Chasing Stars

by Cody Ryder

  Christopher reached out and plucked the glass of wine from the husband's hands and swallowed the lot of it in two gulps. Then took the wife's glass and did the same.

  "Thanks for the drink," he said, turning.

  "Uh…"

  He walked away and heard the sound of running footsteps behind him. He felt a tinge of anger. Goddamn, these people.

  "Wait! Christopher!"

  Christopher stopped at the sound of Jackson's voice, and spun around. He jogged up to him. "Wait," Jackson repeated.

  Christopher was surprised and happy to see him, but refused to let it show on his face. "I am waiting," he said flatly.

  "Can we talk?"

  "Wasn't that what we were doing? You didn't have very much to say."

  "I know, I'm sorry. Can we go somewhere?"

  The elderly couple stared at them, obviously thrilled at their chance to witness some celebrity drama firsthand. Christopher grabbed Jackson's wrist and tugged him along. "C'mon…"

  He pulled him into the elevator and hit the button for the fourth floor, and the heavy doors rolled shut, blocking the view of the nosy couple.

  "What do you want to talk about?" Christopher asked, leaning against the wall of the cramped elevator as it shuddered and began its ascent to the fourth floor.

  "I owe you an explanation," Jackson said.

  "You don't owe me anything, Jackson," Christopher said. "But it would be nice to hear it."

  Jackson took a deep breath and slowly let it out. "The reason why I dislike Hollywood so much is because I grew up in it. I know what it does to people, and I decided a long time ago that I didn't want to have any part of that."

  "What do you mean you grew up in it?"

  "My dad is a producer."

  Baker… Christopher went through his mental list of people, trying to think of a producer with the last name of Baker. He couldn't think of any, none that he knew of, at least.

  "Okay. Well, I understand your personal reasons for not wanting to become involved in movies, but I'm still trying to figure out what that has to do with you and me. You don't think you can be with me because it'll be too high profile, and you won't be able to keep it from your parents? Or is it because you think that by being with me, it'd bring you back into that world? Or… because you think that I've been tainted by it?" He thought of his arrest and the tabloids and all the other stupid bullshit and realized that he was tainted by it. He’d been able to show Jackson his best self here, thanks to the isolation and freedom from the rituals of his Hollywood celebrity life.

  It was the person he wanted to be. He no longer wanted to be the guy crashing his Porsche and getting arrested for possession of drugs that weren't his.

  "No," Jackson said. "That's not it at all. It's because of my dad."

  "Your dad," Christopher repeated, incredulously. "I'm sorry, but your dad just sounds like an asshole. You can do what you want, Jackson. You know you don't need to ask his permission, right? You don't need anyone's permission to live your life how you want to."

  "I know that," Jackson said. "And I've come to the realization that I'm not going to let him define who I am. But it doesn't change things, because of who he is."

  Jackson looked at him with pained, pleading eyes, and Christopher felt a knot form in his throat as an impossible thought entered his mind.

  "Who is he?" Christopher asked, his voice thin.

  "My last name, my real last name, is Wardlow."

  Christopher froze up at the sound of it, like he’d been plunged into ice-cold water. Then, suddenly, the elevator shook and ground to a halt just as the lights flickered and died, plunging them into pitch darkness.

  Sixteen

  Jackson hadn't even been able to say his name, he felt so ashamed.

  The last thing he saw before the power cut was Christopher's shocked eyes, stretched open into wide circles. Then, blackness. He heard Christopher gasp and felt him grab his arm.

  "Oh no," Christopher said. "Oh no. Oh no."

  "The power went out," Jackson said.

  "I can fucking see that," Christopher said. He was breathing heavily.

  Jackson pulled out his cell phone and turned on the flashlight, which did a good job at illuminating the cramped elevator. Christopher was pale, and Jackson could see his forehead was dotted with sweat.

  "Oh my God," Christopher said. "You've gotta be kidding me."

  "Just breathe, we'll be okay," Jackson said. Christopher looked ill, like he might throw up or pass out, or both.

  "We're stuck," Christopher said.

  "Christopher.” He took his other hand and squeezed it. It was cold and clammy. "Listen to me, we'll be okay. Breathe."

  Christopher sucked in and blew out deep breaths, and Jackson pushed the emergency call button on the elevator panel. Nothing happened. "Okay, no problem," he said. "The power is out, so that's why I can't call."

  "Oh God. What if it's just the elevator that's broken, and nobody knows we're stuck in here? We could be trapped for hours. Maybe even days."

  Jackson could feel Christopher's pulse racing.

  "That's not going to happen," he said. "We'll be fine, okay? I'll call the lodge and let them know. Their landline should still be working."

  He dialed their number on his cell phone, silently praying the call would go through. He could see Christopher was on the verge of a panic attack. Jackson remembered how agitated he’d been after finding out they were stuck at the lodge.

  He felt a wash of relief when Amy answered the phone, and confirmed with her that lightning had caused a power outage, and they were working to reset the breakers and get everything up again.

