Andy set his teeth lightly on the side of that strong neck as he engaged.
He might have growled. Victor gave him some resistance and made a sound, half a laugh and half a moan. Andy’s mouth on the back of his neck, teeth and tongue and hot breath. “Mmm, Victor. I love fucking a movie star.”
Going slow, working with their height difference. The heat, the pressure.
Andy had one arm around Victor’s ribs now and the other hand flat against the wall.
Another half a laugh, turning into some sort of wordless vocalization because Andy was all the way in. Victor tipped his head back, turning it enough for another tongue-tangling kiss. Then, “Yes. Fuck me. More.”
Andy started to move. “Jesus, you’re so hot.”
Victor was braced now, taking it. “More. Nobody else.” Breathless, gasping. “Oh God. Nobody ever. Only you.”
“Only you. Always you.” This was always fast, neither of them could make it last. “God damn. Christ, not yet, fuck.” Andy was gasping again, mouth against Victor’s trapezius. “With me?”
“Always. Barely. Hurry.” Victor was still braced on the wall. Andy withdrew carefully, turned him, kissed him. Then he was on his knees and Victor was in his mouth. “Jesus!” As hungry as the very first time. Victor couldn’t hold it any longer. His back was against the wall and his knees were weak. Andy still had him. “Holy God, that mouth.” A stifled laugh.
Andy let him go and sat back on his heels, catching his breath. Looking up at Victor’s flushed face and sleepy eyes, thumbs rubbing over the gecko tattoo, and the rattlesnake. He pressed his lips to the list of dates that started just above Victor’s knee. Key dates in their love affair, inked upside-down, ascending his thigh. “You are the most beautiful thing in the world.”
“You are.” They smiled at each other. Victor offered a hand. Andy got to his feet. One more kiss, and then they were stumbling to the shower. Ten minutes later, Victor was about to turn off the water when he felt Andy’s arms around him again. “You’ve got to be kidding.” A soundless laugh against his neck. Nothing else happened. Only the embrace, and Andy’s face against his, for another quiet minute.
Then Andy let him go and reached past him to the controls. Handed him a towel, flipped the switch for the heat, and said, “I really love you.”
“I know you do. I love you too.”
Victor had to find the right moment to talk to his friend Janis. She was in town with her tour manager Niall and his husband, novelist Geoffrey Anand.
They were all staying out in Glendale with Janis’ parents. And they were all busy; Geoffrey had three books under contract, and Janis was developing a new album. But she was the person Victor went to at the very beginning, after that first earth-shattering night with Andy, and she was the person he wanted to talk to now. Ping me when you have a few minutes to talk?
Her reply came promptly: Are you on set?
Yeah but I don’t have much to do. I’m still on desk duty Uh right. She suggested a time; Victor checked his schedule and confirmed. A few hours later she called. “What’s up, Mr. Garcia?”
“Well, what’s up with you? Fill me in.” He listened with enjoyment while Janis raved about the music she and her collaborators were preparing. It helped that he knew them: cellist Isabelle Randall, who’d played on the cast recording for ‘The Ghost of Carlos Gardel,’ and their co-star Tomás Calderón. “You know you’re going to have to give us Tomás for a minute.
He’s coming to Buenos Aires with us on the movie tour.”
“Yes, and if I didn’t think we were going to be playing there eventually I would be green with envy. He gave me half the tracks we’re arranging, you know. I was like, what songs can we turn into tango that aren’t tango to begin with, and he was all, well I like to play these. He’s a hell of a piano player.”
“Glad it’s working out.”
“So why did you really want to talk.”
Victor bit his lip, glad they weren’t in the same room so she couldn’t see him stifle that laugh. This was one of those friendships where they had so little in common, but somehow understood each other completely. “I was having a little bit of vertigo over Andy.”
Janis made a confused Scooby Doo noise. Those two had been inseparable for almost five years. “What happened?”
