Wild Trail

by A. M. Arthur

  * * *

  Wes flittered around the apartment Wednesday morning, in a strange place between happy to have seen Mack and upset on his behalf. The weight of that secret had to have been crushing for Colt, and while Wes hated Colt on Mack’s behalf, he also kind of grudgingly understood why Colt had kept quiet. What good would telling have done?

  Still, Mack had been lied to, and he’d come to Wes for comfort. Comfort that Wes was pretty sure he’d handed out well, because Mack had left that morning with a smile on his face. Miles commented about the lack of sex noises, and Wes simply told him that Mack was having a personal crisis. Miles didn’t press further, and he’d left a few minutes ago to go grocery shopping.

  And in between the happy and upset, Wes had a little bit of annoyance tucked in there. Mack’s arrival and momentary assumption that Wes was cheating on him still stung a bit, even if he did understand it, after hearing more about Geoff’s behavior. And Mack had seemed to believe him when Wes said he didn’t cheat.

  Wes didn’t have to work until one o’clock. The dinner show wasn’t until six, but he also waited tables for the lunch crowd, to make the job full-time. Without those hours, he’d be broke. He nosed into the fridge, already hungry for lunch. His phone rang with an unassigned ringtone, so either unknown caller or old contact.

  The name on his screen startled him. He took the call with an unsteady hand. “Hello?”

  “Wes, it’s good to hear your voice again,” Tracey O’Keefe said in her familiar, California-sunshine voice. “How are you, hon?”

  “Um, I’m doing well, and you?” Why in the holy hell was his old agent calling him out of the blue, after having no contact for at least seven years?

  “Can’t complain. I just booked one of my girls on a three-month arc on a soap, and you know how hard those are to break into.”

  “Yeah, I do.” Wes had tried, but never got any callbacks. “What’s up? I know you aren’t calling me to catch up.”

  “You’re right. I was contacted today by a producer who saw you acting in a stage performance up there in San Francisco, and he’s totally interested in you for a movie he’s making this fall.”

  Wes nearly dropped his phone. He dragged his stunned ass over to the dinette set and sank into one of the chairs. Blood rushed in his head; adrenaline made his heart pound in his ears. “Can you say that again?” he asked.

  “A movie, hon. It’s got a decent budget, a name lead, and he wants you to audition for the second lead.”

  This isn’t real. I’m still asleep. I’m dreaming.

  “Who, uh, who’s the other lead?” Wes asked. She told him, and he gasped. The guy he’d be acting with had had his breakout role last year in a low-budget indie film that ended up getting a lot of attention on the festival circuit. “How did this producer even know you were my agent?”

  “Oh, he called your boss at the dinner theater,” Tracey replied. “Obviously, he wouldn’t give out your personal information, but he had my information there as one of your professional references. That was supersweet, by the way.”

  “You always did believe in my acting abilities.” And even after the debacle with Drake went down, she’d tried to get him work. Tried and failed, until Wes had given up on his Hollywood dream and fled north.

  “And I still do. This could be your new in. A chance for Westin Bentley to have a brand-new career in Hollywood. It’s a four-month shoot in Georgia, but the post-production will be handled here in LA.”

  Four months in Georgia. Four months on the other side of the country from Mack, to whom he’d made so many promises. But this was a huge chance for Wes. Surely Mack would understand that?

  “Send me the script,” Wes said. He could at least read it, right? That didn’t mean he was flying down to audition, right?

  Tracey squealed. “Give me your address, hon, and I’ll one-day express it up to you. Get back to me as soon as you can, so we can set up the audition.”

  “I will, thank you.”

  After he hung up, Wes pinched himself on the arm. Hard. Nope, not dreaming. That call really did happen. His old agent was sending him a script for a mid-budget film so he could prepare for an audition. After years of making do in small stage productions and live dinner theater, his old dream was once again peeking at him from a distant corner, urging him toward it.

  He must have sat there staring numbly for a while, because he didn’t move again until the front door opened. Miles walked in with two reusable grocery bags and didn’t seem to see Wes until he’d taken a few steps toward the kitchen.

