Prince of the Playhouse: A MM, Coming Out, Secret Identity, Theater Romance (Love in Laguna Book 3)

by Tara Lain

  Could this be the same man Ru met in the costume department a week before? Did he have a shy twin?

  Artie walked up the side aisle with his hands extended. “Gray, sorry about the bullshit. Glad you could make it.”

  “Sorry I’m late. Please, put me to work.” He pointed to the youngest guy in his entourage. “George is going to take down all the blocking for me so I can review it at home. I had them build a model of the stage in my backyard.”

  Artie raised an eyebrow. “How Elizabethan of you.”

  Gray laughed—a sound almost as famous as his face. “Artie, this is Penelope, my manager, Benson, and my bodyguard, Chris. And George you met.”

  Chris had to be a Christophe or a Christian. Huge and Germanic.

  Artie shook hands. “Come meet the cast and crew.” He turned and spied Ru and Merle. “Starting here. This is Merle Justice.”

  Gray’s eyes landed on Ru, then flicked to Merle, whom he gave that patented smile. “Horatio. Honored to meet you.”

  “And this is our brilliant fashion designer costumer, Rupert Maitland.”

  Ru smiled but waited to see what Gray would say. Anson stuck out his hand, took Ru’s, squeezed, glanced at Merle with a tiny flicker of a frown, then showed the teeth. “I’m so happy to meet you. I know the costumes will be a big reason people come to the show. I can’t wait to see them.”

  “Happy to meet you too. I’m a big fan.”

  “How nice.” He glanced back at his manager. “See, Benson, I do have intellectual fans amidst the truckers and rednecks.”

  Ru shrugged. “That’s okay. I’m not as smart as I look.”

  Gray smiled, and then he laughed full-on.

  Artie led him down the aisle. He looked back once, still laughing, although his eyes again stopped on Merle. Maybe I dreamed it.

  Merle leaned toward Ru. “I’d say you made an impression.”

  “Yes, but maybe not the one I wanted to make.” What the hell had possessed him to say that? Oh well, the slim ass of Penelope Tisane pressing against Gray’s hip certainly advertised that, whatever Gray Anson might have said about Ru’s eyes looking like a cat’s, his real interest was in pussy.

  Merle smiled. “So did you decide about joining us for drinks?”

  Ru sighed very softly. “Sure, why the hell not?”

  Ru stepped into the bar and glanced around the crowded tables. He’d gone home to get a touch clubbier and currently sported tight black slacks, the pink-polka-dot-and-black shirt he’d tailored himself, and, of course, his bow tie. Black jet earrings in each ear and a dab of eyeliner completed the portrait of fashionable gay boy on the town—a picture he’d carefully crafted over the last eight years.

  A hand waved from the back of the club, and Ru started toward it. Three of the cast members—Merle, Beverly, and Phillip—plus Artie gathered at a table with pitchers of beer and bowls of snacks. Tilda must still be working on her Stanislavsky method. Merle waved him forward and pushed back a chair next to him. “Hey, Ru. Don’t you look adorable?”

  Ru grinned. Apparently being a teenybopper heartthrob TV star didn’t keep Merle from advertising his homosexual status. “Thank you. You look edible yourself, darling.” Too true. He’d donned jeans so tight they should have prevented sitting, much less drinking, and a blue sweater that skimmed a boyishly lean but beautifully muscled body and screamed, “Look at these eyes.”

  Merle gave him a melting look.

  Artie nodded, probably trying to throw a little water on the gay mating ritual. “Glad you could join us, Ru. We were just talking about getting some food. Where’s a good place?”

  “I like Rick’s. It’s about two blocks from here. It’s really popular, though, so I don’t know if we can get in.”

  “Want to give it a try? All they’ve got here are burgers and fries. I’ve had enough of those this week.”

  “Sure.” He stood before the seat even got warm and led them out the door, up the Pacific Coast Highway to the popular restaurant. It was still early, so the line only stretched to the sidewalk, not all the way in front of the patio as it would later. Ru slipped between the bodies, up to the hostess in her black slacks and white shirt. “Hey, dear.”

  “Ru, sweetheart. How are you?”

  “I have a few VIPs with me. A big Hollywood director and three actors. Any chance we can get in—?”

