“Well, you know what they say, life’s a bitch and then you die,” I joke with a shrug to lighten the mood.
“My mama always said every slip ain’t a fall. I guess she means you can always get back on your feet.”
I force a smile, taking a sip of my hot coffee. “I hope she’s right.”
“She usually is,” he assures me, and for some reason, it makes me feel a hell of a lot better than I’ve felt in ages.
“Sorry I didn’t have a chance to clear off a shelf for you in the fridge before you moved in. I’ll do that after breakfast so you have somewhere to put your own stuff after you go shopping.”
“That’s mighty kind of you. I don’t mind sharin’ either. We’re roommates and I’d like to be friends.”
“I’d like that too, Jackson,” I agree, even though the idea of a friend sounds a little dangerous. I have too much I don’t want to share with anyone else. What kind of a friend can I be carrying around secrets like I do? A familiar guilt tightens around my gut as every one of my lies feels like it weighs a ton, settling on my shoulders—lies to the guys I work with, to Bear, to my own mother. I met Jackson yesterday and he’s already getting my standard heap of lies. I don’t deserve friends.
After making some toast for myself, I move things around in the fridge so the top shelf is cleared off for him, as well as two of the four shelves in the door. I don’t have much in there, so it only takes about a minute to do.
“It looks like I need to go shopping today,” I mutter, mostly to myself.
“Oh? You mind if I tag along? I wasn’t sure where the nearest grocery store was in this neighborhood.”
“Sure. I need a shower first, then we can go, if that’s cool?”
“Sounds good,” he agrees.
I clean up my breakfast dishes and head to the bathroom to take a shower. Once I’m all clean, I grab a towel and wrap it around my waist so I can head to my bedroom. I’ve always hated dressing in the bathroom after a shower, it’s too humid so it’s impossible to get fully dry, then you feel mildly damp all day long. I much prefer to lie on my bed and air dry for a few minutes before putting fresh clothes on.
I step out of the bathroom and nearly walk right into Jackson on his way to his bedroom. His eyes go wide, doing that quick flick over my nearly naked body again.
“God, I’m sorry. You’re going to move out before the end of the week if I keep walking around undressed.”
“It’s fine,” he assures me in a husky voice. I could almost swear he likes the view. Maybe he does, not like I care one way or the other. I just don’t want to make him so uncomfortable he decides to move out.
“Okay, well, I’ll try to be clothed more often.”
He gives a small nod but it doesn’t seem like he’s even listening to what I’m saying, before giving himself a shake and tearing his gaze away to hurry the last few steps to his bedroom.
“Holy cow,” Jackson mutters as we step into the massive grocery store, somehow buzzing with people even at ten o’clock on a Tuesday morning. “This is nothin’ like back home.”
“Yeah, I imagine LA is quite the culture shock for you.”
“That’s an understatement. I think there are more people inside this grocery store right now than in the entire town I grew up in,” he confides.
“Wow, that has to be overwhelming. I can’t imagine living in such a small town like that, isn’t it weird always feeling like everyone knows you and is watching everything you do?” I ask, grabbing a cart and starting in the direction of the produce section.
“I don’t really know any different. It was difficult when—” he cuts himself off, going a little pale before giving me a forced smile.
“A little difficult when…?”
“Nothin’, just datin’ is tough when you know everybody’s mama and daddy, have ‘em breathing down your neck and all.”
“Oh, I bet,” I agree, studying the way his cheeks go from pale to pink as an array of emotions flit across his face. Something tells me Jackson doesn’t have a ton of dating experience, and something about that makes me feel kind of dirty. Not that I’ve ever thought there was anything wrong with doing porn, but I have to wonder what he would think if he knew. He’s probably one of those country boys who would freak out about all the gay if he did find out. He’s not going to find out, though, because I sure as hell have no intention of telling him.
We chat more as we make our way around the store, each adding items to our own carts.
