Building Us: A Gay Romantic Comedy and Adventure (Marketing Beef Gay Romance Book 2)

by Rick Bettencourt

  “Married.” My coffee was cold, and I parked it in my plate next to the burned toast.

  “Hold on,” Patty said. “Deiss? As in Dillon Deiss?”

  “My husband.”

  “And my new marketer. Impressive man.”

  The lobby door opened. Javier and Hot Dog strolled in.

  “For a minute,” Patty said, “I thought that was Adam. All those good-looking boys dress alike.”

  I waved to Javier, who returned the gesture and chatted with the front-desk clerk. “I don’t know why they all dress like that.”

  The electricity buzzed on, and Patty and I looked up, waiting for it to falter.

  “Is it gonna stay?” I stared at a lamp.

  “I believe it may,” Patty said.

  Chapter 32

  Dillon

  Vilhelm chased after me down a hall decorated with fine art and striped walls. As I neared the staircase leading down to the first level, I pushed over a painting resting on an easel, intending to slow him down.

  “Dillon!” Vilhelm yelled a few feet behind me. “Stop!”

  Below, Darlene—clothed in black and white—dashed into the center of the expansive lobby and clutched a kitchen towel to her chest. “My Lord! What on earth happened?”

  “You? What did you give me?” I asked her.

  Vilhelm stopped his chase, righted the artwork, and rested an arm on the balcony railing. “Nothing happened!” He leaned against the railing and breathed heavily. “I wanted to make sure you were all right.” His head slumped, bangs falling forward. “I’m not good with relationships.”

  Clutching the rest of my clothes, I ran out the front door. Amazing how one can forget the pain of a swollen ankle in the midst of fear. “This place is fucking loony tunes.” On the porch, I blinked—snow-blind as sunlight shimmered on any icy field. “Okay. Now what?” I buttoned my pants, slipped into my shirt, and stepped into my shoes. My ankle throbbed, and I eased the three steps off the deck and onto the ground, careful not to sprain anything else. I hobbled toward a barn off to my right.

  Behind me, the main house’s front door squealed open. “Mr. Deiss,” Darlene’s gravelly voice rang out. When I turned, she held out my cell phone and coat. “You forgot something.”

  I traipsed a shorter path toward her. The night’s gusts left zigzagged lanes flanked by snowdrifts up to my shoulders. I waltzed through the haphazard clearings.

  Darlene moved to the east end of the deck by the porch swing and handed me my phone. “Mr. Strom needs to learn about companionship.”

  “You drugged me.” I put on my coat.

  She hitched an eyebrow and fiddled with something in the pockets of her uniform. “He needs to know how to love. He’s lived a sheltered life.”

  “So you drugged me to get him to lie with me?” I walked backward. “He’s a celebrity, for God’s sake. Hasn’t he learned how to relate to people?”

  “You can teach him.”

  “What?” I asked. “I taught him how to build a fire last night. That was enough. I can’t teach him how to…no!”

  She pursed her lips. “I’m afraid if he doesn’t find love…find how to act like a…like a man, he’ll turn to drugs again.”

  I recalled his stint in rehab, which made headlines in all the national rags years ago. “Not my problem.” I turned and trudged through a snowbank, a quicker choice than weaving through nature’s windswept path.

  “Actually, Mr. Deiss, it may be.”

  I stopped. “Excuse me.”

  When I turned, she occupied the porch swing. “That contract you signed with the New England Film Office is worth a pretty penny.” The wind gusted, and she rubbed her exposed arms in a hug around her midsection.

  “I don’t care about the money.” I stepped into deeper snow, and some crept into my shoe.

  “There’s more to your association with this picture, Mr. Deiss.” The breeze caught her hair, and she hastened gray strands from her face with a toss of her head.

  I edged closer, and my eyes caught another glare from the snow. “What exactly are you saying?” I shielded the sun with a hand to my brow.

  “Why don’t you come in. We can discuss? Vilhelm’s heading off to a film shoot, anyway. You’re not going to get very far on foot, especially that foot.”