  “Holy shit.” She looked past Ru. Her lips opened and stayed open. Ru slowly turned his head to look over his shoulder. Whatever was back there would surely turn him to a pillar of fucking salt. Yep. Ru stared first at a collar button, then up into the storm-tinted eyes of Gray Anson.

  The hostess collected herself. “Yes, of course. I’m sure we can find a spot for Mr. Anson and his party. Why didn’t you say so, silly?”

  “No, I mean—”

  Gray smiled and time stood still. “Thank you so much. I actually think there are nine of us. Is there any way to put tables together? I know it’s a terrible inconvenience.”

  She giggled. “Yes, yes, of course.”

  People behind Gray didn’t even complain. They just stared and scooted a little closer to his glittering aura. Three people who’d just been seated on the patio got booted from their table with hearty apologies and attempts to accommodate them indoors, while tables scooted loudly and chairs got moved.

  Ru looked up at Gray. “Don’t you feel bad?”

  For a second the shiny face dulled a little. “Yeah.” Then the Gray mask fell back into place. “But I feel more hungry.”

  “Do you really want all of us with you?”

  Gray tilted his head and gazed at Ru. “Yes. Very much.”

  Before his cock could take off for unknown territory, Ru scooted back through the line and gathered up Artie, Merle, Beverly, and Phillip. “You may have noticed, Gray showed up, so they’re moving heaven and earth to seat all of us.”

  Artie grinned. “Shameless, but I’ll take it.”

  Merle didn’t look quite so happy.

  By the time they apologized their way to the front of the line, Gray, Penelope, and Benson were seated. Their group filled in the remaining spaces, which put Artie at the head of the table, Phillip and Beverly with their backs to the sidewalk, Merle next to Artie, and at the last second, Gray moved Penelope’s purse from the seat next to him and offered it with a nod—to Ru. Jesus, forget about eating. His erect cock would take the place of his fork.

  Be casual, for God’s sake. “What happened to Chris?”

  Gray glanced behind him with a nod. Chris sat at a two-person table near the wall, facing the door, looking big, mean, and vigilant.

  Ru shook his head. “It’s hard knowing people are out to get you all the time.”

  Silence.

  What? What did I say? He looked up at Gray, who gazed at him with a quizzical smile. “Sorry, I mean, I bet it’s hard. Must be très weird never feeling completely alone or safe.”

  “Yes, it’s very weird.”

  The waiter showed up, clearly ready to either have a heart attack or post his entire life story on Facebook. He took orders all around and delivered two bottles of champagne that Gray ordered.

  As he sipped bubbly, Ru looked past Gray at the beautiful Penelope. “Did you enjoy the rehearsal?”

  Cool and elegant. Man, she oozed money. “Yes, although I didn’t get to see Gray do any real acting yet. I’m looking forward to that.”

  A flash of something strained passed over Gray’s face. “We’ll get to the ‘to be or not to be’s’ soon enough.”

  Penelope looked toward Beverly, who was chatting with Phillip. “Miss Howard, I’m a great admirer of your work.”

  Beverly, one glass of wine past her limit, flushed. “I’m honored. Thank you.”

  Penelope turned her cool gaze on Merle. “My sister is a huge fan of yours, Mr. Justice. Your posters litter her walls.”

  “Litter may be the appropriate fate for those posters, but I’m glad she likes them.” Merle cracked his cute grin.


  “I thought perhaps you and the lovely Ophelia were an item.” She smiled. “Though it would break my sister’s heart.”

  He laughed. “She might be more heartbroken to learn I don’t prefer women at all, but then she probably knows it. Most of my fans do.”

  She raised a golden eyebrow. “Really. Have we progressed to the point that heartthrobs can come out of the closet?”

  “Some can. I was never in the closet, so people who hate fags hate me. Just that simple. It makes life less complicated—although also less profitable. There are roles I don’t get offered because the producers don’t want to lose the homo-hating audience.”

  “How inspiring of you, nonetheless. And you, Mr. Maitland—”

  Ru’s brain snapped back from its dwelling place on his thigh that absorbed the heat from Gray’s leg. “Me?” He quickly rewound the conversation. “I’m a fashion designer, dear. Being gay adds to my mystique and credibility.”

