by Gabbi Grey
“I’ll handle Lisette.”
She yanked her ponytail, and I winced. When I was little, my sister used to pull my hair. I was big enough that a quick smack would’ve stopped her, but something endeared about the action. She pulled on my hair when she was frustrated. I, being a good big brother, let her express her exasperation that way. Even after all these years, I remembered how much it hurt.
Janine stepped away and was almost out of sight when she turned back. “For what it’s worth, it’s okay to be attracted to him. He’s one of the good ones.” With that, she left.
Well, shit. Not approval, or even tacit permission, but a word of encouragement. And an opening to be honest with her about my sexuality. Taking a deep breath, I took a step but drew up short when Peter appeared. A man less comfortable I’m not sure I’ve ever seen. He gave a little aborted wave, likely realizing how silly the gesture was.
“I’m so sorry.”
Huh? “I’m the one who should apologize. I took you to the seawall. I…” Made him lick my ice cream? Yeah, that really sounded dirty.
“Look, Thomas, you’re a good kid, and you didn’t deserve this.”
Kid? Was he trying to put distance between us, or was he really mistaken? “How old do you think I am?”
He shifted from foot to foot, looking out toward the alley. “Like, twenty-one.”
I wanted to call bullshit but couldn’t because of my baby face. This wasn’t the first time I’d been mistaken for younger and wouldn’t likely be the last. “Did I strike you as that young?”
Now he met my gaze. “Maturity-wise? No, you seemed older. But everyone around here is protective of you, and you look, I don’t know, younger.” He ran his hands through his hair and again seemed surprised to find it so short.
“I’m twenty-eight.”
That brought him up short, and he did nothing to hide the shock.
“And I’ve been working in the business for almost ten years. I might’ve come from nowhere, but when I got down here, I worked hard to get a job in the industry. I wanted to join the union, make a decent living, and get a fresh start. I did all of those things and have ten years under my belt. Ten years of living in the city and being independent. Ten years of making my own decisions and being accountable to myself. Ten years of paying the bills and trying to make myself a better person.” Because I didn’t want to remember the screw-up I’d been before coming down here seeking the anonymity and camouflage of the big city.
“I didn’t mean anything by it.” His words rang hollow. He had meant something by it. He’d tried to put distance between us that didn’t need to be there.
“I’m fourteen years younger than you.” Better to lay it on the table, right? So there could be no misunderstandings.
“And I’m fourteen years older than you.” He kicked a pebble, and it skittered along the pavement.
Finally, at length, he met my gaze. “I’ve never come out of the closet. Never had a reason to.”
Holy shit. Had he just…? “I’m not asking you to. Just a photograph. A blip. In a day or two no one will remember it.” A chuckle bubbled up in my chest. This was an odd conversation because nothing could be done. Nothing except keeping our distance and letting things die down.
“I’ll remember it.” Another pebble. “I had a good time last night. Best in a damn long time. Too fucking long.”
Desmond Lau had died about seven months ago, so if that’d been his first night out, then, yeah, it’d been a long time. “I’m not out either.”
Holy fucking shit. I did not mean to say that out loud.
Now he met my gaze. “I kind of figured. God, I would never out someone, ever. And a simple statement from my press agent can clear everything up.”
The question was, why hadn’t he already done it? Issued a denial with a quick explanation? His eyes betrayed the reason. All the puzzle pieces fell into place, everything coming into sharp focus in that instant. Well, wasn’t that a kick in the nuts? “You want to use me.”
“Not use.”
Panic flashed through those green depths, and although I regretted my choice of words, he didn’t actually deny the plan.
He held out his hands. “I’m being selfish, but this could be my chance.”
“Chance?” I suspected I knew, but I wanted him to lay it on the line.
“To come out. Making this movie will raise questions anyway, but if I come out for the film, it’ll feel inauthentic.”
Big word. Huge meaning. “But if you’re spotted with a guy and come out, that’ll be authentic?”
