"I'll have to think about it. I may allow it
as a special favor to Milt's son…"
Mark cringed.
"So, do you run Richfield International?"
"Bollocks," Mark muttered under his breath to
himself at the line of questioning, and then faced Mr Banks. "No.
Actually. Mum is doing that."
"Really?" Mr Banks had nothing but judgment
in his expression. "Wait a minute. You're that cologne model. Dan
told me you met Piccadilly on a photo shoot. I didn't get the
connection."
Mark winced and expected a tirade against
homosexual men. Jack appeared stern, as tough as a warrior. And on
that powerful black horse, Mark imagined he'd run over Travis Banks
like he was in a tank if the man uttered one disparaging word.
"Yes," Mark said sheepishly. "I am the model
for Dangereux cologne."
A gleam came to Mr Banks' stare as if
something were registering in his mind. Perhaps gossip from the
tabloids? Mark being out publicly? Married to a man? Maybe Milt had
mentioned he had an abomination for a son, and Mr Banks was
recalling it. Mark had no idea, but the look he was getting from
this older man was making him physically ill.
The clop of hooves came up behind them and
Dan said cheerfully, "Follow me."
Mark turned Piccadilly away from Mr Banks and
Jack lingered, but just for a moment, before following Mark. Mark
peeked over his shoulder to see Jack inspecting the man, maybe
sizing him up?
Once they were out of the barn and on an open
trail, Dan led the way. Jack caught up to Mark and said, "What the
fuck? Are you kidding me? He knew your dad?"
"If I have to come here and see that sneer
every time I ride, I shall kill myself." Mark shivered and held
onto Piccadilly's mane, gripping it as if it were a security
blanket. "Ough! That look. That look of disdain! I can't bear
it."
"All right. Calm down. The whole point of
buying these horses was for you to decompress."
"Oh, the irony." Mark watched Piccadilly's
ears twitch, as if he were trying to eavesdrop.
Dan shouted, "Everything okay back
there?"
"Peachy!" Mark replied, trying not to show
how upset he was.
"There's a stretch of wide flat land here.
How about a run?" Dan asked.
"Sure!" Jack answered.
"Jackie…" Mark looked at him, struggling for
a solution.
"We'll work it out. Go. Get him to gallop for
you."
Dan had sprinted off on a brown mare.
Mark squeezed his knees and without a tap of
his heels, Piccadilly anticipated his request and raced to catch
up, his gait as smooth as silk. Mark felt tears sting his eyes as
he fell in love with the horse, and began to detest the owner.
~
Billy finished his morning run, getting back
to his fitness level before the shooting. He worked out with
weights at the gym at the police division, but on weekends he ran.
Sometimes Alex joined him, sometimes not. Billy hated to admit he
preferred running alone. Alex was simply too fast and his pace
grueling. And Billy hated to lag behind or complain, so he pushed
himself. Pushed himself to keep up with a gazelle twenty years his
junior. And it would only get worse, not better, as he aged.
When he trotted up to his front door he
spotted Adam's gleaming black BMW in the driveway. Billy wiped the
sweat from his face and opened the front door, which was not
locked. He heard Alex and Adam talking immediately when he entered
the house. He found them seated at the kitchen table, coffee cups
nearby, and paperwork spread over the surface.
"Hi, Adam." Billy opened the refrigerator for
a bottle of water.
"Hey, Captain," Adam said, smiling.
Alex beamed at Billy, looking sexy in his
casual polo shirt and tight jeans.
Billy wiped at the sweat again with his shirt
and looked down at the paperwork. "Is that the contract?"
"It is. And Alex is qualified for the Screen
Actors Guild, so he's going to be a pampered pet on set."
Billy tried to smile. "That's my baby." He
took off his shirt and wiped his face with it.
"He's going to get his own personal
assistants, Billy," Adam said as he read the paperwork. "Personal
stylist, wardrobe…he's hit the big time."
Billy nodded, and then guzzled the water.
"Great." He was terrified.
"Guess what they are paying me?" Alex grinned
wickedly.
"I can't. I have no idea what actors
get."
"Well," Adam said, smugly, "Considering he's
never done big screen before, he's doing damn well. Stupid them, he
said he'd do it for free."
Alex whacked Adam on the arm playfully. "Not!