“Not to pry, but why are you gettin’ two of everything?” Jackson asks as I add two loaves of bread to my cart. It’s my turn to pale and force a smile. “Sorry, it’s none of my business,” he backpedals.
“It’s fine. I do the shopping for my mom,” I answer as succinctly as possible.
“Aw, and here my mama was tellin’ me no city boys respect their parents.”
I breathe a small sigh of relief when the subject moves on to our favorite cereals. My gaze lingers on the sugary cereal aisle calling to me like a siren as I glance back and forth between the mostly healthy contents of my cart and the temptation.
“God, I miss not worrying about what I eat,” Jackson complains as if he can read the thoughts directly from my brain.
“So much same,” I agree. “You have to stay in good shape for the show, right?” I guess.
“Yup. I knew I’d have to look my best to make it in this town, but after we shot the pilot, I honestly felt a little dirty being told they were going to be rubbing dirt on my abs to film certain scenes.”
I nod knowingly, certainly able to relate to his feeling like a piece of meat.
“You get used to that gross feeling, don’t worry.”
Jackson cocks his head.
“Do you act too?”
“Oh, um…” Shit. “Not exactly, it’s hard to explain.”
He frowns at my stuttering but doesn’t press for more information. Good going, Cam, I scold myself. If I don’t want him to find out I do porn, I need to be a lot more smooth than this.
“Well, I’m glad to know you’re on a strict diet like I am. I was worried I’d be tempted if you had donuts around the apartment.”
“Mmmm, don’t say donuts, you’re going to make me start drooling,” I joke, and just like that, we’re back to that less awkward place. I’m not sure what it is about Jackson, but I can see us being good friends…well, however good of friends we can be without telling him my numerous secrets.
4
Jackson
It's the first day on set to start filming the rest of the episodes, and I'm so nervous I feel like throwing up. How I wish I could text Brax about this, ask for his moral support. Maybe I should tell him, I think, but then I remember how hard it was for him to keep my secret of being gay after I told him, and I reconsider. I can’t do that to him. He’s horrible at keeping stuff inside. It’s like it eats at him or something. No, I’ll have to get through this on my own.
We started the day with a breakfast with the whole core cast of the show, and I have to admit it was nice to get to know everyone a bit better. We shot the pilot episode months ago, but that was so tight on time we didn’t get to hang out. Even now we didn't have the opportunity to exchange more than a few pleasantries, but it's still a good start.
As luck has it, I have a gay costar, star being a weird word for me here as the first episode hasn’t even aired yet. I’ve literally had to introduce myself to pretty much everyone, so star is still a ways off for me. Humble beginnings and all that.
But Ethan’s a legit star, someone who has been in this business for a long time, with an epic list of credits to his name. Ethan plays the uncle in the series, my dead father’s brother, and he’s a fifty-something guy who’s been married for almost ten years, he told me. He was super friendly when we chatted for a bit during breakfast.
I can't even express how grateful I am to have at least one out and proud gay actor on the set. I’m not planning on advertising my sexuality, but I don't
want to make a secret of it either. Call me crazy, but I have a sneaky suspicion that in a town like LA, sex and sexuality are topics that come up frequently in conversations, even on set.
Heck, this morning during breakfast there was an amount of gossip equal to that of lunch with the cheerleader squad at high school. Knowing that Ethan is there at least gives me hope I won't be vilified by everyone when I come out.
Before I officially came out to my parents—not a moment I think back on fondly—I read some articles and one thing stuck with me. It was an interview with a gay activist who had come out only a few years before. In the interview, he kept repeating that coming out wasn't something you did once, that it was a constant in his life. Every time he met new people, he had to come out all over again. Even at the time, I realized the truth of that statement, and so far, it's been spot on.
"Good morning everyone," Lucy speaks up. She introduced herself as the production assistant earlier, and she's one of those classic California girls, all blonde and tanned and bubbly. "Now that we've gotten to know each other a bit, let's start with our tour of the set and get you familiar with the set-up."
