Prince of the Playhouse: A MM, Coming Out, Secret Identity, Theater Romance (Love in Laguna Book 3)

by Tara Lain

  “Thank God for that—the lawyer, I mean. Can I come over?”

  “I’m not sure. I’m supposed to stay close to my house. Probably best not to do it for now.”

  “Oh God.” He let out a long stream of air. “Okay, Billy’s right here. Talk. You’re on speaker.”

  “What do you want me to say?” Damn, he knew the answer to that.

  “Are you a member of some Los Angeles gang?”

  “I sort of was at one time. I wanted to be. I was still young, and I wanted to prove myself. A friend got me out before I really became an official AD.”

  “And you never told me.”

  He fought tears. “I-I thought you’d be ashamed of me. I wanted it to be behind me.”

  “Rupert Maitland, I love you. How could I be less than proud of you? You didn’t give me or yourself enough credit.”

  “I l-love you too.” He snuffled.

  “Were you involved in a murder?”

  “I honestly don’t know. I don’t think so. But I did drive three ADs to a guy’s house who later turned up dead. It’s possible they did it the day I drove them. I just don’t know. Oh God, Shaz, I just want to die.”

  “No dying. We’re going to prove you didn’t do it, or if you did, you didn’t know you did it. Is Gray with you now?”

  “What? Uh, no. No one’s here.”

  “So they won’t let anyone be with you? That’s ridiculous.”

  “I-I’m not sure about that. My lawyer brought me home, and he came in.”

  Pause. “Where’s Gray?”

  “At his hotel with his parents, I imagine.”

  “But how did he know to send a lawyer?”

  “He was here with his parents when the police came. I sent them all out the back so they wouldn’t be involved.”

  “That makes sense, I suppose. But he didn’t come back?”

  “Shaz, he can’t do that. Hell, it’s bad enough we’re business partners. That’s why it’s all over the press. Nobody cares about me. It’s because of Gray. Jesus, I’m an accessory to murder. The best thing he can do is stay away from me.”

  “The best thing for whom?”

  Bam. Ring. Bam. Ring.

  Shit.

  Gray raised his head. Fell asleep. Faint light drifted in the hotel room windows, showing an outline of the trees with ocean beyond.

  Phone. Door. He grabbed for his cell, which had fallen from his pocket onto the comforter. Fred. He clicked. “Hang on a second, Fred.”

  He got up and walked to the closed bedroom door. “Yes?”

  Benson yelled through the door, “Gray, dammit, we need to get this statement to the press.”

  “Hold your balls. I’ll be out in a couple minutes.” He pressed the phone to his ear and walked over to the windows. “Sorry, Fred. What’s up? Did you get Ru home?” Jesus, how could he have fallen asleep and left Ru alone?

  “Yes, he’s home and confined to his place.”

  “Shit.”

  “Better than jail. Look, I sent a couple of investigators into that neighborhood in Compton like you suggested. Man, they were fucking scared. Anyway, they put out a lot of feelers. Must have worked, because I just got a call from somebody named Bernardo Peña. He says he knows something about that day, but he’s asking to meet you.”

  “Me? What do I have to do with it?”

  “Don’t know. Maybe he’s a fan. But he was pretty set on the idea.”

  “Okay, I’ll meet him. When? Where?”

  “How about there at your hotel? He said he’d drive to Laguna. If he knows anything important, I can take him over to the police station.”

  “Jesus. Gangsters at the Vistage?”

  “I’m sure he won’t be the only one.” Fred laughed. “That place is packed with crooks of one kind or another.”

  Gray shook his head. “Man, that’s the truth. Okay. Get him over here soon. I have a shoot.”

  “Okay. I’ll call you and let you know a time after I talk to him.”

  “Can I call Ru?”

  “Don’t see why not.”

  “Thanks.” He hung up.

  The knocking on his bedroom door got louder. He stalked over and yelled, “What?”

  “Time’s wasting, Gray.” He could hear voices. Courtney? His folks?

  “I’ve got some stuff to do. Give me a few minutes.” He moved away from the door so they couldn’t eavesdrop and dialed. One ring, two, three.

  “Uh, hi.”