Guess. Come on, Billy. Guess what I am going to earn a day?"
"Really, Alex, I have no clue. Let me shower
and I'll join you." Billy finished the water and put the bottle in
a recycle bin. As he walked off to their private bathroom, Alex
yelled, "Five grand a day!"
Billy cringed and kept walking. Five grand a
day? After one month Alex will make one hundred and fifty thousand
dollars? Billy closed himself into the bathroom and stared at his
face in the mirror. It was what he would make in a year as a
captain.
He met his own gaze and tried not to be
jealous. He couldn't be. This was Alex's dream. He had to be happy
for his lover. Would it make any difference if Alex had been given
the inheritance from his grandmother? Either way, Billy was not the
breadwinner in this marriage. The twenty-four-year-old pretty boy
was.
Billy stripped off his shorts and turned on
the shower.
Over and over he chided himself for his
thoughts. He knew who Alex was when he married him. When he met
Alex? No. Alex was just a kid going to drama school, dating his
partner Angel Loveday's son, Oliver.
Angel Loveday. Angel had been a soft porn
star. Billy obviously was attracted to the type. Men who were
idols, admired for their beauty and sexuality…why should this be
any different?
He stepped into the tub and washed off,
shampooing his hair and trying to decompress after the tough run.
There was nothing conventional about his and Alex's relationship.
And he had thought he had gotten used to it. The tabloids printing
photos of them constantly, the rumor of the twenty-year age gap
eventually splitting them up, the chaos when Billy was involved in
an on-duty shooting, ending up with the suspect dead…Of course the
rags figured out it was his second fatal shooting on duty. The
first one was when he was a detective in the Santa Monica Police.
He saved Angel's life from a stalker.
Strange how things come back to haunt you.
But the press loved controversy.
And having Alexander Mark Richfield married
to a Captain of the LAPD with two fatal shootings on his record?
Well, that was front page news.
Now? With Alex leaving for Rome for his first
huge blockbuster film?
Billy could already visualize Alex being
photographed with his co-star or young handsome Italian studs,
rumors flying, dirt dug up, made up, to split them up.
He had to be ready for it.
And all this on the verge of a promotion.
Captain. How long had Billy wanted that?
He rinsed his face, shut off the water, and
took a towel from the rack. Alex would be gone over Christmas. Was
that a big deal?
Billy didn't know. He didn't know how he felt
at the moment, other than slightly uneasy. Trust was a big issue
for him, and ironically, he had ruined the trust Angel had in him
when he cheated on Angel with Alex.
Billy tossed the towel over the rack and said
to his reflection, "Turnabout is fair play, Sharpe. You cheated,
so? Your man will cheat." Alex did cheat. On Oliver Loveday. They
were both guilty. That thought did not sit well with Billy.
He didn't bother to shave, since it was the
weekend, and dressed in a pair of jeans and comfortable T-shirt. He
returned to the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee as the
other two continued to discuss terms.
As Billy listened, leaning on the counter
sipping black coffee, he asked, "Where will Alex be staying?"
"A first rate hotel in Rome. Actually, its
one of the shooting locations. I think Ford is going to take it
over for the entire cast and crew. He's the type to shut it down
and own it for a few months." Adam handed Alex a pen and pointed.
"Initial here."
"We can Skype," Alex said to Billy, "I can
jerk off to you every night."
Adam laughed and turned a page, pointed.
"Initial."
Alex did.
Billy looked out the back window, seeing the
museum and the hills behind it. "So, you'll be gone over
Christmas?"
"Well," Adam said, "if they begin shooting on
schedule, yes."
"You can come out." Alex looked up at Billy.
"Christmas in Rome?"
Billy tried to appear enthusiastic but cops
didn't get holidays off. Alex knew that.
Leaving Alex and Adam to their paperwork,
Billy brought his coffee with him to the den and booted up their
computer. He sipped the coffee and swiveled in the leather chair as
the icons loaded and then put the name, 'Randy Dawson', into the
search engine. Images and fan sites flooded the screen. Billy first
checked out the pictures of the man.
Fuck. He was gorgeous. And each shot on the
red carpet showed him holding a woman. Straight. Good. He found his
official actor site and read the man's bio, including his birth
date which he wrote down.