“Nothing bad. We had a really good morning a couple days ago, and I fell down this rabbit hole of how many times I could have lost him.”
“What in the … do you mean physically lost him? Was there more scary shit? You told me about the time your cars got wrecked. I thought that was the worst thing until you actually got shot.”
Victor was sitting in his dressing room, feet up on the counter, head
tipped back to stretch his neck. “It was, but it wasn’t. We agreed to never revisit the hate mail, but once you’ve seen it, it’s hard to forget. It’s hard to read that someone thinks you should be tied to a barbed-wire fence and used for target practice.” He hadn’t meant to say that.
“Jesus!”
“Sorry. Anyway. I feel fine now, my trainer is getting me back up to, well, almost full strength.” His right side would need most of a year, he’d been told. Too much of the chest had been torn open.
“Don’t rush it,” Janis said. “You looked great dancing at the premiere but Geoffrey said Andy was watching you like a hawk.”
“He always does.”
“Are you seeing a counselor?”
“We both are. I know it’s helping. He’s angrier than I am.”
“Well, that asshole was trying to kill him, and ended up nearly killing you. I’d be fucking furious.”
Victor huffed out a laugh. “Human flamethrower. He’s still annoyed that he agreed to go to the Emmys and I wouldn’t let him back out.”
“Tough guy. I’ll bet he gave you every opportunity to say, you know what, we don’t have to do that.”
“Mm-hmm.” Victor heard Janis laugh. “Then his agent sent this thing about how if we didn’t go, there would be news trucks parked outside the house all day, and I could hear him thinking ‘oh the hell with it.’ He asked me if I wanted to go to any of the parties.”
“Which obviously you didn’t.”
“God, no, I could barely walk around the yard. I was such an idiot.” Janis laughed again. Victor was grinning. “But I got it done.”
“Yes you did. Feeling better?”
“Yes ma’am. I think I just needed to hear that we’re okay.”
“Of course you’re okay. But I’m not surprised you need to remind yourself from time to time. Now I am going back to the piano, and you probably have a P.A. hovering outside your door. Wrap that stupid shit up so you can go dance around the world.”
“That’s right. Take care and sing good, chica.”
“I always do,” she sang, and disconnected. Victor put his phone down,
got to his feet, and opened the door. Sure enough, a P.A. was hovering.
Meanwhile, “You would think all we ever do is fuck, the way I talk about him.” Andy was talking to his friend Dana. Victor was called to the set and he wasn’t, so he’d been enjoying a free day in his usual way: working on a half-dozen projects. At the moment, though, he was relaxing on a lounger in the backyard. The remains of his lunch were on a table beside him and Molly was dozing in the shade behind him.
“You’ve always been like that,” Dana said. She also had a free day, so she was on the neighboring lounger. “It’s surprisingly relaxing back here.”
“The tap tap tap of the shingle guy is kind of pleasant, isn’t it?” Dana laughed. Andy listened. He and Victor had acquired the storybook-style triplex property next door and were having it completely renovated. The shingle guy was doing what amounted to an art installation over there, with designs woven into the custom-cut shingles. “Anyway, I can vouch for complete recovery. I was a little worried that he wouldn’t be fully rehabbed for the tour, but he’s in great shape now.”
“Glad to hear it. Where’s your
first stop?”
“Berlin. I cannot fucking wait. We were talking about going there anyway, and then when the movie sold and they said hey we want to send you on tour we were like, all aboard.” Andy glanced over at Dana. “They want us to dance.”
“Ya think?”
Andy snickered. “Yeah, okay. So we’re doing a couple of numbers. One of them has nothing to do with the movie. It started as a joke but then we were both like, hmm, and we talked to the promoter, and the people in Berlin said it was fine with them. I sure hope they understood what we were saying.”
She cut her eyes over at him, noting his tone of voice. “What is it and what’s making you nervous?”
“It’s ‘Mein Herr,’ and what’s making me nervous is it’s Mein Herr. Like Liza Minnelli Mein Herr.”
