Fall Apart (22 page)

“I’m glad you did. I don’t want to be ‘shared,’” his tone was matter of fact. “Max asked me to work with him and Zane on this latest movie.”

“What’d you say?” Damon asked, unable to keep himself from wondering what this unexpected offer meant for them.

“I told him that I need to think it over. I have to look at my schedule—possibly find an assistant to help me manage things. But the offer is…attractive. I think they would offer a suitable contract.” When Damon didn’t respond right away, Alarik grabbed him around the wrist, his thumb running over the pulse point. “It would mean that I might be nearby when I’m not needed on location. If I don’t take the job, there’s no guarantee where I’ll be over the next few months. It would be nice to pretend that I have no obligations forever, but it would be a very rude awakening when I have to return to work.”

The biological workings of Damon’s body seized up. Was Alarik actually saying that he was ready to take a job simply because it meant they might be closer? Wasn’t it early for decisions like that? Did this mean they were being smart jumping over that awkward relationship hurdle now, or were they being naïve because of attraction and a night of sex?

Alarik’s confidence and sincerity were once again fucking with Damon’s mind. He couldn’t seem to find it within himself to match that mettle; it didn’t matter if he felt like he was falling for the other man or not, Damon didn’t think he could trust himself. This would be a great time to have Todd whispering to him through an earpiece. Relationship Secret Service.

“I, uh, I guess you should do what you think is best for your career because, I mean, this could be good and bad for your work, right?”

What superb delivery. Faultless poise there, jackoff.

Alarik let go of Damon’s wrist and sat back in his seat, his sharp eyes everywhere, constantly assessing. “That’s how you feel about it? You’re concerned that I make a proper decision about
my
future.”

Damon’s hackles rose. “Hey, it’s not only that. I just don’t want you to rush a decision on my account.”

Alarik absorbed those words with an odd look on his face. If Damon had a little more time to analyze it, he’d say the guy was irritated. When a soft, “I see,” followed, Damon knew he was too late to prepare himself for what came next. Vinnie’s bell gave a loud
Ding!
like the start of a boxing match.

“Do you want to know what I want?” Alarik asked tightly. “I want for you to answer a few important questions. Are you ready?”

Damon opened his mouth to answer, but Alarik bulldozed him.

“Do you want to see me after this week? After today?”

Blood rushed to Damon’s face, but he gave the smallest of nods.

“Aloud, if you please,” Alarik ordered, his gray eyes like gunmetal.

“Yes…”

“Very well. Tell me then, does it bother you that I’m certain enough of my own wishes that I’m unafraid of telling them to you?”

No. It was intimidating. It was a quality that Damon envied. “No,” he answered.

Alarik leaned over the table between them until they were staring directly into one another’s eyes. Blue to gray. Uncertain to firm. “Mr. Wright, four days isn’t enough for me. I want many more. I want your attention, your focus, your mind, your body. I want
you
, sir. This relationship can only go somewhere if we let it. So, it would do wonders for my frantic mind if you were to sit across from me now and tell me what
you
want.”

It could’ve been a moment when Damon chose to get pissed off, but the words
frantic mind
stood out and he realized what that look in Alarik’s eyes meant. He was scared, too.
“I’m quite at your mercy,”
Alarik had said only days ago.

“I think it’d be perfect if you could take that job so we can see where this goes,” Damon said quickly. “Even if it means you’re working for a man who wishes I were dead.”

Alarik didn’t move or react. “So, you want me as I want you?”

“No,” Damon smiled. “I want you more.”

On Friday morning Damon went in to work early, but he still didn’t get there before his dad. The bell jangled his arrival and Leo looked up from a stack of receipts with a broad smile.

“Hey, kid.”

Damon saluted and rounded the counter to give his dad a one-armed squeeze around the shoulders. “You look good, dad.”

“Feelin’ good.”

“How’s mom?”

Leo made a whistling noise, trying to cover up his enjoyment. “Oh, she’s curious and annoyed about it.”

Damon rolled his eyes and leaned over the counter, resting his chin on his arms. “Figures. What’s bugging her most?”

“She went by your place yesterday and you hadn’t come home yet.”