'Award winning actor Randy Dawson is known
for his tough guy leading roles. Born in Sacramento, California,
Randy moved to LA and went to the American Academy of the Arts. His
first role was playing the young stud, Dale Hall, on the soap
opera, Ways of the World, at the age of eighteen. Since then, Randy
has played in dozens of movies and remains one of the dominant
Hollywood icons.'
Billy didn't want to know that. He wanted to
know whether he was married. So he put into the search engine,
'Randy Dawson girlfriend'. Again a multitude of images appeared.
But something was not right. Randy was not photographed with the
same woman twice.
"Oh shit." Billy read a few tabloid articles
about Randy being spotted with a supermodel here, and a reality
show star there. But the man was thirty-eight and had never been
married, never had a kid, and…was seen with a different woman at
every gala affair.
"You're gay!" Billy sat up and tapped keys.
He typed in, 'Randy Dawson gay'. A few blog sites popped up.
'Speculation and rumor surround the handsome
stud. A gossip columnist in London claimed he saw Mr Dawson
swapping spit with a hot go-go boy in London's hardcore gay SoHo
district. Oh, honey, do tell!'
Billy grew furious. He logged off and fumed,
rocking on the chair. Hearing the faint echoes of Adam and Alex
laughing in the kitchen, Billy stood, grabbed the note pad, headed
to his bedroom and shut the door. He picked up his cell phone and
made a call.
"Hey, Billy! What's up?"
"Jeff, are you and Mickey on duty?"
"Yup. Why?"
"Run this name." Billy looked at the pad.
"Go."
Billy could hear the sound of the police
radio in the background. "Randy D. Dawson
one-three-nineteen-seventy-five."
"Hang on."
Billy walked back to the den and sat down
with a pen, waiting. He thought about Mickey being shot at a bank
robbery gone bad back in July. One hit to the shoulder, the bullet
went right through Mickey. Mickey's sharp shooting and impressive
tactical training saved another officer's life, and…killed the
robbery suspect who had shot a cop. So, he and Mickey suddenly had
something in common. But, they were both fine now, and back
serving. Were they stupid or brave? Billy wished he knew.
"Ready to copy, Captain?" Jeff asked.
"Go." Billy wrote down the home address of
the man.
"He's clear, no warrants, no arrests. Who is
he?" Jeff asked.
"The fucker Alex is going to co-star with."
Billy snarled.
"Alex? On the show?"
"No. He got an offer to star in a George Ford
film…in Rome."
"Wow!"
Billy heard Jeff telling his partner Mickey
about it.
"Rome?" Jeff asked. "Are you going?"
"How can I? I'm second on the captain's list.
I'll be promoted any day."
"Uh oh. So this is the Randy Dawson? The
actor?"
"Yeah." Billy looked down at the address.
"I guess you're going to have a little heart
to heart talk with the guy?" Jeff laughed.
Billy heard Mickey say in the background,
"He's not gay!"
Billy replied to Jeff, "Oh yes he is. He's
fucking gay."
"You know for sure?" Jeff asked.
"No. But I've got a hunch."
"You go get 'em, Captain." Jeff laughed. "If
anyone touches our Alexander he's gonna pay."
"Let me go." Billy looked at the address in
his hand.
"Hey, don't worry. Alex loves you. He'd never
cheat."
"Thanks. And thanks for the intel."
"Anytime, babe. Anytime."
Billy disconnected the call and stared at the
address. He folded the paper up and put it into his pocket.
Mark loved the ride on Piccadilly. The horse
had been trained well and had a natural smoothness to his gallop
which Mark adored. The property had enjoyable trails, mostly
typical southern California, dry sloping hills and sparse trees,
but there was an area which butted against a National Reserve park
at the foothills of the Sierra Nevada range. Kernville. It was
three hours away from Los Angeles, and Mark had a feeling he'd be
paying high fees for boarding a horse he never saw.
Dan entered the barn first, dismounting and
taking the saddle off his mare. Jack did the same, knowing
everything there was to know about horses from the years they had
spent at the estate. He removed the heavy western saddle from
Shadow, handing it to Dan who hung it up. Jack took the bridle off
the big black horse, replacing it with a halter, and then began
brushing the animal as if he already owned him.