Something Like Hope

by Kris T. Bethke

  “All right. Sleep well.” Lucas’s voice was soft, and I knew my sleepy, fuzzy brain interpreted it as affection that wasn’t actually there. I’d be mad at myself later for that. But sleep was pulling me under and I’d deal with that tomorrow when I wasn’t drunk and tired.

  I was only vaguely aware of Lucas leaving.

  Chapter 4

  I hadn’t seen much of Lucas since he’d brought me home a few days before, and that was okay with me. We hadn’t been on set at the same time, but we’d passed each other as we went about our jobs. He didn’t acknowledge me further than a head tip in my direction, and I returned the gesture. I couldn’t be sure what had actually happened that night and what my compromised brain had made up.

  I asked the cat, but Optimus had no answers.

  It didn’t matter anyway. At least, that’s what I told myself. Lucas and I were coworkers, nothing more, and he obviously still had a problem with me. While I was sure he had been nice when he brought me home, it was probably just because I was out of it. I had to give him credit for that. He could have left me to my own devices. I would have thanked him, but he wasn’t interested in talking. I put Lucas out of my mind and focused on the job.

  It was a closed set today. Just Dan and me and the necessary crew members. Today we were filming the big kiss, the first kiss, and they had closed the set to try to keep it from leaking out. It was the scene that would end the second episode, the cliffhanger that would cause an uproar. I thought there would be a lot of support for it, but I wasn’t so naïve that I didn’t think there’d be backlash. The conservative groups would go nuts. The media would be in a frenzy.

  I was looking forward to the day when a kiss between two men on TV was the same as any other kiss. But it wasn’t that day yet.

  Dan and I had spent the morning in rehearsals with Connie. We’d gotten the blocking down and worked on the kiss itself. It had taken a few times for Dan’s nerves to settle, but I thought he finally had it. My lips were swollen and a little chapped. At least I’d finally been able to shave off the beard I’d been growing, and neither of us had beard burn. We were ready to begin shooting.

  Connie called for places and quiet. I lay down on the couch in the set for Geary’s apartment, propping my head up on the arm. My character had been whisked back to Frank’s apartment for his recovery. With no one at home to take care of him, Riley had agreed to let Frank do it. I liked that my character was still a little wary of Frank’s intentions. We were shooting a scene later in the week—though it would come before this one in the actual episode—where Riley explained he had a hard time trusting Frank’s seeming about-face. It really ramped up the drama of the season. I had always appreciated the way the show perfectly straddled the line between drama and police procedural.

  A hush fell over the set. A PA came to stand before me with the clapper, called mark, and snapped it shut. She moved off. I tried not to fidget. Waiting for Connie to call action was always a tense moment for me, but I did my best to stay in my character’s headspace.

  “Action.” Connie’s voice was unnaturally quiet.

  The door to the apartment opened and shut. I blinked my eyes open and gave a soft smile at Dan.

  “Hey,” I said, sounding sleepy.

  “Hey there,” his voice was quiet and full of affection. “You look better.”

  I nodded as I sat up. “I feel better. I’m sure when I go to the doctor, he’ll say he can take the stitches out. It doesn’t hurt as much anymore.”

  “Good. That’s really good.” Dan crossed the floor, skirting around the table to sit next to me. His body was turned so the camera could see us both clearly. He lifted a hand to my face, his thumb gently stroking along my cheekbone.

  I sucked in a small breath, keeping the motion shallow to show that a deep breath would hurt. “Frank?” I did my best to convey all the question and confusion my character felt.

  “I told you things were going to change, Riley. I care about you.” His voice was quiet and filled with emotion. And then he leaned forward, kissing me gently. His lips moved against mine and I let myself fall into the kiss, reaching up to take hold of his wrist. He kept it soft, in deference to my character’s injuries, but it was still hot and filled with emotion.

  “Cut!” Connie yelled, her voice sounding happy. Dan immediately pulled back, and I swayed toward him for just a second before I caught myself. I turned to look at Connie. She was grinning at us.

  “Let me watch the playback, but I think we got it.” She focused her attention on the monitor in front of her.