Damon immediately straightened. “She’s checking up on me? She went to my place?”

“Your mom wanted to return that book you let her borrow three years ago.”

“What book?”

“Exactly.” Leo nudged him. “Don’t get too worked up. This is how she shows she cares. A mother who stalks is a mother who loves.”

Damon snorted and began a round of the store, folding clothes that were out of place, adjusting hangers on the racks. “Alarik dropped me off last night around six. You can share that with her.”

Leo dragged the tall stool he usually rested on from behind the counter and took a seat. “I don’t want to pry. Whatever you say doesn’t automatically get shared with your mother, Day.”

A slice of guilt came and went and Damon apologetically looked up from a rack of speedos. “I know. And I know she means well, too. She wants me to be with someone, but the second she finds out about a guy I dated or am dating, she gets nasty.”

“She doesn’t like that she can’t protect you kids from everything.”

Damon gave a nod and went back to arranging the neon swimsuits. “I have some news she wouldn’t believe in a million years…”

Leo’s brows lifted expectantly.

“I met The Mercenary.”

His dad clasped his knees with both hands and his eyes bugged a bit. “Did you see him at a restaurant with your friend?”

Damon laughed. “His house
was
the restaurant. I ate steak and grilled vegetables at
Zane Whitlow’s house
. Apparently, he and Alarik go way back.”

“You fuckin’ with me?”

Reaching into his back pocket, he grabbed his phone and pulled up his photos. “I figured I wouldn’t have the chance again and nobody would believe me, so I turned into a fan girl. Asked for a few pics.” Damon handed the phone to his dad and moved beside him so they could scroll through the pictures together. “That’s him—right there. Tall, right? And this one is of him and his husband, Mark.”

“Oh, yeah, yeah! I forgot he got hitched. I forgot he was gay, actually,” Leo commented, plucking a pair of reading glasses from his front pocket to get a better look. He touched the screen to slide to the third picture. “You and Zane, huh?”

“With his arm over my shoulder like that, I look short.”

“Nah.”

The last picture was of Alarik and Zane together. Damon had forgotten about it. Max Hayama was even in the background.

“Who’s this with Whitlow?”

“That’s uh…” Damon swallowed. “That’s my—the guy I told you about. Alarik.”

Leo adjusted his glasses, holding the phone up close, then far away like he was playing an imaginary trombone. “He seems like a nice young man—dresses nice, doesn’t he?”

“Yeah,” Damon answered, carefully observing every nuance of his father’s reaction. He was surprised how much the approval meant to him. “I think you’d like him, Pop.”

Leo handed his son the phone and gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “If you think so, I’m sure you’re right. How old is he?”

Needing something to do with his hands, Damon talked while he worked, every now and then glancing up to try and read his dad’s expression. “He’s thirty-eight. A photographer. He was born in Finland, raised by his aunt and uncle in London.”

“Exotic! You and me, we like unique people. Look at your mom—she’s nuts.”

“She’d flatten you if she heard you say that,” Damon warned.

“Probably, but then all I have to do is fake a heart attack. This contraption I’m wearing ain’t just for looks. It has its uses.”

Damon knew it was only a joke, but it hollowed out his stomach all the same. It was too easy to remember how his dad looked those times they’d nearly lost him. “Don’t kid around about that stuff, dad.”

Leo brushed off the comment and slouched lower in his chair. “Everybody’s so sensitive nowadays. It’s a bad heart, not a bad joke.” When Damon began to protest, Leo raised his hand to cut him off. “Fine, I’ll only make jokes about you. That being said, I want to tell you that if you ever want to bring Alarik by the house, he’s welcome. I’d like to meet him some time if you’re okay with that. Otherwise, I have to rely on what your mother says and she’s convinced he’s MI-6.”

This was Leo Wright at his finest—covering the tough topics without everyone realizing they were tough. He sandwiched the personal with the casual.

“He’s going to be doing more work on the west coast. Maybe we’ll swing by if he’s in town.”

Leo gave a satisfied nod and went back to tallying receipts. They worked in silence for a little while before his dad called out to him. “If you’re seeing Todd tomorrow, give him a message for me.” Damon only had to wait a beat. “Tell him I know he’s waiting for me to keel over so he can have my wife. Next time he flirts with her, I’m chasing him off with a baseball bat.”