We all follow her like obedient little sheep as she leads the way toward the studio where they built the inside of the ranch, where many scenes will be shot. Even walking around on the studio complex gives me jitters in my stomach. I mean, I’m not that easily intimidated, but the Dr. Phil show is being shot in the studio right across from ours. To be even on the same complex as a legendary show like that blows my mind.
The inside of the studio is jaw-dropping in sheer size. There’s a living room, a kitchen, and even two bedrooms to shoot the most important scenes.
"This is your bedroom, Jackson," Lucy says.
She gestures at a room that's set up in a rustic style, with decorations that could have been ripped from my parents’ ranch. A Cowboys cap, a few rodeo buckles, the red-white-and-blue deco—it all looks awfully familiar. Still, something feels off, and as I look around the room I realize what it is.
"It's missing the Lone Star," I tell Lucy, then almost slap my hand over my mouth at my lack of filter. Surely there are smarter things to do on your first day than speaking up with criticism.
Lucy cocks her head. "What do you mean?"
I swallow. Might as well finish it now. "In Texas, most patriotic decorations don't focus on the Star-Spangled Banner but on the Lone Star. It's a Texas thing. Ma’am," I tack on for good measure. A little charm never hurt nobody.
"Interesting," Lucy says, but she doesn't sound upset or angry. Instead, she scribbles something down on a notepad she's holding. "I'll check with our designers. Thank you."
She takes us through the entire set, explaining which are actual doors and which are fakes, where the cameras and the lights will be, what we need to pay attention to. By the time she's done, my head is spinning. I mean, we shot the pilot, but that was a much smaller set where the cameras dictated your position. This is a little overwhelming.
"Don't worry," Ethan says, putting a gentle hand on my shoulder. "For the first few days, they'll mark your spots with tape on the floor so you'll know where to stand for perfect camera angles. After a week or two, you'll be completely used to it."
I shoot him a look of gratitude. "Thank you. I’ve never done a production this size. Most of my experience is with community theater and some commercials."
He chuckles. "I figured as much. You got lucky with Lucy, because she's the type of person who appreciates feedback like that, but in the future I’d recommend saying things like that in private. Generally speaking, people in the TV business don't appreciate being corrected in public."
I let out a long sigh. “Yeah, that makes sense. I said it before I could even keep myself from speaking up. Thank goodness she didn’t throw a hissy fit, but I shoulda kept my mouth shut."
He shakes his head, letting go of my shoulder. "No, it was the right thing to speak up. Details like that can draw harsh criticism from reviewers, so it's good that you pointed it out. You just may want to do it in private the next time, is all I'm saying."
I look around to see if anyone else is paying attention to us, but the others are engaged in conversations with each other as well. Still, I drop my voice to a whisper. "So if I had noticed, hypothetically speaking, that an important detail is missing in the hallway or on the porch, who would I tell that to in private?"
He lifts one eyebrow in curiosity. "What did you spot?"
"It's supposed to be a working ranch, yeah? That means there should be something to put our boots on when we step foot inside. You don't walk inside the house with your boots on. There’s a spot for boots on the porch or just inside the hallway. My mama would whack me with a wooden spoon if she saw me dragging mud and dirt inside."
Ethan's face breaks open in a big smile. "You've got a good eye for detail, son," he says. "I'll be sure to mention it to the right people so you're off the hook, okay?"
"Thank you. I appreciate it. I didn't want to speak up again and be that guy, you know?"
Our conversation is interrupted when the girl who is playing my younger sister joins us. Shelby, her name is, and she's from Louisiana. We talked for a few minutes this morning, and from what I can tell, she's a hoot. "I don't know about y’all, but I am fucking terrified. Just seeing this studio makes me feel what a fucking amateur I am."
Right, I forgot to mention. Shelby is quite fond of the F bomb. I've never heard someone be so inventive in the use of that particular word. It was impressive, actually, even more considering I still have trouble saying it.
