by L. A. Witt
Anna and Finn had included copies of the scripts for later in the season too, when Fuhrman, no longer just a peripheral character, really started to make himself a part of Wolf’s Landing. After reading the first two episodes, Levi was itching to dive into the rest.
And he would have, except he needed to get into town to see Carter.
Goose bumps prickled his skin.
Carter Samuels wanted to meet up with him. And he wanted a copy of Tin Horse. And they’d be working together if Levi agreed to play Max Fuhrman.
There had to be a “but . . .” waiting around the bend. There always was.
Might as well enjoy this ride until it runs out of tracks.
He left the scripts beside his chair in the living room and went into the garage. It didn’t take long to find the box he was looking for. All the boxes had been painstakingly labeled with their contents, though the one marked DVDs–Crew Copies was pushed back behind Xmas Decor and Textbooks.
After shuffling a few around, he pulled down the box and set it on his workbench. As he dug out a copy of Tin Horse, the image on the DVD case gave him pause. How long had it been since he’d even thought about that film, let alone watched it? He brushed off some of the dust and stared at the cover for a moment, scrutinizing the picture as if he’d never seen it before.
He’d always loved that cover—the wilting rose on a rain-soaked headstone with a few brass shell casings scattered around it. Sighing, he ran his fingers over the image. Damn, they’d all been so sure the film would take off. After it had racked up awards at Sundance, Cannes, Toronto, and half a dozen other major festivals, it had been pretty much guaranteed to break out of obscurity. Cult classic status at the very least.
And . . . nothing.
Negotiations with potential distributors had been promising, but then a controversial film about modern whale hunting had exploded onto the scene. Suddenly it had become The Film Everyone Wanted, and it ultimately went on to become a blockbuster with three members of the cast being offered major roles—one of them had an Oscar now—while Tin Horse had faded back into the woodwork. Within two years, it was “Tin what?”
But still, somehow, it had made it onto Carter’s radar.
And Carter had certainly made it onto his radar. There was no mystery there. From the first time Levi had tuned into Wolf’s Landing, he’d been struck by the wild-eyed kid. He usually snorted derisively when an actor was declared a heartthrob or whatever, but he got it with this one. If Levi were still a teenager, he had no doubt Carter would be in many, many of the magazines he had tucked between his mattress and box spring.
Except Levi wasn’t a teenager anymore. He was pretty sure he had at least fifteen years on Carter, and younger men had never really been his cup of tea. Particularly younger men who were out and proud to the whole damned world when Levi still couldn’t tell his volatile, conservative family or their therapist that his ex’s name, Kim, hadn’t been short for Kimberly.
Though Carter’s character, Gabriel Hanford, was steadily making his way through the women of Wolf’s Landing, Carter himself was openly gay and had been out since day one. He was out, he was hot, and he’d hunted Levi down at the community theater to talk about a film Levi couldn’t believe he’d even heard of. Was that all he’d come to talk—
Yes, of course it was.
Levi scowled as he put the box back up on its shelf. He would’ve loved to delude himself into believing Carter might be interested in more than just picking his brain, but a young, hot A-lister with his choice of any gay man on the planet? Levi had a shot at him like he had a shot at a singing career, and there was a reason he’d never done musical theater.
But if they could at least work together . . .
What the fuck is the matter with me?
He wasn’t starstruck. Levi Pritchard didn’t get starstruck. Half the women—and, discreetly, men—he’d dated in LA had been A-listers. The notches on his bedpost read like a list of Academy Award nominees. Hell, he’d slept in the shadow of two Oscar statuettes for that year and a half he and Kim had been “roommates.”
But something about Carter screwed with his equilibrium.
Might as well get used to it if we’re going to be working together.
And the next step toward that seemingly impossible task was sitting down to a late lunch with him and talking about films. One on one with the too-young, too-out guy he’d secretly had a crush on since Wolf’s Landing’s pilot episode, talking about the thing he was most passionate about. He might as well swing into Ink Bay and get “It’s Not a Fucking Date” tattooed across his arm so he wouldn’t forget.
Shaking his head, he grabbed his keys and the DVD, and headed into town.
“Another refill?”
Levi glanced up at the waiter, then at his Coke glass, which contained nothing but melting ice cubes faintly tinted by the remaining soda. “Sure, thanks.”
The waiter took his glass and Levi glanced at his phone. Five minutes till three. He set the phone down and gazed out the window as he drummed his fingers on the table. At what point did “late” become “he’s standing you up”? Especially when it was two guys meeting for a bite to eat and a DVD, not a date?
