Summer Stock

by Vanessa North

  Just like there was nothing to be done about stage fright, there was nothing to be done about these nerves either—except facing them down. He rushed through his morning grooming routine, skipped the coffee altogether, and headed out for the beach with a baseball cap pulled over his hair and sunglasses hiding his eyes. He hoped this time he wouldn’t be recognized by anyone.

  Except maybe Ferdy.

  He’d gone at least a half mile past where he usually ran into Trey, before the dog’s distinctive bellow called from behind him. He turned around to see Ferdy dragging Trey along the beach.

  “Let him go!” he shouted, surprising himself. Trey grinned and unclipped Ferdy’s leash.

  When was he going to get used to the sight of Ferdy hauling ass toward him, jowls flapping like wings, tail wagging like a propeller? This creature could probably take flight if he got going fast enough. And yet somehow, he managed to stop just short of Ryan and crouch into a bow.

  “Hey boy, hi Ferdy.” Ryan bent down to scratch the soft ears that seemed too small for the giant head. Ferdy snorted, sighed, and knocked Ryan flat on his ass.

  “Hi.”

  Ryan looked up at Trey and smiled. “Hi.”

  “I’m sorry I was a giant dick.” Trey reached a hand down to Ryan to help him stand.

  “I know you are. And I appreciate the apology. I listened to it about eleven billion times last night.”

  “I didn’t want to call again because you’ve been super busy. You got a minute to talk now?”

  “Call’s not until six tonight. I’ve got all the time in the world.”

  “Okay. So we’ll do this here?”

  Laughter bubbled up out of Ryan. “As long as ‘this’ isn’t going to get us arrested, sure.”

  “I realized I’d fucked up before the words were even out of my mouth. It was a bad, stupid, tasteless joke. I’m sorry I said it, not because I got the consequences I deserved, but because it hurt you, and I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Thank you. I accept your apology.” Ryan smiled. “And I’m sorry I didn’t call you back last night. I wanted to, but I fell asleep.”

  “No, that’s fine. My therapist and my sister both think I was sabotaging our relationship because I’m still ashamed of what Vincent did to me.” Trey squinted off at the horizon. “They’re probably right.”

  Ryan’s heart felt like it was going to break. “You don’t have anything to be ashamed of. You have to know that.”

  Trey nodded, frowning still. “Knowing something intellectually and really knowing it all the way to your bones are two different things. It’s a process—like learning a script.”

  “If you need someone to remind you, I’m here for that.”

  “What if I need someone to love me in spite of the way I put my foot in it when I’m scared? You got enough forgiveness?”

  And just like that, there was a lump in Ryan’s throat and he was nodding, and then they were kissing. His hat fell off, and he made a grab for it before laughing and crying into the kiss.

  He didn’t need the damned hat. Though he’d worn it out of habit, for all intents and purposes, he was out already, and he could kiss Trey on this empty beach and it wasn’t newsworthy anymore.

  He was free.

  Yeah, he still had to sort out his career—but his personal life? That was as golden as a Carolina sunrise.

  Ferdy nudged between them, and they broke apart, laughing.

  Trey tucked a wayward strand of hair behind Ryan’s ear, then picked up the baseball cap and eased it back onto Ryan’s head with an affectionate tug on the brim. “I know you’re living in the lap of luxury over at West’s place, and I understand if this isn’t something you’d like, but I would love it if you would maybe come spend some nights at my place too? We could watch old movies and cook tacos and have lots of really super amazing sex. Make the most of the time you’ve got left here.”

  “‘Really super amazing’? How much time have you been spending with Ali?”

  Trey scowled playfully. “One car drive and ‘really super’ has become an enduring part of my vocabulary. So, what do you say? Come hang out after dress tonight and maybe stay?”

  That was easy. “Yes.”

  “One word, and you knock the breath out of me.” Trey drew him into another kiss—one that hinted at things they would absolutely get arrested for doing on a public beach.

  “Hmmm, save that for later,” Ryan murmured, laughing.

  “Whenever you want.”

  “This is Ali Parker’s house?” Kim stared, wide-eyed, at West’s house as they pulled through the gate and approached the front. Ali had invited them for brunch—a perfect opportunity to introduce the two women.