“If we’re seen as dating, then yes, it wouldn’t seem like a stunt.”
I was in no way convinced, but arguing felt pointless. Because forces far greater than me were at work here. I could refuse. Let his publicist say it was a misunderstanding and all that shit. Eventually, though, now that Desmond was dead, he had no reason to stay in the closet. Or at least that’s what it appeared. “So we’ll date?”
How was that supposed to work? A few outings, some PDA, and then a nice kiss-off when the show was over? Too neat. Too easy. If I’d learned one thing, nice didn’t fit in a pretty picture. Life was messy. Emotions were involved, whether I wanted them to be or not.
“What do I get out of this?” Fuck, that came out wrong. Sounded harsh. Implied I needed some kind of monetary inducement.
“That’s a good question.”
He scratched at his stubble. Stubble hiding the most amazing jaw. Why they weren’t demanding he be clean-shaven was beyond me. Scruff on some guys was sexy, but he was better without the facial hair. Oh, hell, who was I kidding? He’d be sexy with the proverbial bag over his head. He was aging well, getting more attractive as time marched on. Inevitably the wrinkles would appear, but he’d wear them well, of that I was sure.
“What do you want to get out of it, Thomas?”
“Not money.” Better to get that out as quickly as possible.
“I’d have been surprised if you had.”
Okay, so maybe he had paid attention yesterday. I’d chosen a food truck over the most expensive restaurants in the city. I’d paid for the ice cream because I was big on equality, even if he could buy me a hundred times over. Well, likely a million times, but who was counting? “I want you to show me.”
His brow furrowed, and I longed to tap it again as I had yesterday. It’d been natural. And, thinking back, there’d been something between us. Apparently, we hadn’t been the only ones to notice.
“Show you?”
Go for broke. “Sex. I want you to show me sex.”
He didn’t laugh, for which I was grateful. My cheeks flushed, and my ears burned, but I wouldn’t yield on this one.
“Thomas, sex is complicated. Two people coming together intimately—”
“I think I’m a top.” Did I own a fucking filter? “But I could be a bottom. I mean…aw, shit…I tried it once, and I didn’t like it, but I was just a kid, and we didn’t know what we were doing. But I’ve watched porn, and I know I’d be better at it.” He didn’t have to know the reason I hadn’t enjoyed it. Huh. Perhaps I could withhold some things.
“Let’s leave sex off the table for now, okay? We haven’t even held hands, so I think jumping into bed might be a little fast.”
His eyes were kind, those little crinkles at the edges when he smiled. His smile faded a bit.
“You understand the ramifications of this, right? There’ll be a lot of scrutiny. People getting in your business, going after everyone you’ve ever spoken to.”
Got it. “Look, I’ve never had a boyfriend, so there aren’t any exes to give them dirt on me. You couldn’t have picked a cleaner person. Honestly, they’ll be bored after five minutes.” Unless they went digging around Prince George and talked to my family, but that was a stretch. There were still limits, right?
He bobbed his head. “Well, it wouldn’t matter if you had a hundred—it’s none of their business.”
Laughter again bubbled up. “Uh, Peter,
you’re one of the biggest movie stars out there. This is already blowing up the internet. You think this’ll die down soon? That makes you delusional.” Another big word. I knew a few but tended not to trot them out. Under the radar screen. I’d spent ten years trying not to get noticed except for the fact I was competent at my job.
A rueful chuckle escaped him. “Fair enough. I guess I hoped this wouldn’t be a big deal. My private life has always been very private.”
Now was probably not the time to tell him that his relationship with Desmond was a well-known rumor and that his coming out would be seen as confirmation of it. Yeah, I’d keep quiet on that one. “How does this work?” I wanted specifics. I also wanted to go back to work. Technically I was on the clock, and there were preparations to do before today’s shoot.
His eyes widened. “You know, I have no idea. Let me make a few calls, and I’ll get back to you.”
That sounded…ominous. When we stepped out from behind this tent, we’d be a couple. Somehow, I doubted a few phone calls would fix what was bound to be broken.