  Behind her, Adam’s F-150 pulled out of the driveway. Its passenger window lowered. Vilhelm’s mouth tugged into an apologetic smile, and the vehicle cruised out of sight down a snow-packed embankment.

  In the kitchen of the Jonas home, Darlene prepared tea and I stared out the back window. The spot overlooked a frozen lake and in front of it a garden area with two benches covered in ice. Off the back porch, cattails and ornamental grasses peeked through the snow and lined the edges of a sitting area.

  “Your contract.” Darlene caught my attention as she perched on the backless stool matching mine on the opposite end of the kitchen island. Between a jar of olive oil and a can of cooking spray, she slid out a brown envelope and undid its metal clasp. The pages inside were spotted and tattered.

  “What’s this?” I took a page she slid near. She didn’t answer, and I reviewed a copy of the contract I’d signed to cast Detritus into Tapped in New England.

  “Read on,” she said when I looked up at her.

  I moved a finger along fine print underlined in red ink.

  Upon completion of the film, Jonas Canines LLC shall have the option of acquiring the dog (Detritus) as rightful property of the company.

  I shook my head in disbelief. I should have read this thing before I signed it. At the bottom of the page, I recognized my big, fat signature—proud as a gay man at a pride march. “This is absolutely ludicrous. You can’t do this.”

  “Looks like they could.”

  “Why would they break up our family?”

  “They have their reasons. The dog’s good. He’ll work well in commercials. Eager yet patient.”

  I buried my face into my hands. “My husband’s going to kill me.” I knew I should’ve let Evan review the deal. Money-hungry me had just signed away.

  “Your husband’s the more levelheaded one, eh?”

  “They’re not getting my dog!” I rose.

  “I don’t want your dog, Dillon.”

  “Then why…? What do you mean, you?”

  “I have a little more power here than my maid uniform indicates.”

  “It could use a wash.” This old biddy pissed me off.

  “Funny. You Americans are so righteous, especially the gay ones.”

  “What’s the supposed to mean?”

  She waved me off with a wrinkled hand. “Mr. Deiss, I’m this production’s chief organizer.” A brown grin washed across Darlene’s face. She lifted a perfume bottle out of her uniform. “I can have the NEFO contract you signed with Patty made null and void.”

  At this point, ripping up the contract tempted me, but I wanted to hear her out. I eyed the bottle. “What? Are we going to pretend we’re cosmeticians at Macy’s or some—”

  “This, Mr. Deiss, is filled with ether. I used it to help you rest and to help Vilhelm learn to cuddle…how to have a relationship. Unfortunately, you didn’t give us what we wanted.”

  “What!” I slid off the stool. “Are you fucking insane?”

  “Now, we can do this the easy way. Or we make things a little more challenging.”

  She sprayed the sweet smell into the air.

  “Jesus!” I waved it off, grew light-headed, and moved away. “What do you want?”

  “Please, Mr. Deiss. Vilhelm would make a fine partner. No? Show him how to relate to others.”

  At the kitchen sink, I splashed water on my face.

  Leaving the perfume bottle behind, she came near. “We do have other things on you, Dillon.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “We’ll soon find out.”

  I ripped a paper towel from a holder. “Find what out?”

  “Oh, you’ll see. Maybe the good folks at
Corridor Marketing know.”

  “Corridor?” I edged closer to her. “What do you have to do with Corridor?” They were the firm I worked at before meeting Evan. I hadn’t worked for them in over twelve years.

  “We have connections.”

  “We?”

  “The production company. You think Conant Marketing was the only firm to bid on the NEFO proposal?”

  “I’m not that naïve. You wouldn’t pick an inexperienced person to train Vilhelm Strom to walk and talk like a regular person.” I grinned.

  “Clever.”

  The kettle whistled and she turned it off. “Tea?”

  “How do I know you’re not going to poison me?”

  She lifted the kettle with a pot holder. “I don’t have to. We wouldn’t want your charming husband to have suspicions about you, now would we?”

  I folded my arms across my chest. “You’re speaking in riddles, old woman.”

