Starstruck

by L. A. Witt

  Good. Did he seem interested?

  Before Carter could respond, the outside door opened, letting in the blinding daylight. When it banged shut and Carter’s eyes refocused, Finn had reappeared and was speaking into his cell phone. The producer was a pro at keeping a poker face, and he gave them nothing—no signs of frustration, relief, concern, or optimism.

  Well. Carter would know soon enough if Levi was joining the cast or not. For now, he sent a message to Hunter saying he couldn’t tell if Levi was interested, and then he picked up the script again. Half an hour ago, he’d known this scene by heart. Now, it was like he’d never even looked at the damned thing.

  As he reread it, refreshing his memory, he pushed all thoughts of Levi out of his head. He’d let the man take over his mind again later.

  But first, he had a scene to shoot.

  As soon as Finn had gone back into the abandoned warehouse-turned-soundstage, Levi muttered a few curses at the closed door.

  Anna shook her head. “He drives me crazy. Sorry he had to come along, but he and the showrunner make the final decision, so I couldn’t really avoid it.”

  “It’s all right. Honestly, watching you try to blow up his skull with your mind was entertaining as hell.”

  She laughed. “Was I that obvious?”

  “I know you, dear. And you’ve done the same to me before, so . . .”

  “Only when you deserved it.” She held out her arms. “Now give me a hug so I can get back to work.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He gathered her into a hug for the first time in way, way too long. Damn, she was right—they really should have met up when she’d moved here. Still embracing her, he said, “I promise I’ll keep in touch this time. Even if I don’t take the role.”

  Anna grinned as she released him. “Damn right you will.”

  “I will!” He showed his palms. “Just don’t blow up my skull.”

  She threw him a menacing look, and then giggled.

  He shifted his weight, gravel crunching beneath his sneakers. “I do have one question.”

  “Sure. Shoot.”

  He studied her. “Out of curiosity, does the current cast have anything to do with why you wanted me to come tour the set before I made my decision?”

  Her eyes widened, and he’d have recognized that “who, me?” look from a mile away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Uh-huh.” He raised an eyebrow. “So it had nothing to do with using a little bit of man candy to weaken my defenses?”

  Anna casually inspected her nails. “No idea what you mean.”

  “Sure you don’t.”

  Their eyes met, and the devilish sparkle in hers made him laugh.

  Batting her eyelashes, she asked, “Well, did it work?”

  “No. I’m not making career decisions based on . . .” He gestured at the soundstage.

  “I know you’re not.” She smiled. “But I can’t imagine you’ll turn down a role where you get to engage in some sweaty man-grappling with Carter Samuels.”

  Levi’s throat tightened. “What? He doesn’t have a stunt double?”

  “Of course he does. But whenever possible, he does his own stunts.” She grinned, and he was sure she almost winked as she added, “Just like you.”

  Fuck. He was so fucked.

  She knew it too. Brat.

  Anna watched him for a moment. “Truth be told, I don’t know how you’ve lasted this long in ‘retirement.’”

  Me neither.

  He rubbed a stiff muscle in the side of his neck. “I’ve considered it a few times, but all it takes to remind me why I quit is a solid night’s sleep without agonizing over some reporter getting a little too close to the truth about my personal life.”

  Anna pursed her lips. “I suppose I can’t judge you for that.”

  “You know it even got to the point my own ringtone almost made me break out in hives?” He blew out a breath and kept kneading the muscle. Then he lowered his hand. “I want to act again. I don’t want to deal with people speculating about who I’m fucking.”

  “I don’t blame you.”

  “Speaking of . . .” He cleared his throat. “And, uh, is what Finn said true? About the studio being concerned about gay—”

  “Oh, fuck them.” She groaned. “Yes, they’ve been making noise about it, but I couldn’t give two shits what they think. Everyone knows Carter’s gay, but his character is . . . well, so far, he’s straight.”

  Levi raised his eyebrows. “So far?”

