For a Good Time, Call

by Anne Tenino

  Nate. “Oh hey.” Seth winced inwardly at how welcoming he sounded. But Nate had surprised him. He couldn’t help that he’d done nothing but think about that kiss since Saturday— Stop it.

  “Hey yourself,” Nate said a little awkwardly. Cute-awkward, the way someone who wasn’t used to trivial social interaction would say it. Still rocking the cute-ward, Nate angled slightly toward Shannon. “Hey there, you play Justine in Frankenstein, right?”

  “So you’ve met Shannon?” Seth still felt obliged to tell her, “He’s part of the Wolf’s Landing crew, you know.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut and groaned, which Nate totally caught, so when she plastered a smile on her face and held out her hand to shake, he hesitated a second before taking it.

  “Sorry.” She grimaced. “I wouldn’t expect you to know, but I’m a reporter for the Bluewater Bay Beacon, and I was just telling Seth, um . . .” She rolled wild eyes his way, looking for help.

  Barely keeping himself from laughing, Seth saved her. “It’s okay, he won’t be offended.” He didn’t think. That was his gut feeling, but in truth he didn’t know the guy that well. I only know how his eggplant tastes and how it feels when he kisses my cheek. Jerking himself out of that line of thought, he turned back to Nate. “She was just telling me how tired she is of writing pieces about the show.”

  “I shouldn’t complain.” Shannon slumped over her glass. “I mean, the only reason I’m a paid reporter is because of Wolf’s Landing. We were too small before to have actual staff.”

  By then, Nate had relaxed, and it looked as if he was trying to not smile too broadly. “Believe me, there are things about the show I’m not too fond of—the producer for instance. But it’s got its good points. Speaking of—” he shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans and turned fully back to Seth “—would you like a private tour of the lot?” He winced, his cheeks turning pink above his stubble. “God, I did it again, didn’t I? I don’t mean that kind of private—but something other than the public stuff with the tram and the gift shop and the selfies in the interrogation room set. I could show you where Morgan and I work. How we build the effects for the show.”

  “Oh.” Seth blinked, surprised into single syllables. But it made sense, they were friend-guys, and guy friends hung out, right? “Yeah, that’d be cool.” The idea took hold of him as he answered, so that by the time he was done, he was grinning. “Fascinating,” he added, to prove he was multisyllabic when the occasion called for it.

  “Great! How’s tomorrow morning?” Nate had already been smiling, but now it was downright dazzling. At least, it made Seth feel like a deer in the headlights. Seth only half listened as Nate explained he had to get back to the set right away since he’d just nipped out really quick to buy a part at the hardware store . . . something like that. Seth’s mind seized on the fact that Nate was essentially playing hooky to come talk to him. Do guys do that for just friends?

  Well, he didn’t know, did he? This was his first purely platonic experience, wasn’t it?

  He kissed my cheek.

  Yeah, and Lucas kissed me hello the other night.

  Nate was stepping back from the bar, leaving, and Seth lifted his hand in a wave. “Bye.” God he was a teenager, wasn’t he?

  “I’ll call you with the details.” Nate nodded and turned, making his way toward the door.

  Seth only watched him halfway there before he felt Shannon’s stare boring into the side of his head.

  “We’re just friends,” he blurted.

  “Uh-huh.” She snorted, then took another swig of her mimosa.

  Yeah, he wouldn’t have believed that, either. He couldn’t fix it now, though, so he went back to work, or not-work, rather.

  “He’s very nice to look at,” Shannon said approvingly as Seth cleaned up his juice-making mess, preparing to go into the kitchen to mix up the grenadine that had been going to save him from thinking incessantly about Nate. Didn’t work.

  “Seriously.” He paused, sighing and meeting her eyes for a second. “He only wants to be friends.”

  “Could have fooled me,” she muttered, as she dug through her purse. “Here, will this cover it? I don’t need any change.” She handed him twenty-five dollars. “Thanks, Seth, and if it makes any difference, he couldn’t do a lot better in his choice of friends.”

