by Vicki Tharp
Out of habit, Alex dug his foot next to the rubber, even though he was wearing his turf shoes instead of his spikes and the mounds in the complex’s cages were covered in AstroTurf instead of Beam clay.
“One more pitch, then you’re done for the day.” Gomez put the radar down.
Alex flipped the tip of his glove toward Ethan, the sign he planned on throwing a curve ball. When he made the pitch, he twisted his wrist and gave it a snap, letting the ball roll off the end of his middle finger.
Out of his hand, the ball traveled much like his changeup, except for the spin he’d put on the ball. The last few feet before the ball crossed the plate, the bottom dropped out of it, and Ethan went to his knees to block the ball.
“Ho, man.” Ethan tossed his mask to the side and stood. “That sucker was sick. If—”
Ethan cut himself off, but Alex knew what lay on the tip of his friend’s tongue. If you hadn’t left that curveball hanging over the plate, the Hawks never would have let you go.
Ethan met Alex halfway to the mound and shook his hand, bringing him in for a celebratory one-arm hug. “Thing of beauty, man. I should be paying you to let me catch.”
“Thanks, man. It felt good.”
Alex’s phone rang, but he ignored it as he helped pick up a few scattered balls. Then it rang again. Ethan finished packing up his gear and gave Alex a wave as he left the cage. Gomez sat on a bucket of balls against a wall, engrossed in his own phone conversation.
As Alex reached for his phone, a sense of dread washed over him. Most of his friends had given up calling, but he hadn’t heard from his parents. The news hadn’t been pushed through to the national outlets and his parents lived across the country now, but there was no way the news hadn’t gotten back to his father. His father was too plugged into the baseball scene not to have been told.
Or been given shit for it.
He should have called his parents when the story broke, but that hadn’t been a call he’d looked forward to, so he’d put it off, then put it off some more. And now, more than a week out... well, he’d figured his dad would call him.
But he hadn’t.
Which worried Alex even more.
Picking up his phone, Alex glanced at the call, but it wasn’t a number he recognized. He almost sent it to voice mail, but screening calls and hiding out had proved tiring.
You can lie to everyone else, but don’t lie to yourself.
Okay, so maybe there was that small part of him that secretly hoped the incoming call was Elijah reaching out. Not that Elijah owed him a thing, but it would have been nice to hear his voice.
“Hello,” Alex said.
“Hey, it’s Niko.”
Alex blew out a disappointed breath and dropped down on his own bucket of balls.
“You there, kid?”
With an elbow on his knee, Alex rested his head in his hand. “I’m here.”
“I’m sorry about what happened. We did our best—”
“None of that was your fault. I’m a big boy. I can take responsibility for my actions.”
“How are you holding up?”
Alex didn’t want to talk about it. Taking responsibility and talking about it when it had been the only thing in Alex’s head—except for a borderline migraine—for the past week were two different things. Talking about it would only lead to cussing... or crying.
He changed the subject. “What can I do for you?”
Niko didn’t miss a beat. “How about another scene?”
“Excuse me?” Alex’s voice squeaked. He glanced around. Gomez wasn’t paying him any attention, but he didn’t want his conversation with his porn director overheard. “Hang on a sec.”
For privacy, Alex climbed out of the cage, went around the corner, and walked to the end of a short hall next to a utility closet. “Say that again.”
“Black Stallion wants you and Elijah to shoot another scene together. I know the publicity has brought you a lot of heat, but if you’re smart, you can turn that to your advantage.”
“And yours.”
“And mine.” Niko didn’t seem put out by Alex’s rudeness or the blatant accusation that Niko was only in it for the money. Which, it was Niko’s business, so really what other reason would Niko have? “The on-screen chemistry you two share is off the charts. I saw it. More importantly, the viewers saw it. Even before this thing blew up in your face. Might as well make a profit from the mess.”
“I might hold out for the book deal.”
Niko laughed. It was short and sharp. “I like your attitude.”
“When?”