  I looked at Dan. He was grinning. “Guess all the rehearsal paid off,” he said playfully, giving me a gentle shove on the shoulder and then standing up. He headed for the small craft table and picked up a bottle of water.

  I didn’t move, just in case Connie called for another take. Instead I sat back and waited, glancing around. I caught movement out of the corner of my eye and then saw Lucas standing just off set. He wasn’t supposed to be here because he wasn’t in the scene. And the thunderous look on his face spoke volumes. Jesus, he was pissed. Was witnessing a kiss between two men really that horrible?

  Disgust rose in my gut. I’d never heard even a whisper of a rumor that he was a homophobe, and I thought that the media would have pounced on it if it had been out there. But his actions and behavior—except for the night he took me home—said otherwise. What an asshole. If he had such a problem with it, he shouldn’t have shown up!

  Dan wandered back over to me, opened his mouth, but then shut it when he saw my furious glare. He took in the scene, then sighed heavily and sat next to me. Lucas spun on his heel and stomped off.

  “I’ll talk to him.” Dan’s voice was low and resigned.

  “Don’t bother,” I snapped. Then I shook my head and released a breath. I didn’t need to take my anger out on Dan. “It’s not worth it. If he’s going to be a homophobic jackass, nothing you can say will change his mind.”

  Dan blinked at me. “He’s not. A homophobe, I mean. He supports LGBT rights and Marriage Equality.”

  That didn’t erase the scowl from my face. “Then what the fuck is his problem?”

  “I don’t know,” Dan said slowly. “But whatever it is, it’s not that.”

  Whatever I would have said next was cut off by Connie standing up. “This is good, guys. We’re done. Y’all were perfect. Let’s break for lunch and we’ll move on. Aaron, you’re done for the day.”

  “Awesome,” I said, not really feeling it. I stood and left the set with little more than a wave to the people who were smiling at me. Anger still roiled in my gut and I just needed to get out of here. I couldn’t even be pleased with a job well done. Lucas fucking Logan had ruined that.

  I just made it to my dressing room and had barely gotten into my street clothes, when the door banged open with enough force to bounce off the wall. I gasped and turned, my heart pounding, to see Lucas breathing hard in the doorway. His face was set, his blue eyes stormy, and he looked angry beyond reason.

  “What the fuck?” I growled.

  He reached behind him and slammed to door closed. Then he stalked toward me, his motions jerky. I back peddled fast, but I had nowhere to go. I bumped into vanity and gripped the edge with one hand while I raised the other to ward him off. If I screamed, would security get to me before I was beaten too badly?

  I opened my mouth to do just that, but then Lucas was on me, his big hands cradling my head. His lips came down on mine, hungry and biting. I sucked in a breath, shocked, and he thrust his tongue into my mouth.

  This was no gentle, easy kiss. This was devouring need and pent-up lust in its truest form. It was an all-out sensual assault, lips and teeth and tongue. I succumbed to it, my own lust rising to meet his. Lucas readjusted his grip on my face, slanting our mouths together in a different way. It was raw and hard and full of sex.

  I was pretty sure I whimpered.

  The sound broke through whatever was driving Lucas, and he suddenly pulled
back. His eyes were glazed as he stared down at me, the pupils blown. He was breathing hard. And then, shock crossed his face, and I know I saw his cheeks turn red. There was surprise there and then something else. Revulsion maybe?

  Lucas took a giant step back, his gaze fixed on mine. And then he turned tail and ran from the room.

  What in the actual fuck?

  I didn’t have an explanation. There was nothing I could come up with that would clarify what had just happened. Lucas had kissed me. No, kiss was too tame a word to describe it. I’d never been devoured like that—as if someone had needed me more than air.

  Okay. I needed some perspective and I couldn’t get it here. I stood on shaky legs and gathered my things. I needed to get out of here.

  Less than five minutes later, I was in the parking lot. There was not a hint of yellow to be seen, and that made me relieved. Lucas was gone. Good. I wasn’t in the mindset to listen to him try to justify his actions.

