Anything But- Book 20 in the Action! Series

Chapter 1

Steve, is Dad there?

No. Steven Jay Miller stood in the kitchen of his and his husband, Mark Antonious Richfield’s home in Bel Air, California.

Um, I’m calling from Canada, Steve. I have all of five minutes before I have to do my next scene.

Steve could hear how tired Mark’s son, Alexander, was from acting in his newest feature film, Save a Horse. What did you need him for?

I couldn’t get a hold of Billy. I just wondered—

Steve stared at the view of their garden through the sliding doors. And you thought the captain and Mark would be together?

Um. No?

Alex, Mark isn’t with Billy. He’s… Steve rubbed his face. He’s riding.

His horse?

No. Steve felt sick to his stomach. He bought a motorcycle.

No! The one from the ad he just did for his cologne?

Taking a seat at the kitchen counter on a high bar stool, Steve tried not to stress. Yeah. He bought a Ducati. One of their superbikes.

And? You let him ride it? Alone? Christ, Steve, just put your old police gun in his hand and let him get it over with.

Alex. Steve didn’t need this.

Okay. Well, since you didn’t ask, the film shooting is fine but grueling, and I’m still waiting for my husband to arrive, which he promised to do. So. If you see him before I can contact him, tell him to get his fucking uniformed-ass out here!

Fine.

Steve?

What.

Dad will be okay. Let him ride the fucking thing. You do realize the TVR he drives is as fast as an Indie race car.

Alex?

Yeah?

Shut up.

Love you too, Steve. Bye.

Steve set the cordless phone down and looked outside; summer in Southern California, hot, breezy, and beautiful. He thought about calling Jack or Adam, close friends and lovers of theirs, but, they were already scheduled to come over for dinner, and sex.

Steve checked the time. It was only two. He tried to get motivated, but he and Mark had already had their morning weekend run before the heat of the day, and Adam and Jack usually brought the food they were going to eat with them.

Was it too early for a beer?

And, where was Billy?

~

Mark Antonious Richfield rode north on Highway 1. The 1299 Panigale S was so fast, it felt as if he were flying.

Wearing leather, head to toe, since Steve would have it no other way, Mark swerved past cars, tying to hit the one-hundred mile per hour mark. And he thought his TVR Tuscan was a rush to drive. Bloody hell.

Mark flew by a California Highway Patrol officer, one who unfortunately was pointing a radar gun.

The CHP officer was also was on a motorcycle, but Mark knew if he kept up his speed, the cop would never catch up.

Mark leaned into the curves, his knee nearly touching pavement, and didn’t look back. Why bother? He knew he’d see red and blue lights.

As he created distance between himself and the police officer, Mark spotted a turn-off for a lookout point for tourists.

He rode into it, parked behind a camper trailer, and shut off the engine. Since it was hot, Mark removed the helmet and felt the ocean breeze through his long hair. He peeked at the highway behind him. Sure enough, a California Highway Patrol officer on a motorcycle, lights flashing, whizzed by.

Mark got off his bike, set the helmet on the seat, and looked at the view with several other drivers, who had stopped for a moment to absorb the gorgeous coastline.

Mark felt his phone vibrate and removed it from his leather pocket. It was his husband. Steven?

Alex called. Where are you?

I’m… Mark looked for a road sign, not seeing one. I don’t know. I stopped at lookout point to see the view. I told you I was going to take the Ducati out for a spin.

Another police motorcycle flew by, its red and blue lights flashing, no doubt, on the prowl for him.

What did Alex want? Mark brushed his long hair from his eyes as the wind blew it.

He’s trying to find Billy.

Well, lovely, I don’t know where the captain is. If you thought he was with me, you were mistaken.

No. I didn’t think you were. Alex may have.

Steven, you do realize Captain Sharpe has been offered the position of Chief of Police in Santa Monica. Perhaps he’s still going through the process. I would imagine it would be quite lengthy. Mark spotted a patrol car race by, a marked police cruiser this time. Bloody hell.

What?

Nothing. Mark looked into the air, expecting a helicopter next.

Jack and Adam are coming soon. Are you going to be home any time today?

Don’t get cross. I told you I just wanted to see how my new baby performed.

Do I want to know how fast you were going?

Mark kept looking for more police. No. I doubt you do want to know that.

Jesus Christ!