  "It'll be back in no time," he told Christopher, who was trying to take slow and steady breaths.

  Christopher nodded, and wiped the sweat from his forehead.

  "Let's sit down," Jackson suggested, and they sat cross-legged on the floor.

  "Jesus," Christopher muttered. "I really don't like being trapped."

  "I know, I remember."

  "What the fuck? Your dad is Gregory Wardlow?"

  Jackson stared at Christopher for a moment in surprise. Then he laughed—he couldn't help it. The sudden switch back to the topic had popped a bubble of nervous tension.

  Christopher smacked Jackson's leg. "Hey!" he said. “You’re fucking laughing?” But then he laughed, too. "God, what a fucking nightmare. It has to be a nightmare, right? Because that's just too fucked up."

  "It is… I know, it is. But I swear to you, I had no idea what your relation was to my dad until I decided to look you up on the internet today."

  "Oh God." Christopher rubbed his face. "That's embarrassing. So, you saw it all?"

  "I read about the Oscars incident, and I saw something about the DUI."

  "Your dad never mentioned what happened? That some crazy motherfucker named Christopher Lawton punched him in the face?"

  "I don't see my dad very often, and I definitely don't look up entertainment news, so I had no idea. Actually, I spoke to him on the phone this morning to tell him about the landslide, and he told me about his nose. But that was it." He snorted. "You know what I asked him? I said, 'Did you deserve it?'"

  "Damn right, he did."

  "I know," Jackson said. "You have no idea how horrible I feel about it."

  "Don't feel bad because your dad is a terrible human being," Christopher said. "You've got nothing to do with that, or with him. You might be his son, but that doesn't make you a bad person."

  He knew that, but it felt reassuring to hear it coming from someone else, especially Christopher. "So, I think you can see my problem," Jackson said.

  "No," said Christopher.

  "No?"

  "I get your apprehensions about Hollywood, I really do. With a guy like Wardlow for a father, it's no wonder you hate it so much. But that shouldn't stop you from doing what you want. No, you can't let him stop you."

  "I know," he said. "I know what I should be doing, but… And what about you?"

/>   "What about me?"

  "Don't you care that I'm his son?"

  Christopher reached out and took both of his hands. They were still cold and sweaty. "I could give less of a shit about that, because from everything I've learned about you the past two days, everything you've told me, I know you're nothing like him. You don't even want anything to do with him. And you know what I respect? I can tell you care about him, even though he is the way he is. You're a good person, Jackson. A way better person than I am, that's for certain."

  Jackson felt something loosen inside, like a knot coming undone. A shiver went up his back and spread through his entire body. Tears welled up in his eyes again. Dammit, why did he have to cry so easily?

  He'd spent so long dealing with this complex of living in his father's shadow. His brothers had totally embraced it and were willing to become carbon copies of Dad, but he'd refused. But breaking away from a man as influential and powerful as him meant battling self-doubt at nearly every corner of life. He'd often felt like he had no one in his corner, no one who could understand, because so many people wanted to be in his position. You're so lucky. Don't you see how lucky you are? Life is easy for you.

  But God, it wasn't.

  "I'm going to do it," Jackson said, his voice trembling with a determination he hadn't known he could muster. "I want to write your movie."

  Christopher's mouth dropped open. "You do?”

  Jackson nodded. "Yeah. I need to, and I want to."

  Christopher pulled him into a tight hug. "Thank you. Oh my God, Jackson, thank you. I promise you, you and I will change people's lives with this movie. We can help people, just like us. You won't regret this decision."

  "On one condition," Jackson said. "You have to come out publicly. And I will too. We'll come out together."

  He looked into Christopher's eyes and saw the flickers of fear, doubt, and then finally, strength. He nodded, and a tear streaked down his cheek. "Okay. Okay."

  Jackson squeezed his arms around Christopher, holding him close. He closed his eyes, and his body swelled with warmth and the greatest sense of relief he'd ever felt. Christopher kissed him. "I'm so glad we met," he told Jackson.

  The elevator jolted, and the lights flickered back on. Motors churned to life and lifted the elevator another several feet, a bell chimed, and the doors opened.

  "Oh," Jackson said, staring out of the elevator. "There we go."

  "Thank God. Honestly, I was barely holding it together."

  They got up from the floor and walked hand in hand to Christopher's suite. "Let's not take the elevator again," Christopher said, and they both laughed. They plopped down onto the couch, the laughs coming so hard that their sides hurt, and Jackson grabbed Christopher and hugged him tightly as he fought to control his fits of laughter. He felt so relieved, and happy, and so incredibly free. It felt like the Jackson who had emerged from that elevator was a completely different person from the one who'd stepped into it.

  Seventeen

  "So, are we a couple?" Jackson asked Christopher. Christopher’s sides still hurt from laughing, and he rolled over on the couch and slid his arms around Jackson's waist. Lady trotted over to say hello, her tongue lolling out the side of her mouth.