Go ahead, laugh at me, but my parents were darn strict on language. You get your mouth washed out with homemade soap, see if you would ever curse again. As a result, I sound like a senior citizen when I try to use forceful language. Think I’m kidding? This kid in my class pranked me once by attaching something to my chair, so when I moved it, it sounded like a loud fart. You wanna know how I reacted? By loudly exclaiming, “Well, Heavens to Betsy!” That’s how cool I was in sixth grade, just saying, and it’s not like I’ve improved much since then.
"Same here," I admit to her. "Just seeing all the TV shows that have been shot in this same studio almost made me shit my pants."
There, I said shit. Points for Jackson and his potty mouth. Let’s not mention that I’m half expecting lightning from Heaven to strike me down any moment now.
Ethan shakes his head and laughs. "I'm going to thoroughly enjoy working with the two of you. I love working with new actors. Not to sound too jaded, but I much prefer people like you over those that have become even a bit famous and have developed this air of entitlement, you know? There are a few things I despise more than diva behavior."
He needn’t worry with me. Diva behavior is still a long ways off, I can guarantee him that. I’m far too terrified of messing this up to get cocky.
Campy
“Hey, Cam!” Julie greets me as I enter the barn.
“Hey, Jules. How’s it going?”
“Great! You were totally right about Ethel, she’s happy as a clam now and the donkeys seem to adore her.”
“Awesome.” My smile widens and pride surges in my chest.
“Dr. Marx stopped by the day after you were here last, and I told him about Ethel and he said he would’ve made the same suggestion. He said to tell you good call.”
I nearly let out a giddy laugh at that news. Not only does it show my instincts are spot on, but praise from Brett Marx is extremely hard to come by. I was bummed when my filming schedule ramped up a bit after Rebel stepped back and I ended up having to switch my barn days. When I’d first started working part time here, I used to come on the same day that Brett stopped by every week, and he would let me shadow some of his medical procedures and entertain my questions when he wasn’t too busy.
I’d started to look forward to spending time with Brett almost as much as I looked forward to seeing the animals, which is really saying something.
But when I had to change my d
ays and realized I wouldn’t get to see him again, it had been almost physically painful, I guess because I’d developed a bit of hero worship toward him. And learning some hands-on things from him was the closest I was going to get to vet school for the foreseeable future.
The only downside of working with Brett had been that he was gay. Obviously, I don’t care that he likes guys, but I was terrified he was going to stumble on my videos and stop taking me seriously once he found out about Campy.
Bile rises in my throat at the very thought. Compartmentalizing my life the way I have is an absolute necessity, but that doesn’t make it any easier. Some days it feels like every other word out of my mouth is a lie to people I care about and I’m not sure that will ever sit right with me, even if I don’t have a choice about it.
It had been even worse the time his boyfriend came by once to help out when we were shorthanded. Not only had I been doubly nervous about being found out, but something about the guy just rubbed me the wrong way. Brett could do so much better than that guy.
I bristle at the memory before shaking it off. It doesn’t matter anyway. I’m not going to be working with him again anytime soon.
“Hi, Cameron,” Alex, the owner of the rehab center, greets me as he steps out of his office. “Can we talk for a minute?”
I glance at Julie and she gives me a smile and a thumbs up, and my stomach churns. He’s going to offer me a full-time position, and I’m not sure I can accept it. With a nervous smile, I follow Alex back into his office.
“I’m sure Julie already told you, but good work with Ethel last time you were in.”
“Thank you.” I nod and lick my dry lips.
“You have good instincts and you’re a hard worker. Am I correct in assuming you’re applying to vet school?”
“I will be. Not yet or anything, I still need to complete my undergrad, but once I’m able to get the money together…” I trail off, knowing even as I say it that it’s so far off. Even if I magically had the money for school, I wouldn’t be able to afford to cut back working. If anything, my mom’s needs are getting more expensive, not less. At this rate, I’ll need to win the lottery if I want to go to vet school in this lifetime.
Campy (Ballsy Boys Book 4) Page 3