  “Ish.” Trey smiled at his starstruck sister. “Technically West Brady’s house, but they’re together.”

  “Look at you, knowing more celebrity gossip than People magazine.”

  “I guess that comes from dating a TV star.” Trey scrunched up his face. “I honestly don’t know how that happened.”

  Kim laughed. “I do. He walked into the bar and you couldn’t take your eyes off him. And apparently, he has excellent taste.”

  Trey cut a side-eye at her and then walked around the truck to help her. As she stepped down, she winced and put a hand under her belly, taking a deep breath. Alarm shot through him.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” She rolled her eyes. “Having another human being moving around inside your body sometimes squishes things that shouldn’t be squished. Like your bladder. Or your sciatic nerve. Or your lungs. Or your stomach. Or your—”

  “Uncle.” He held up both hands. “I believe you.”

  “Don’t ask a pregnant woman if she’s okay unless you want to know.”

  “Lesson learned.”

  “Man, it stinks Danny is missing this.” She stared wistfully up at the house. “That front porch would give him ideas.”

  Danny had been called down to Savannah to the first bar he and Kim had opened together, when their manager had unexpectedly quit earlier that week.

  “Somehow I doubt this is the last chance he’ll have to meet them. Come on, I’ll introduce you to Ali.” He held out a hand to steady her over the sandy driveway, and she rolled her eyes again but let him take her arm.

  Ryan opened the door with a huge grin and moved in to kiss Trey—a quick hello with a smaller, intimate smile and a brief caress to his face. For a moment, Trey’s world was filled with nothing but Ryan—the clean smell of his body, the brush of fingers, the soft press of lips and the barest touch of tongue. He wanted to forget about brunch, drag Ryan upstairs, and kiss him until they were both hard and gasping.

  He wanted more time.

  Ryan pulled away with a searching look, but whatever he saw in Trey’s eyes just made his face go soft as he let go of Trey.

  He turned and took Kim’s arm. “Hi, Kim. It’s nice to see you again. You make a mean margarita—so if I don’t seem to remember much of our first meeting, please take it as a compliment to your bartending skills, and not, you know, personal. Now, let me introduce you to my best friend in the world—she’s been dying to meet you. And she’s put out an incredible spread.”

  Trey trailed into the kitchen after them, watching Ryan charm his sister, who laughed and blushed at the attention from an honest-to-god Hollywood star.

  Ali and Kim hit it off immediately, their excited chatter filling the kitchen. Ryan hadn’t been kidding—Ali truly had put out an incredible spread. The countertop island had been transformed to a magazine-worthy buffet—bagels with smoked salmon and capers, coddled eggs in tiny cups, enough fresh fruit to feed a dozen people, and beautifully folded, airy crepes, with small bowls of various fillings.

  “Wow—Ali, this is amazing.”

  “I didn’t make the bagels—there’s a little place on Main Street owned by a guy who moved down from New York. But thank you.” She came over and gave him a hug. “Have you met West yet?”

  An
impeccably styled man with black curly hair and bright-blue eyes stepped forward with his hand extended. Trey clasped it and let himself be pulled into a brotherly embrace. West was handsome in that old-school Hollywood way. More polished and reserved on first glance than Ryan or Ali, but when he smiled, pure mischief filled his eyes. “It’s nice to meet the man who tamed Bryan Hart.”

  Trey started to stammer out an answer, uncomfortably aware of how attractive West was and how out of place he felt in the man’s presence. Whereas Ryan—in his hippie sandals and frat-bro baseball caps—was comfortably, approachably handsome, West was . . . something else.

  Ryan cackled and slung an arm over Trey’s shoulder, whispering theatrically, “Don’t mind him, he’s too pretty for his own good, and he knows the effect he has on people.”

  “It’s nice to meet you too,” Trey mumbled, blushing.

  Taking West’s hand, Ali beamed, and the man’s smile went soft and smitten when he looked down at her, not intimidating at all.

  “Welcome to our home, Trey. Kim.” West gestured around him. “And thank you for joining us for brunch. It’s wonderful to be surrounded by friends on a Sunday morning. I’m not a religious man, so I don’t say grace, but I want to say that I’m thankful to have you all here.”