  "That's what we agreed to, right?" said Christopher.

  "I just wanted to hear it," Jackson said, smiling. Christopher felt a little thrill at knowing that he was going to be seeing a whole lot more of that beautiful smile.

  "We're a couple," Christopher said, and he pushed his lips to Jackson's. "As of right now, we're together. And I couldn't think of an easier decision to make."

  Jackson laughed and kissed him, and Christopher wrapped his legs around him, wanting to be as close as he possibly could. He pulled kissed his neck, drawing in a breath of his intoxicating scent. Jackson's laughter turned to soft murmurs of pleasure as Christopher slipped his hand into his pants.

  "Go to your bed," he commanded Lady, who was lying by the couch, watching them with a curious eye. She got up and trotted off into the bedroom.

  Jackson laughed. "Don't like prying eyes? I thought you'd be into having an audience."

  "Not my dog, you fucking weirdo," Christopher said as he wrestled with the button of Jackson's jeans. He tugged them off then kicked off his own pants. Jackson stripped off Christopher's shirt before losing his own, and Christopher wasted no time getting reacquainted with the taste of his cock.

  He happily pushed open Jackson's thighs and drew his lips over his head, flicking his tongue across it. Jackson moaned and grabbed a fistful of Christopher's hair, holding him firmly on his dick.

  Their pleasure matched their joy, and they reveled in the fact that they were together, and the wonder that they had even found each other in the first place.

  Jackson drew his cock from Christopher’s mouth, panting as he whispered, “I want you inside of me.”

  After unrolling a condom onto his length, Christopher pushed himself against Jackson’s entrance. He leaned in and kissed him as he moved his hips forward and felt delicious heat envelop him. Jackson’s brow furrowed and his jaw dropped in a silent look of both hurt and pleasure. He threw his arms around Christopher’s neck, clinging tightly to him as he pushed inside, deeper and deeper.

  Christopher’s eyes fluttered and closed. He’d never felt such closeness with anyone before, a perfect union of spirit and body. It filled him with an ecstasy he’d never experienced in his life, a powerful electricity that sparked up deep inside of him like bolts of lightning. He moaned and clutched at Jackson’s body as he thrust inside of him, and they were one, both encapsulated in their bliss.

  Jackson began to stroke himself as Christopher fucked him. Their eyes met and locked in an intense gaze. Jackson’s fingernails raked Christopher’s back. The thrusts came quicker now, deeper and more furious. Their grunts and cries filled the room, unrestrained. And when they climaxed, they clutched each other tightly and fell into the cushions, a couple of quivering messes gasping to catch their breath.

  The rain pounded down outside the window, and thunder boomed loudly over the lodge. Their romance felt like it belonged to the storm, an unpredictable force of nature that had blown in without warning.

  Christopher was thankful for that damn storm now. Without it, Jackson would already be gone from his life.

  The following day, they woke to a pattering drizzle as sunshine pushed through thinning rainclouds, like a stretch and yawn in the morning. Christopher looked to the other side of the bed and smiled at the sight of Jackson's sleeping face. He slid out of bed and dialed the front desk.

  "Good morning, Amy," he said. "I'd like for you to send up a breakfast cart to my room. Oh, and, um. Could you please send one to the room of that elderly couple staying here as well? Tell them that it's from Christopher Lawton. Thanks. You're the best."

  He hung up and went into the other room. Lady yawned and got up to follow him for her breakfast. He filled her bowl and dialed Pamela. Wouldn't she be surprised?

  "Christopher," Pamela said.

  "Good morning, Pamela."

  "I've got some news on your friend over there," she said. "And before I tell you, I just want to say that I had no idea, and it's just a crazy fucking coincidence, so don't fire me, okay?"

  Christopher laughed. "Relax, Pamela. He's Wardlow's son, I know. The cat came out of the bag last night."

  "It did? Jesus. Please tell me you didn't cause a scene."

  "No… Everything's fine. In fact, he’s agreed to be my writer."

  "O…kay…"

  "There's too much to explain. But don't worry. I trust him completely."

  "Okay. If you do, I do. And I checked out the book, by the way. He’s a good writer. Whether that will translate to a screenplay, I guess you'll find out."

  "I'm confident it will," Christopher said. "Things are gonna be different from now on, Pamela. You don't have to worry about me when I get back. Clean slate, no more fucking around. I'm gonna get this movie made. Things are gonna be ok
ay."

  "I'm glad to hear that, Christopher. Really am. You know I’ve always believed in you."

  "Thanks, Pamela."

  "I'll be in touch."

  He hung up the phone as Jackson walked into the room, stretching. He wore nothing but underwear, and his hair was frazzled from sleep. He looked completely adorable, and Christopher marveled at the fact that this was only their second morning together. No, really it was their first morning together. The first of many. It made him giddy to think about, but also slightly nervous, in a good way. The challenges ahead of them were immense. They were not only going to try and make a movie together, they were going to face the scrutiny of the public. The entire world would know about the both of them.