Mark was about to turn around and focus solely on him when the song ended and the jukebox was cranked up. Reid practically sprinted to the family table, getting high fives from a few audience members on the way. When he reached them, he thumped them all on the back and gave their mom a noisy kiss on the cheek. When he got to Sean he grabbed him up in a hug and gave him a wiseass grin.
“I hear you’re a true cock blocker!”
Sean scowled and pushed him away. “Not in front of mom, Reid.”
Patty leaned in close with a wondering look. “What’s this about?”
Sean immediately threw a hand over Reid’s mouth and shook his head. “You don’t want to hear it, mom.”
“Fine, but let go of your brother. You can’t put the lead singer in a head lock in front of his fans.”
Mark felt Zane shift behind him in relief. Mom absolutely didn’t need that picture in her head. Though she no doubt understood the mechanics of two guys together, she didn’t need actual specifics, no matter that it hadn’t gone far. Leave it to Reid to chap all their asses by bringing it up. Zane gave him another reassuring squeeze right as Patty called out to him.
“I don’t know if this is a bad time, Zane, sweetheart, but I was wondering…” she paused to dig around in her oversized handbag. Mark had no idea how she found anything inside it. “I had to get steaks for the barbecue tomorrow and I saw this on the stand at the checkout counter.” She slid a copy of GQ across the small pub table until it was in front of Mark and he was staring at the artistic yet studly disarray that was Zane on the cover. “Will you sign it?”
It was still sexy as hell, but now that he knew the real story about what went on at the shoot, Mark couldn’t keep a straight face. He looked back at Zane whose blush was clearly evident even in the poorly lit room.
“Of course,” he said, quietly clearing his throat and throwing a meaningful look at Mark to keep him from laughing.
“I have a pen!” his mom sang. She went back to the handbag and Mark traded Zane spots so he could sit at the table and sign. “I looked at the pictures and you look so daring and tough with all those ladies around you—especially that one where you’re pinned to that chair with the phone cord!”
Mark snorted on laughter and leaned forward to hide his face behind Zane’s back. “Zip it, Newland,” Zane growled under his breath.
“Phone cord?” Reid bellowed. “What kind of magazine is this?”
“Wait, let me see the cover,” Sean interrupted, scooting closer to read the article tag line. “‘Zane Whitlow Revealed. Hollywood’s Heartthrob Talks Life, Love, and His Latest Film: Innuendos.’” He whistled and clapped Zane on the arm. “It was a good movie, man. I saw it last weekend with a couple of people from work and you really nailed the creepy douche bag bit.”
Zane thanked him softly, and their mom jumped back in. “You scared me to death—especially that scene when you’re hiding in that young woman’s shower the whole time she’s getting ready for bed.” She shuddered. “You make a gorgeous psychopath.”
Reid cracked up and raised a brow at Mark, like I told you so. “My favorite’s still The Mercenary. I’ve seen that thing like fifteen times.”
“Wow,” Zane breathed. “That’s fourteen and a half more times than I saw it.”
“Seriously?” Mark interjected. “You don’t watch your movies?”
Zane shrugged. “I get a little weirded out sometimes when I see myself on screen, but I watch them. That was my first really big film, though, so it’s the worst with that one. I’ve been able to sit through the other stuff I’ve done. Sometimes it’s cool. Sometimes…not so cool.”
“You probably hate when people do this, but that movie has some of the greatest one-liners,” Brad Newland jumped in. “Reid, what’s that one I like so much?”
Reid lowered his voice and said, “I don’t shoot to injure, I shoot to kill.”
“No way,” Sean grinned. “The best one is: ‘My favorite things are killing, whiskey, and women—in that order.’”
Mark and their dad beat that comment down and Zane gave Mark an astonished look when he did a near perfect impression of the Mercenary saying the most famous line from the movie. “‘The only way to find your match is to meet your maker.’” Mark cocked his head like he was confused. “Nobody even knows what that line is supposed to mean, by the way.”