I offered for you to ride with me. I did buy two helmets, love. Mark noticed someone taking his photo with a camera phone. Bollocks. I have to go. I’ve been spotted by an admirer. Mark turned his back to the woman taking his photo.

Well, come home. And don’t speed!

Yes, Officer! Mark touched his helmet.

I knew you’d buy it. I fucking knew it.

Steven. Stop treating me like a child. I detest it.

Fine. So? Will I see you soon?

Yes. I’m on my way.

Okay.

Mark disconnected the call and noticed a text from his son. He glanced over his shoulder. The woman was pointing him out to other people. Mark read Alex’s text quickly before he left.

‘Dad, ask Billy what’s taking him so long to get here. he promised.’

Mark pocketed his phone, put his helmet on, and straddled the bike. As he started it, rolling back from his hiding spot, which may have worked for the police, but not for his adoring fans, Mark headed back home, spinning gravel as he left the parking area.

He raced down the roadway, passing slow-moving cars, when he noticed another motorcycle in front of him. Smiling wickedly, Mark closed the gap between them and as he overtook the roadster, he laughed to himself.

The other motorcycle was no match for his speed machine, although he could see the man trying to keep up, watching him in his side mirror.

Mark loved the adrenalin rush and didn’t slow down until his turn off came to leave the highway and use local streets. Even on the road to his home, he split lanes to get to the front of the line at traffic signals, zipping across intersections at the speed of light, or in this case, the speed of his two-hundred-and-five horse power engine.

~

Jack Larsen and his husband, Adam Lewis, were on their way to Mark and Steve’s home for a boys’ weekend. The four men frequently slept over and enjoyed group sex. It had been a long, hard week. He was a named partner in his own law firm and Adam, a busy talent agent. Mark was a supermodel as well as working with Steve in advertising. The weekends were made for sex and good food.

Jack turned his Jaguar onto Mark’s street when a motorbike came out of nowhere, passing them at a high rate of speed.

Adam, a bag of Chinese food and a bottle of wine near his feet on the passenger’s side, grabbed Jack’s leg. Oh, no. Please tell me that isn’t Mark.

As the red motorcycle pulled onto Mark and Steve’s driveway, Jack muttered, I knew he’d do it.

Why does he have to go so fast? Adam shook his head.

Um, Adam Lewis? May I introduce you to Mark Antonious Richfield? The British lunatic with a death-wish?

"Fuck the death wish. I’m going to kill him. You take the food and wine in for me."

Jack parked in the driveway as Mark rolled the bike into the garage beside his TVR Tuscan sports car.

Good luck, Adam. I’ll be inside with Steve.

Fine. Adam got out of Jack’s car.

~

Mark set his helmet on the motorbike and took off the leather jacket. He was boiling hot covered in leather in the summer. He looked up after Jack’s car had pulled into his driveway.

Adam was heading his way.

Mark smiled. Hullo, lovely.

Don’t hello-lovely me. Adam pushed Mark so hard, he fell against the wall of the garage.

Mr Lewis? Mark tilted his head in curiosity. Trouble with the talentless brats?

Adam clenched his jaw and then glared at Mark. Why?

Why? Mark tapped his jaw. My, that is a loaded question. Why are we here? Why is the sky blue? Why do you look so sexy when you’re annoyed with me?

Adam grabbed Mark by his shirt at the shoulders. Don’t do this. Don’t kill yourself on that bike.

You do know you’re gorgeous, Mr Lewis. Mark caressed Adam’s face.

Stop. Adam slapped Mark’s hand down. I’m not kidding. How fast do you go on that thing?

Thing? I beg your pardon. Mark tried to get away from being trapped between Adam and the garage wall. Adam nailed him to it again, forcefully.

Oh, I do love when you dominate. Mark made an exaggerated face of ecstasy.

Unreal, Richfield. Unreal. Adam backed up and headed to the door which connected the garage to the kitchen.

Not even a kiss hello? Mark took his jacket, shut the garage door, and followed Adam into the house.

~

Steve stopped talking to Jack when Adam entered the kitchen. He and Jack had been discussing Mark’s new acquisition.

Adam said nothing, and opened the bottle of wine he and Jack had brought with their dinner.

Mark shut the door to the garage behind him, his jacket slung over his shoulder. I’m going to shower. Feel free to discuss me behind my back.

