by John Harris
Paint the Rainbow
John Harris
Contents
Title
More Books by this Author
Disclaimer
Paint the Rainbow
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Notes from the Author
The Forbidden Touch
The One Who Taught Me Everything
Cuffed to the Future, Tied to The Past
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are all invented. Any similarities to real people, places, events, living or dead are all unintentional.
This book contains sexually explicit content that is intended for a MATURE AUDIENCE ONLY.
WWW.AUTHORHARRIS.COM
The day Ryan Mitchell meets action movie star Mason Whitelock, his whole life changes. Everything he believes in crumbles to dust. For years, his homophobic father and his well-meaning sister have tried to see him happily settled with a nice girl, but none of his relationships ever worked out. Each one of them had left him feeling empty and drained. Ryan thought he would never meet that special someone—that person who would make him feel complete. He surely never expected that person to be another man.
Ryan’s openly gay buddy, Juan, is the only one who knows what Ryan really needs. Not a weekend goes by when he doesn’t take his friend to one of the many gay bars dotting the city of Los Angeles. What Ryan sees there only makes him more confused. One weekend, Ryan’s dream of becoming a recognized artist comes true. His talent for painting is discovered by one of the country’s most reputed gallerists. Before Ryan knows it, he is introduced to the world of fame and wealth, and it is within this domain that he crosses the path of Mason Whitelock once more.
Married with two kids, Mason does his utmost to hide his homosexuality from his employers, the press, and his friends. He has everything any man could desire in show business, yet he can’t help feeling empty and alone. His emotionless tumbles with an ever-growing string of men picked up in clubs seem to do nothing to curb his desire for more. Everything changes when he sees a work of art that blows his mind. The painting conveys who he is—in the most meticulous abstract perfection—it is the virginal Ryan who opens his heart and shows him the way.
Paint the Rainbow is a standalone novel featuring two insanely hot men with different life-stories that—once told—reveal the same pain. Can they weather the emotional storm that ravages their lives? Will they finally discover peace and truth in each other?
“Oh my God, oh my God! Look who just pulled up outside.”
“Who, Juan? I can’t see.”
Ryan stood on his tiptoes and tried to get a glimpse of what was going on outside of the luxury women’s boutique on Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills. The expensively-clad mannequins in the shop window obstructed his view. Next to him, Juan quivered like a whippet ready to hurtle down the racetrack.
“Here Ryan, come scoot over this way.”
Ryan got up onto the elevated platform that formed a part of the window display.
“It’s just some limo,” he said, rolling his eyes. “What’s so special about that?”
Juan’s chin nearly dropped to his knees. He ran his hand through his long dark hair and gnashed his teeth like a Pekinese. “Check out the license plate.” He huffed as if checking license plates was the first thing everybody did when a car pulled up.
“MW 1,” Ryan shrugged. “So?”
“So? So, you say? That’s Mason Whitelock’s limo.” With his eyes wide open, Juan nodded like a fanatic while he frantically chewed his gum. “Uh-huh,” rumbled out of his mouth when he saw understanding dawn on Ryan’s face.
Ryan gulped. Mason Whitelock was a major movie star currently at the pinnacle of his career. Recovering a bit, he tried to act casual. “Juan, we get tons of stars in here on a daily basis.”
Juan arched his eyebrows. “Oh, really? It’s not like he’s the hottest dude out there. Naw—he was just voted sexiest man alive for two years running.”
Mrs. Birkhead, the owner of the shop, strutted around the boutique like a pelican on steroids. “Quite right, and he’s married with two very young children. Show’s over, boys. I have a new consignment of merchandise that needs to be ticketed, and prepared for display by this afternoon. Oh, and Juan, please remove the gum from your mouth. It makes you look slightly neurotic and most uncouth.”
“Sure, Mrs. Birkhead,” Ryan said. “We’ll be right over.” He turned to Juan, chuckling as he stepped off the display area and headed to the back of the store. “Sorry for you that Mason’s married and not gay. Are you devastated?”
Huffing and puffing, Juan followed, his short legs hustling to catch up with Ryan.
Mrs. Birkhead called out, “The gum, Juan.”
“Yeah, Mrs. Birkhead,” he said, throwing the gum into the trash on the way to the storage area in the back of the boutique.
“I’m telling you, Ryan. Mason is gay—I can feel it in my bones,” said Juan, with conviction in his tone as he tacked another plastic security tag onto an exorbitantly expensive garment.
“Yeah right, and that’s what you’ve been saying about me ever since I started working here, a few months ago,” Ryan said. “And you’re wrong. There’s not a homosexual bone in my body— and probably not in his, either!”
“Wrong—hah! Your homosexuality is even more obvious than Mason’s out there.” Juan tapped his nose with his index finger. “I got a nose for these things, Ryan. You’ll see.” He quickly tacked another tag on the next piece of clothing… with a little too much force. Juan always got upset when people challenged his instincts.