Zane laughed and turned back to the table, a look flashing in his eyes that made Mark pause. “Not even the writers knew what it meant. I have no idea how it caught on and it’s what I’m asked to quote most often.”
“Patty read the article aloud to me,” Brad spoke up as Patty slapped a pen down in front of Zane. “I didn’t realize the hours you put into filming. It’s all so seamless by the time we’re watching in theaters, it didn’t occur to me that your days get so long.”
“It really depends on the storyline and director. Some people are looking for a scene to be played out in a particular way and until you hit on what they’re looking for, they want you to keep shooting. I’ve worked with some who are the total opposite and want me to take it whatever direction I think is best. I guess I sort of like a middle ground where there’s an expectation, but I have freedom to work within it.”
“What’s your favorite type of movie to film—or what type of movie do you want to do the most?” Sean asked, totally interested for once. It had been a long time, but Mark was sure he hadn’t seemed all that interested in the things Rafe once had to say. Though, he was always under the impression that Sean didn’t like much about Rafe—they were too similar.
“I’m actually getting ready to start filming on one of my dream roles. It’s based on the true story of Garrett Richtfeld, a World War II pilot. I’ll be on location in England by the end of the month—”
“That’s based on that book Sacrifice, right?” Brad interrupted, his eyes excited when Zane nodded. “I love that book.”
“Dad, you’ve read it?”
“Sure. It’s a page-turner. Zane here even looks like him.”
Mark definitely had to get a hold of this book. He felt like a total asshole because his family knew more about the latest movies Zane had been in and the characters he wanted to play. He had some catching up to do. Maybe reading could distract him from the fact that Zane was going to be out of the country in less than two weeks. Come on! What was he supposed to do about that? A big fat nothing?
The family talked around Zane as he leaned over the magazine to sign. Mark fought back an unexpected tension in his throat as he memorized the man’s features. His chestnut hair was getting a little long in back, the ends curling under a bit, and his expression was entirely focused. Out of nowhere it hit Mark all over again that he was dating this man. This superbly talented, awesomely kind man. He flushed.
Wanting a moment to himself before he had to kick his own ass for sniffling like a baby, he offered to buy the next round. He wasn’t even three steps from the table before Reid piped up loud enough for the entire bar to hear him.
“Zane, you gotta tell me what it’s like to kiss Sophia Kirkland on the mouth.” So much for Zane’s anonymity. “I’ve wanted her since mom and dad got wasted and conceived me.” Their mom and dad smacked him.
***
“Looks like you drove him off.”
Christian grunted and ignored the nudge Kyle gave him. Mark wasn’t anywhere to be found—again. After dinner the night before, Christian hadn’t wanted to find him so he spent the day avoiding places he thought Mark might show up.
The man had him thinking about things in a new light that made him scared. He hated that and he couldn’t start questioning the decisions he’d made now. Life was going smoothly for once—so smoothly that Christian was able to ignore what he was missing out on most of the time. But telling Mark about that night with Kevin had clearly rewired things. He’d never once spoken of that night aloud. Shit, Christian didn’t even allow himself to think of it most of the time because it made him so agitated.
/> After a day of hiding, he began to wonder if it wasn’t a good thing to talk to Mark while he was close by; to have a sounding board, or whatever. Maybe Christian could get this heavy stuff out of his system. The more he thought of that, the more he wanted to see Mark.
“Guess he wasn’t queer,” Kyle snickered, turning to check out the ass of some college chick that was strutting by.
“Maybe I wasn’t his type,” Christian murmured. Because he wasn’t. There was no denying the hint of sexual chemistry between them—Mark even admitted to feeling it—but with two men, sexual chemistry was easier to navigate than the same thing in hetero relationships. If two men wanted a quick fix together, it was a lot simpler to go and get it knowing they didn’t have to worry about the other person picking out a favorite china pattern and settling in. Some women could get on board with that, too, but most of the women Christian knew were about relationships.
Mark didn’t want an anonymous fuck. He didn’t want to be a name and a number that was never called, hiding away in someone’s back pocket. It didn’t take Christian long to figure that out with the way Mark laid it down, either.