  * * * *

  Three hours later, and I couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss. Just remembering it had my cock trying to rise. Which was awkward with my monster of a cat taking up my lap. I nudged Optimus until he got fed up enough to yowl and stalk off. I’d make it up to him later with treats.

  I was angry with myself for getting turned on by Lucas and his kiss. Okay, so I was male and that kiss had been blistering hot. But the man who had delivered it was a jerk. He barely talked to me, and when he did he was cold. He obviously had a problem with me. And yet he kissed me?

  But he’d also taken care of me when I’d been drunk, saw to it that I got home safely and was hydrated and comfortable. He’d been nice, playful even. He was a dichotomy, and I was having trouble reconciling his two personas. I didn’t know which one to believe. If I went simply with the evidence, I had to assume that the care he had shown me was a fluke.

  Even though I’d been drunk and couldn’t recall with absolute clarity what had transpired, I knew I hadn’t imagined the whole thing. The question now was, what I was going to do about it?

  I grabbed my cell phone from the coffee table and dialed without much thought. It rang three times before I heard my mother’s voice.

  “Hi, sweetie! What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

  I rolled my eyes and stifled a laugh. “I’m fine, Mom. Why do you always think something is wrong when I call?”

  “I worry,” she said, her tone cheerful. “Who knows what could happen to you out there?”

  I was twenty-nine years old, and I was pretty sure my mother would always treat me like a fragile baby. She was a worrier by nature, and she could imagine all sorts of scenarios that had me bleeding and dying. I just let it happen and reassured her constantly that everything was fine. I thought that if she had her choice, she’d have me living at home for the rest of my life, just so she could keep an eye on me.

  “I’m a big boy now,” I reminded her, being playful and making her laugh. I did love that sound. Mom had a great laugh. “Hey listen, is Dad around?”

  “Sure, sure. Hold on.” She took a breath and didn’t even bother to cover the mouthpiece when she shouted. “Errol! Your son wants to speak to you!”

  I winced and pulled the phone away from my ear. Christ, my mother was a character. I heard the rattle and click of my father picking up another extension and Mom hanging up.

  “Hello, my son.” My dad’s voice was deep, a true bass that rumbled when he spoke. When I was a small child, I loved lying on his chest while he talked.

  “Hi, Daddy.”

  “Uh oh,” Dad’s voice was playful. I heard the leather of his favorite chair squeak as he settled. “You only call me Daddy when something’s wrong. What’s up?”

  I had to grin. My father knew me so well. He was, in all honesty, one of my best friends as well as my father. He’d been my rock growing up, my source of comfort when I was upset or scared, and he was an excellent sounding board. I loved my mother, but she was the type of person who waited to talk instead of actually listening. And while she’d had a mini-meltdown when I’d come out to my parents, my dad had accepted the news with a hug and a thank you.

  “I need advice,” I said, not beating around the bush.

  “All right. I’m all ears,” Dad’s voice rumbled.

  I knew he was, so I told him everything. I talked and talked, relating the whole story. Even the parts he already knew. I started at the beginning, not leaving anything out. When I was finished, my throat was parched and I was a little bit emotionally worn out. I sagged deeper into the couch, and Optimus took that as an opportunity to sprawl out on my lap again.

  “Hmm.”

  “Really, Dad? That’s all you have to say?”

  He chuckled. “Well, Aaron. The way I see it, you have two options. You can either talk to Lucas and find out what the heck he was thinking, or you can ignore the whole thing and hope it goes away.”

  “Way to be logical, Dad.” My voice was heavy with sarcasm, but he just laughed.

  “I don’t know what you want from me, kid. It seems pretty obvious to me.”

  “Tell me what to do, old man.”

  His laugh was deep and rich, full of mirth and amusement. I left him to it, patiently waiting for it to die down. Finally, he got control of himself, though I could still hear it in his voice.

  “You haven’t wanted me to tell you what to do since you were six years old and I insisted you bathe.” He chuckled again, and then his voice got serious. “If you really want my opinion, you should talk to him. At the very least, it’ll clear the air between the two of you.”

  “Yeah,” I said with a resigned sigh. I knew he was going to say that.