Ryan just found the little Mexican hilarious. It was Juan’s mission in life to uncover potential gays and convert them to their rightful path. He’d been unsuccessfully attempting just that with Ryan for a few months now. He was persistent, though not in a sexual way. He claimed that good looks notwithstanding, Ryan simply wasn’t his type. It was the truth…he preferred the bodybuilder kind. Ryan sometimes caught himself wondering how that particular union would work out, in a physical sense.
Ryan wasn’t really sure why Juan kept insisting that he was gay. Maybe it was because he worked in a woman’s fashion boutique on Rodeo Drive. He loved bright colors, art, women’s fashion, and champagne when he could afford it. Ryan was aware he fit all the clichés, but there were also many men out there who liked those things and had no interest in men. Wasn’t there?
“So what’s the plan tonight, Ryan?” Juan didn’t look up as he carefully arranged a selection of clothing for display out front.
“I’m having dinner with my parents,” Ryan frowned. “We could hook up later, if you want?”
Juan’s face lit up, “Yeah, I’d like that. There’s this great new place I want to go to.”
“Not another gay bar, is it?”
“Of course, it’s a gay bar. Where else will I find a boyfriend?”
“You have to stop forcing it, Juan. You’ll find nobody if you’re continuously on the lookout. It’s not how stuff works. Love comes when you least expect it.”
“Yeah, great tact
ic. Sure works well for you. Your girlfriend dumped you when you started working here, and you haven’t met anybody since.” A naughty smile skirted his lips. “It’s because you can’t decide what you want, right? A man or a woman?”
Ryan sighed, “You’re not going to start on that again, are you?”
“I’m not going to stop until you admit that you like men,” he said, placing his hands on his hips and raising his chin. He looked like Napoleon Bonaparte inspecting his troops on the main parade ground in front of the Tuileries in Paris.
Ryan laughed, “Okay, whatever. I have other stuff I’m busy with at the moment. Frankly, I couldn’t give a shit what I am.”
“Spoken like a true gay who’s just not ready to come out of the closet yet.” Juan shook his head in frustration. “What’s holding you back? It’s not like we’re living in the nineteen-fifties anymore. Nobody cares what sexual orientation you are as long as you’re doing it.”
Ryan turned, “Thank God that nobody else cares because if I had another person like you in my life, I’d go crazy.” He indicated the clothing with a nod of his head. “Let’s go.”
“Baby, that looks so good on you,” said a voice that was almost musical. It alternated between a subterranean baritone then started to gurgle when it switched to sotto voce at the end of the sentence. “Yeah, you should definitely have that.” The last bit was said in a commanding growl.
Juan squealed and dropped all the clothing on the floor when he saw Mason Whitelock sprawled on the plush sofa in the center of the shop, looking like a renaissance monarch.
Mason swiveled his gorgeous head of golden blonde curls to study the newcomers. He smiled warmly, flashing a row of meticulous white teeth.
Mason had been speaking to his wife, a dark-haired woman with high cheekbones. Aside from Mrs. Birkhead and the other sales assistants, there was no one else in the boutique. A team of Mason’s security guards had cordoned off the outside. Ryan found it strange. In Beverly Hills, nearly everybody was special. Why did this guy need the extra special treatment?
Mason patted the cushions next to him. “Hey, you guys. Why don’t you help me pick out some great stuff for my wife?”
Juan and Ryan shared nervous glances, and then looked at Mrs. Birkhead who nodded quickly. They rushed forward to the movie star.
“You.” Mason pointed at Juan. “Why don’t you help Clarice?” He turned to Ryan. “How about some Champagne, Mr…?” He arched his eyebrows suggestively. Beneath them, a pair of hypnotic green eyes held Ryan in sway.
“Ryan,” he blurted.
“Yeah, Ryan. Get us some champagne, will ya?”
Again, Ryan looked at Mrs. Birkhead for confirmation. When she nodded, he walked off, trying not to run, and headed to the back of the store. His feelings were in turmoil. The man sitting on the settee was not only amazing to look at, but he had an incredible air of authority about him for one so young. Ryan figured that he couldn’t be much older than his own twenty-four years. Unlike Juan, he hardly ever read gossip magazines, so he couldn’t be certain of the man’s age. Ryan guessed that he was just shy of thirty.
Quickly, he selected a bottle from the fridge. He studied the label and mouthed the words “Dom Pérignon.” He didn’t have a clue whether he’d pronounced it correctly. Not dwelling on his selection, he returned to the lounge with a tray carrying the bottle and five glasses. Of course, he thought it presumptuous of himself to include him and Juan in the equation, but somehow, he hoped that he might get to taste what was inside the attractive green bottle with the signature etiquette.
“Ah, the good stuff,” Mason said. “You sure know what I like, Ryan.”
Ryan blushed at the counter, setting down the tray. Juan crossed by him with more clothing for Mrs. Whitelock and whispered in passing, “I told you so. You think he’s hot, don’t you?” He was gone before Ryan had the time to find a suitable retort. For a few moments, he struggled with the dark green wrapping on the top of the bottle.