  “Hey,” Miles said, his friendly smile dropping. “What happened? Is Mack okay?”

  “He’s fine.” Wes cleared his throat, surprised by how hoarse he was. “It’s potentially amazing news, I’m just having trouble processing it.”

  Miles put the grocery bags on the counter. “What kind of news?”

  As Wes detailed the phone call, Miles’s eyes got wider and wider.

  “Holy shit, that’s fantastic!” Miles hauled him up and into a quick hug. “I’m so happy for you. Seriously.”

  “I’m happy, too, but I can’t believe it happened. I mean, who gets picked out of a dinner theater performance by a Hollywood producer?”

  “Models get picked up in malls all the time, dude. Embrace how amazing you are. Obviously this guy loved you. And I can’t believe your co-star. I’m so jealous you’ll get to work with him.”

  “If I nail the audition. And I haven’t even seen the script yet. What if it’s terrible?”

  “What if it’s amazing? Come on, usually I’m the one seeing the negative in shit. You’re allowed to be happy about this.”

  “I know, and I am, but I can’t get my hopes up. I did that once, and I crashed and burned.”

  “Okay, I get that. Have you told Mack?”

  Wes frowned, then shook his head. “Not yet. I don’t want to tell him yet. I mean, I need to read the script first, if nothing else, before I say anything.”

  “How do you think he’ll react?”

  He’ll want me to succeed. He’ll want me to follow my heart, even if it takes me to the opposite coast for a while. Right?

  “I honestly have no idea,” Wes said.

  And that was the God’s honest truth.

  * * *

  On Saturday night, Wes was stoked to get home and see Mack, who was bringing them a very late dinner of Thai takeout to enjoy before shenanigans ensued. Maybe a little too eager, because Miles kept shooting him dirty looks on the bus ride home. They usually were able to leave the restaurant at the same time and go home together, since public transit was easier than bothering with a car, but sometimes the kitchen ran overtime and Wes left alone. And okay, he was probably really annoying, being all eager to see his boyfriend, but whatever. Miles’s bad day couldn’t take the shine off Wes’s happy.

  At least Miles had promised to make himself scarce once they got home.

  Mack was lingering outside the apartment door when they got to their floor, and the smile Mack threw his way was ten-thousand-watt. As if just the sight of Wes made his day better, and that had Wes’s heart beating harder in his chest. Seeing Mack again gave him a fluttery feeling behind his breastbone.

  “Hey, you,” Wes said.

  “Hey back.” Mack kissed him lightly on the lips. “You look good.”

  “Good enough to eat?”

  Mack’s eyes shined. “Oh yeah. After noodles.”

  Miles opened the door and flipped on the lights. Mack took the white bag of takeout over to the dinette set and started unpacking it. Wes shucked his shoes, then went to the fridge for refreshments. He fetched a beer from a newly purchased six-pack for Mack and the open bottle of wine for himself. Miles puttered around long enough to make a sandwich and pour a glass of water, then he retreated to his room.

  Wes found a bottle opener, then
handed Mack the beer. “Surprise.”

  Mack took it, his lips quirking up. “You bought beer for me?”

  “Sure. You didn’t seem fond of wine, so I thought I’d get something you’d enjoy, and that would help you unwind.”

  “Thank you.” Mack kissed him again, a little longer this time. “After the week I’ve had, this means a lot.”

  Mack had texted a few times about some issues with the site, but hadn’t gone into any great detail. “Wanna talk about it? I’m a good listener if you want to vent,” Wes said as he poured himself a glass of wine.

  “Just a lot of delays from the county over permits.” Mack opened up a carton of pad Thai. “We can’t break ground until we’ve got them all signed off, and no one will tell me why they haven’t been approved. Everything we submitted is to code, my foreman made sure of that.”

  “That sucks ass,” Wes said as he sat in the other chair. He inspected one of the cartons and nearly came on the spot. “Drunken noodles? Oh my God, I love these! Did I ever tell you that?”

  “I may have conspired with Miles to find out what you like,” Mack replied, unable to hide his joy at Wes’s reaction. “It was worth the extra effort.”