So there Christian sat, thinking about talking to him again and thinking about Kevin. Riding the wave of what-ifs. It was a lousy way to spend an evening and he blamed it all on Mark Newland.
Kyle was distracted by a group of girls at the bar now—begging the question of where his fiancée was—and Christian used the opportunity to leave. He was so sick of the guy and this lost bet was only one of the reasons.
Christian left the bar and made his way over the resort’s pathways to Mark’s bungalow. Of course he’d watched him to see where he was staying. Tired of being pushed around, he stalked straight up to the door and knocked, waiting impatiently to be let in. When the latch rattled and the door finally opened, Christian skipped back.
“Can I help you?”
He stared for a second at the balding, middle-aged man who was obviously just coming from the beach and checked the number on the door. “I’m sorry,” he stuttered. “I thought my friend was in this bungalow.”
Baldy shook his head. “We just checked in this afternoon.”
This afternoon? Mark was supposed to be here for the whole week and Christian definitely had the right bungalow. Did the fucker just leave? Without saying a word? He had to have already made these plans last night when they were eating together. What a bastard!
Christian apologized and made it halfway down the pier walkway before he was yanking his cell phone out and dialing.
***
Reid’s band hustled up on stage for the second set to the catcalls and cheers of the crowd and when he got to the mic, Reid grinned right at Zane and winked at Mark.
“Hey everybody—thank you so kindly for the welcome back,” he murmured as a few more girls up front whistled at him. He flexed his pecs and the same group started hooting. “While the guys get situated, I’m going to start us off with a song I’m dedicating to my brothers. Sean and Mark, this is to remind you of how much I know about you two and how I’ll always hold it over your heads.”
Mark flipped his brother off and Sean let out a whistle so shrill it made Zane’s ears ring. Reid started in on an intricate acoustic guitar solo that made it impossible to recognize the song—until he sang the first lines. Zane watched as Sean nearly spit his beer on the table and Mark gave a crack of laughter.
“Lost…in a dream. I don’t know which way to go…”
“Is that—”
Sean nodded. “Paula Abdul…Straight Up.”
Zane looked back and forth between the brothers, smiling. “Is this a favorite of yours or something?”
Mark and Sean both grimaced. “It was a really popular song, you know! A lot of people liked it.”
Reid was singing and working his guitar on stage and every time he got to the chorus, the crowd sang with him, including Sean and Mark. When he got to the part where Paula really gets grooving in the music video—Zane wasn’t going to admit he remembered it—Reid stopped playing altogether and clapped.
“Do-do-do-do-you love me…”
It was a genius cover song. Zane, who tried to never sing in public—or private for that matter—found himself murmuring the lines. He couldn’t help himself.
Watching Mark yell the lyrics at the top of his lungs made his breath constrict. See, here was a guy he wanted on every level. He wanted to whisk him away and always have him with him. That was made difficult since Mark was his own person and loved his job. It was just really hard knowing that they were going to spend most of their time apart. Starting tonight.
It was getting late and he either needed to hit the road or figure out a way to get Mark to come with him back to L.A. He knew the latter wasn’t really an option. Mark would be bored out of his mind waiting for Zane to come home from meetings when he could be enjoying the time with his family, the real reason he came to Bakersfield in the first place. No, Zane couldn’t ask him to come with him. That meant a shitty goodbye truck-side and no certainty of when they’d see each other again.
It was fucking Zane up.
The song ended to applause that seemed to shake the walls of the small bar. Zane glanced at his watch and frowned, his blood running cold. “Mark,” he called out over the din, “I’ve—”
“Gotta go…” Those green eyes met his and the regret, there made Zane’s gut ache.
“I’m sorry.”
Mark slowly nodded and reached to tap his brother’s shoulder. “Zane needs to hit the road,” he had to holler. “I’m going to walk him out.”
Sean twisted in his seat and offered his hand. He was on his way to drunk, so his goodbye was a little nicer than it might otherwise have been. “Listen, I’m really sorry about earlier. It was good to meet you.”