A minute later, the waiter reappeared with a topped-off Coke glass. “You ready to order, or still waiting?”
“Still waiting.” Levi forced a smile. “Shouldn’t be too long.”
“Sure, no problem.” The waiter returned the smile, and Levi couldn’t help thinking he saw a flash of pity in the kid’s eyes.
He shifted his gaze back to the street outside. Did he really expect someone like Carter to take time out of his life just to get a copy of an obscure DVD? A DVD of one of his films? Then again, he had heard of the film, and his enthusiasm had seemed genuine. It was possible he—
Holy fuck. There he was.
Carter practically ran past the window and when he came in the café’s front door, his cheeks were flushed like he’d sprinted halfway across town. “Sorry I’m late. My phone was dead, and then we—”
“It’s all right.” Levi chuckled and pretended he wasn’t so fucking relieved. “Relax. Sit.”
Carter exhaled and took a seat on the other bench. “Anna was directing today, and I fucking adore the woman, but goddamn, she cannot stick to a shooting schedule to save her life.”
“Can’t she?”
Carter whistled. “No, she cannot. As soon as she says, ‘Let’s do one more take, just to be sure,’ we all know we’re going to be there for another two hours.”
Levi laughed. “I’ve worked with directors like that.”
“Have you? Do tell.”
“Well, did you ever see the second Chad Eastwick?”
“Of course.”
“You remember that scene where my character’s brawling with Clint Jasper’s character and we end up fighting waist-deep in the water?”
“Oh, yeah. That was a kick-ass scene.”
“Says the man who didn’t have to film it.” Levi clicked his tongue and shook his head. “It was in October, and that water was maybe forty degrees. Clint and I were fucking numb. I mean, it made the scene look good, because we both looked exhausted, but it was hell to film.”
Carter grimaced. “Ouch.”
“Yeah. The best part? My stunt double was supposed to do like half the shots, but he got stung bad by a goddamned jellyfish—”
A laugh burst out of Carter. “Oh shit. You’re kidding.”
“Hand to God.” Levi chuckled. “I don’t know if he was allergic or if it was a particularly nasty jellyfish or what, but he was done for the day. So the director said we’d have to finish the scene another day after he’d recovered, and I was like, ‘Nope. Let’s do this.’ Because there was no way in hell any of us were getting back in the water after that.”
“Good thing the rest of you didn’t get stung.”
“Oh, we did. Both of us. And we got cut up on the rocks too. Not all the blood you saw was fake, I’ll tell you that.�
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Carter’s jaw dropped. “Jesus Christ. Were they trying to kill you?”
“Sometimes I wonder. But the most priceless moment was when Clint was standing there, covered in fake and real blood, shivering like hell and pouring vinegar on a jellyfish sting. I don’t know if he was trying to be in character, or if he was just royally pissed, but he had that perfect villain snarl right then, and said, ‘If he asks for one more take, I’m going to find a jellyfish and shove it up his ass.’”
“Now that I can relate to!”
“Oh yeah?” Levi lifted his eyebrows. “Similar experiences?”
“Ugh. Yes. When we were shooting Butcher Shop 2 in— Did you see that one?”
“Yeah, I saw it.” Three times on the big screen.
“Oh. Wow. Really?”
“Hell yeah. It was a great film.”
Carter’s jaw dropped. “I . . .”
“I don’t live under a rock,” Levi said playfully. “I do go to the movies sometimes.”
“Yeah, I guess . . . I guess you would, wouldn’t you?” Carter swallowed and shook himself. “Um, right. Anyway. You remember in the climax scene, when Sam Blaine flings blood in my face?”
“Yep, I do.”
“So the director kept making us reshoot it and reshoot it because I kept anticipating the ‘blood’ and I kept flinching.”
“Understandable.”
“Right? So we did take after take until he was finally happy. You know—throw it in my face, then go to makeup and clean it all off, which is a huge pain in the ass since red dye and blond hair go so well together, redo my makeup, and do it all over again. And again. And again.” He groaned. “Finally we get it right.”
Levi cringed. “Don’t tell me there was another problem.”
Carter nodded. “A neurotic cinematographer.”
“Oh God . . .”
“Yeah.”
“I’m surprised there wasn’t a mutiny among the entire crew.”
“There almost was. And there was almost an even worse one the next night after we filmed the tanker explosion. I think the lead pyrotechnician actually had to be physically restrained from beating the shit out of the cinematographer.”