  “You know, you don’t have to suck up in order to get laid tonight. I’m a sure thing.”

  “Not sucking up. Think of it as me thanking you for Tuesday night.”

  “You don’t have to thank me for that, but I’ll never turn down drunken noodles.” Wes dug in, stupidly excited over such a simple thing. “So how do you get your permits finalized?”

  “Gonna have to go to the office on Monday and rattle some cages. Maybe if I make enough noise, they’ll tell me what I missed so I can fix it, or sign the damned things so we can move forward. Judson’s hired two new hands, so today was my last official day working for the ranch.”

  “Oh wow. How do you feel about that?”

  “I’m excited, to be honest. This project is... It feels right, you know?”

  Wes loved hearing Mack talk about the restoration. His joy over the project shone in every word and gesture, and—wait. “Judson hired two hands?”

  Mack swallowed the vegetables he was chewing. “Yeah. Arthur’s memory is slipping a bit more frequently on certain things, so Judson does the interviews now. Arthur still approves the hiring, of course, because those horses are his life. He just isn’t as hands-on in the process.”

  Okay, that was so not what Wes meant, but the memory slip thing was interesting. “Did Colt quit the ranch?”

  “He tried, but no. I may still be pissed at him, but I told Colt he could do the electrical, and I won’t go back on my word. So as of today, he’s temporarily my employee.”

  “You think that’s going to be awkward?”

  “Awkward as hell, but Colt’s a professional, and so am I. We can work together.” Mack sounded determined, so Wes let it go.

  Wes helped himself to a Thai egg roll. They ate in companionable silence for a while, and Wes debated filling it by telling Mack about the film script. He’d gotten it on Thursday and read it quickly. The film had surprised him. Not only was it a well-written, apocalyptic zombie thriller, but both of the male leads were openly gay. And they both lived. And they fell in love!

  He loved the character he was auditioning for. Paul was smart, funny, had quippy one-liners that had made Wes laugh out loud while reading, and even though Paul was the more effeminate of the two, he never once needed to be rescued by Michael, the bigger, more athletic lead.

  It was the gay, zombie, anti-princess film Wes never knew he needed.

  Miles had read it, too, and loved it for all of the stereotypes it broke. And then Miles had said that if Wes didn’t audition for this movie, Miles would.

  But Mack was frustrated with his own project tonight, and Wes didn’t want to make their time together about him. After he called Tracey and booked the audition, he’d tell Mack. Because then it was actually a thing that was happening, instead of a distant maybe.

  * * *

  Mack hadn’t realized the exact thing he needed to calm the anxiety ball in his belly was to be near Wes again, doing something as simple as eating Thai food and talking. It was so domestic and easy, even though they were such different men. An actor versus a cop. A joyful spirit versus a cynical grump. But somehow they worked.

  Opposites attract, right?

  They cleaned up the food like a couple who’d done it a hundred times, wiping the table and refilling their drinks. He still hadn’t quite gotten over how thoughtful it was of Wes to buy Mack’s brand of beer. Mack liked knowing there was something of his in Wes’s apartment, to show he was part of Wes’s life even when he wasn’t around.

  Once the kitchen was tidy, Wes turned to him, smirking over the rim of his wineglass. “Whatever shall we do now to occupy ourselves?”

  “Let’s watch a movie,” Mack replied.

  Wes’s eyebrows shot up. “A movie?”

  “Yeah. I don’t have to be anywhere tomorrow, for a change, and we’ve never sat down and watched TV together.”

  “This is true. I guess we really have been all about the sex and comfort, but not the simple dating things.” Wes grinned. “A movie sounds great. What do you like to watch?”

  “Believe it or not, I’m a fan of the classics. Humphrey Bogart, Cary Grant, Katharine Hepburn. Also Alfred Hitchcock.”

  “So not much for contemporary screwball comedies?”

  “I’ve gotta be in the mood, but there are some pretty amazing older comedies. It’s just a different kind of humor. More polite, less raunchy.”

