned inwardly. He already knew how Juliet felt about this. She wanted to keep looking, while he felt like it was bad luck to look for other parts while waiting to hear back from an audition. Jase knew it was illogical, but he couldn’t help himself.
He knew what to say, even though he hated saying it. “Keep looking.”
Juliet’s voice was warm. “Good boy.”
He laughed. They weren’t that far apart in ages. “Yes, Mom.”
“I told you. Just trust me. I got you those commercials, didn’t I? And the soaps. And I’m always sending out your headshot and résumé. It’s gonna happen, sweetheart.”
“You sound like Chris,” he remarked.
“Your photographer? Well, he sounds like he’s in your corner.”
“Yeah, he is.” Jase yawned, unable to keep it in.
Juliet laughed. “Stop talking to me and go take a nap. It sounds like you need one. And try not to think about the audition, all right? I will call you right away.”
Jase heard the unspoken words: if I hear anything. “Okay,” he said, stifling another yawn. Then he remembered his other reason for calling. “Juliet? Would you also add theater productions to your list?”
A pause. “I thought you wanted to concentrate on movies?”
“I do! But….” Jase took a breath. “I’ve always wanted to work on the stage. I know it doesn’t pay as well as movies, but the theater is where I feel my future lies. Sure, movies will get me in front of a bigger audience, but just once, I want the chance to star in a production. Even if it’s Off Off Broadway. That would be a start.”
“You want me to stick with New York? What about the West Coast?”
“No, stick with New York. You know how the song goes. If I can make it there….”
She chuckled. “Fine.”
Jase cast a glance at the bed, which looked awfully inviting. “We’ll talk soon, all right?”
“Just enjoy the convention. Make some new contacts. Get your face seen. And remember to have fun!” Juliet ended the call.
Jase placed his phone on the nightstand, made sure it was still charging, then flopped onto the bed.
JASE opened his eyes groggily. “Wha’?”
There it was again, that sound penetrating the haze that surrounded him. It took him a moment to realize someone was knocking on his door. He got up off the bed and lurched toward the noise, running his fingers through his hair. When he opened the door, Chris stood there, looking refreshed.
Actually? He looked pretty damn good. He wore a pair of jeans and a T-shirt that proclaimed Photographers Do It With a Tripod. Chris took one look at Jase and smirked.
“An hour, huh? Bang on your door, huh?”
His amused tone registered. “How long have I been asleep?”
“About three hours, give or take.”
Jase gaped at him. “Why did you let me sleep that long?”
Chris’s smirk was still evident. “Check your phone.”
Jase ambled toward the bed and picked up his phone. There were seven missed calls, all from Chris. Then he realized his phone had been on silent. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Chris said with a wave of his hand. “You obviously needed it. I figured the stress of flying took it out of you. But I made the most of my time. I’ve been checking out the hotel for places to eat. There’s a sports bar downstairs, and along the walkway that leads to the convention center, there’s a restaurant that serves anything you can think of. Plus, it’s next door to a Starbucks.”
Jase’s stomach chose that second to grumble loudly, and they both laughed.
“I guess it’s time to eat.” He grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair and headed over to the door. “What happens next?”
“We can’t register until tomorrow,” Chris told him. “So today is kind of a find-our-feet day.”
“That sounds great to me.” Food was definitely high on the agenda. He’d think about anything else after that. Then Chris’s words finally sank in. “There’s a convention center?”
Chris laughed. “There’s about a half-mile walk to get there, and it’s huge. That’s where all the panels and events take place. Wait till you see it. Everywhere you look there are book covers.” He grinned. “Put it this way. You’re gonna see yourself quite a lot on the way over there.”
“Seriously?” Jase was still overcome at the idea of someone wanting his autograph.
Chris tilted his head to one side. “Not had someone ask you for your signature before?”
He snickered. “It shows, huh? I couldn’t believe it when she asked me.”
“I did warn you. There’ll be a lot of that.”
Jase had the feeling it was going to take some getting used to. Then he reasoned that it was good training for when he finally made it onto the big screen or the stage.
Please, Lord? One day?
“SO what’s next?” Jase asked, wiping his mouth on his napkin. A plate of chicken and waffles had disappeared in a nanosecond, and Chris was in awe.
“How can you eat that amount of food and look the way you do?” Chris only had to look at a donut and he put on five pounds.
Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration. Three pounds.
Jase patted his stomach. “It’s called living in a gym four days a week. I have to watch my weight.”
Chris could spend all fucking day watching Jase’s weight. He was slim, with abs and arms that were obviously toned. Chris had spent many an hour staring at Jase’s image, choosing the photo that best showed off his creamy-skinned body.
Chris loved his job.
“Chris?” Jase was smiling at him. “You’re staring at me.”