“Friday. The scene will be longer, more involved, but that means more cash up front as well.”
That was only four days away. And one of his training days with Gomez. He’d have to check with Gomez and Ethan to see if they could switch their schedule.
But Alex didn’t have to pull up his banking app to know how astronomically fast his rehab, coaching, and cage rental fees were draining his funds. And after how well he’d pitched today, he couldn’t afford to slack off now.
“I need the money. I’ll be there.” His stomach lightened, and his heart rate bumped up a notch at his decision.
You need the money. That voice inside his head nearly dropped to its knees against his brainpan, and laughed.
Money’s not the reason you said yes. You didn’t ask for details. What does ‘longer’ and ‘more involved’ mean?
The reason you said yes was six feet of muscle with a dick you can’t wait to get your hands on again.
The semi Alex now sported beneath his athletic shorts made it hard for him to argue against himself.
Gomez popped his head around the corner. “Hey, I’m headed out. See you Friday.”
Alex jogged down the hall after his pitching coach. “About Friday...”
Since Alex’s scene with Elijah wasn’t scheduled until midday on Friday after Darius, Grant, and Reyes shot a scene, Alex had opted to drive to the studio that morning instead of spending the night.
Now, he sat alone in his robe on a leather couch along the back wall of the Ready room with his hair and makeup done with only thirty minutes before their scheduled shoot time.
Alex’s leg bounced, and his attention span was too short to read a hundred and forty characters on social media. Where the hell was Elijah? He should have been there an hour ago.
Was he okay?
Or had he backed out?
A knock came at the door, and Alex glanced up, expecting to see Elijah, but it was only Sebastian and some other performer Alex had been introduced to earlier, Chet or Charlie or something like that. Alex hadn’t bothered to remember, he’d had Elijah on his mind.
The kid looked like he was fresh off the cattle car from Texas, dressed in his Wranglers, boots, western shirt, and a black cowboy hat. Complete with the over-sized silver belt buckle. Alex could practically smell the sage and shit wafting off him.
“Anyone heard from Elijah?” Alex went for a deceptively casual tone, but his tension made his pitch off.
“Yeah, he called not too long ago. Apparently, he had a test this morning that ran late. He’s on his way but hit a snag on the I-5. Niko said that if he’s not here in ten minutes, we’re going to have to shoot the scene without him.”
Alex bit back an emphatic curse, along with his urge to throw his clothes back on and walk out the door. Instead, he sat there with that sinking feeling as if a heavy weight had been strapped around his ankle and he’d been thrown into quicksand. If he hadn’t already signed on the dotted line that morning, he would have considered backing out. “Another solo scene then?”
He hated to give some of the cash back that Niko had handed him because no way a solo scene would pay as well as one with Elijah.
“Oh, no. If Elijah doesn’t get here, you’ll be doing your scene with Chet.” The smile on Sebastian’s face said, See? Crisis averted.
Chet stepped out from behind Sebastian and pushed his hat up onto his forehead
. He was short and muscular with a thick neck and arms. He looked like he wrestled steers and hauled bales of hay by hand just for kicks. No doubt Black Stallion’s customers would wanna get their rocks off to that piece of fresh, farm meat.
Too bad Alex didn’t.
That weight around Alex’s ankle doubled, and his chest got tight as if he’d sunk up to his chin in the quicksand. He didn’t want to do a scene with Chet. Contract or no contract, Alex had to say something. “Sebastian, can I talk to you a minute? In private?”
Sebastian took a step back, and Alex wanted to reach out and grab his hand to keep him from going. “I really need to get back to the set. Can it wait? Things are crazy this morning. Nothing seems to be going right.”
You can say that again.
“If I could have a second with Niko, I—”
He could what? Fuck. He couldn’t back out. Not only did he need the money, but that contract he’d signed had never specified who his scene partner would be. The only thing Alex had was a verbal agreement from Niko that his partner would be Elijah.
From down the hall, Cat called out a greeting. They all turned to the door. Elijah popped his head in, looking frazzled with his eyes wide and hair messy. “Sorry I’m late. Cat said it shouldn’t take her long to get me ready.”