  Blinking, he stood there stupidly as she left and her words sunk in. Did he deserve them? He wasn’t sure he did. Nate had made the friends-only thing very clear, even answering Seth’s prying questions about his past relationships, and in return Seth had still been reading sexual intent into every action the guy made. Analyzing every action to see if there was something deeper.

  Now, that seemed kind of rude. Misleading, even. Would Nate have asked him to the set if he realized Seth was mooning about that stupid kiss on the cheek? God, he was repeating the night they met. Not listening to what Nate was actually saying, but hoping for more.

  He didn’t want to be that kind of friend. He wanted to be real friends, whatever that might mean. Okay, he resolved, no more reading into everything. I’ll take him at his word.

  Which meant he really needed to make grenadine, now, to keep himself from repeating the pattern.

  For about half an hour, Nate was certain Seth wasn’t going to show. On the other hand, he’d headed over to the gift shop forty-five minutes before the time they’d arranged to meet, so in case Seth showed up early, he wouldn’t feel like Nate was standing him up.

  He seriously needed to get a grip. For Chrissake, he was on the downhill slide to forty, not a fricking teenager. Yeah, but today’s average teenager probably has about ten times as much dating experience as I do.

  Then Seth was there, climbing out of a white Honda sedan, and when he caught sight of Nate, his face lit with the smile that made Nate’s knees wobble. Just for a second, but still—an unmistakable wobble. Yep. Grip definitely needed.

  He took a deep breath and walked over to meet him, doing his best to at least impersonate an adult. “Hey. Glad you could make it.”

  “Yeah.” Seth glanced at the chattering crowd clustered around one of the tour trams. “I’ve never visited the set before. Do we have to buy a ticket and get on that bus-let?”

  “Nah. You’re getting the special tour. Maybe not as exciting, if you’re a big Wolf’s Landing fan— Wait, are you a fan?” God, maybe he’d planned this whole thing wrong.

  Seth chuckled, shoving his hands in the back pockets of his jeans. “No. No worries there.”

  “So you won’t be disappointed if you don’t see the stars?”

  “Nope. I’ve served most of ’em lunch enough times that the mystery is over. I’d rather find out what you do.”

  “Okay, then. Right this way.” They walked through the gates into the compound proper, Nate lifting a hand to the security guard.

  Seth paused once they were inside the fence. “Whoa. This place is a lot bigger than I thought. I didn’t think there was enough room in this part of town for buildings that big, let alone this many of them.”

  “Does it bother you, Hollywood taking over your town?”

  “I may live here, but trust me, I don’t take ownership. The rest of my family, now, that’s another story.”

  “They haven’t gone Hollywood, eh?”

  Seth snorted. “Not likely.”

  “You know, back in the early days of silent film, when the industry was just getting started, the original residents of Hollywood felt the same way. They used to put up signs in businesses and boarding houses that said ‘No Movies.’”

  “What, just to let people know they didn’t have, like, a multiplex inside?”

  Catching Seth’s teasing smirk, Nate chuckled. “‘Movies’ was what they called folks who worked in film. Old Hollywood was not excited about all the riffraff, although there were plenty who took advantage of it too. The ones who weren’t barring the doors were throwing up shacks on their lawns and renting them out to would-be actors—who mostly spent
their days in corrals at the studios, hoping to get tapped for extra work.”

  Seth grinned at him. “So you study Hollywood history too, along with Bluewater Bay and Larson genealogy?”

  Heat rushed up Nate’s throat. God, he probably looked parboiled. “I’m just . . . fascinated by history, by connections. My mom raised me, and she didn’t have any extended family. I guess I was always looking for a place to fit in. One of my online genealogy friends is the Hollywood expert. He’s a little enthusiastic, so I’ve picked up some tidbits over the years.”

  Seth took a half step closer and nudged Nate’s arm with his elbow. “It’s cool.”

  Nate put his hand on Seth’s back to steer him between the two new soundstages toward the warehouse. Warm, even through his jacket. Nate was tempted to sustain the touch, but when Seth shot him a startled glance, he dropped his arm to his side.

  “Do you miss Hollywood? I mean this has to be a little different.”

  “A little. But I didn’t get involved in the industry until I was an adult, and it was . . . unexpected.”