  Darlene poured water into a ceramic pot. “Photos of you in bed with Vilhelm. Text messages from Adam.”

  “Evan wouldn’t believe it!”

  “He’s already suspicious.” She removed cookies from an upper cabinet. “Biscuit?”

  “No thanks,” I gritted. An onion-like stench emanated from her, and her greasy hair had obviously not been washed in some time. “What are you getting at?”

  Chapter 33

  Evan

  On a snowmobile, Javier and I sped across the frozen lake. The glaring sun warmed the day. Icicles dripped from trees along the bay. We splashed through puddles on the frozen tundra as we headed to the Jonas house where Vilhelm Strom stayed.

  The engine roared, which limited our communications to shouts, hand gestures, and nods.

  My cell buzzed in my pocket. “The reception’s back.” I let go of Javier’s trim waist for a minute to check my phone, hoping it was a call from Dillon.

  “Hold on!” Javier shouted back at me. He took my hand and returned it.

  I gripped his belt buckle. “I got a call!” Attempting to speak over the engine’s cacophony failed. “Or a text or something.”

  He slowed a few yards out from the dog pen where we’d picked Detritus up yesterday. I thought about him sleeping safely back at the inn. The snowmobile’s sputtering quieted. “I need to let the dogs out.” Javier removed his helmet and killed the ignition. “Plus, we’re low on gas. I’ll tank up here.”

  “It’s a text.” I unlocked my phone. “The lines must be working again.”

  “Is it your husband?” Javier pulled his phone out from his leather jacket, looked at it, and returned it.

  An unknown caller had sent a text with a picture attached, but I couldn’t see it very well without my glasses.

  “I’m gonna run in and let the dogs out.”

  I expanded the picture’s size. “What the…?”

  “They have to relieve themselves, Evan.”

  “No, no.” I held up the phone. “I got a weird text message with a picture. I can’t quite make out…” My eyes adjusted. “Holy shit! Dillon?” An image of my husband cuddling another man on an elaborate bed finished downloading.

  Javier released the hounds into a pen out back. He said little of the photo other than it was hard to make out. “Don’t worry.” He ripped an icicle from the door’s overhang.

  I stepped aside as an ice chunk fell. “Don’t worry! It’s my husband with another man! Adam probably.” The call I’d dialed went to Dillon’s voice mail, again. “Hey…it’s me.” I turned my back to Javier and the barking dogs. “I’m hoping this picture I got from some unknown number was some weird rehearsal or something…give me a call.”

  Javier’s steps crunched up behind me. “What I meant was…there’s got to be an explanation. This is Hollywood—well, Settlement, New Hampshire’s version of Hollywood. Maybe they were practicing for a scene.”

  I raised an eyebrow.

  He nodded. “I know. I’m trying to come up with a logical explanation.”

  “There is no logic.” My husband was fucking Adam.

  “I’m not sure that’s Adam.”

  I sighed.

  “I’m only trying to help.”

  “I know.” My phone chirped with another text. I looked down. “Another picture.” This one showed Dillon naked in a shower with his hand on his erection while another man watched. “Oh, Jesus.”

  Javier scratched his ear and bit his lower lip. “Don’t you want me to take a closer look?”

  “No!” Another picture came in. This one had Dillon fondling himself in a pair of boxers, which I didn’t recognize. He sat by a lattice-paned window. The bed from the other picture was unmade in front of him. I raked a hand over my mouth. I wanted to throw up. “Who’s doing this?”

  “We’ll get over to the Jonas house in a jiffy.” Javier opened the shed’s door and whistled to the dogs. “C’mon, everyone in. Back inside, kids.” The dogs heeded his command.

  I wedged past one who looked remarkably like Deet and entered the back door of the cabin. “I don’t understand. Why would someone send me these pictures?”

  Javier yanked the key chain clipped at his belt. “I’m not sure, but scaring someone with naked pictures is wrong.” He unlocked the cage door.

  “Blackmail? You think it’s blackmail? Who would want to blackmail us?”

  “This is a tough business.”

