Action

by Quinn Anderson

  God, Pete was dense.

  Evan ran a thumb over Pete’s bottom lip. “You believe me, right?”

  Pete did. He really did. “Yes.”

  Thinking back on every interaction he’d had with Evan, he had no idea how he’d missed it. Christ, now that he thought about it, Evan was a romantic. Sending him song recs and goofy selfies, calling him in the middle of the night, and always saying, I miss you.

  Much as Pete still thought his flair for the dramatic had led to undue anxiety, he realized now Evan had told him in a hundred different ways that he loved him, and Pete had been too insecure to see it.

  “I’m so sorry,” Pete said. “I’ve been oblivious.”

  Evan smiled. “Yeah, but I like you that way. And hey, we managed to get both our first and second fights out of the way.”

  Pete snorted. “Yeah, and we survived both. Compared to the last fight I had with a boyfriend, that was downright congenial.”

  Pete waited for him to say something. When he didn’t, he looked at him.

  Evan’s eyes had gotten big again.

  Pete watched him warily. “What?”

  “Did you just say boyfriend?”

  Pete rolled his eyes. “Dude, we’re in love. I think it’s safe to say we’re officially dating now.”

  “I know,” Evan chuckled. “I just wanna hear you say it.”

  “You’re my boyfriend,” Pete said with feigned exasperation. “I guess that means I’ll be dealing with these sorts of demands all the time now, huh?”

  “Oh yeah, and all the dramatic exits I can dish out. Sound good?”

  “Sounds excellent.” Pete moved closer, forcing Evan to crane his neck up to look at him. “So, boyfriend, about staying in tonight . . .”

  A smile slid across Evan’s face and settled there. “You read my mind.”

  After a vigorous and frankly imaginative round of make-up sex, they hung out in bed, talking and laughing, until 10 p.m. rolled around. Pete suggested they either call it a night or migrate to Evan’s place. His mom would be home soon, and while he’d love for Evan to meet her, he’d rather not do it when they both reeked of sex.

  Evan proceeded to wrap himself around Pete like a four-armed octopus and demand that they stay together. Pete relented under fear of being squashed to death by someone who loved him, though he supposed there were worst fates.

  They got dressed, which inspired another round of demands from Evan—“You have to get naked the second we get home”—and this time Pete remembered to leave a note for his Mom. He tossed the hastily scrawled message onto the counter and left without looking back: With the Boyfriend™. Can’t wait for you meet him. Love you.

  Evan drove them to his place, and when they arrived at the apartment, they made it all of three steps in before they were undressing again, Scout and Sentry batting at their ankles. Somehow, they ended up in the cramped kitchen. It was Evan’s turn to get crowded against the sink while Pete wrapped long fingers around them both and got them off in record time.

  “Fuck,” Evan panted after, bleary with postorgasm hormones, “I love your hands. And your eyes. And you.”

  Pete couldn’t remember ever smiling so much.

  Their domestic bliss lasted all through the night and halfway through Evan making pancakes the next morning. Then, Evan’s phone vibrated on the tiny breakfast table shoved into the corner. They ignored it, busy as they were shoving food into their mouths. Until Pete’s phone buzzed next.

  They shared a look across the table. Only one person would be trying to reach them both.

  “Maybe she’ll give up,” Evan suggested.

  “Oh yeah,” Pete said, “and maybe Thelma and Louise were just really good friends.”

  Sure enough, when Pete’s phone stopped ringing, Evan’s started again.

  He snatched it up and cradled it between his shoulder and ear. “Morning, Colette.” He continued eating, but after a moment, he swallowed hastily and asked, “Why?”

  Pete mouthed, What’s she saying? But Evan waved him off.

  More silence followed. Whatever Colette was talking about, it must have been involved. Pete tried to edge close enough to hear, but Evan casually leaned away from him.

  He glared at him and fidgeted in his seat. Worst-case scenarios flashed through his brain: someone had died. Murmur Inc. had burned down. Heat Wave had received horrible reviews before it was even released. Or most likely, she’d found out about them somehow.