“You want a hand?” Mason asked, as he approached Ryan. Gently, Mason took the bottle from Ryan’s hands. His tapering fingers brushed skin, eliciting a deep breath from Ryan part. “You need lots of practice with this, you know.” He flashed a smile, then his forehead scrunched as he concentrated on pulling the bulbous cork from the thin stem of the bottle.
Ryan suffered from a confluence of strange sensations. He pressed his lips together while he studied the other man. He caught himself lingering far too long on the shape of Mason’s sensual lips and the profile of his nose that hooked slightly downwards. He remembered an article which claimed that the size of a man’s nose was directly related to the size of his penis—or was it the thumbs? Ryan stiffened his posture and gulped. I can’t believe I’m thinking about stuff like this…
His eyes snapped away from the trance-like perusal of the superstar’s handsome face. He scowled when he caught Juan’s eye. The knowing twinkle in his friend’s eyes infuriated him. Ryan decided that he was simply star struck for the very first time in his life. As much as he wanted to convince himself of this, it didn’t work. He had never seen a single one of Mason Whitelock’s action movies, possibly confirming that his infatuation was with the man and not the star.
A loud pop distracted Ryan from his confused mind and the weird feeling in his stomach. Automatically, he looked right into Mason’s green eyes which flickered at him sweetly. Ryan wasn’t sure whether the movie star was teasing him. It was possible that the man was so arrogant that he thought himself irresistible to both men and women.
“Champagne for everybody, right.” It was not a question. Mason began filling everybody’s flute and then he started handing them out.
“Honey, when you’re finished, I really need your opinion,” Mrs. Whitelock pleaded. She stood just outside of the changing room with another garment half hanging off her lithesome physique. Juan fluttered about her like a preening ape.
“Sure, baby.” Mason walked back to the sofa and plopped his weight down with a loud groan. “Bring it on, sexy,” he said, chuckling. He quickly took a sip of champagne and winked.
Still standing by the counter, Ryan frowned. Mason had been looking right at him the entire time he was speaking to his wife. For the first time, Ryan thought that Juan was right. Not about him, of course, but about Mason.
“Come here, Ryan. I need you to give me hand with the next outfit. You look like somebody who knows what he’s talking about when it comes to the latest fashion.” Mason patted the place next to him on the sofa with his right hand.
Obediently, Ryan walked over and sat down. In such close proximity, his nose was invaded by a mix of sweetness and heady fragrances that wafted off the actor’s body. Ryan had to control himself so he wouldn’t start inhaling rudely. Mason smelled absolutely incredible. “What cologne do you wear, Mason?” The words were out before Ryan could stop them.
Mason flashed him a smile. “Creed, Aventus. It’s good, huh?”
Ryan nodded, “It’s really incredible. You smell amazing.”
The laugh that followed his words was so uninhibited and free that it was infectious. Mason took a while to calm down.
“I bet you get that a lot.”
“No, Ryan. Actually, I don’t. At least not in such a genuine tone. Thanks for saying it.” Mason moved closer and sniffed at Ryan’s neck. “Yeah, you don’t smell so bad, yourself.” He moved back with a wink.
Ryan felt the heat rise up to his cheeks and attack his skin with a vengeance. He imagined himself redder than blood. He had no clue why he was behaving like a little girl who’d just been told she was beautiful. This was all so new to him.
“Which of my movies do you like most?” Mason asked. The way he asked the question was not arrogant in the least. Instead, he seemed truly interested in getting some critique.
“Uh, well… let me think,” Ryan stuttered. His face got redder still.
“You’ve never seen one of my movies, have you?” Mason watched Ryan carefully.
“Well… I…”
“He never has, no,” Juan said. He held out another dress for Mrs. Whitelock to grab from behind the curtain.
“I see.” For a heartbeat, Mason seemed hurt. “Why not?”
Ryan smiled meekly. He swallowed when he felt the heat slide off his cheeks. “I guess I’m just not into all the action stuff.”
“What do you like to watch?” Mason moved closer.
Ryan could feel the other man’s leg lightly brush against his knee. The touch sent little shockwaves up his leg toward his groin. His eyes snapped open, wider than ever before.
“You’re into horror movies, right?” Mason asked, misreading Ryan’s facial expression.
Still tense as hell, Ryan said, “Naw, I like movies like Captain Corelli’s Mandolin or The Notebook.” He pulled his knee away.
“So, you like romance?” Mason moved closer still.
“Yeah, I love romance, too,” Clarice said, suddenly at the sofa with her hands bunched into fists on her hips. “But you won’t be getting any of that if you don’t help me out with the dress for the movie premiere.” She had a serious expression on her face and Ryan thought she looked almost hurt.
Mason recoiled from Ryan, and Juan nodded knowingly again.
“Yeah, honey, I’m all yours,” Mason said. He was his aloof self once again.
“Another beer, son?” John Mitchell asked Ryan, following his question with a hearty slug from his bottle of beer.
“Sure, Dad.”
“Bottle’s in the fridge,” John hooted laughter.
“Yeah, yeah. Very funny.”