  “Honey, have you read the books?” She smirked. “Let’s just say that if Gabriel ultimately turns out to be completely straight, I will renounce my lesbianship and take up cocksucking.”

  A laugh burst out of Levi. “Really? Maybe I need to catch up on my reading . . .”

  “You should.” She turned more serious. “And the thing is, the fans have caught on to that, so the studio is worried. With Carter and me both being openly gay, the studio is convinced the show is going to become hyperfocused on sexuality instead of, you know, shape-shifters and stopping the bad guys.”

  “Naturally.” Levi paused. “So, uh, that means they have no clue about me, right?”

  “Absolutely not.” She stepped a little closer and lowered her voice. “I’d never out you. You know that.”

  “I know. But the rumors . . .”

  “Trust me, nobody buys them.” She glanced back at the soundstage, as if to make sure they were really alone. “The studio, Finn, everybody—they’re all convinced you’re the heaping dose of heterosexuality this show is missing.”

  Levi snorted. “Wow. I’m . . . flattered?”

  “It’s studio politics, sweetie. I feel squicky jumping on the whole ‘Levi’s the straight man we desperately need’ bandwagon, but—”

  “No, it’s okay. Honestly, as long as they don’t know.”

  “They don’t, and they can’t right now.”

  “They won’t hear it from me.” He scowled. “If the most recent session with my family was any indication, I won’t be coming out anytime soon anyway.”

  She grimaced. “My God, are you still trying to iron things out with them?”

  Levi nodded. “It’s better than it was a few years ago. Just, you know, a slow process.”

  “Familial amputation is a lot faster, you know.”

  “Yeah, well . . .” He shrugged. “Things are improving. I mean, I only really see them during our family counseling sessions.”

  “How do you manage that?”

  “Skype.”

  “Well, I guess that prevents you from throwing anything at them.”

  “More often than they probably realize,” he muttered. “Anyway, it’s getting better. Though, ask me again after they come visit.”

  She cringed. “Is that happening anytime soon?”

  “Allegedly, they’re coming to see the play I’m directing in town. So, next month.”

  “Good luck with that.”

  “Thanks.” He hooked his thumbs in his pockets. “Anyway, if the studio’s that hung up on me being straight, it’s no big deal. As far as anyone else is concerned, I am.”

  Anna pressed her lips together, and he wondered if she was going to launch into one of her lengthy dissertations about hiding who he was, but she just sighed. “Okay, well. I should get back to work before my crew decides to take a long lunch.” She gestured at his Jeep. “You go read those scripts and let me know, okay?”

  “Will do. The theater’s got rehearsal tonight, but I’ll read them afterward.”

  “You’d better.”

  They embraced one last time, and then she headed back into the soundstage.

  When she was gone, Levi closed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. She had always been the persuasive type. So was Finn, but Anna wasn’t conniving and slimy about it. She simply stated her case, pushed all his buttons, and didn’t let up until she won.

  But Levi wasn’t ready to give in yet.

  Sliding his hands int
o his pockets, he strolled back toward his Jeep. As his boots crunched on the gravel, he replayed their conversation, the discussion with Finn, and the tour of the set. Finn’s sheer presence had been enough to keep Levi’s guard up. He was a walking, talking reminder of all the reasons Levi hadn’t read a single script that had been sent his way in the last few years.

  Anna, though . . .

  Damn her, she knew why, for all Levi said he’d left Hollywood and never looked back, he did look back once in a while. Every time Finn tried to twist Levi’s arm like he was trying to sell him a used Honda, Anna would quietly clear away the slime and sleaze with a matter-of-fact comment about giving him the freedom to really dig deep and make Max Fuhrman into something even more complex than he was on the page. And suddenly Levi’s hackles would go down, and he’d stop just short of swooning over this opportunity.

  And then of course, though Anna would never confess to deliberately making it happen, Levi had caught a glimpse of Carter Samuels. Whatever Finn had been saying at that moment had faded into the background with the usual film set noise.