  By the time Evan hung up, Pete had worked himself into a dry-mouthed panic.

  He watched as Evan set his phone back down on the table, squirted some more syrup onto his stack, and took another bite, all without so much as glancing at Pete.

  “Well?” Pete demanded.

  Evan chewed, swallowed, and said, “That was Colette.”

  “Evan, darling,” Pete said sweetly, “will you pass me a butter knife so I can stab you with it.”

  “Sorry. She wants us to come down to Murmur Inc. as soon as possible.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “How can you not know? She talked a lot.”

  “She said she has something to show us. And as much as I hate to tell you this, because I know you’re gonna freak out—” he fiddled with his fork, rolling it between his fingers “—she knew we were together.”

  Pete went rigid. “How?”

  “I don’t know, but when I answered the phone, the first thing she said was ‘Tell Jaden that if he ever ignores my calls again, I will upload an outtakes reel of all his most embarrassing bloopers onto the homepage of Murmur Inc.’s website.’”

  Pete blanched. “Jesus.”

  “Yeah, and then she said to get our perky butts—her words, not mine—down to the studio. I asked why, and she sort of rambled on about production this and marketing that, and . . . I admittedly zoned out a little.”

  “Right.” Pete rubbed his temples. “So, we got called into the principal’s office, is what you’re telling me.”

  “Yeah. It obviously has something to do with Heat Wave.” Evan looked at him sideways. “It could be nothing, you know.”

  “Or it could be something.”

  “What could she do to us now? Filming has pretty much wrapped.”

  “She could fire us. She told us from day one that Heat Wave was her baby. If she knows we started dating during production, even though that could jeopardize our on-screen chemistry, she could be furious. She might never work with us again.”

  Evan set his fork down and reached across the table, covering Pete’s hand with his own. “It’s going to be okay.”

  “I’m more worried about you than me. I never planned to be in porn forever anyway, but this is your dream, and you’re new to the industry. Losing Murmur Inc. as a client this early in the game could be a career killer for you.”

  “I think you’re overreacting a tiny bit. Remember: Murmur Inc. doesn’t have any policies against office romances. And heartless business executive or not, Colette cares about the well-being of her people. She wants us to be happy and healthy. We didn’t do anything wrong, and we didn’t ruin her film. I don’t think she’ll screw us over just because.”

  “Okay.” Pete glanced at him. “You’re really not worried at all?”

  “Nah. I try not to stress about hypotheticals. Maybe she’ll fire us; maybe she won’t. Maybe we’ll get hit by a bus. Maybe you’ll end up becoming the next Steve Jobs, and I’ll be your trophy husband. Who knows? The point is”—he squeezed Pete’s hand—“we’re in this together.”

  Pete laced their fingers together. “Of course.”

  They finished eating breakfast, and after a brief interlude in which they petted Evan’s cats into submission, they headed out. When they pulled into Murmur Inc.’s parking lot, it was surprisingly busy. Colette must’ve been recruiting, because a dozen twentysomethings were smoking by the side entrance. The way they huddled together and looked over their shoulders every five seconds said it all: nerv
ous and new. It made Pete a little nostalgic. He smiled at them, took Evan’s hand, and sailed past them to the side door.

  They made their way up to the third floor, pulling apart just before they entered the main room. The office was as busy as ever. Pete almost took comfort in the familiarity of the moaning voices and the business-casual dress mixed with people in lingerie and latex. He was about to head for the recording booths—where Colette was waiting for them—when he spotted a familiar figure perching on a desk.

  “J-Joyce?” he stammered, eyes wide.

  Miraculously, she heard him over the din and looked up. Sure enough, it was Joyce, decked out from head to toe in pink lace. Six-inch black heels peeked out from beneath her long, folded legs. Her blonde hair had been stacked on top of her head, and her makeup seemed like it had been professionally done. She looked completely glamorous.

  “Jaden!” she chirped, beaming. “What a lovely surprise. And Kyle too.”