  Just the sound of Ru’s voice gave him goose bumps. “Hi, how are you doing?”

  “Okay. Thank you for the lawyer.”

  “He’s supposed to be the best.” Silence. “I never told you. I saw your tattoo.”

  “Oh? When?”

  “The other morning. Your T-shirt scooched up. I wondered why you always wore a T-shirt to bed.”

  “Yeah.” He sighed. “I’m really sorry, Gray. I didn’t even tell Shaz about my life before. I hoped it would never come back to haunt me. Stupid.”

  “Uh, did you do what they say?”

  “If I did, I didn’t know it.”

  “But that could still be bad, right?”

  “Yes. Fred says they may try me as an adult for accessory to murder.”

  “Jesus, Ru. Just—fuck!” He dropped his head in his hands.

  “I know. Not exactly cool for Gray Anson to have a jailbird business partner.”

  “No, that’s not what I meant.”

  “But it’s still true. Do whatever damage control you can, and stay away from me. If and when this whole mess is over, we’ll talk, right?”

  “But—”

  “Really, Gray. I can practically hear Benson yelling in your ear. You love being you. You can’t jeopardize it all for something you have no control over. I really appreciate the lawyer. Please tell your mom her outfits will be ready tomorrow. Shaz can have James fit them. Take care of yourself.” He drew a long breath. “Because I won’t be there to do it.” The phone clicked off.

  “Fuck!” Gray tossed the phone on the bed.

  He hurled himself off the mattress, walked into the bathroom, and turned on the water in the shower. He threw his clothes as far as he could make them sail, then stepped under the rainfall and let it run over his head. What should he do? He had no knowledge that could help Ru, but he wanted to be with him. He wanted to see for himself that Ru was okay, that the police were treating him well. Hell, he had wealth and power, and those counted in the justice system—even if they shouldn’t.

  He dragged his razor over his face. Okay, so maybe being associated with Ru right now might be bad for his career—but fuck, how bad could it be? In today’s paparazzi world, it could sell some more tickets. So that’s what he’d do—go see Ru.

  Excited, he leaped out of the shower, dried, and pulled on a new set of clothes. He had to perform at the Playhouse that night, so everything needed to happen quickly.

  He grabbed his watch and was strapping it on when he heard another knock. Softer this time. “Yeah.”

  “Gray, it’s Fred.”

  “Oh, good.”

  He walked to the door and opened it. Benson yelled, “Gray, we can’t waste any more time.”

  Gray opened the door a crack and let Fred slide through, bringing a tall, really fucking handsome Hispanic guy in an expensive suit behind him. Gray slammed the door. “Sorry. The wolves are circling.”

  The Hispanic man didn’t smile. He just gazed at Gray like maybe he was a science experiment.

  Fred said, “Gray, this is Bernardo Peña, a friend of Ru’s.”

  Gray nodded and stuck out his hand. “Ru needs some friends right now.”

  Peña looked at his hand as though possibly considering its cleanliness, then shook it. “Are you his friend?”

  “Uh, yes, we’re business partners.”

  His smile barely defined skeptical. “Right. I been his business partner too, esé.” He looked at Fred. “I need to talk to Anson alone.”

  Fred frowned, like maybe Peña
planned a murder of his own. “Is that okay, Gray?”

  “Sure. Of course.”

  Fred glanced at Peña but walked to the door, slipped out, and closed it behind him. Gray followed him and locked it. He pointed at the chairs in front of the big window. “Please sit down, Mr. Peña.”

  Peña sat, looking out the window. “Some view.”

  “Yes. Please, what do you know about the accessory to murder charge against Ru?”

  “A lot.”

  Gray flopped in the chair. “Tell me.”

  Peña leaned back. “I know where he was on the afternoon Hernandez was killed.”

  Hope. Damn. “He wasn’t driving the car?”

  “Nope. He was sucking my cock in my mother’s bathroom.”

  “Shit!”

  “Yes.”

  “You were lovers?” Oh damn, he wanted to hit the guy.

  “Not exactly. See, I was a big shot in the ADs at that time. Ru wanted to be an AD. So—” He waved his hand.