Chris gave himself a shake. “I was miles away. You asked what was next. We could explore Vegas if you want.”
Jase shook his head. “I wanna see Vegas at night. The number of times I’ve seen those fountains that dance to music? It needs to be nighttime for that. Plus, there’s all the lights.”
“Then we’ll leave off the sightseeing for another time.” Chris was in no hurry to see Vegas again. Then a thought struck him. “There is a fitness center here, you know.”
Jase’s face lit up. “Really? Great. You want to come along?”
Chris chuckled. “I think I’ll leave the exertion to you. I’ll just meet up with you later and feed you a
gain.” That would give him time to do some work on his laptop and reply to a text message from Shane White, a friend from NYC.
“Chris?” A melodic male voice broke through his musings.
He glanced up and broke into a smile. “Dean!” Chris got up from the table and hugged him. “Nice T-shirt, by the way.” Dean wore a pink top with a dancing unicorn on it. “When did you get here?”
“Last night. I’ve spent today so far making sure I’m ready for tomorrow night.” Dean gave him a keen glance. “You are coming, right?” Then he caught sight of Jase and his eyes widened. “Oh my.”
Jase rose to his feet. “Hi. I’m Jase Mitchell.” He held out a hand, and Dean shook it.
“Dean Mason.” He glanced at Chris. “Don’t keep me in suspense. Who is this gorgeous creature?”
Chris rolled his eyes. “He’s standing right there, y’know. Jase’s here as a cover model, but he’s also an actor.” He turned to Jase. “Dean is… where do I begin? He’s an author, playwright, actor, director, teacher….”
“And incredibly modest,” Dean added with a grin. Then he peered closer. “Oh my God. You were on the cover of Heat. I thought you looked familiar.”
“Heat?”
“Dean’s third book,” Chris explained. He shook his head. “Dean, is your husband aware of your drooling habit?”
“I am not drooling!” Dean announced dramatically. His eyes glittered. “I’m merely enjoying the scenery.”
“Mm-hmm. Meanwhile, that’s your tongue I’m tripping over. I’m telling Michael.”
Dean gave him a mock glare. “Spoilsport. I’m just looking. And you didn’t answer my question. Are you coming?”
“As if I’d miss it.” Chris turned to Jase. “Every year Dean puts on Monstrous Movies. Basically, he picks a movie that is so bad, it’s good, and critiques it to death while it’s running. The audience tweets about it, and people follow it on Twitter. It usually ends up trending. And it’s hilarious.”
“Three hours of me talking,” Dean added. “At the end of which, if I haven’t lost my voice, it’s a fucking miracle.”
“What’s this year’s movie?”
“Remember that movie John Travolta did a few years ago? The one with the really terrible acting and the even worse camera angles?”
Chris laughed. “Oh yeah. Battlefield Earth. Great choice.”
“Sounds like it’s a lot of fun.” Jase seemed overwhelmed by Dean, a reaction Chris understood. Dean overwhelmed everyone. He was a ball of continuous energy, sparking and crackling, lighting up a room with his presence.
“Then I’ll see you tomorrow night. Come by about half an hour before it’s due to start. I’ll make sure you get a seat near the front.” Dean gave Chris a fleeting glance. “Both of you.” He took Jase’s hand again. “I must get you to sign a copy of Heat for me.” Then he spotted someone walking along the hallway, released Jase’s hand, and waved at them. “Damn. I’ve been trying to catch her since I got here. Later, boys.” Then, like a whirlwind, he was gone.
Jase snickered. “Wow. He’s a character.”
Chris smiled. “He’s also one of the most genuine people I know. With Dean, what you see is what you get. No bullshit. It’s refreshing.” Then a thought occurred to him. “And his event would be a great opportunity for you to meet more gay romance authors. You’re already on a few of their covers.” Secretly, he felt Jase would be a delightful change. Some of the cover models who attended the convention strutted around like they were God’s gift, especially those who’d been in the industry for a while.
Jase wasn’t like that. He might have been on countless book covers, but it clearly hadn’t gone to his head.
He’s a humble guy.
Chris really, really liked that.
Chapter Four
“SO tell me some more about Chris Tyler.” Jase put down his glass of beer and leaned back in his chair. “Because for all the time I’ve known you, I know so little about you.” And how many times had Jase wished for enough nerve to ask that question. Shoots seemed to go way too fast. There was little time for conversation beyond a brief discussion of what Jase was up to.
“Not much to tell, really.” Chris ate the last of his fries, then took a mouthful of beer. Around them, guys occupied some of the tables, staring up at the football match playing out on the enormous screen.
“Okay, then let’s start with how you got into photography.”
Chris smiled. “It was something I always wanted to do. I can remember being a little kid on vacation with my parents, and my dad would always have a camera wherever we went. I used to ask to take pictures, and when I was sixteen, they bought me my own camera. That was it. I was hooked. Those were the days before digital photography got really popular, of course. By the time I was eighteen, I wanted my own darkroom.”