  “Hey, Joyce,” Evan said with a nod. He didn’t look half as surprised as Pete felt.

  “It’s Kitten now,” she said with a smile.

  “Kitten,” Pete repeated. “Nice choice. What are you doing here?”

  “Can’t you tell? I decided to give porn a try after all.”

  He shrugged. “I didn’t want to assume anything. What made up your mind?”

  “Colette finally talked me into it. Or at least, that’s my story. In truth, I was the one who called her.” She picked up a black riding crop from the desk and pointed it at Pete’s chest. “You had a hand in my decision as well, actually.”

  “I always suspected I was a bad influence.”

  She laughed, and there was such genuine joy on her face, Pete smiled back.

  “I’m serious. If it hadn’t been for that talk we had when I first let Colette use my house, I don’t know if I would have been brave enough to go through with it.”

  “Really? I feel like I made porn sound like a rough gig.”

  “You did, but I needed someone to be honest with me. If I’d walked in here expecting a fantasy, I would have been disillusioned within minutes. Now, I know to look at this as an opportunity to explore a part of myself I’d been holding back, and to share it with my fans. Which I already have quite a few of.” She winked.

  “I’m glad to hear that. I’m sure you’ll be enormously successful. We have a meeting with Colette right now, but maybe we can chat more when we’re finished?”

  “I’m walking into a shoot in a couple of minutes, but don’t worry, you’ll be seeing a lot of me.” She climbed to her feet, waved good-bye, and sashayed off toward the stairwell.

  Pete watched her go, a strange emotion filling his chest.

  Evan nudged him with his elbow. “What is it?”

  “I’m not sure. I think . . . I guess I see some of myself in Joyce—Kitten. Only I think she’s getting into porn for the right reasons, whereas I didn’t.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, lots of us are in it for the money, right? I am too, but I also took this job because I thought porn would fix something about me that I didn’t like.”

  “What?”

  He grimaced. “Not to get all psychological or whatever, but I thought porn would help me be more confident, and it did for a while, but it was a temporary solution. I needed to push myself and not rely on porn or Colette or even you. I think Joyce is doing this for reasons that are sort of like mine only way healthier, and she’ll be a lot more successful. You know?”

  Evan nodded solemnly. “I do. Now, tell me about your mother, Freud.”

  “Hilarious. Does that make sense, though?”

  Evan looked around and then gave Pete a quick peck. “It does. I’m glad for whatever part I had in your breakthrough.”

  “Me too. Come on. If we keep Colette waiting, she’ll fire us regardless.”

  They made their way to Booth One and walked into a scene that was in full swing. A man and a woman were writhing together on a chaise staged in the center of a fake bedroom. Cameras hovered all around them like shiny black bugs. The man was sucking on the woman’s nipples while she moaned rapturously, her curled hair spread out like a halo and her legs wrapped around him, each foot ending in a pointed toe.

  “She’s good,” Evan murmured to Pete. “He needs to watch how he angles his face, though. You can barely see him.”

  Pete nodded. “Amateurs. Am I right?”

  Someone tapped Pete on the shoulder. “It’s about time you showed up.” Colette.

  He spun around. “I was wondering where you were. Not directing this one?”

  “Of course not,” she said smugly. “If I were, it wouldn’t look like Jake is giving Brandy a mammogram.”

  “It’s so hard to find good help these days,” Evan lamented.

  “Enough chitchat. I called you both here today for a reason. Care to venture a guess?”

  Pete only half registered what she said, busy as he was watching Jake bury his face deeply between Brandy’s legs. There was something weirdly enrapturing about it. “Um, sorry, what?”

  “Just follow me.” She led them across the room, carefully avoiding getting caught in the camera angles. She opened a wooden door and ushered them into an office. It wasn’t her office; Pete had been there once before on the day he’d signed up to work for Murmur Inc., and it was both bigger and much more intimidating.