  “Amen,” Ryan said enthusiastically, earning himself an exasperated glance from West. “Let’s eat, yeah?”

  “Yes, please. I’m starving.” Ali started passing out plates. “Help yourselves, guys. There’s fresh-squeezed orange juice in the fridge, regular and decaf coffee on the counter.”

  Conversation over the table ranged from pregnancy—in detail Trey had no desire to know about but somehow became fascinated by—to the inevitable discussion of Shakespeare by the Sea and the decision to close after the season.

  “I wish they would let me help.” Ryan frowned, and Trey took his hand under the table. “But Mason won’t take money from me.”

  “Maybe you can find a way to help without offering money,” Ali suggested.

  “I’m already working for free. That’s a big deal. If I know Mason, he’s probably paying the other actors more than he would if I weren’t doing this pro bono, but there’s nothing I can do about that.”

  West steepled his fingers together under his chin, apparently lost in thought until he asked, “What exactly is the problem?”

  “Ticket sales are down,” Trey answered for Ryan. “They draw up the budget based on seating seventy-five percent of the house for each show, ad revenues, and local arts endowments.”

  “Right. That sounds pretty typical. I’m guessing the crew is mostly local and nonunion?”

  “Correct.” Ryan cocked his head to one side. “You’re not suggesting they cut crew?”

  “No.” West waved a hand. “No, I’m not. It’s good, from a sheer cash flow standpoint, that they can get nonunion labor, however—no offense, Trey—”

  “None taken—yet.” He just loved how the words no offense typically preceded something offensive.

  “—They would have more predictable, if higher, costs using union stagehands.”

  “I don’t know that predictability in costs is a problem,” Ryan mused. “I could be wrong, but I think costs tend to be fairly stable.”

  “But they aren’t getting the word out to enough theatergoers to get butts in seats, even with a famous star?”

  “They aren’t using his name in the advertising,” Trey pointed out. “So no one knows.”

  “Well, that’s—”

  “Bullshit, is what it is,” Ryan interrupted West with a scowl. “Mason’s bullshit pride.”

  “That’s not true. It was Caro’s decision.” Trey couldn’t let this be another bone of contention between Ryan and Mason, not when he knew the truth.

  Ryan’s mouth fell open. “Caro?”

  “Yeah, something about your privacy—but also about your reputation. She doesn’t want to exploit you.”

  “Exploit me? How the hell is advertising my presence here exploiting me?”

  “It sounds to me,” Ali spoke up, “that you need to take the decision out of their hands.”

  Everyone turned their attention to Ali, who shrugged. “It’s Ryan’s privacy, right? And Ryan’s reputation. It seems to me that despite Caro’s best efforts, you’ve still been photographed naked, outed on the internet, and speculated to be my baby’s daddy.”

  “So what have I got to lose?” Ryan grinned. “I like it.”

  “Like what?” Trey looked between Ryan and Ali, who were exchanging conspiratorial smiles. “What are you up to?”

  “I’m going to save my cousin’s theater. But I can’t do it alone. All by myself, I’m not a big enough story.”

  “And that’s where West and I come in,” Ali added.

  “Me? What do I have to do with it?” West looked as baffled as Trey felt.

  Ryan turned to West, hands waving animatedly. “How do you feel about doing an exclusive interview about the three of us? Our friendship, the baby coming. You guys coming here to support me doing a season of summer stock?”

  “Oh, I see where you’re going with this. Get the news out on the internet now—dropped in the middle of a bigger human-interest story, and people will be scrambling for tickets. I’m in. Anything you need.”

  “Who can we get to do the interview?” Ali mused. “Barbara Walters won’t even look at me until I’ve been clean longer than a few weeks.”

  “Too old-school anyway.” West shook his head. “A prime-time special needs to be recorded and booked out way in advance. You don’t want TV. You need clickbait.”

  “The BS Herald’s website couldn’t handle the traffic if this is as big as we want it to be.” Ryan scowled. “I hate to say it, but—”

  “No.” Ali shook her head. “Ryan, no.”

  “You guys are freaking me out with this psychic link shit,” Kim said.