Steve glanced at Jack for a moment, heard Mark walking up the carpeted stairs to the second floor, then their bedroom door slamming.

Adam sipped the wine and Steve could tell the confrontation he had with Mark hadn’t gone well.

Steve woke out of his thoughts. Jack, you want a beer?

Sure.

Steve took two out of the refrigerator, poured them into frosted mugs, and handed the big, brawny-blue-eyed-gym-junkie one.

The kitchen was filled with the aroma of Chinese food, and white boxes were on the table, along with plates, chopsticks, and napkins. As they waited for the World’s Top Male Model to make his second grand entrance, Steve drank the iced beer and tried not to sink emotionally. It was no secret to their close friends; Mark Antonious had severe depression, self-esteem issues, had been seeing a psychiatrist for decades, and medicated himself on valium and sleeping pills.

Adam was the first to actually sit at the table, his stemmed glass in his hand. Can I change the topic?

I’ll pay you a million bucks. Steve joined him.

Jack sat beside Adam.

Adam placed his glass down and ran his hand over his conservatively cut brown hair. I heard an ugly rumor.

Oh, goody. Jack guzzled the beer down to the bottom, stood, and took another out of the fridge.

About? Steve asked.

As a disclaimer, or so it seemed to Steve, Adam held up his hand. I just heard this through the gossip lines. I have no evidence.

Since Jack was an attorney, and Steve a former LAPD cop, Steve thought it was ironic the talent agent was making a statement which sounded legal.

Jack sat back down, his elbows resting on the table. Let’s hear it.

Adam looked upset, and Steve wished all the drama would vanish from their lives. But it appeared to be eternal.

Alex’s TV series? Adam said, sipping his wine before he continued.

Steve was confused. He had thought that disaster was behind them.

Jack asked, What about it?

We all thought the cancellation was due to his conflicts with this new feature film. Adam looked towards the living room, which is where the stairs to the upper floor were located. It was as if he didn’t want Mark to overhear. But, Steve knew. Mark was most likely listening.

And? Jack asked.

Well, Adam leaned closer to whisper, Word is, it was cancelled because of the gossip rags claiming Alex’s hubby and Mark were having an illicit affair.

Steve made a face of annoyance. Get real.

Load of crap. Jack put the second beer to his lips.

Hey, Adam replied, We know it’s a load, but the media printed so much incriminating bullshit about those two, they claim that’s why they pulled the plug.

Jack narrowed his eyes at Adam. Hang on. Isn’t all publicity good publicity?

Steve finished his beer and listened carefully to Adam.

Not necessarily. Adam moved the chopsticks near his plate. But, I have a gut feeling the film producers instigated it in order to deflect blame.

Steve sat up straight. Mark’s coming.

The three men went quiet.

Mark entered the kitchen, showered, his hair blown dry, wearing Steve’s old LAPD T-shirt and a pair of skinny jeans. What did I miss?

Adam answered with a question, diverting the topic. When’s your next modeling shoot?

Next weekend for the car manufacturer. Mark made a face of disgust.

Steve knew he didn’t like the CEO, Drew Persley, who reminded Mark of his dead father. Mark detested his father.

So? Jack asked, Does that mean you’re eating or starving this week?

Steve watched as Mark removed a container of non-fat yoghurt from the refrigerator even though they had waited for him before eating their Chinese food. Seeing Mark wasn’t eating it, Steve began opening cartons, spooning out portions and passing the food.

Jack and Adam filled their plates.

Mark stood near them, eating from the small container. Why does that always smell so unappetizing?

Smells wonderful to me. Jack took a big helping of food.

Are you going to sit with us? Or hover? Adam asked.

Mark joined them at the table.

It was quiet for a little while as they took their portions, until Jack asked the loaded question, How fast did you go on the bike?

Mark set his spoon and empty container down. I don’t know.

Sure you don’t. Jack shook his head and began eating.

Adam asked, Seventy?

Steve cringed. Ya know what, Adam? I don’t want to know.

Steven? Mark watched the three other men eating hungrily. What kind of motorcycle does the highway patrol ride?

Steve grew angry and glared at Mark. Why?

Just curious.

They’re replacing the BMWs with Harley’s. Steve knew why Mark was asking. He wanted to know what he was up against when he was speeding.

Are they fast, do you think? Mark stood and removed bottled water from the fridge, then returned to his seat.

Jack blew out a loud exhale of frustration. Mark!