  “You made him suck you off as a qualification?” Wanted to hit him more.

  “No, esé. I was a chickenshit bastard who wouldn’t admit he was at minimum bisexual. In defense, man, you gay, you dead in the ADs. Ru liked me and liked doing it. Maybe not as much as I did, but a lot.” He looked at Gray. “Have you seen his tat?”

  Gray nodded.

  “It matches the one on my back. Man, he loved my tat. Anyway, I saw what a good kid he was and how he’d end up dead in the ADs no matter how tough he thought he was. I used some of the money I had stashed to send him to fashion school. Man, he never looked back. Been doing great ever since.”

  “You look like you’re doing well too.”

  “I’m a businessman. I make sure the barrio gets decent food stores.”

  Hell, what a hero. “You got out of the gang.”

  “I’m very, very smart. Sort of like Roberto, I mean Rupert, you know?”

  “So what the hell will you tell the police?”

  “I got a good story. Witnesses, everything.”

  “Thank God.”

  “But I want to know that you’re going to take care of Ru.”

  “Me? Jesus, Bernardo, he won’t even be around me. He doesn’t want my help.”

  “Maybe that’s true. Maybe not. But I came to tell you, man, you don’t take care of him, I will.”

  “What does that mean?”

  He stood. “I stayed away from him for eight years because I thought it was better if his old life didn’t mess up his new one. But now I see how you can’t run away from who you are. I got my shit together during those years. I can make sure nobody messes with my man.”

  “You’re in love with Ru?” His heart beat in his throat.

  “In my way.” He stalked to the door. “Now I’m gonna go get him out of trouble.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Gray sank onto the messy bed. So there it was—the man who had changed Ru’s life, given him a chance to be who he was. Bernardo defined handsome, smart, and heroic, and he wanted Ru back. Bernardo could give Ru what he needed—an honest partner who was proud to have Ru as a boyfriend.

  He stood up slowly and dragged himself to the bedroom door. With a deep breath, he walked into the sitting room.

  Everyone looked up—and that was a lot of people. Benson, Courtney, his dad. And there, huddled in the corner having a good girl talk, sat his mother and Penelope. What the bloody living hell?

  Benson stood. “Gray, who was that guy who came to see you?”

  “A friend of Ru’s who has proof that Ru wasn’t involved in the murder.”

  His mom slapped a hand on her heart. “Oh thank God!”

  “Yes. He says he has witnesses and everything.”

  Benson fell back into the chair. “That changes things. Courtney, let’s revise the statement so it expresses our total faith in Rupert Maitland and the justice system.”

  Gray frowned. “What were you going to say?”

  “Doesn’t matter now.”

  Gray stared across the room. “Hello, Penelope. May I ask why you’re here?”

  She smiled. “I wanted to meet your parents.”

  His mother laughed. “Yes, Penelope and I have been having a great chat.”

  “And your statements regarding me were—” He paused.

  Penelope waved a hand. “In the heat of the moment, darling. Benson explained how things have been deteriorating, and I thought perhaps I could help.” She smiled. “And no, you don’t have to marry me.”

  His mother looked around. “Deteriorating?”

  Penelope patted her hand. “Just that the press loves to insinuate that Gray is gay. When we split up, the rumors got more intense.”

  “I see. And this is a problem?”

  “Yes, dear. Action stars are never gay. It will seriously impinge on Gray’s audience if such rumors persist.”

  “Oh.” She nodded and glanced at Gray.

  Gray stared out at his life spread across his sitting room. A future of lying to the press, dissembling to his parents, squiring women he didn’t love to places he didn’t want to go.

  Benson stood. “Why don’t we all go out to lunch and let the press take a lot of pictures before you have to be at the theater?”

  Might as well get on with it.

  Ru stood just inside the front door of the police department with Fred and Bernardo. Outside, the press hung like birds on a wire. “So all they have to do is verify Bernardo’s story, and I’m off the hook?”

  Fred nodded. “Yes. And there’s not much verification to do, since Mr. Peña had signed affidavits from the witnesses.” He grinned. “Now aren’t you glad you didn’t volunteer any information?”