  “This is Yolanda’s,” Colette explained without prompting. “She wanted to be here for this, but I needed her elsewhere. Have a seat.” She gestured at two chairs across from the desk. They took them without a word.

  There was an impressive desktop computer in the corner, sleek and no thicker than Pete’s little finger. Colette touched the wireless mouse to wake it and then swiveled the screen to face them.

  “It’s not totally finished yet,” she began, tapping a key on the keyboard, “but I can share the highlights with you now that the footage has been processed, and the music accompaniments have been added.”

  She clicked on a video file on the desktop, and a black screen popped up. A film Pete would have recognized anywhere began playing.

  “Heat Wave,” Evan said needlessly. “I didn’t think it would be ready so soon.”

  “Like I said, there’s still work to be done, but I wanted you both to see the fruits of your labor.” She skipped the requisite adult content disclaimer in the beginning and jumped to the first scene: Pete and Evan standing together in Joyce’s living room. It was bizarre. Pete knew the footage had only been taken a couple of weeks ago, but he thought he looked completely different. Younger. And visibly unnerved by the beautiful man standing next to him.

  Evan experienced a sudden coughing fit. Pete would have bet money he was covering a chuckle.

  Colette skipped to the kiss—which was as intoxicating as Pete remembered—and then to the handjob scene. Pete tried not to squirm in his seat. The film was hot. The raw footage they’d seen previously had been good, but now that the lighting and saturation had been adjusted, it looked like a real movie. It was vivid and spine-chilling. And the soft music in the background added just the right atmosphere.

  It was more than that, though. As Colette skipped through more of the film to the final scene at the end—the afternoon date in the park—Pete realized there were definite aspects of art imitating life. He could see himself growing more relaxed around Evan with every scene change. In some places, he even swore he could see himself falling in love with him.

  And Evan . . . Evan was mesmerizing. Now that Pete knew what to look for, he saw again that Evan had told the truth about loving him from the start. It was evident in the softness of his eyes when he looked at him, at the carefulness of his touch. Even when they were having sex, there was something deeper there, something that all the good acting in the world couldn’t replicate.

  “Wow,” Pete breathed. “Ev—Kyle, you look amazing.”

  “I know his real name,” Colette said calmly. “No need to hide it from me. Though I w
asn’t sure if you knew it until just now.”

  Whoops.

  Evan chimed in. “You look pretty phenomenal yourself, Jaden. And your performance was spectacular.”

  Pete played it modest to compensate for his blunder. “Not at all. I was just trying to keep up with you.”

  Evan had a tender smile on his face. One of his hands flexed on his knee, and Pete suspected he was resisting the urge to reach out and touch him. “I thought you were unforgettable.”

  “Oh God,” Colette interrupted, groaning, “you two are totally dating.”

  Pete’s head snapped toward her. Fuck, were they that obvious? “Uh.”

  “Well . . .” Evan began, dragging the word out.

  “That wasn’t a question,” Colette snapped. She pinched the bridge of her nose, took a deep breath, and then slumped in her chair like a marionette whose strings had been cut.

  Oh shit, Pete thought. Here it comes.

  “It’s really not that big of a deal.” Evan’s tone was more than a little impertinent.

  Pete shushed him. “Don’t make her mad.”

  He shrugged. “Well, it’s not.”

  “Porn stars,” Colette groused, covering her face with her hands. “You’d think people who have sex all day would be better at keeping it in their pants. I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again: I lose my best actors to love.”

  “You haven’t lost us,” Pete piped up. “We’re not quitting or anything.”

  Colette’s fingers parted, and one long-lashed eye peeked at them. “You’re not?”

  “Of course not. Why would you think that?”

  “Happens all the time. It’s common enough for porn stars to date each other, or date people in the industry, and when things get serious, usually someone demands that someone else quit. Or they both demand it. Or they decide together that they don’t want to sleep with anyone else. Whatever the case, it’s bad for business.”

  “Is that why you tried to scare Jaden straight in the beginning?” Evan asked. He cocked his head. “Well, I suppose ‘straight’ isn’t the right word.”