  Good lord. The kid was cute on camera, but he was gorgeous in person. The blond-blue look had never been Levi’s thing, but Carter made his pulse jump. Remembering that fleeting eye contact made him stumble over nothing, and he glanced around to make sure no one had seen him. Thank God, there was no one else in sight. Face burning, he continued to his Jeep.

  If working with Carter was part of the deal, Levi could almost convince himself to sign on the dotted line right then and there.

  Almost.

  He unlocked his Jeep and got into the driver’s seat. He started the ignition, but didn’t leave immediately. While the engine idled, his gaze drifted to the old warehouse. What scene were they shooting right now? Something in a dank, atmospheric place, judging by the lighting and set dressing. If he told Anna he was considering the part, would she let him hover in the background and watch them film?

  Laughing to himself, he shook his head, and then put the Jeep in gear. Just what he needed. Fuel Anna’s persuasion by confirming he had a wicked crush on one of her cast members.

  He pulled out of the parking lot and headed for the highway that would take him into town. And of course, his mind went right back to the warehouse and that stunning blond lead.

  It wasn’t just that Carter was smoking hot. The man was as talented as he was gorgeous. He’d been drastically underutilized for the first couple of years of his career, relegated to pretty boy sidekicks and wisecracking cannon fodder, but then he’d been cast on Wolf’s Landing, and now he was the star he deserved to be. He’d accumulated a whole pile of awards for his role on the show, and even though Levi wasn’t sure he could untie his tongue when they were face-to-face, Carter was one actor he dreamed about working with.

  And fantasized about—

  You’re old enough to be his father, idiot.

  Still. Fantasies aside, they’d work together. Their characters interacted fairly regularly—first as adversaries, later as tense allies—and that meant he’d finally be able to act opposite someone with some serious chops.

  If he took the role, that was.

  Of course, Anna wouldn’t let him pass it up without a fight. When she wanted something, she got it. End of story. Small wonder she had successfully clawed her way out of obscurity and scored a job as an executive producer on this show. He wouldn’t have been surprised at all if she’d parked her ass in a higher-up’s office and refused to back down until the guy had thrown up his hands and said, “All right! All right! Produce the goddamned thing.”

  The thought made him laugh, but at the same time, he kept his guard up. Just because Anna could persuade him didn’t mean it was the right thing for him to do. And hadn’t he promised himself hundreds of times that he wouldn’t do this?

  If it had been any other role . . .

  If it had been any other producer . . .

  If it had been any other costar . . .

  He glared at the scripts sitting on the passenger seat, but no matter how much he tried to tamp it down, excitement started swelling in his chest.

  Excitement, and some nerves he hadn’t felt in a long time.

  The cast of Wolf’s Landing were in a huge fishbowl. Their fandom was, as some of them had joked in interviews, “gently obsessive.” While the fans weren’t terribly discreet about their fantasies—which manifested in everything from fan fiction to graphic art—about the actors and characters alike, the legitimately scary stalker types appeared to be few and far between. But the collective fandom still watched the cast’s every move, flocking to public appearances and blogging endlessly about the briefest mention of an actor in a magazine.

  For a lot of the cast members, this was their first major role. He couldn’t blame them for basking in the adoration. In fact, he envied their ability to appear at conventions, chat up fans, and genuinely enjoy being on Q&A panels. By the time Chad Eastwick had become a fixture at things like Comic-Con, Levi had already turned bitter and jaded, desperate to separate himself from that role as much as possible.

  He’d never let it show, but it had been agonizing to have fan after wide-eyed fan approaching him and raving about the one character he regretted playing. In fact, he was pretty sure some of them were still furious about the piece of Eastwick fanfic he’d anonymously penned a while back. It was still floating around out there somewhere, along with all the angry—and some alarmingly supportive—comments from the readers who couldn’t believe its author had gleefully killed the guy in such grisly fashion.