“Did you get it?”
Chris laughed. “Hell no. My parents couldn’t afford the equipment. But then my mom contacted a photographer who had a studio near us. She told him about me and my interest in photography, and he asked to see some of my pictures. I was just finishing high school at the time. Anyhow, Phillip liked my stuff. Said I had an eye for it. So he decided to take me on and train me to be his assistant.”
“Sounds like it was a dream come true.”
“Yeah.” Chris sighed. “He was great. He taught me so much. When I was twenty-two, he got into digital photography in a big way and gave me all his equipment. It was Phillip who encouraged me to set out on my own. I finally got up the nerve to do it about nine years ago.”
“You know what’s so great about that? He didn’t try to hold you back because you’d be competing for his business. He wanted you to succeed.” It was nothing like Jase’s experience. In acting school, if someone heard there were auditions going on, they kept it to themselves for fear of competition.
Such a cutthroat business. It was also the part of the industry that Jase loathed. For him, what mattered most were those times when he performed before an audience.
“Phillip wasn’t the kind of guy who’d do that. He’d been a photographer for almost thirty-five years when I first met him. And yet he still embraced new ideas and techniques. He always found time for others.”
Jase detected something in his voice, a hint of sorrow. Suddenly he understood. “He died, didn’t he?”
Chris nodded. “About five years ago, unexpectedly. He had a stroke. He never talked about his health, so I had no clue he had heart disease.”
“That must have been a shock.” Jase truly felt for him. Chris had clearly adored Phillip.
“Yeah. I still count myself lucky to have known him. He encouraged me in the early days, when I was convinced I’d never make it, that the work just wasn’t out there. He had faith in me, just like my parents.”
Jase swallowed. His dad’s words still rang inside his head.
What makes you think you can cut it as an actor?
Why don’t you get a proper job?
This is such a waste of time. You’ll never amount to anything.
“Hey. Are you okay?”
Jase blinked. “Sorry. Guess I zoned out there for a second. Yeah, I’m fine. So you’re happy with your career?”
Chris smiled. “In these days of continually switching lanes because there’s no such thing as a job for life, I’m fortunate. I’m thirty-four, and I see no reason not to keep on doing this until there comes a time when I can’t see through the lens anymore. And if new techniques come in, I’ll learn about them and use them, just like Phillip did.” He peered at Jase. “I know it feels like an uphill struggle all the time, trying to get your foot in the door—which I know is mixing my metaphors, but hey, so what?—just persevere and it will come. I’m sure of it.”
He sounded so certain that tears pricked the corners of Jase’s eyes, and he hurriedly wiped them away.
Chris gazed at him in alarm. “Oh God, what did I say?”
“Nothing,” Jase assured him. “It’s just… you’ve shown
more faith in me in the past five years, given me more support, than I’ve had from my parents my entire life.”
Chris regarded him in silence, his eyes wide. Finally he spoke, his voice soft. “I am so sorry. We all need someone to cheerlead for us, and right at the top of that list should be our family. It sucks that yours isn’t there for you.”
“They just don’t think of acting as a worthwhile profession, that’s all.” Jase straightened in his chair. “And don’t look now, but someone is waving at you.” He pointed to the edge of their row of seats, where a tall woman with beautifully coiffed hair was striding toward them.
“Oh, thank God. Dean told me you’d arrived.” She gave Jase a quick glance. “Hi. I’m Eliza Raye. I’m the organizer of this convention. And you are…?”
Jase got up, took her proffered hand, and introduced himself. Chris rose to his feet too.
Eliza beamed. “Great to have you with us. I’d love to stop and chat, but right now I’m in the middle of a crisis, and I need help.” She turned to Chris. “I just got a call from Troy Maitland.”
Jase recognized the name instantly. He’d appeared on the cover of a few of Troy’s gay romances. “He’s presenting an event I’m doing. The cover model competition.”
“Correction. He was emceeing the competition, until he fell down a flight of steps yesterday and broke his leg. Now he’s in a cast, and there’s no way he can be here.” She turned her eyes on Chris and gave him an imploring gaze. “Chris. Could you do it? I mean, you’ve probably worked with some of these guys anyway.”
“What would I need to do?”
“Go up on the stage, introduce each of the guys, joke with them. Think of it along the lines of a male beauty pageant and you’re virtually there. There are two rounds—casual clothing and a costume round. They get to choose what costume they wear—within reason. Hopefully there’ll be nothing R-rated, or we’ll hear about it. Then the audience votes for their favorite, and they get a contract from a publisher.” She smiled. “Actually? What tends to happen is the publishing companies offer contracts to all of them, but the readers don’t need to know that part.”