Steve set his chopsticks down and rubbed his face in anguish.

Jackie. Calm down. I’m only enquiring.

Adam finished chewing. Because? Were they on your tail?

Ha! Well, that is a lovely fantasy. Mark smiled.

No one smiled back.

Steve couldn’t deal with it, and was about to leave the table. As if Adam sensed it, he touched Steve’s arm to comfort him.

Mark, holding the bottled water, asked, What?

Get rid of the bike. Jack picked up a carton of rice.

I beg your pardon? Mark glared at him.

Jack? Steve asked, Can we just eat in peace?

Jack took more food, and ate quietly.

You know, Mark said, I’m tired of minders. Can you all find someone else to harass?

Steve addressed Adam, So? Any new clients worth talking about?

~

Mark tuned out the conversation and caught Jack staring at him. Mark stared back. When he saw Jack’s eyes fill with tears, Mark didn’t think his actions were funny any longer. He leaned closer to Jack. May I have a kiss?

Jack kissed him.

Mark caressed Jack’s jaw. Don’t worry.

It’s all I do when it comes to you.

Then, you’re wasting so much time.

What if you don’t have much time left?

Mark realized the other two had stopped talking. He met each of their gazes. It rattled him more than he would have hoped. Well! He stood, trying to snap out of the terrible mood. I shall wait for you upstairs. Mark left the bottle of water and walked to his bedroom. He sat on his bed, took his phone, and texted the captain. ‘Alex is looking for you. Are you still interviewing for chief?’

‘I was in a meeting, yes. I got his messages and called him.’

‘good. thank you, love.’

‘Mark, did you buy that Ducati? Were you on it speeding up highway 1 earlier today?’

It took Mark a moment to figure out how he knew. ‘Heavens no! police radio gossip bollocks?’

‘I heard the dispatch call. They had four units from the CHP looking for a red motorcycle flying at nearly 100mph. please tell me it wasn’t you.’

‘Don’t be silly. Of course it wasn’t. Why do you all worry so much? Captain, really. Alexander thought you would be with him for this shoot. And? why aren’t you?’

‘I will be. Soon. Mark, even if it wasn’t you they were after, don’t speed. I’ve been to several fatalities from motorcycle accidents. They aren’t pretty. Closed coffin, Richfield.’

Mark grew slightly dizzy at the thought. ‘well, it wasn’t me, so stop whinging.’

‘And how about you stop being selfish and think about your son and your husband.’

‘It’s wasn’t me! you’re a rude captain. mind your manners.’

‘whatever. I can’t do a fucking thing about it, can I?’

‘no. I must go. bye.’ Mark turned off his phone and set it on the nightstand. As Mark sat still he could hear the other three talking, but not what they were actually saying. He had become his own PI, listening in to conversations the other men were having. Why they thought he couldn’t handle it, was beyond him. But, he knew more than what they gave him credit for. He knew it all.

He lay down on the bed, cuddling with a stuffed bear he had rescued from his former childhood home in Paradise, California, before it sold. The text conversations left him uneasy, so he found a vial, took a tablet of valium, and chewed it.

He knew the boys would want sex, and he was the one they wanted to screw. But at the moment, all Mark wanted to do was sleep… and not wake up.

Chapter 2

You could hide his keys. Adam loaded the dishwasher.

Yeah, right. Steve put the leftover food into the refrigerator, while Jack threw away the empty containers and wiped the counter.

How could you allow him to buy it? Jack asked.

Steve gave Jack a weary look.

Adam didn’t comment.

Jack said, Ya know, for the first time in a long time, I don’t want to fuck him. I’m so tired of his bullshit.

We don’t have to make love, Jack. Adam wiped his hands on a towel. We can just watch a movie.

I’m good with that. Steve made sure the kitchen was in order. There might be a baseball game on.

Adam rolled his eyes at the thought.

Steve pointed to the top floor. Let me check on Mark. He trotted up the stairs and looked into the bedroom. Mark was sound asleep, holding Praline.

Steve looked down at him. Mark, Mark, Mark… Nothing ever changes. It’s insane.

He sat beside Mark, caressing his long mane of brown hair. Mark stirred from his nap.

I’m sorry, Steven. I’m knackered.

It’s okay. We’re going to watch a movie. I just wanted you to know.

No lovemaking?

Maybe later? Before bed? Steve touched Mark’s cheek.

