by HJ Welch
Back to real life and away from Reyse Hickson.
7
Reyse
Reyse allowed the makeup girl to touch up his face while half a dozen women in latex hot pants stood around him holding oversized lollypops, looking bored.
On days like this, he wondered what the hell he was doing with his life.
He was sprawled out on a leopard print futon while the crew fussed with the lighting and wind machines. His costar, Mega Daddy, was shouting angrily into phone while choosing which diamond-studded ring to wear from a selection being presented to him in a velvet-lined box.
“My ass is chafing like a bitch,” one of the dancers whispered behind Reyse with a giggle. But then she moaned like she might actually be in pain.
“Did you put talcum powder down there first?” one of the other girls asked sympathetically. Reyse didn’t want to look around in case it seemed like he was ogling them. But he guessed the first girl shook her head. The second one sighed. “You might have time to get some if we break. But Hemal likes to get all the shots in one go once a scene is set up.”
Hemal was their director for the music video. Reyse hadn’t worked with Hemal much in the past, but Reyse had done a last-minute vocal guest star on Mega’s record, much to Reyse’s annoyance. Kevin had insisted it was great for getting his name back in the charts between his own releases, but it had also meant pushing back the start date for recording his own album by a couple of weeks.
His agent, Martha, had agreed with Reyse that work like this wasn’t exactly on brand for him and went against her own personal taste. But Kevin had more pull than Martha, despite her representing Reyse since before his days in Below Zero. But they had booth learned when to back down when Kevin and Sun City dug their heels in.
So here they were, throwing a trashy video together to get the single released in less than five days.
The premise for the video wasn’t exactly all that original. Girls shaking their asses in skimpy outfits. Lasers and smoke machines. Brightly colored walls and tilted camera angles. It was a by-the-numbers kind of job. Which was good, because Reyse was definitely phoning this one in.
He would much rather be back in his own studio, working on some songs that had more to the lyrics than fucking and how awesome he and Mega were. It was a bit tiresome. But these kinds of songs charted really well and would help keep the money rolling in until he released his own next record. Because heaven forbid he stopped bringing those dollar bills in for Sun City.
He scoffed. Like this was ‘family friendly’? Sun City was quite happy for him to objectify women like this, but Kevin and the other suits would drop dead if Reyse announced he was in love with another man.
He wasn’t in love, he reminded himself scornfully.
But he was having a hell of a time getting Corey Sheppard out of his head.
He chewed on his thumbnail and tuned out the hustle and bustle around him. Three weeks and Reyse could still feel an ache in his chest when he thought of Corey. It was beyond ridiculous. But Reyse kept finding himself playing with his phone, typing out dumb messages about his day with no number to send them to.
It was typical that Corey hardly had any social media presence at all. He didn’t have a Twitter, his Instagram only had a few images of pretty scenery from around LA, and his FB profile was simply his profile picture (his face all but covered by a baseball cap) and cover photo (a sunset). He was also one of those people you couldn’t add or message unless you already had mutual friends. Not that Reyse was dumb enough to try and add him.
He just wished he had something to look at to remind him of their night together – other than Speedy Pete’s pizza, which Reyse might have shamelessly ordered a couple of times since. He knew Corey wasn’t working there anymore, but it was the last little tether Reyse could think of between them.
He sighed and wondered what Corey was doing today. Had he gotten a new job? Had he thought about Reyse at all?
Reyse had given up telling himself it was just about sex. He’d been driven nuts with lust with guys he’d worked with over the years. This wasn’t that. He kept thinking about Corey’s devilish smile. The way he’d paid attention to what Reyse had said. His jokes and outrageous flirting. His tenderness.
Corey had been one in a million. And now he was gone.
“Okay, girls and boys!”
Hemal clapped his hands as he arrived back on set. He was a skinny white guy with a Guy Ritchie-type cockney London accent. During the entire shoot, he’d not stopped puffing on a strawberry-scented vape, exhaling smoke with no regard to who was around him. He sucked air through his teeth and surveyed the scene. Mega Daddy was still ripping a new hole for whoever he was on the phone with. Hemal narrowed his eyes at him, then turned back to Reyse and the girls.