Alex didn’t have time to greet Elijah before he disappeared again. But there would be plenty of time for that later. Elijah was here, and Alex didn’t have to do a scene with the country boy, that was all that mattered.
“You were saying?” Sebastian prompted.
Alex waved his hand dismissively and spared a smile for Chet. “Never mind.”
Ditching and robe and dressing for the scene, Alex breathed a little easier as if someone had thrown him a lifeline and dragged his ass out of the quicksand to safety.
No, not someone.
Elijah.
This time, Black Stallion used the middle set for Elijah and Alex’s scene, which had been staged to look like an office in a high-rise building. Complete with a sturdy desk, a matching white leather club chair and sofa, and a floor to ceiling window looking down over the New York skyline at night. It appeared so real Elijah had to walk over and touch the dummy window.
Sebastian placed a bottle of lube on a hidden shelf on the backside of the couch out of view of the cameras for easy access if needed. Then he stepped up beside Elijah at the window. “That view gave me vertigo the first time I walked on this set.”
“Does he always make his sets look so real? I mean that garage set Grant and the rest of them used the last time I was here made me want to bring my truck in for repairs, and there’s nothing wrong with it.”
“One thing you’ll learn about my uncle, he refuses to skimp on set design.”
“Everyone ready?” Niko called out. He glanced around. “Now where the hell is Alex?”
“Here.” Alex jogged around the corner from the hallway, his dress shoes slapping on the polished concrete. “Sorry,” he said as he adjusted the knot on his suit tie. “Cat had to help me with this thing. I haven’t had to wear a tie since the Grizzlies drafted me.”
Elijah stood there, drinking Alex in like a thirsty man who’d walked through the Gobi Desert and back again. These weeks they’d been apart had made Elijah reach for his phone more than once with the intention of calling Demetri to get him Alex’s number. When Niko had called Elijah up, asking if he wanted to do another scene with Alex, he hadn’t hesitated.
If nothing else, Alex knew how to fill out a suit. Much like the set design, Niko hadn’t skimped on the apparel either. That suit couldn’t be bought at a box or department store.
That was the kind of suit that could almost fund a semester at Elijah’s college.
Elijah had to avert his gaze before he tented his own suit pants. Unlike Alex who was all buttoned up, Elijah wore a dress shirt with the tie loosened, the sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms as if he were at the end of a long work day.
Which was part of the scenario Niko had spun out for Elijah and Alex: after hours at the office. Boss versus underling. The quintessential unequal power dynamic.
Near the back of the studio, Reyes, Darius, and some new cowboy dude pulled up director’s chairs and sat to watch. There was no sign of Grant, though Elijah had been told he was also back shooting that day.
“Alex, you’ll start offstage. When I say ‘action,’ you come through the door and let the scene play out the way we talked about earlier, clear?”
“Got it.”
Vin moved closer, shouldering his camera. “Are we shooting Alex from the neck down?”
“No. You can show my face,” Alex said. “That cat has already scratched and clawed its way out of the bag.”
Vin gave him a thumbs up. “Fine with me. Makes my life easier.”
Alex disappeared behind the set. Elijah had been running so late, he had hardly had the chance to say two words to Alex, besides what needed to be said for clarification for their scene.
He’d wanted to ask Alex how he was doing after the media blow up and to apologize for not giving him a call. Not contacting him had been a dick move on his part.
Vin came forward with the camera, and Niko stepped back. “Elijah, we’ll start with you behind the desk.”
As Elijah took his position, Sebastian came around the corner with a phone, his free hand covering up the mouthpiece.
Niko frowned. “What now, Bass?”
Sebastian’s nose scrunched up. “It’s Peter.”
“Jesus Christ,” Niko muttered. “What is it now?”
The shrug said either Sebastian didn’t know, or he didn’t want to say. Elijah figured being put in the messenger position between Niko and his boyfriend would be awkward. “He says it’s urgent.”