Mark set the stuffed bear aside, and reached for a hug.

Steve brought Mark into his arms. They embraced tightly and Steve inhaled Mark’s scent; whether it was his cologne or natural body aroma, Mark always smelled so good.

Steve nuzzled into Mark’s neck. You can sleep. We’re fine hanging out.

I want to be with my boys this weekend. Mark backed up, rubbing his eyes.

We’re here. Come down and watch a movie with us.

What film?

I don’t know. You can help us decide.

I don’t care much for mainstream media.

I know. Steve smiled.

Steven?

Yes? Steve got lost in Mark’s green eyes.

I love you.

Steve kissed Mark. I’ll never get tired of hearing that.

And? Mark made a silly face at him.

Oh, Steve teased, Am I supposed to say it back?

Brute.

Come here. He held onto Mark, rocking him in his arms. Love, love, love you.

Mmm. Mark went limp in Steve’s embrace.

So? Up for a movie with our two favorite men? Steve brushed Mark’s hair back from his forehead.

Of course.

Steve stood and reached for Mark.

Mark took his hand and Steve noticed, as Mark stood, he may have gotten dizzy. Mark was notorious for fainting before photo shoots since he tended to starve. No amount of nagging, coaxing, or complaining, would change it.

Steve waited, and then he realized Mark wasn’t going to faint. He held him around his waist, and walked Mark down the stairs to meet with the other two.

Jack and Adam were together on the large sectional sofa, and they had brought their drinks with them.

Adam looked up at Mark. Did you nap?

I did. Mark sat down and stared at the TV. What nonsense are you watching?

Steve smiled and thumbed over his shoulder. Anyone need anything?

Water, Steven?

We’re good. Jack pointed to himself and Adam.

Steve left to get Mark a bottle of water, as well as one for himself. Once he did, he opened the door to the garage, looking at his Mercedes, Mark’s TVR, and the new addition, the Ducati. There was no way to prevent Mark riding. Mark was forty-four, not sixteen. And even though Mark may appear weak at times, he was as stubborn as a mule; Milt Richfield’s blood was in Mark’s veins, whether he hated the old man or not. And the apple didn’t fall far from the tree. Alexander Mark Richfield was the same. Not only did he look exactly like his top model dad, he had Mark’s stubborn streak as well.

Steve closed the garage door quietly, and lowered his head. There was nothing he could do. Nothing.

And that was the most frustrating part about it.

He brought two water bottles into the den, adjusted his expression, since Mark immediately watched him like a hawk, and then Steve sat beside Mark.

Mark thanked him for the water, cuddling up against Steve.

Steve sipped his water, setting it on a side table, and put his arm around Mark as they did something very rare. Watched TV on one of their sex-weekends.

Maybe they needed this. Time to just hang out without the expectation of a four-way sex romp. It didn’t matter. Steve was glad he had Jack and Adam here, and he would enjoy his lover, his husband, the man who had become his world, until he no longer could.

~

LAPD Captain Billy Sharpe sat at his computer and looked up flights to Ontario. He had gone through the long process of applying for the position of Chief of Police at his old stomping ground, Santa Monica. It was now up to them.

And…

He had made Alex a promise.

Billy looked for a direct flight, but coming from Los Angeles, he wasn’t going to get one. He had to stopover in either Chicago or New York.

His phone chimed with a text message.

Thinking it may be Alex, Billy reached for it. It was from one of his old SWAT buddies in the Los Angeles Police department, Manny Rodriguez. ‘was Alex’s father out on the highway on a motorcycle today?’

Oh, fuck me. Billy thought about Mark possibly lying to him when he asked him that same question. He texted Manny, ‘Why?’

‘my daughter showed me photos of him taken at a lookout point on H1. The CHP sent out a BOLO for a red crotch-rocket going over the century mark.’

Fuck! Billy took a moment to calm down at the thought of Mark riding that fast. I fucking knew it! Mark had just taken the motorcycle endorsement course recently, and was by no means an experienced rider. Although he knew it had to be Mark and Mark had lied to him, Billy typed, ‘no. not him. sorry.’

‘okay. just giving you a heads up.’

‘thanks.’

‘any word on the C-o-P position?’

‘still waiting. keep it off the radar.’

‘no prob. let’s have a beer soon.’

‘cool. when I get back from Canada.’