  She laughed. “I meant to say that I’m also an admirer of yours, and yes, you have a great deal of mystique and credibility.”

  He about swallowed his tongue and fanned his face to cover it. “Oh my, how could one of the world’s best-dressed women know about little me?”

  “Shaz styles me.”

  “He does? That devil must be keeping you all to himself.”

  “I’ll admit, he hasn’t been able to drag me to Laguna before, but that will be changing. What a charming town. He has brought some of your designs for me to see, and I’m thoroughly impressed.”

  “Will I sound like a poor country girl if I say ‘wow’?” He smiled.

  “Not at all. I share the sentiment.”

  Gray glanced at Ru and flashed a grin. Heart stop city.

  Food arrived. Ru had ordered the salmon, one of his faves, and Gray copied him. Merle had gone for Rick’s famous fish sandwich, as had most of the others. As the waiter placed the plates in front of Ru and Gray, Gray’s napkin dropped to the floor between his legs. He scooted back, spread his knees so he could reach between them, and managed to press the full length of his hard-muscled thigh against Ru’s. Perfect paralysis. Don’t move, don’t speak, don’t make him aware of what he’s done. Shocks of heat streaked into Ru’s balls, and he enjoyed the boil.

  Gray snagged the napkin, scooted his chair back in, and—didn’t move his leg. From knee to hip, his long limb rested fully against Ru’s. Didn’t he notice? Was being pressed against another man normal for him? Maybe an action-star thing?

  Forget about food, conversation, breathing. Don’t miss a moment.

  Artie started talking to Gray about some entertainment industry thing. Gray ate heartily. Nothing abnormal or extraordinary going on in his universe. Ru pushed his salmon on the plate and gazed into near space, every ounce of his consciousness living in his tingling flesh.

  “Ru?”

  Ru’s glance flicked up to find Merle staring at him. “Sorry?”

  “Boy, you were a million miles away. Designing costumes?”

  “Oh yes.” He liked Merle. He didn’t want to wish the guy would shut up so he could listen to the sound of his balls expanding.

  Merle lowered his voice. “I wondered if you’d like to get that drink we didn’t quite get to have later?”

  Gray shifted and pressed his knee harder. Ru sucked wind. “Oh!”

  Merle cocked his head. “Is that an unexpected invitation?” He grinned. “I did everything except hire a billboard.”

  “Oh no. Sorry. I, uh, have so much to do—”

  “It’s not really late. We could go over to the Ocean Bar for a little while, and then you can get home to your designs.”

  “I—”

  Gray turned abruptly to Ru. “Did you talk with Artie about your great design concepts for the Hamlet character?”

  “Oh no, not yet.”

  Artie grinned. “I’m all ears.”

  Ru glanced at a deflated-looking Merle but launched into an explanation of his glamorized gangster costume. The more he talked, the more excited he got. “It immediately sets Hamlet apart from his family and everyone else. He has other allegiances, a different take on the world. When he says ‘to be or not to be,’ he’s not just depressed and melancholy. He’s seriously considering his options, and they’re violent.”

  Gray started beating out a rap rhythm on the edge of the table. “To be or not to be. Yeah, to be or not to be. That’s the question in front of me.”

  The others laughed, and Merle joined in.

  Ru nodded. “Horatio would have some of the same gang colors as Hamlet, but we can see that he’s being sucked in by the man.”

  Artie clapped. “Brilliant idea, Ru.”

  “But remember, this will be fashion, not costume, so it will suggest the look but not be slavish.”

  “Can’t wait to see it.”

  Beverly nodded and sipped more wine. “Amajing. Ruj’s amajing.”

  Ru sat back and smiled. Even while he’d been rapping, Gray had never moved his leg. If anything, he’d pressed it harder against Ru. Jesus, he wanted to pull Gray to his feet and press more than their legs together.

  Penelope leaned forward and looked toward Ru. “I agree, you’re amazing.”

  He nodded. “Why, thank you, lovely lady.” It made him feel a little squirmy to think he was lusting after this woman’s boyfriend, but maybe she and Gray had some kind of agreement?

  She put a hand on Gray’s arm. “I think I should ask him.”

  Gray frowned. “No, not now.”