This time Tanya poked her head around. “Change of plans. We’re skipping the outdoor shoot today. The temperatures will be dangerously high and—” She snuck a look over her shoulder and leaned in. “—there’s more attention than had been planned for. Instead of calling in security personnel, we’re shuttling over to the studio. They’ve got most of the rooms set up already. Peter, you can run lines with Thomas while we drive you over. Come with me.”
Just like that? Shoots were never rescheduled—unless for dire weather—because of the expense involved. Everyone who showed up today would get paid. Some of the crew would move, of course, but a shit-ton of people here would be sent home.
Peter half-shrugged. “Tell them I’m sorry.”
Tanya’s grin was wide. “Oh, them getting paid for doing almost nothing will be appreciated. So will the opportunity to go inside today. Peter, I took the liberty of putting your bag in the SUV. Now ride’s waiting.”
I hefted my backpack and nodded. Something told me things were about to get a whole lot more complicated. We were in a stunt car careening out of control with nothing but a solid wall to stop us.
This was going to hurt.
Chapter Seven
As soon as we stepped out from behind the tent, the clamor began. Several photographers and one video camera focused their lenses on us. They hadn’t been there a few minutes ago, and hmm, they were within the security perimeter, although being held at bay by a large beefy guy and a smaller woman whose glare would cow anyone. I could smell a set-up a mile away, and the perfect example was before me. Who had orchestrated this? Lisette? The publicity people? My agent? Some combination of all of the above?
In a flash, I was certain what I needed to do. I grabbed Thomas’s hand and shielded him with my body as we got into the waiting SUV. He didn’t need my protection, of course, but it’d give off the signal they couldn’t walk all over me. That I protected what was mine.
And apparently Thomas was mine.
At least for the foreseeable future.
I still hadn’t figured out how I felt about this. The discussion had lasted all of ten minutes, and his central concern had been sex. Man, his honesty slayed me. He might not be a virgin, but he damn well acted like one. But I didn’t believe he was performing. Nothing to gain by claiming he had no former romantic partners if there were a closet full of them. The paparazzi were relentless. If something existed in his past, they’d dig it up. Did he really know what he’d signed up for?
“Thank you.” I angled myself toward him. His face was chalk white. Whoops, we still held hands. I let go reluctantly. He immediately secured his seatbelt, and I did the same. Safety-conscious to the last.
I glanced out the rear window, and two SUVs were behind us, likely from the studio. Didn’t look like we were being followed. For now. Wouldn’t take a detective’s license to figure out we were headed to the sound stage. The security would keep out the riffraff, but that didn’t mean a few stragglers wouldn’t wait around, hoping to get the money shot. Well, so much for being low-key.
Thomas gazed out the window as we headed across the Lion’s Gate Bridge toward the North Shore and the studio.
Lines, we were supposed to be running lines. I tugged my script out of my bag, belatedly realizing I didn’t know which scene we’d be shooting. There were several to choose from. I assumed it’d be one with Cole, so that cut down the possibilities. I had most of the lines memorized already, but another go at it wouldn’t hurt. Flipping to the first scene, I noted it was a sex scene. Okay, maybe the next one? Lounging in bed. The third? Great, an all-out brawl. We hadn’t worked with Donovan yet on the stunt choreography, so that was out.
Tucking the script back into my bag, I sighed. I’d find out once we got to the studio and could run lines while in makeup. My phone buzzed with an incoming text. Easily the fiftieth, and I could’ve ignored it as I had the others, but keeping the real world at bay a little longer appeared not to be an option.
I pulled the phone from my pocket. There were forty-two missed texts and six missed calls. One unknown number, three from my agent, one from my publicist, and one from my lawyer. What the fuck could she want? Did I want to know?
I was in the middle of popping off a text to my agent when the phone rang. Well, buzzed. I never kept the ringer on. If the matter was important, they could leave a message, and I’d get back to them. This call probably wasn’t one I could ignore.