‘see ya.’

Billy set the phone down and rubbed his face in frustration. Goddamn it, Richfield! He stopped his hunt for flights and instead, looked up Mark’s latest mess via his computer’s search engine. Sure as shit, there was a candid photo of Mark, in his leathers, standing near his red crotch-rocket, at a lookout point. Under the photo was a caption, ‘Mark Antonious in leather on an Italian super-bike? Does it get any hotter than that? Thank you Dangereux Red!’

Both he and Steve had watched Mark film the latest commercial ads for Mark’s cologne. The new ‘Red’ campaign had Mark in leather, riding the bike in the television commercials, and standing next to it, topless, in print.

He and Steve knew Mark getting the motorcycle was inevitable. And? Now Mark had and was riding recklessly.

Billy closed his eyes to decompress. He was married to Alexander, Mark’s twenty-six year old superstar son. Not Mark.

Although he adored Mark, Billy had to stop feeling as if he were responsible for him. Not only for the sake of his marriage, which was already tough since he and Alex had a twenty year age gap between them, not to mention, two careers which demanded most of their time.

Billy couldn’t stop Mark from doing, basically, anything. And if Steve, Jack, and Adam couldn’t, how could he?

He shook off the feeling of terror that thinking about Mark dying on a motorcycle gave him, and resumed his search for a decent flight.

~

Alex relaxed in his hotel room as he read tomorrow’s paperwork and remembered his lines. The film was set on a sprawling ranch with horses, and open spaces. He and his co-star Jeremy Runner, had finished all of their sex scenes while still in Los Angeles. Now, they were doing everything else. He adored Jeremy. The man was kind, honest, and respected the fact that Alex was married. The entire team in Ontario were professional, never made any degrading comments about him, Billy, or his top model dad. It was a great production company, and he had a feeling this film was going to do very well at the box office.

Gay romances had finally hit mainstream. Alex couldn’t be happier to be a part of that movement.

Well, he could be happier. If his captain were here.

Alex rolled to his back, reading the lines, closing his eyes and memorizing them. He heard a tap on his hotel door. Alex perked up and set the paperwork down, answering it.

Jeremy was there, holding his papers. Want to read with me?

Sure. Alex invited him into his hotel room and closed the door.

Jeremy dropped down on the foot of the bed and stared at the paperwork. Alex sat beside him, holding his. You start.

Right. Jeremy yawned, rubbed his eyes, and then read from the script. I have to tell ya something.

I hope it’s good.

It ain’t.

Alex waited, since Jeremy had the next line.

We had to notify State. We got ourselves a homicide. Jeremy paused, since the notation was in the script, and then said, She’s a young woman, maybe twenties… her initials were ‘C-L’.

How do you know?

Buddy found a bracelet. Anyway, State is going to do up some computer shit and make a drawing of what she looks like. Then the captain and I are going to announce it at the town hall, next Thursday.

You aren’t saying she was killed at my ranch.

I’m going to try to be as discreet as possible, Cole, but what do you think the town’s people are going to ask when we tell them?

Goddamn it, Hayden. I thought we had an agreement. Alex could see Jeremy was struggling with remembering so much dialogue. He was basically reading his, while Alex had most of his own lines memorized.

We had no such thing, Cole. Jesus. I’d think you’d want to see justice done for the poor girl. Buddy told me she put up a fight. She’s just a tiny thing. She had wounds on her arms. Think of that, will ya? Someone’s mother lost a daughter.

Shit.

Yeah. That’s exactly what I said. I don’t know what to do, Cole. I mean, this town? Nothing happens here. We never have anyone in the holding cell. Jeremy paused and tried not to look at the script. And getting the State to pitch in? Curdles my blood. Those bastards will send in some goon squad and harass everyone here. I’m sick about it.

I don’t think my dad will handle this news well. He didn’t even want the locals to know.

And I’m sick about that young woman, Cole. Who’d want to harm a young girl? Jesus H. Christ.

Alex stared at Jeremy’s handsome profile, knowing how excited they had gotten during the sex scenes in LA. I don’t know, Sky. I really think it has to be an outsider. There ain’t no one we know capable of that.

Yeah. I told the captain it has to be a drifter. Someone passing through.

But why there, ya know? I can’t understand if it’s someone from out of town, why would they dump a body back there? Christ, on my property? Like we don’t have enough trouble.