“Forget it,” Zane shot back. “Keep an eye on Mark for me.”
Mark moved to lead the way outside as Sean nodded loosely at Zane. With surprising agility, he pushed up from his stool and yelled in Zane’s ear. “World famous superstar or not, you fuck him up—”
“I know. You’ll fuck me up. I get it.”
“Excellent,” said Sean, folding back onto his seat as the band started up their next number.
The deep bass strains of With or Without You pounded through the room and Zane left Sean to push through the crowd and catch up with Mark. He tried not to be too aggressive, though he really wanted to elbow the heavy drinking and cheering people out of his way. His eyes were locked on the back of Mark’s head, that brown hair glinting in the light, and making Zane’s fingers strain to touch it.
Mark paused as though he heard what Zane was thinking and looked back over his shoulder for him. He raised his arm amongst the crowd and reached for him. Surprised at Mark’s willingness to touch him in front of this mixed group, he was moved with the urge to never again leave him. Since he couldn’t do that, he gripped that extended hand and corded their fingers together.
Zane felt… He felt so miserable. This was wrong. Leaving Mark was wrong. But he didn’t have any other choice right now. Zane had a lot of obligations that he simply couldn’t ignore. Mark understood this…Zane understood this… So why the hell did it seem like he was making a tremendous mistake?
“And you give yourself away… With or without you…”
Zane squeezed Mark’s hand hard and swallowed thickly when the man returned the pressure.
Fuck…
They pushed through the heavy door, the anguished sound of the guitar following them. Mark didn’t say a word, and in spite of the guys smoking outside who obviously weren’t accustomed to seeing two men together, he kept their hands clasped and headed in the direction of Zane’s truck. They’d arrived early enough to get parking on the street in a well-lighted area, so they didn’t have far to walk. Zane wished they could go on walking forever; down the street and into the night.
Once at his truck, Mark led him around to the driver’s side and waited for him to unlock the door, still unable
to meet his eyes.
“I’ve got something for you,” Zane murmured, his voice determined to give him away for the sad-sack that he was. He leaned over the bench seat to open the glove compartment, pulling out a rumpled copy of Sacrifice. “You said you wanted to read it so I brought it for you.”
Mark gazed at the cover and the dog-eared corners, testing the weight of it in his hands. He was definitely buzzed and far enough into that warm, loose place where every look at Zane seemed like an invitation. After a long pause he set the book on the seat and pulled Zane’s head down for a fierce kiss. His fingers were hot on the back of Zane’s head, weaving through the strands of his hair and adding more pressure to bring him closer.
Zane pushed roughly into Mark’s mouth with a heart-wrenching groan and wrapped both his arms tightly around his waist until they were melded together. His chest was pumping and neither of them slowed down, lips moving unrestrained over each other. Mark’s mouth tasted like beer and the sweetness of sex and surrender…
Why? Why is this so difficult?
The kiss ended much too soon and they held one another tightly, foreheads touching as they caught their breath.
Mark’s voice trembled as he whispered, “Don’t fucking forget that while you’re gone. Don’t forget about me.”
Zane lifted a hand to Mark’s neck and upward to his face, holding him tenderly. “Only if you promise to think about me…”
Mark kissed him again and pushed almost roughly out of his arms, taking the book as he walked around the truck bed to the curb. “Be safe, Zane. Call me when you get home—no matter what time.”
Saying “see you later” seemed totally inadequate. Zane was wishing there was some sentiment in between “I like you” and “I love you” that conveyed the weight of what he was experiencing in that moment. Nothing came to mind. Not one word.
He was scared of driving away. Of losing this chance. Of losing this man.
“I’ll call,” he said softly and climbed in his truck, starting the engine and shifting into gear automatically. When he pulled away from the curb, he waved and watched in the rearview as Mark returned it. “I don’t want to leave you,” he whispered, the words dying before they traveled inches from his mouth.
Question Mark Page 12