  “No better time. Ru, I’m soon going to be looking for a designer for my wedding gown, and I’d like to invite you to submit a concept. It’s not right away. I know you’re working on a collection, but I wanted to tell you, so you can keep my needs in mind.”

  Ru didn’t move. Even his heart must have quit. He couldn’t hear it beating over the rushing in his ears.

  “Of course, I can’t assure you the commission until I see roughs of the design, but I can’t imagine anyone better. Say you’ll do it. Please. Please!” She laughed and clapped her hands like she’d just given him the world’s biggest cookie.

  Beverly tossed back more wine. “Amajing.”

  Merle smiled like the cookie was his.

  Gray’s thigh turned to stone along with Ru’s gut. Ru nodded, but his head felt so heavy it should have fallen off and rolled on the floor. “I’d be honored, of course. Thank you for thinking of me.” He sucked in his breath and turned to Merle. “How soon do you want to go for that drink?”

  Gray’s leg moved away.

  Chapter Five

  Ru stared in his wineglass on the table in front of him. “Sorry. I’m here under false pretenses. I’m too distracted to be good company.”

  “It’s okay. I like you anyway.” Merle laughed and took a mouthful of beer.

  “Why?” Okay, Maitland, don’t give the pretty actor the third degree just because you don’t like yourself much.

  Merle took the question seriously. He held up one finger. “Because you’re genuinely creative and original.” Another finger. “Smart and snarky. I like that in a guy.” Up went the third finger. “Cute as all hell.” He shrugged. “Plus, if truth be told, I’ve always had a thing for queens.”

  “Is that so?” Ru grinned. “Wait until you meet my best friend and business partner. His husband once said he was so far over the top he had his own cloud cover.”

  Merle snorted. “I’d probably be more like that if it wasn’t for my acting thing. Wish I had the guts.”

  Ru waved a hand. “It’s okay. You can be as queeny as you want with me, babe.”

  Merle stared into the glass like he was reading beer leaves. “Do you top or bottom?” He held up a hand. “Just for research purposes.”

  How should he answer? Did he want to do Merle? No brooding gray eyes or cheekbones that would cut glass. Yep, and no wife. Ru cocked his head. “I’m a top, darling.”

  Merle’s head snapped up. “Really? I guess I just assumed—”


  “That the girl always goes on the bottom?” He laughed.

  “No, I didn’t mean—yeah.” The grin took over his face.

  “Tell you what. All appearances to the contrary, I’m not very promiscuous. So let’s work together a little, and if we’re both still interested—” He spread out his hands, palms up. “—we’ll fuck.”

  “You do have a way with words.” Merle looked down, then glanced up through his darker-than-his-hair lashes. “Does that mean blowjobs are still on the table?”

  “If I give you a blowjob on this table, we can’t come back to the Ocean Bar again.” Ru raised his eyebrow.

  “Umm, I was more thinking of giving than receiving.”

  They might just be bantering, but that got a cock wiggle for sure. The only thing wrong with the Rupert Maitland persona he’d created was that guys assumed he was submissive. Yeah. No. “I’ll give it serious thought.”

  “I’ll remind you.”

  Ru laughed. Who’d have thought he could laugh at all after his whiplash dinner being teased—consciously or unconsciously—by Gray Anson? What were the chances Gray didn’t know he about drove Ru madder than Ophelia? Zero, right?

  “Would you like another glass of wine?”

  “No. This is lovely, but I do have to get home.”

  “I’ll drive you.”

  Asking for trouble, but sometimes trouble can be fun. Hell, he could use a little fun. “Thank you, darling. That would be great.”

  It only took ten minutes to get from the bar to the parking lot and then to pulling up in front of Ru’s house.

  Merle turned off the car. “That sure didn’t take enough time.” He looked past Ru toward the cottage. “Cute place.”

  “You’ll have to see it—sometime.” He grinned.

  “I guess that means the blowjob opportunity didn’t follow us home.”

  “Correct.”

  “Can I lobby for a kiss?”

  “Well, my neighbor is either writing a book on me or collecting data for a blackmail portfolio, but aside from that, feel free.”

  Frowning, Merle glanced toward Mrs. O’Grady’s house. “Aw hell, a little scandal is good for the reputation.”