  What he wouldn’t have given for the opportunity to visit with fans when he was as enthusiastic about a character as they were.

  He glanced at the scripts again.

  Maybe this was that opportunity.

  What the hell am I doing?

  Carter’s stomach clenched at the sight of the marquee above the Bluewater Bay Theater Company. Did this qualify as stalking? Oh God. Probably.

  He very nearly accelerated past the theater, but slowed down instead. Go in? Go away? Go find something better to do than try to talk to Levi Pritchard?

  A car honked, startling him, and he realized he’d slowed to a crawl in front of the theater. He waved an apology at the other driver, and turned into the tiny, mostly empty lot between the theater and the bank next door. He pulled into a space at the end of a row where he hoped no one else would park and issue his Porsche a door ding.

  You’re really going to do this?

  Oh hell. Why not? What’s the worst that could happen?

  He didn’t let himself entertain that thought as he got out of the car and walked over to the theater. He’d driven by this place a million times, but had never really given it a second look until now. It was a cool building, reminding him of some of the movie theaters in LA that were designed to look old and run-down, except here it wasn’t done ironically.

  Time had darkened the edges of the marquee, and a relatively recent paint job couldn’t quite cover up the slight warping of the wood. Like most of downtown, the theater was probably Depression era, maybe even a little older, and no one had made much effort to update it. The weathered look gave it some charm, though. Some character that those new-but-old-looking playhouses in Los Angeles lacked.

  The door creaked on its hinges. Inside, the dimly lit lobby was deserted apart from a couple of teenagers playing on their phones. They glanced at Carter and recognition flickered in their eyes, but they didn’t say anything.

  A lot of the ironically aged theaters in LA had lined their lobby walls with fresh versions of classic movie posters—Gone With the Wind, Casablanca, The Wizard of Oz. Carter suspected this place had had those faded, yellowed posters since the films were first run, showing in this very theater back before it had been converted into a playhouse.

  The auditorium door was propped open with a half-rusted metal folding chair, and voices and activity came from the other side. Stomach fluttering, he wondered again and again if this was a good idea.


  Before he could talk himself out of it, though, he stepped through the doorway and into the auditorium.

  Onstage, three actresses—two middle-aged, one who might’ve been in her twenties—in street clothes stood with dog-eared scripts in their hands amidst an obstacle course of sawhorses and half-constructed sets. A half dozen theater techs worked in the background, painting the set pieces and talking amongst themselves, but didn’t make much noise. Must’ve been nice—nothing was more fun than rehearsing over the whine of a power saw.

  There were people everywhere. Actors studying the script and quietly rehearsing their scenes. Techs. Someone standing in the corner and frowning with her cell phone pressed to her ear. Probably a producer.

  But where was Levi?

  Carter scanned the room. A few people noticed him—they did double takes and subtly murmured behind their hands to get others to turn and look at him. Well, shit. There was no pretending he hadn’t been here. Might as well not chicken out at this point, assuming he could find—

  There.

  Carter couldn’t see much of Levi, but the man’s voice was unmistakable. He sat low in a third-row seat, invisible except for when he gestured at the actors onstage. His presence, though. God. Carter could feel him. The second he heard Levi’s voice, the hairs on his neck stood up just like when the man had appeared on the set this afternoon.

  Like Carter, the actresses onstage were focused on Levi, watching him intently as he gave instructions.

  “Marti, you’re getting there, but I still don’t quite believe you. I need the people in the back row”—he gestured over his head, making Carter’s heart skip—“to feel how hard this news is hitting Sadie.”

  The middle-aged woman nodded. “Okay.”

  “All right,” Levi said. “Start at the top of page four.”

  The actors all flipped back a couple of pages, and began going through the lines again. Carter took a seat in the back row. It wasn’t a play he had ever heard of. Might’ve been written by one of the locals, or maybe it was an obscure show the company had found God knew where.

  After a few more attempts and more guidance from Levi, the woman finally breathed some life into her lines.