“Those plants need to be moved to the green screen area along with the rain machine,” he yelled to the crew as he advanced on the leopard print futon. Several stagehands burst into action to carry out his orders. Hemal stopped in front of Reyse and steepled his fingers in front of his chin. “Now,” he said. “What to do with you lot?”
In a professional capacity, Reyse had encountered many kinds of people in his career. Directors, producers, interviewers and the like usually treated him with reverence or deep respect. But every now and again, a cockroach would surface who thought they were oh so much better than a dumb pop star.
This dude had roach written all over him.
“Wardrobe, get me those baseball caps for the ladies!” The way he said ‘ladies’ had little to do with his valuing them and more him trying to get in their tight, latex pants, Reyse was sure. “She needs more hair. She needs more lips. Oh, for Christ’s sake, someone get this one some tits, will they? I’m supposed to fancy these birds. Wardrobe! Get them fishnets while you’re at it. The neon ones we discussed. You, Blondie, and you, Pocahontas. Congratulations! It’s your lucky day. You’re getting solo spots. Wardrobe! Strip them down, paint them blue and dump glitter all over them.”
He said most of this monologue all while looking Reyse directly in the eye with a smirk on his face. Reyse held his gaze, not flinching away for a second. He had his ankle perched on a knee and his arms resting on the back of the futon. He wasn’t going to be bossed around by some dickhead who thought he had big balls.
“You all right there, mate?” Hemal asked, smacking Reyse’s elevated foot.
Reyse didn’t budge.
“Fine, thank you,” he said with a smile he knew didn’t reach his eyes.
Hemal nodded and puffed on his vape, looking around the studio. “Yeah, sure. Anything you need, just let me know.”
“Talcum powder,” Reyse said without missing a beat.
Hemal frowned and looked back down at him. “Beg your pardon?”
“Talc,” Reyse repeated with a bigger smile. “As soon as you can, mate.”
Hemal slowly blinked, then unclipped his walkie-talkie from his belt and clicked it on. “Yeah, some talcum powder to the set for Mr. Hickson, asap.”
He didn’t look at Reyse. He just stalked off, screaming at the next unfortunate crew member about moving a set of mirrors on wheels around to the next filming location.
Reyse glanced back. The dancers that were left had taken themselves a few feet away and were practicing the choreography while they had a few minutes before wardrobe came back with their new items. They were crazy talented. Reyse spent a few moments simply admiring them run the moves. He would have loved to have jumped up and joined in with them, but the choreography was incredibly sexual. Feminine.
He sighed. God, he missed dancing with the guys, especially Blake. Blake had always been the star when it came to the choreography, but he also made those around him better just with his energy to bounce off. Reyse often still got to dance in his videos and on tour. But it wasn’t quite the same as with his brothers.
He turned around and fished his phone out of his pants pocket to distract himself. Seeing as they weren’t filming yet and weren�
��t likely to be for at least another half an hour, he figured it was safe to turn it back on. He’d shut it off after taking a selfie for Instagram, looking as happy as he could manage on the set with Mega.
It was stupid, but every time he restarted it after turning it off for a recording session or flight or whatever, he hoped he might see something from Corey. Reyse’s team handled the private messages on his social media, so even if Corey contacted him on there, chances were the guys would just dismiss him as some overeager fan. But Reyse could still daydream about seeing Corey’s name popping up on his phone.
As it was, several unexpected messages did show up on Reyse’s screen once the phone came back to life. They just weren’t from Corey.
Three text messages and a voicemail from his mom.
Reyse sat up in his seat, his heart racing in cautious excitement. He never got to talk to his mom. He never knew the right time to call and never knew what to say. And heaven forbid his dad should pick up.
The texts were vague.
Hi sweetheart can you call me? LOL
He assumed she meant ‘lots of love,’ rather than ‘laugh out loud.’ He read on.