Dana sat up and looked at him for real. He did look nervous, but also excited. “Like your Velma Kelly?” He nodded. “You’re doing it in drag?” He made an ‘eek’ face and nodded again. Dana started laughing. “Are you going
to get video?”
“We will definitely try. I know people will post phone videos, we’re going to tell them – or we’ll have the interpreter tell them – to knock themselves out. But we want one for ourselves and obviously we won’t have someone there to tape it.”
“Ask the promoter,” Dana said patiently. “Why you always think you have to do everything yourself, I will never know. Well, actually I do know.”
Andy’s second career as a commercial photographer had been cut short by unexpected TV stardom, but while he was doing that he was, in fact, doing everything himself.
“I know. I should be a little more used to it by now. Vicky and Sharon were giving me shit a year ago. I was over there bumming a slice of cake and they were like you know that place would deliver for you, right? And it honestly never occurred to me. Same as with the on-set meals.”
“Rory told me she told you that and I thought, of course. But if it makes you feel any better I never thought of it either.” Dana glanced at her watch and wondered if she should be heading home.
“Well, you have Rory doing her Feed All The People All The Time routine.”
Dana laughed again. “Yeah, and it’s a constant battle for me with the food. Not like you. If the day ever comes when you look like you need to lose a pound, I will assume it’s the apocalypse.”
“Also, quit looking at your watch. You could stay all afternoon and I’d be happy.” Andy stretched, rolled his neck, and swung his legs off the lounger. He rested his elbows on his knees and gazed at his friend. “Victor was kind of asking me what I was going to do with myself after the tour.”
“And what’s the answer?”
“I’m going to print up more of the behind the scenes shit from ‘The Ghost of Carlos Gardel,’ including some pictures of Madame Director Tanith Salazar that she does not yet know exist, and chuck it all into a gallery.” Dana was snickering. Tanith had been very single-minded on set; Andy probably had about a thousand good pictures of her. “Then I have a new photography thing in the works. It’s not a big production. There’s some prep work that can mostly happen while we’re away, then one day of shooting.”
“Glad to hear it. Any hints?”
“Our friend Janis, the jazz gal? Her tour manager and his husband.
They’re going to play Prospero and Ariel for me.” Dana looked over with clear interest. “It was their idea. I was going straight to O’Toole-Sharif slashfic.” Dana laughed, nodding. “Yeah, you saw them at the premiere.
Aside from that, I have to get over to Miami for a minute to check on the parents. But.”
“But what.” Dana did not make any moves to go. She and Andy didn’t get much one-on-one time. Being able to actually talk through an issue either of them was having felt like real luxury, and it sounded like Andy had an issue.
“So I thought after all those years of ‘Vice’ and especially after hearing me bitch about ‘Vice’ for all those years, he would be kind of ready to solo for a while, right? And then we were talking and I realized he wasn’t. Isn’t.
He’s doing a voice project in town, and then he’s got the movie shoot. The plan was for me to go out in June and do my little cameo and then hang out the way I did on number two in Miami. Oh, and I’m taking Molly this time.
At the moment that’s basically leaving the month of May that we’re not together, which, you know, not a big deal. But.” He stopped again.
“Andy.” Dana waited. He didn’t say anything. She knew this either meant he was still processing, or what he’d thought of was unsettling. “You know how much he loved doing that relationship stuff with you on ‘Vice.’
Right up to the movie, he thought that reunion scene was his best work. Like, ever.”
Andy looked slightly surprised. “He told you that?”
“He told me that, Tanith that, his agent that. And he was a hundred percent non-conflicted about loving what you did in Tanith’s movie, even after that curve ball you threw him. He said you took him places he never thought he could get to. He loves working with you. He wants maximum time with you. And I’m guessing now more than ever.” Now that he’s stared death in the face, she thought.