  “Unexpected? Jeez, I thought a career in film and TV had to be practically engineered from birth.”

  “From birth I was expected to work in live theater. My mother is a director—Shakespeare, and if you want to talk about snobbery, try convincing a Shakespearean scholar of the value of a TV show about werewolves.”

  “So why didn’t you do that?”

  “I almost did. Graduated with a degree in technical theater. Had a job offer from a rep company in Chicago.”

  “Chicago isn’t exactly next door to Hollywood. How’d you end up out west?”

  “I met my father.”

  Seth winced. “Oh. Right.”

  “He was an agent for years. My tech theater skills translated well enough to film and TV work, and Dad had the connections to get me in the door. I worked SFX on several of Levi’s films and—” he opened the warehouse door and gestured for Seth to go inside “—the rest is history.”

  Seth peered up at the distant ceiling with its banks of fluorescent lights. “Now this place I recognize, although it’s had a major facelift since it was the boneyard for Bay Building and Salvage.” He nodded at the workshop wall, two-thirds of the way across the building. “It used to be one big empty space. Well, except for the metal shelves full of second-hand toilets and reclaimed bricks. The racks of costumes are an improvement.”

  “Back in the early days, this was the original soundstage, so it was still open. Once the show took off, though, and they built the two new ones, they turned this place over to the art and tech departments.”

  “I remember that, I think. Didn’t they used to rent out space in that creepy industrial park out by Holly’s Haus of Imports?”

  “Yeah. Transportation was a real pain in the ass, apparently. Better to have everything on the lot.” He led the way into the workshop and closed the door. “Morgan and I do most of our fabrication in here.” Nate pointed to the giant fans high overhead that vented to the outside. “It’s closed off from the rest of the building with double-thick walls and has serious ventilation, because the materials we work with are kind of toxic. The prosthetics team uses it too, and the costume department when they need to chemically distress costume pieces for a character like Max Fuhrman, who always looks as if he just crawled out of a blender.”

  Seth goggled at the fans. “Jesus. Those things are the size of the propellers on the Titanic.”

  “Yeah. And they’re not even enough. We use the big portable fans too, when we’re working with the really nasty stuff.”

  “It’s not . . . I mean, sure, it’s dangerous, but it’s not like dangerous, is it?”

  Nate grinned, Seth’s obvious concern warming him. “That’s what protective gear is for. Sometimes we look like we’re suited up for a space walk. Come on. I want to show you the storage area.”

  “I want to show you the storage area”? God, could he be any more awkward? That either sounded like another inadvertent double entendre or the lead-in to the most boring segment of an IRS tax archive tour. Yeah, what guy could resist that kind of temptation?

  Seth, however, didn’t lose the look of bright-eyed interest he’d worn since he arrived. His evident curiosity was irresistible, and Nate had to force himself not to edge closer.

  Morgan walked in from their tiny office, carrying a sheaf of the oversized paper they used for storyboarding stunts and effects. “Hey, Mr. Bartender. Welcome to our crazy world.”

  “Seth, this is Morgan Fitzgerald. Morgan, Seth Larson.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “Larson?”

  “Not that Larson.” Nate grinned at Seth. “The Bluewater Bay Larsons.”

  “Well then, that’s all right, and since you’re not useless—here.” She handed the drawings to Seth and grabbed his elbow, steering him over to the corkboard that ran the length of one wall. “Nate, get the pushpins. We don’t have much time.”

  He grabbed a box of pins off the supply shelf. “Time for what?”

  “Time to set the stage.” She took the first rendering from Seth and waggled her fingers until Nate handed her a couple of pins.

  Seth peered at the first picture as he handed her the second one. “Did you draw these? They’re really good.”

  She beamed at him. “Thank you, sugar.”

  Nate frowned at the sketch of the set with the glass corridor he’d been complaining about for two days. It had somehow acquired a row of exterior windows that hadn’t been present before. “Did the script change?”

  “No. But I want to see if we can get Ginsberg to at least pretend that a stunt scares him.”

  “Good luck with that,” Nate muttered.