  “How would you know?”

  “Well, even though I’m a lowly production assistant, I’ve been around the block.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.” I hitched my hip on the desktop nearby. “I didn’t mean….” I opened the picture of Dillon nestling with someone else.

  “It’s been a few years now,” Javier said.

  “Huh?” Did Dillon send these? As a joke?

  “In show business. I’ve been in it for a while now.”

  I looked up. “Oh yeah, right.” I returned to the phone and thumbed the other photo of Dillon in the shower. Why would…?

  “It doesn’t take long to get sucked into the Hollywood drama.”

  “Drama?”

  “Well, the bickering. The casting couches. The things people do for money.” The cage clanked shut, and the dogs gobbled the food. “My husband is an executive assistant to a celebrity. That’s how I got roped in.” Javier slid a bowl of water under the cage’s door.

  “So now show business is part of your life?” The conversation took me away from my troubles. I returned the phone to my pocket.

  “It has its ups and downs. The money’s good. The schedules suck, but you do get breaks in between filming to catch up on life and love. There’s a lot of traveling. Tim, my husband, has been in New York for the past three months, while his boss works on a play. We haven’t seen each other since Christmas.”

  “Christmas, Jesus.”

  “Yes, Jesus.” He chuckled.

  I furrowed a brow. “Oh…I didn’t mean Jesus as in….” I snickered too.

  “It’s okay. We’re not overly religious.”

  “I don’t think anybody is anymore.”

  “Reminds me of something Carolyn would say.”

  “Carolyn?”

  “Carolyn Sohier, Tim’s boss.” He sauntered over and joined me on the desk. “She’s spiritual.” He made air quotes. “Not religious. There’s a difference, she says.”

  “The Carolyn Sohier?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I’m impressed. I have several of her albums. In fact, Dill and I saw her in concert a few years back.”

  “Maybe I’ll get you an autograph when this is over.”

  “Over would be nice.”

  He elbowed me. “Should we head out and see what’s going on?”

  Chapter 34

  Dillon

  Darlene sipped her tea. “Adam’s a cover. He dresses in that lumberjack uniform to look like Vilhelm’s character in the film.”

  I shook my head. “I’m still not getting it. A stand-in?”

  We were back at the stools with no back su
pport—my throbbing ankle.

  “At times, he doubles for him.” She put the saucer down. “Adam’s an openly gay man.”

  “He told me, so what?”

  “If anyone suspects Vilhelm of being a homosexual—for instance, seeing him with another man—we can blame it on Adam.”

  “It seems like an awful lot of trouble to go through.”

  “There’s an awful lot at stake. I’ve raised Vilhelm since he was a child.”

  “You did?”

  “I was his nanny both in Britain and in Norway.”

  “So you’re not just the chief organ grinder or whatever?”

  “I wear a lot of hats, Mr. Deiss.”

  I thought back to Adam’s confession about his husband and how he needed to test the waters for Vilhelm by coming on to me. “So this dressing-up thing…Adam won’t deny it?”

  She chuckled. “Not at his salary.”

  “And they dress in red-checked flannel whenever in public?”

  “You ask too many questions. It’s just for the movie.” Her frustration showed, and she huffed.

  “You had this planned? To teach Vilhelm how to…I don’t know what…during this film?”

  “Dillon, don’t you get it?” She smacked her hand down on the table. “He’s had his eye on you for a long time.”

  “Who? Vilhelm Strom?”

  She snapped a biscuit in the saucer and ate half. “Yes, he fancies you.”

  “He does? For how long?”

  “Since last year or so,” she mumbled through the cookie in her mouth, “when he first eyed you in Salem at a Dunkin’ Donuts. God, you people and that dreadful place.”

  With a raised eyebrow, I urged her on.

  She licked cookie crumbs from her fingertips. “They were scouting the area and, according to him, you took his breath away. Love at first sight. I told him he should settle down and build a family with you.” She opted for the second half of the cookie.

  I stood and paced. “I have a family. I’m not available.”

  “Money has a strange way of making an impact.” She winked.