Its urgent
Everythings fine its just your father has had a bit of a scare. If you could call id really appreciate it
A scare? A cold sweat ran over Reyse’s body and he punched in his voicemail code, holding the phone anxiously to his ear.
“Oh, hi, hon. I’m not sure if I’m supposed to call you on this number but it’s the only number I have. You’re probably busy. I rang a bunch of times but it went to voicemail each time. So…sorry if this is disturbing you.”
“Come on, Mom,” Reyse growled, feeling like he was going to be sick. “What’s up with Dad?”
“So, um, anyway. I just thought you should know that Dad had a stroke.” She laughed nervously. “He’s fine. I mean, he’s stable. He, um, hasn’t woken up yet. But he’s still in the ICU, so he’s getting the best care. The doctors can’t really tell me when he’s going to wake up…or what state he’ll be in when he does. But, uh, well. I just thought you should know. You don’t have to call me back. Love you, sweetheart.”
“What the fuck?” Reyse cried, leaping to his feet and startling a couple of the dancers. He was punching redial as one of the PAs came up to him with a bottle of talcum powder. “Oh, give it to the dancers. Thanks,” he added with the best smile he could muster as he walked past them. It wasn’t a great smile. His head was swimming with too many thoughts and his stomach churning like a cement mixer. “Mom! Hi!”
“Oh, sweetheart,” her voice came down the line. He hadn’t heard it in weeks, maybe months. His heart contracted. “I said you didn’t have to call back,” she said, almost accusingly.
Reyse shook his head and pushed his way out of the studio space, jogging down the hall until he found a door out into the lot. “Mom, you said Dad had a stroke,” he said. He stepped outside and shielded his eyes from the bright LA sunshine.
There was a brief pause. “Um, yes. Sorry.”
“Mom, why are you sorry?” Reyse cried in exasperation. “I’m glad you called, I wanted to know! When did it happen? Is he really going to be okay?”
“Yes,” his mom said immediately. But then it was like she struggled with what to say next. “I mean, the doctors don’t know. They keep warning me that…that there might be, uh…”
Brain damage. Reyse got that. He tried to swallow, but he felt so nauseous.
“Dad’s strong, Mom,” he said, trying to convince the both of them. “Tough as a ram, right?”
That got a very small, weak chuckle from her. But his dad had spent all his life in the Army. He was tough. Reyse couldn’t imagine him sick, lying in a hospital bed. That was just unfathomable.
“Yes, yes,” his mom agreed. “You’re quite right. He’s going to be fine. Oh, hon, you didn’t have to call, really. I saw on the Instagram you’re shooting a music video today.”
Reyse sighed. He knew his mom loved getting her news from Insta. Not just from him. She followed all kinds of people on there, preferring that to other actual news outlets. It made Reyse a little sad that was how she got his news, though, rather than simply texting or calling him. But he knew he didn’t contact her enough either. Communication was a two-way street.
“I am, but it’s fine,” Reyse said truthfully. Quite frankly, they could be screaming at him to come back in that moment and he wouldn’t care. “This is more important. What happened?”
“It was all so fast,” his mom said, her voice trembling. “Your dad was just tinkering in the garage and he came over all funny. The ambulance was here in no time and our insurance covered most of the costs. So that’s good, at least.”
“I can cover it, Mom,” Reyse said, not even hesitating a second. That was the least he could do.
Guilt was making him dizzy. He leaned against the studio wall for support. How long had it been since he’d seen his parents, let alone talked to his dad? His mom kept him updated as to what they were up to, but that wasn’t the same. Home just seemed like a foreign land to him. He had nothing there now, and his dad had always been distant, even before Reyse got famous. When he wasn’t deployed it always felt to Reyse like he wanted to be anywhere but around his one and only son. So Reyse had stayed away.
And now he was unconscious with no clear prognosis as to when he might fully wake up…and what his mind might be like if he did.