  “Hell yes. But I’m especially glad Bernardo remembered what I didn’t do.” He squeezed Bernardo’s hand.

  “It was probably more memorable to me than to you.” He winked and Ru snorted.

  Fred looked confused. “A memorable movie?”

  “Oh yes, it was one of my favorites. A Bruce Willis film. I always liked him.”

  Ru fought laughter. Apparently they had gone to a movie that day after their oral encounter in the bathroom. It hadn’t been hard for Bernardo to persuade the other two guys they went with to recall that they’d arrived at the theater a few minutes earlier than they actually had. “So the police chief will make an announcement or something?”

  Fred nodded. “Yes, they assured me they would.”

  “So shall we face the music?”

  Bernardo grasped Ru’s hand as they ran out the door of the police station. Reporters pressed in toward them.

  “What news do you have regarding the allegations against Ru?”

  Fred stopped and held up his hand. “We can’t make any statement yet—except to say it’s good news.” He smiled broadly.

  “Hey, Ru, who’s your friend?”

  Ru glanced at Bernardo. What would he say?

  “My name is Bernardo Peña. I’ve been a friend of Ru Maitland for many years. I was with him at the movies at the time the murder was committed and have other witnesses to prove it. The charges against Ru are a simple matter of mistaken identity, I expect. But regardless, those are the facts.”

  So much for waiting for the police statements.

  A female reporter yelled, “Hey, Ru, won’t Merle Justice be jealous?”

  “Bernardo and I are just friends.”

  Ru heard laughter and looked up at Bernardo in time to catch his raised eyebrow and wink. Damn the man.

  Bernardo waved at the reporters, who continued to yell questions as he opened the passenger door of his black Mercedes and let Ru into the cushy seat. Fred crawled into the backseat on his own. Before Bernardo could get the door closed, a reporter called, “Hey, Ru, what does Gray Anson think of all this?”

  Ru smiled, though it took all his strength. “He’s the one who provided Mr. Arthur’s services. I’ll always be grateful.”

  “What about your Fashion Week collection?”

&nbs
p; “That’s where I’ll be going first thing tomorrow. But tonight I’ll be attending the performance at the Playhouse.”

  “Isn’t tonight Gray’s last performance as Hamlet?”

  “Oh yes, I suppose it is.” He nodded. “But the play will continue tomorrow without him.”

  Bernardo slammed the car door.

  Gray walked out of the restaurant with Penelope on one arm and his mom on the other. Cameras snapped, and both press and fans lined the parking lot. They’d gone back to the restaurant on the hill his mother liked. While they’d been inside, drones and even a news helicopter had gathered overhead. Benson beamed. Oh yeah, his show entirely.

  Chris held the doors for all of them. The reporters were a little polite—probably in deference to his parents.

  “Hey, Gray, are you and Penelope back together?”

  “Mrs. Anson, how do you like California?”

  “Gray, what do you think about the Ru Maitland case?”

  Gray stopped and began to turn, but Benson grabbed his arm and pushed him into the limo. He stepped in behind him. “Best to not comment until the police have done their thing.”

  He nodded. Who knew what was true? “Drop me off at the theater, Chris, then take my folks back to the hotel to rest until curtain.” He glanced at Penelope. “Are you coming to the show? I can get you a ticket.”

  “I have nothing to wear.”

  He pointed at the skirt and blouse she had on. “That looks great.”

  His mother chimed in, “Oh yes, do come with us.”

  Man, his mother sure did love Penelope.

  “Why, thank you. I’d be delighted.”

  Gray sighed very, very softly.

  At the Playhouse he trudged toward the dressing rooms, but Artie stopped him. “Hey, Gray, this is Malcolm Zanders. He’ll be taking over as Hamlet.”

  Gray shook the hand of the handsome, tall, but slightly nerdy-looking actor, probably a few years older than Gray. They’d been rehearsing during the days while he’d been filming and obsessing about Ru.

  Malcolm smiled broadly. “I’m honored, Gray, both to meet you and to take over for you in the role. I’ve read nothing but great reviews.”

  “Artie’s a wonderful director. He pulled the performance out of me.” He didn’t want to think about who’d really done that.