“That’ll be his fourth warning like that this week.”

***

Zane was in a holding pattern just outside the studio for one of the largest nationally syndicated radio programs in the U.S. Spike Delaney, the host, was going through the latest celebrity gossip with his co-host, Jill Sutters, and when they took their next break, Zane was supposed to go in and take a seat at a microphone.

The timing sucked, but it was on purpose. They wanted to dish with him about the latest happenings and he would spend the first half of the interview tap-dancing around a starlet’s addiction issues, a singer’s extra-marital affairs, and so on… It was exhausting to be neutral and pretend that he’d never had a bad thought about anyone or anything in his life. He was used to it, of course, but every now and then he really wished he could get away with saying, “I hate that fucking guy!” when asked a question about someone ridiculous.

“They’re ready for you inside,” an assistant said, pointing to the glass where Spike was visible, waving for him to come in.

“Thanks.”

Zane got a rough handshake from Spike and a hug from Jill who, in spite of seeing actors and actresses on a daily basis, still got a little flustered around her favorites. It was flattering to Zane when she let out a breathless giggle and began to smooth her ponytail.

“Alright, ZW, we’ll do a quick intro for you, run into some questions, and then maybe you can even field some calls from listeners.”

“Sounds good,” he answered, adjusting the heavy headphones over his ears.

“Did anybody offer you anything to drink?” Jill asked. “Do you need anything?”

Zane held up his water bottle and smiled at her. “I’m good.”

“Spike,” Jill turned to the host. “Why don’t we have him come in every Friday? Really, we should talk about making this an official segment. Did you see how happy the women are right now?”

“The man’s good for morale.”

“Alright,” Zane grumbled. “That’s enough…”

Jill and Spike pretty much ignored his protests and got comfortable as the “ON AIR” sign lit up. “Hey, everybody, you’re listening to Spike and Jill
In The Morning
and if you caught the news on the hour, you know that we’ve got Zane Whitlow in the studio with us today. The one and
only
Mercenary, and I’m guessing future Oscar nominee for his performance in
Sacrifice
, still gives Jill the sweats when she thinks about him. He’s been kind enough to drop by and share the mic with us. Jill—how you doin’ over there?”

Jill chimed right in, totally at ease, even though her face was, in fact, bright red. “See, one of the perks of this job is getting the seat closer to the guys that work up all this tortured lust within me. Those of you watching the broadcast online, look at how close I am to
Zane Whitlow
right now. We could hold hands!”

“You could sit on his lap,” Spike returned as Zane laughed and hoped he really didn’t end up doing this interview with Jill wriggling around on top of him. “You’ve always wanted that.”

“Well yeah, that
and
the opportunity to work with you Spike. Nothing but big dreams for this girl.”

Zane watched as they bantered, building up the conversation so he could join in. When Spike finally turned the questions his way, he didn’t expect to get hit with the shit so soon.

“Now, I knew we were going to have you on the show, so I checked out some of the latest interviews you’ve done, some of the stories floating around, stuff like that, and I don’t know if you’ve seen it, but there was an article on your pal, Brad Pershall. Did you see that? I think it was in
Details
or something.” Spike rifled through some papers in front of him until he pulled out the magazine. “Yeah, here it is.”

Zane girded his loins. “Nah, I didn’t catch that actually. We’ve been battling cold and flu season at home.”

“Do you know Pershall?”

“Sure, we’ve met, but it was just: Hey, how you doin’, great, see ya later. I haven’t really talked to him much.”

“Well, since this article came out, there’s a lot of whispers out there that he’s sort of calling you out—angling for the title. You just fulfilled the obligation for your contract with The Mercenary series, and he looks like the guy they’ll choose to fill your shoes.”

There was no question to answer, but Jill and Spike didn’t care about that. They were waiting for a little bit of blood spill.

“You know, if they choose him, that’s great. I’ve had a lot of fun working with the cast and crew on those movies, but I’ve got other projects that I’m really focused on now and I think the studio will find a great guy to be the next Mercenary, if they really do continue the series.”