“That’s what I realized. We’re still seeing a counselor, but it’s all, like, coping with real life and security issues and PTSD. We haven’t gotten into how, or whether, our relationship might have changed.” Andy didn’t honestly think it had, but he might be kidding himself. He knew he still had some rage, couldn’t imagine that Victor didn’t have some dark stuff hanging out too, and couldn’t help fearing one of them was going to let some of that shit out at a
bad time. If there ever was a good time.
Dana was watching him think. “So? Has it?”
“I don’t know yet. I don’t think so?”
She heard the uncertainty. “You know,” she said, “one of the great things about you guys is you both want what’s best for the other. You’re like Dmitri and Patrick.”
“Or you and Rory.”
“Okay.” Dana smiled, accepting that. “Maybe that’s how it always is for people who manage to latch onto the right one. Anyway, are you talking to your person about rage?”
Oh shit. Andy said, “I am. It’s on tape, after all. A few people have said, you were ready to set the world on fire, weren’t you, and I couldn’t exactly turn around and say oh no I’m fine.”
“But not Victor?”
“He’s not verbalizing about that. I’m pretty sure it’s there.”
How could it not be, Dana thought. “How’s the security going to be on this tour of yours?” She saw Andy’s face change and added, “You haven’t thought of that?”
“Fuck me. No.”
“Well, do me a favor and talk to the promoter. I would assume since the company releasing the movie is the same one you’ve been working for, they know all about your situation and have a plan for that. But I think you both need to know.”
“Yes we fucking do.”
“Okay. So back to you and Victor working together.”
Andy latched onto the subject change with relief. “So my brain did one of its monkey jumps and went to, let’s start putting together a Broadway thing. A concert, song and dance thing we could do at Chrome. No target date. A thing to work on. A thing to tie us together, so he would know I’m still all in with him.”
“What did he say?” Dana loved the idea.
“Oh, he loved the idea. Even after I told him he’d need to take some jazz classes.”
“But you still have a concern.”
“Well, it’s the history. My history. I’ve got basically two decades of Broadway or touring shows under my belt. I’ve done it all before. I’ve got ten years of experience on him no matter how you count it, simply because I’m that much older.” Andy made a face. “We had a moment back at the beginning, when we were working on that Latin set at Chrome, his second show there.”
Dana had, of course, seen it. She hadn’t heard this st
ory before. “What happened?”
“I told him what I wanted to sing, and he thought it was a joke, and I got kind of bitchy with him and said something about how I’d been doing this since whenever, and I hurt him. I had to work my way through all this stupid justification to find a real apology, which I wanted to give him, because I did not want to hurt him. I never have. But you know what a bitch I can be.”
“You’re much less of a bitch now.” He never had been that much of a bitch, but when he went there it was memorable. Dana found it funny, because it was never directed at her. “Everybody I know thinks you’re sweet.”
“Well good, that’s what I was going for, because I started hearing myself. Anyway, we got past it but I know he’s going to remember that when we start working on stuff. He feels that inexperience. Comparatively speaking,” he added, though he knew Dana already understood it. “And he never quite bought that I wasn’t confident as an actor. A for-real actor.”
“Well,” Dana said, still watching him, “was that legit? Or was that part of your non-compete agreement?”
“It wasn’t! I mean it was! It was legit! How was I going to learn how to fucking act when all ‘Vice’ gave me was sympathetic ear or loving wife or damsel in distress?”
“But then you turn around and pull that Alfredo Le Pera out of your ass, and you know it was a goddamned showstopper. What did your agent say?”
Andy sighed. “Raquel said, quote, I fucking hate you.” Dana laughed.
“That was after I told her to stop sending me film and TV scripts for, like, a year.” Dana was still laughing. Andy couldn’t blame her. “You know for three years it’s been nothing but the same. I fucking cannot with that shit anymore. And frankly, I didn’t want to get a ton of scripts that would be like Le Pera, even if Raquel could have dug some up. I did not enjoy that. I still, ugh. Anyway we all know how many people haven’t seen Tanith’s movie.
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