Jeremy went back to reading. Finances?

Dad’s got us in debt to the eyeballs. We need a new roof and we thought we could ask for a loan against the property. Then Leo looks into it with the bank, and finds out Dad’s been refinancing the shit out of it. We don’t have a pot to piss in.

Damn, Cole. I didn’t know it was that bad.

We’re going to the horse auction, ya know, sell a few of the older hack horses.

Christ, Cole.

At that point in the script, Alex was supposed to touch Jeremy. So he did. Jeremy didn’t flinch and pull away, like he was supposed to do in the script. Alex stopped touching him. Sorry. I… you don’t have to go.

I’m dead on my feet, and have got to get out of this uniform. Goddamn twelve-hour shifts. I swear, I’m never out of this clown suit.

The fact that Jeremy was playing a downtrodden sheriff in a one-horse town, hit Alex hard and made him think of Billy. I guess being one of the few cops in this shithole is easy, until something happens.

Ain’t never easy. And it’s all from behind the scenes that’s the bitch. Not the town itself.

Why? What’s going on, Hayden?

Jeremy tried not to look at the script but kept doing it. There’s talk they’re getting rid of us, and just letting State take over. Talk about broke? There ain’t even enough taxes in this place to support the few of us working here.

So… what’ll ya do? Leave?

I’m not thinking that far in advance. I can’t. My head will explode. I’m like you. I grew up here. My gran is in a nursing home nearby and my parents are buried here. Where am I going? Huh? Lateral into some big city department? Get into a shootout with a gang? I can’t do that.

Alex again thought of Billy changing police departments, and lost himself for a moment. He studied Jeremy’s expression. I would have thought you’d split the first chance you got. I can tell ya, what you’re saying surprises me.

Jeremy gave Alex a look that set Alex’s skin on fire and goose bumps rose on his forearms. Why do you think I stay around, Cole?

Don’t you go saying anything you don’t intend to keep.

Yeah? You want to face that? Huh? A queer couple in this town? Bad enough I have to stand up on Thursday and talk about a homicide. But I’d rather do that than let them know.

Know… Alex used his index finger to touch the back of Jeremy’s hand since he could see Jeremy struggling to remember so much dialogue.

Jeremy sighed loudly and held up the paper. Good luck telling your dad… see ya.

That was it the end of the scene.

Jeremy flopped back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. I’m burned out already, Alex. I’m so fucking tired.

Alex set his script on the nightstand and relaxed beside Jeremy. Me too. We’re near the end. Only one more week.

Jeremy shook the paperwork in his hand. Look at all this fucking dialogue!

I know.

How do you remember it? You seem to have the right brain for it. Jeremy put the papers beside him on the bed.

Alex thought about it. I guess I just get into the character. You know? I think of it as talking with someone. And your character is so much like Billy—

Jeremy rolled to his side, held Alex’s head, and kissed him.

Alex’s eyes sprang wide open and he backed up. Whoa!

As if he realized how wrong his actions were, Jeremy covered his face. Sorry. Shit.

Alex stood up, shaken, and hoping this wouldn’t happen. But the chemistry between him and Jeremy was scorching hot. And they weren’t even doing sex scenes any longer.

Jeremy sat up, placing the paper over his lap, hiding his crotch. That was out of line. Alex, I’m sorry. Jeremy got to his feet, and to Alex, he appeared completely spent and defeated.

Jeremy.

His gorgeous costar glanced at him sheepishly.

Alex reached out his arms in sympathy. He’d been there; been stressed, overworked to exhaustion, and knew when someone needed a friend.

Jeremy set the papers on the bed and held Alex, squeezing him tight. Billy is one lucky fucker.

Alex felt Jeremy’s cock against his, and they were both hard. I’m not so sure. Alex smiled as he rested his chin on Jeremy’s shoulder. He’s got his hands full.

In his ear, Jeremy whispered, Does Billy love your father?

Alex closed his eyes in reaction and didn’t answer.

Jeremy rested his forehead on Alex’s. It’s all over the news, Alex. I’m not trying to throw fuel on the fire.

I know.

"Did you read the latest story about why Being Screwed got cancelled?"

Alex kept still, trying to think. My director, Charlotte Deavers, said it was because the film producers didn’t want the conflicting schedule.

Um, no.

Alex backed up so he could see Jeremy’s eyes. What am I missing?

"I read that