  “Everything else aside, do you like him?”

  “I—what?” my voice went unnaturally high. I cleared my throat. “Whatever gave you that idea? I told you he’s been a jerk to me.”

  “You want to know what gave me that idea, hm? Well, it could be that every time we’ve talked in the last two years, you’ve managed to bring up Lucas Logan in one way or another.”

  “You’re going senile in your old age,” I sputtered defensively.

  “Okay,” he said, placating me. I grumbled, and he laughed again. “If that’s what you want to believe.”

  I blew out a breath and closed my eyes. “He’s gorgeous, Dad. And the way he treats other people is nice. He was even good to me that one time. But there’s never been a hint, not even a whisper, that he likes guys. He’s always been seen with some starlet or pretty lady on his arm. He’s not gay.”

  “And yet, he kissed you. Of his own volition.”

  More logic. Damn him. Except for one important thing. “Not taking into account that kiss, he treats me like I’m something he can barely tolerate for the most part. I really don’t think he likes me.”

  Dad made a noise I couldn’t interpret. “Or maybe he’s pulling your pigtails.”

  Christ, really? He was going to use that argument? “Grown men don’t do that.”

  Dad just chuckled. “Of course they do. Maybe you should talk to him and find out.”

  Shit. Maybe I should.

  Chapter 5

  I didn’t have to be on set until Friday, so I did my best to put the whole Lucas situation out of my head until then. It wasn’t easy, and I’d had to take a few cold showers, but when Friday dawned and I got out of bed, I felt ready to deal with it.

  I wasn’t sure if Lucas was scheduled to shoot any scenes today, but I had a Plan B if he wasn’t. Namely, I hoped to weasel his phone number out of Dan and then leave Lucas a message, asking to talk. That way the ball was in his court, and if he didn’t do anything with it, then it wasn’t my fault.

  I may have been hoping for Plan B.

  My makeup call was for nine-thirty, so I showed up a bit early. I didn’t see Lucas’s Camaro in the lot. I tried not to let my relief get the better of me. It could be that he had a later call. I took a deep breath and headed into the building. I walked straight toward my dressing room, knowing I would pa
ss Lucas’s on the way. The door was shut, and when I paused and listened, I couldn’t hear anything from inside. All right then. I’d wait. If I didn’t see him by the end of the day, I’d talk to Dan.

  Court was lounging on the couch in our dressing room, an e-reader in his hand and his glasses perched on the end of his nose. He looked up when I entered, and I gave the older man a grin.

  “Thought you were supposed to be shooting already.”

  Court made a disgruntled noise and waved his hand. “There was a malfunction with the lighting board. There were sparks. They’re trying to sort it out.”

  I nodded and moved toward my side. Court had had the room to himself before I’d been made a full-time cast member, but he was gracious about sharing his space. Okay, so maybe my side of the room was less than half, but that didn’t bother me. Court was a great guy, and we’d found a friendship.

  “That’s for you,” Court said from behind me. I turned to see where he was pointing. There was a box on the low table by the couch, white and wrapped in a red bow. I quirked a brow at him as I lifted the card from the top. It had my name on it, but nothing else.

  “Who’s it from?”

  Court shrugged one massive shoulder. “I don’t know. Was here when I got in.”

  I picked up the box, surprised at how light it was. Court sat up, moving his feet so I’d have someplace to sit. I did and placed the box in my lap. Security was fairly tight, so I wasn’t worried about who had left it. Only someone with access could have gotten in, and anything sent by fans was screened before it was given to us. Of course, I didn’t really have fans per se. I knew it had to be from someone on the inside. But I couldn’t imagine who would be leaving me a gift.

  I untied the ribbon and set it aside before cautiously lifting the lid. When I saw what was inside, my breath caught. With a great deal of care, I lifted one of the slippers from the box. Hand tooled dark brown leather, supple and giving, and lined with sheepskin. They were gorgeous. And I knew, because I knew slippers, that they couldn’t have been cheap. They looked warm and cozy and exactly perfect. There was no card inside, no indication of who had left them.