  “Come on, Ali. They’re already here. I might even recognize the guy if I see him.” Ryan turned to Trey. “There are going to be questions about you. Are you comfortable being referred to as my boyfriend?”

  Trey’s heart felt like it was going to flutter out of his chest. “I— Of course. Are you?”

  Ryan leaned in and kissed him, hard, right there at the table. “Yes.”

  “In Gossip Miner, Ryan?” Ali’s voice went shrill.

  “Oh, hell yes.” Ryan grinned. “I’m not letting your ‘bisexual baby’ get more clicks than me.”

  “Mike is going to kill you.” Ali rubbed her belly and scowled. “If I don’t kill you first. It’s the principle of the thing.”

  Sobering up at the mention of his agent’s name, Ryan frowned. “If Mike can’t get work for an out bisexual actor, he probably shouldn’t be working in Hollywood. And he works for me.”

  Pumping his fist in the air, West practically roared. “Yes, he does. And it’s about damned time you learned that.”

  Ali shot West a withering glare. “Easy for you to say, you’re Hollywood royalty.”

  “And you and Ryan are my family.” West grinned. “He’s finally figured out who works for who. He pays Mike, not the other way around.” He turned to Ryan. “I’m proud of you, brother. Let’s make this happen.”

  Ryan helped West clean up the kitchen while Ali and Kim pored over baby furniture on their phones, occasionally asking Trey’s opinion on construction options and styles. They all huddled together on the sofa, two red heads and one brown; Ryan couldn’t stop smiling at the sight.

  “I like him,” West said. “He seems like a steady, upstanding guy. Cute too.”

  “He is, isn’t he?” Trey might not think of himself as cute, but Ryan had a hard time keeping his eyes off the man who had eased into his heart. “I’m crazy about him.”

  West bumped their shoulders together. “I’m glad you found someone.”

  With hardly any persuading at all, Ryan decided to go home with Trey for the night, so he said his good-byes to West and Ali, and climbed into the backseat of Tre
y’s truck.

  “Thank you for letting me ride shotgun.” Kim glanced over her shoulder at him as she buckled her seat belt. “And thank you both for introducing me to Ali—she’s wonderful. It’s so nice to have another woman nearby who’s in the same stage of pregnancy as I am.”

  The sweet smile Trey turned to his sister made Ryan’s heart thump heavier in his chest. God, he was falling hard. He was so caught up in fantasies about how he’d spend the afternoon and evening with Trey, he almost didn’t notice the red Toyota idling a few hundred yards down the street.

  The same red Toyota he frequently saw parked in that exact spot down the street from West’s front gate. The same red Toyota that frequently parked in the public beach spots while he was in rehearsal.

  “Stop, stop the car!”

  Trey slammed on the brakes. “What is it?”

  “I’ll tell you in a minute.”

  Jumping out of the truck, Ryan pulled up the Gossip Miner article on his phone, then marched over to the car and rapped on the window with his knuckles. The driver lowered it, looking sheepish.

  “Can I help you?”

  “Did you take this picture?” Ryan pointed at the photo of him and Trey kissing.

  “Yeah, so what? I was on a public street, it’s not a crime to photograph someone in public.”

  “I’m not mad about the picture. You work for Gossip Miner?”

  “I’m freelance.”

  “Yeah? Can you write?”

  “Of course. I’m a journalist.”

  “Journalist my ass,” Ryan scoffed. “Right now, you’re garbage. You go around trying to catch people in compromising positions so you can embarrass them for profit. But if you can write? If you’re any good at it? I can make you a journalist.” Ryan shoved his phone back in his pocket. “How would you like an exclusive interview with me, West Brady, and Ali Parker?”

  “For serious?”

  “If you can write—and I will be checking up on you—then we’ll go on the record about why I’m here, about Ali’s pregnancy, about my sexuality even.”

  “Hell yeah. If you go on the record—I could sell that anywhere.”

  “Give me your card.”

  The guy scrambled around in the glove box, fumbling with a card case and finally depositing a business card in Ryan’s hand. “Geoff Walsh. I’ve mostly done sports writing. The photography is a side hobby. Then when I found out you were in town—you know that picture in the Herald?”