“Hello L.J.” When I was feeling frisky and wanted to piss her off, I called her Lydia Jane. Today was not a day to cross her.
A long pause ensued, as if it surprised her that I’d answered the call. I was checking to see if the call disconnected when she sighed.
Shit.
“Look, I get it. I really do. Desmond’s been gone a while, and you’re lonely. But we could’ve arranged something, Peter.”
Ew, gross. God, that sounded repulsive. “This isn’t about sex.”
Thomas’s head snapped as he turned to me.
I held up my hand. “He’s a great guy, L.J. Nice and sweet. Yeah, he’s a PA, and I know not to—” I was about to say piss in the pool I swam in, but that was another ick. “—poach in my own backyard.”
Marginally better.
“He’s there, isn’t he?”
“Yeah, so maybe this isn’t the best time.”
“No, this is exactly the best time. Put me on speaker phone.”
Uh, this was a terrible idea, but I wouldn’t defy L.J. She’d been with me since the beginning, believing in me when no one else did. Pushing for me to get roles that I would’ve never been able to even read for if not for her. She was my closest confidante. As close to a friend as anyone in my life.
And she knew about Desmond.
I met Thomas’s gaze. “It’s my agent. She wants me to put her on speaker.” I almost wanted him to refuse to speak to her. As if that could somehow stop this out-of-control train, headed for a certain wreck. He nodded, and I pressed the button. “We’re here, L.J.”
“Hello, Thomas. My name is Lydia Jane, and I’m Peter’s agent.”
“I know who you are, ma’am.”
Oh, Jesus, that wouldn’t go over well.
“It’s L.J. We’re about to become very good friends, so ma’am won’t work for me. I assume I can call you Thomas?”
“Yes, ma…uh, L.J.” His eyes closed, and his cheeks pinkened. Adorable.
“Do you have an agent or a publicist?”
His eyes snapped open and met mine. “Uh, no. I’m just a PA.”
“You’re not just anything.” Her voice was sharp. “Are we clear about that? You’ve worked for the studio for ten years, and that shows commitment. You’re dedicated to your work and know dating Peter is against the rules, but you couldn’t help how you felt. Neither one of you can, got that? You’re crazy about each other.”
“L.J.—”
“Who takes care of you, Peter?”
“How long have you two known each other?”
“Three days as of today.”
Long-suffering sigh. Typical. “You’re telling me that yesterday was your first date?”
“Uh…”
“Yes, L.J.” Thomas’s words were strong and sure. “My idea to go down to the seawall. We had Greek from a food truck and then ice cream, as you saw. I even convinced him to try tiger tail.”
“What the hell is tiger tail?”
“Orange cream and black licorice.” The corners of his mouth turned up.
“Who the fuck would eat that?”
“Well—”
“Never mind.” Her fingernails clicked on her tablet.
The woman typed faster than anyone I knew.
“I want to set up another date for you. This time, dinner at a trendy restaurant where you can be seen.”
I shook my head. “We’re going to a hole-in-the-wall Italian place. They want to see us, it’ll be on the way out. God, I hate this shit.” I’d envisioned a nice quiet evening. Maybe a little romantic. Definitely just Thomas and me. Alone.
“Fine. Whatever. Text me the deets, and I’ll make it happen. You know Louis has been trying to get hold of you, right?”
“Yeah, I saw. When is he not trying to reach me?” Pretty much never. My publicist was always on me to do something. Anything. No bad press and all that shit. I was boring, and he didn’t like that. Well, tough shit. I paid him to keep things nice and even.
“Good luck with him, he’s on a tear. Something about you giving him the heads-up.”
“L.J., there was no heads-up to give.”
“I gather. You shooting today?”
“And every one for the foreseeable future.” They figured it’d take us just over two weeks to put the film in the can. I had scheduled for some downtime after that. I’d suspected this would be an emotionally draining shoot. Boy, had I nailed that one. Which reminded me… “There is one other thing, L.J.”