  Wes settled next to him on the sofa, then grabbed the remote. “I’ve watched some of the classics for my acting classes. How about we take turns with what we pick? Get to know each other’s taste in movies.”

  “All right.” Mack snagged the remote, happy to see Wes had a good streaming setup going. He searched until he found one of his favorite Cary Grant comedies.

  “Father Goose?” Wes said. “Is this about nursery rhymes?”

  Mack chuckled as he selected the film. “Hardly. It’s about a grumpy old loner whose quiet life is upended by a beautiful woman and a bunch of kids.”

  “Sounds like a familiar plotline to me.” Wes leaned over and kissed him soundly, tasting like wine and Thai spices. “Do they make it in the end?”

  “We’ll have to watch and find out.”

  By the time the film ended, Wes had given up on his wine because the movie made him laugh so hard. Mack adored watching the joy the film brought to his boyfriend.

  “Oh fuck, that was so good,” Wes said. “I took an acting class once that required us to study the acting style of an older actor and mimic it for the class, and I did Cary Grant from His Girl Friday. I didn’t realize he was so fucking funny, even as he got older.”

  “It’s one of my favorite movies if I’m having an off day. How about you? What movie always picks you up?”

  Wes didn’t even pause to think. “Enchanted. Where Amy Adams plays a cartoon princess come to life and falls in love with Patrick Dempsey, and then saves the guy from the evil queen.”

  “I remember ads for it but never saw it.”

  “Well, then I guess we’re watching it the next time you sleep over.”

  Mack chuckled. He liked the idea of making future plans with Wes. “We’ll have to keep taking turns watching each other’s top ten movies when we’re together. Should keep us busy until Christmas.”

  Wes’s easy smile wobbled. “Yeah, sure.”

  Okay, not incredibly enthusiastic, but maybe Wes was more interested in bedroom shenanigans than in a lot of movie viewing. “I’m sure we’ll find good ways to keep ourselves entertained.”

  The flirty line did its trick as familiar teasing fire lit up Wes’s eyes. Mack was very much on board with moving things into the bedroom. “I’m sure we will,�
�� Wes replied.

  Mack fixed on the smirk he’d discovered turned Wes’s crank. “Got any idea what we can do with our time now?”

  Wes licked his bottom lip. “Whatever it is, I hope it ends with your dick in me.”

  “Oh, it will, boss. It will.”

  Wes pounced.

  “Excellent news, daddy.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Wes ignored a soft pang of guilt over never mentioning the movie script when he and Mack finally parted ways on Sunday afternoon. After having sex into the wee hours of the morning, they’d slept in, and then fucked again before finally getting out of bed. Wes’s ass had been delightfully tender when they went out in search of food. Mack found a cute little bistro with a rainbow flag in the window, and they served a delicious brunch menu, complete with mimosas. They rode the trolley, because Mack never had. And then Wes drove him across the Golden Gate Bridge, because Mack had never done that, either.

  “How have you lived less than an hour from this city for five years, and you’ve never done basic tourist stuff?” Wes had teased him as they enjoyed iced coffees, while strolling around Golden Gate Park.

  “Never been much of a tourist,” Mack had replied. And then he’d reached between them to clasp Wes’s free hand with his own.

  Wes had nearly stumbled over a divot of grass from his surprise at the gesture. The only way Mack was saying he’s mine.

  “The only reason I did studio tours and shit like that in LA was because Geoff wanted to.” Mack had flinched at the memory, probably still raw from Colt’s confession last week, so Wes had changed the subject and enjoyed holding his boyfriend’s hand in the park.

  They toured the city some more, before Wes had to get ready for work. He dropped Mack off at his truck, and they kissed long enough that Wes started getting hard—not a good look for him at the restaurant.

  “Your permits will come through,” Wes said. “I know it.”

  “Thanks. I’ll call as soon as I know something.”

  “Okay.”

  One more kiss, and Mack was driving away. Wes briefly mourned the end of what had been a pretty perfect day. A day spent exploring, laughing, telling stories and enjoying themselves. Wes had never had a day like this, being out and open with a guy he had feelings for. Being a couple in public, unafraid to touch or hold hands. He wanted this always.