When he did. He had to. Reyse wasn’t sure of a lot of things about his dad, but he was a tough old bastard and he wasn’t going down without a fight. He would recover.
And Reyse would be there when he did.
“I’m coming home,” Reyse blurted before he could really think about what he was saying.
“W-what?” his mom stammered.
Reyse experienced a brief moment of panic. But this was his dad. If there was ever a time to drop everything and go home, it was now. Kevin would just have to deal with it. Off the top of his head, Reyse knew he had an appearance booked on the Kimmy Kovac show, but she would totally understand his need to reschedule. He was only going to play a game and get himself covered in gunk rather than promote something specific. Reyse would ask her wife which of the new Lego boxsets she was missing and get her a couple to apologize for the inconvenience.
It was typical Kevin and Sun City were okay with him going on a lesbian talk show, just because it was popular, but heaven forbid Reyse himself be gay.
Aside from a few phone interviews, he mainly had studio time on his calendar for the next few weeks. As much as it pained him to postpone that again, he wouldn’t hesitate. The record could wait.
His family could not.
“I’m coming to see you,” Reyse said. He rubbed his eyes, probably messing up his makeup. “I should have come home ages ago, so…yeah. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Sweetheart,” his mom said, not sounding sure. “You can’t just drop everything like that. You’re so busy. We’re fine.”
“But you’re not!” Reyse countered, trying not to snap. But he was feeling horribly guilty. “What if it had been worse and Dad…what if I couldn’t talk to Dad again?” There was still a chance he might not. Anguish squirmed in his gut.
“Reyse,” she said, her voice cracking. He knew she was fully aware that was a possibility, too. She was a smart woman, despite all her unsureness.
“I’ll get through today,” Reyse told her. “I’ll tell them to cut my shots in half, or just do a couple of takes.” It would give him immense pleasure to tell Hemal he wanted off his shitty video as soon as possible. “My people can book a flight for the next day or so, once I’ve got everything else in order. I’ll let you know when I know.”
There was a pause. Reyse could tell she was still wrestling with inconveniencing him. But he’d make her see this was his priority, without a shadow of doubt.
Thankfully, she let out a big sigh, and said, “Okay. That would be just wonderful, sweetheart. I’d love to hav
e you here. And it would mean a lot to your dad.”
Reyse honestly wasn’t sure about that. But maybe a scare like this would be enough for them to try and talk a bit more. Reyse didn’t know, but he’d try.
“I’ll be home as soon as possible,” Reyse promised. “I’ll get the first flight I can.”
“Will Bella be able to come with you?” his mom asked, a touch of hope in her voice.
Damn. Bella. His ‘girlfriend.’ His mom had never met her, but she was a huge fan, and not just of her movies. She followed her social media accounts as much as Reyse’s, always saying how lovely and sweet she seemed.
Reyse wasn’t sure if it was lucky or not, but he knew for a fact Bella wasn’t available. “Ah, I’m sorry, Mom,” he said. “She’s filming in England for the next six weeks. There’s no way she could fly out.”
“That’s okay,” his mom said quickly. “I just…well, it would have been nice for you to bring her, I guess. But I’m overjoyed you’re going to come, in any case. You hurry back to work now and let me know when you’ve booked a flight.”
Reyse promised he would and hung up the phone. But he didn’t head back into the studio right away. His guts washed with worry, like acid, but now his heart was aching, too. God, it would be so amazing to bring a partner along with him in a situation like this. Someone to hold his hand and hug him and tell him his dad was going to be okay. Bella would have been nice, but Reyse had a moment of rage that he couldn’t have a boyfriend to stand by him. He did every goddamned thing by himself. Was it too much to wish for once he could have someone take care of him?
What was worse was he had a face flash up in his mind when he thought about who that boyfriend could be.
Reyse allowed himself a moment of self-pity. Then he steeled himself for a fight. They already had several shots of him. They could just rush his other segments through, then work with Mega Daddy and the girls tomorrow.
Tomorrow, Reyse was flying home.
Alone.
8