“That’s what he said the last time. And the time before that, and the time before that.” Niko’s voice rose with each word.
“You’re going to give yourself a coronary,” Sebastian warned.
Niko took a deep breath and then another, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“You want me to tell him you’ll call back after you’re done filming?”
“Yeah. We’ve been through this. He knows not to call me during the day.”
Sebastian walked off, speaking to Peter on the phone as he went, his voice velvet-smooth and cajoling.
Settling into his director’s chair, and to no one and everyone, Niko said, “Anyone who says age is just a number, is a liar.” Then to Vin, “You’re the one who told me that a twenty-year age gap wasn’t a big deal.”
“I’ve got to deal this to you straight, boss. The age gap isn’t the issue. Maturity is the issue. Peter is pretty, but he doesn’t have much to offer you besides smooth skin and a hard dick.”
Elijah waited for Niko to bark or bite, but instead, Niko threw back his head and laughed, clapping Vin on the back. “Touché.”
Then to everyone, Niko said, “Places, people.”
Darius whistled from the shadows, and Reyes cupped his hands around his mouth and hollered out, “Show us what you’ve got! No pressure, baby!”
Niko turned in his seat. “You boys beat it.”
“Awh, c’mon, man,” Darius grumbled, but he, Reyes, and the cowboy headed out.
Niko sat and wrapped a foot around the bottom rung of the director’s chair. “Action.”
9
Waiting for Niko’s cue, Alex stood in the near darkness behind the set, his nerves jangling, dangling, pinging, and ponging. He shifted from foot to foot and shook out his arms trying to dispel the nervous energy.
As much as he wanted to get his hands on Elijah again, this scene would push and shove his comfort zone into a tight corner, his adrenaline already drip, drip, dripping, sending him into that fight or flight mode.
Don’t. Scrote. Out.
Don’t scrote out. Don’t scrote out.
Don’t scrote out, don’t scrote out, don’t scrote out.
Alex stuck a finger in the collar of his shirt and t
ugged. He couldn’t get any air. What the hell was taking Niko so long?
He turned to walk back around the set and see what the hold up was when Niko call out ‘action.’
Alex put his hand on the doorknob, closed his eyes and took that heart-calming deep breath.
As his heart slowed and his mind cleared, the raging hard-on in his pants reminded him not only could he do this, he wanted this. He blew the breath out.
Niko had given him one line of dialog to deliver and wanted him and Elijah to ad-lib from there. Niko had given Elijah more instructions that Alex hadn’t been privy to, but Niko had told Alex to go with it. All the while reminding Alex they wouldn’t breach the terms of the contract as far as what acts they’d agreed to, and that they could stop the scene at any time if they grew uncomfortable.
Frankly, it sounded like a disaster move leaving so much of how the scene would go up to a couple of noobs, but Alex wasn’t the director, Niko was.
Niko called out ‘action’ again, and Alex walked through the office door. “You wanted to see me, boss?”
There. His one line, and he didn’t mess it up.
Elijah ran his hand down his red silk power tie and stood. That same wolfish, predatory smile from that first weekend had landed on his face again. Alex couldn’t tell if Elijah was acting or if the smile was real. “Close the door.”
Alex did as he was told. When he turned back around, Elijah was leaning against the front of his desk, his hands gripping the edges. With Elijah’s legs crossed at the ankles, the thin material of his dress pants couldn’t hide his erection.
Alex stuck his finger in his collar again, the sweat starting to bead along his hairline.
Damn, those stage lights are hot.
His brain whirred, thinking up what to say next as he stepped farther into the office. “Was there a problem with the reports, sir?”
“No problem.”
Think. Think. Think “If it’s about the overtime, I—”
Elijah stood and closed the gap between them, stopping well inside Alex’s personal space.
“I don’t have a problem compensating you for your time.” Elijah’s voice dropped, gruff and ruff with innuendo that made Alex’s balls draw up and his spit evaporate. “I called you in here to give you your bonus.”