  Seth fumbled the next drawing before handing it to Morgan. “So . . . Ginsberg? He’s one of the guys that runs the Burnt Toast B&B, right?”

  Morgan nodded. “Part owner. He’s also the stunt double for Carter Samuels, one of the show leads.” She gestured to the storyboard. “So what do you think?”

  Seth peered at the pictures. “Holy shit. Is he on fire when he falls off that ledge?”

  Her grin grew wider. “Yes, indeed he is.”

  He walked back to the beginning of the series and tracked the sequence. “So he crashes through three of those big panes of glass . . . then falls through the hole in the floor . . . and smashes that desk . . . and the wolves drag him up the stairs.” He turned to her, wide-eyed. “Four flights? And then comes the fire and the fall?”

  She tilted her head, considering. “Hmmm. I might have overdone it just a smidge.” Morgan turned to Nate. “But Gins was super disappointed when a guest performer got to do that big fall a couple of seasons back.”

  “He may have been relieved,” Nate said. “Didn’t he have a broken wrist at the time?”

  She waved her hand in dismissal. “It was definitely disappointment. Trust me and play along.”

  Just then, Ginsberg bopped into the room with his usual jaunty stride—his own, not the walk he used when he was eerily copying Carter’s movement patterns. “Hey, guys. You wanted to see me?”

  “Hey, baby.” Morgan enveloped Ginsberg in a hug, which he returned with interest.

  Seth sidled over until he was standing right beside Nate. Play along? he mouthed.

  Nate brushed his fingers across the back of Seth’s hand and shot him what he hoped was a reassuring smile while they waited for Morgan to disengage. “Don’t worry,” he murmured. “He won’t be mad at you.”

  Seth flashed a quick grin, accompanied by a shrug. “Why should I be worried? I’m not the one setting the dude on fire.”

  Nate moved forward to slap Ginsberg on the shoulder. Time to improvise. “So, Gins. We’re working up our build lists for the FX for the season finale, and we’ve got a . . . ah . . . continuity question for you.” He caught Morgan’s approving nod out of the corner of his eye as he pointed to the storyboard. “Do you remember whether that desk you smashed in season two was the two-pedestal faux-oak model or
the green metal institutional type?”

  Ginsberg laced his fingers together behind his back and strolled over to the storyboard, studying each panel for a good fifteen seconds before moving on to the next. Nate forced himself to avoid Morgan’s gaze for fear he wouldn’t be able to keep a straight face.

  He made the mistake of glancing at Seth, though, and his breath caught. Seth’s lips were slightly parted, his eyebrows quirked above eyes that fairly sparkled. Anticipation. That was what it was. He digs this. I bet if we’d filled him in, he’d have been on board one hundred percent. If Nate hadn’t already felt drawn to Seth, that look would have sealed the deal.

  Ginsberg reached the last rendering. “Nice try, guys.”

  Morgan didn’t so much as blink. “What do you mean?”

  He snorted. “Nate never touches anyone but you, Morgan, so that was weird enough, but a continuity question? Seriously? Since when do you guys not have every detail documented in your notes? Even if I hadn’t already seen the script, I might have bought it if it weren’t for that.” He sauntered toward the door. “But this sequence looks like way more fun. I bet we could get Hunter to sign off on the change. Later.”

  He strolled out of the room, humming the Wolf’s Landing title theme.

  “Well, shee-yit.” Morgan propped her fists on her hips. “That didn’t go the way we’d planned.”

  Seth choked on a laugh. “So that whole thing really was just you two messing with him? That’s excellent!”

  “Unfortunately, the whole thing backfired.” Nate yanked a pushpin out of the cork and lobbed it across the room to the worktable. “Damn it, now we may actually have to build this stuff.”

  “That guy is either totally brilliant or completely whack.” Seth shook his head. “I mean, getting tossed out a four-story window on fire didn’t tip him off, but the question about the desk did? And he prefers the dive of flaming death?”

  “That’s Ginsberg for you.” Morgan tilted her head, studying the storyboard. “Good thing I decided to leave out the plunge into the giant vat of ice water.”

  “I’m surprised you restrained yourself,” Nate said.