Levi laughed. “I can’t say I’m all that surprised. Let me guess—perfectly timed and coordinated ‘one chance to get it right’ explosions, and the lighting was wrong?”
“Bingo. You run into the same problem?”
“Not exactly the same. Usually the director just decided the explosions weren’t big enough or something. That’s why the Eastwick films always went so far over budget.”
Carter snorted. “I wonder how much of that was bonus pay for the pyrotechnician to not blow up the director’s trailer for spite.”
“No kidding.” Levi chuckled. “Oh! I almost forgot.” He reached for the DVD on the bench beside him. “One copy of Tin Horse.”
Carter’s eyes lit up. “Sweet!” He took the DVD from Levi and held it to his chest like some fans clutched their autographed photos. “I’ve been looking everywhere for a copy. I cannot wait to watch it again.”
Levi smiled. “It’s nice to see some enthusiasm about that one, believe me.”
“I still don’t get why it’s not bigger than it is.” Carter set the DVD on the table with his phone on top of it. “I mean, okay, I know how distribution works and all that, but it’s still bullshit.”
“Trust me, you’re preaching to the choir.”
“Annoying as fuck, isn’t it?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Ah, well.” He tapped the DVD case. “Thanks again.”
“You’re welcome.” Levi glanced at the DVD. It was surreal, seeing someone else in possession of that film. “I was in love with it from the first page of the script.”
“It’s an awesome story. How different was it, making an indie film instead of a studio-backed one?”
“Huge difference. Huge.”
“Really?”
Levi nodded. “It’s all about making the story, not making money.” He smirked. “You just kind of assume you’re not going to make a dime off the damned thing. No one’s expecting a blockbuster when they’re shooting an indie film.”
“No, I guess they wouldn’t be. Must take some pressure off.”
“Big-time. Of course, you also don’t have a lot of money to start with, but even that’s a plus in a way.”
Carter tilted his head. “It is?”
“Yeah. You have to get really, really creative when you’re shooting on a budget, and that can be a lot of fun. Sure, you don’t get to play with the pyrotechnics and CGI, but there’s something really cool about watching a scene you’ve just filmed and realizing a studio would’ve spent millions to build scale models and create background CGI, but you pulled it off with fifty bucks worth of fireworks and some Legos.”
Carter laughed. “Fireworks and Legos?” He sat up, folding his arms on the place mat. “Which scene was that?”
“The one in Stir, where the mobster’s mansion gets blown up.”
Carter’s eyes lost focus for a second. “The one . . . oh, right, when it was on the hill and you and the other character were watching from a distance?”
Levi nodded. “That hill was just a little berm in the director’s backyard, and the mansion was made out of Legos and filled with M-80s.”
“Whoa. Well, it sure looked convincing.”
“I hope so. We spent two days building that thing.”
“Two entire days building a mansion out of Legos just so you could blow it up?” Carter put a hand to his chest. “My heart bleeds.”
“Hey, we all have to suffer for our art.”
“Uh-huh.” Carter rolled his eyes. “So why didn’t you ever make any more indie films? After you left LA, I mean?”
Levi absently stabbed at the ice cubes in his soda. “I think I was just so cynical and jaded over everything, I stayed away from the entire industry. Even the stuff I knew was worlds apart from Hollywood.”
“You miss it?”
Levi watched the ice cubes dip beneath the surface of his drink before popping back up again. Finally, he confessed what he hadn’t been able to say out loud for years: “I miss it every single day.”
He braced himself for the inevitable pressure to sign on to Wolf’s Landing, but Carter just murmured, “I can only imagine.”
A weird silence set in, and Levi realized it was the first awkward moment they’d had since Carter had approached him last night. After their nervous introduction, they had fallen easily into conversation, and they’d slipped right back into it again the second Carter had walked in today.
He cleared his throat. “Say, uh, do you remember the bridge scene in Tin Horse?”
Grinning, Carter sat a little straighter. “When you and Victor were getting high and playing Russian roulette under the bridge?”
Levi couldn’t help returning the grin—it was a fucking rush to hear someone else talking about that film. “Yeah, that one. You remember the revolver we were using?”
Carter nodded. “Yeah.”
“You want to see it? The real thing?”
Carter’s mouth fell open. “You have it?”
“I have a ton of props from that film. Hell, I have props from pretty much all my films.”
“No shit? They let you take them?”
“Well, they let me take some of them. Others, well . . .”
“They just sort of ‘disappeared’ from the set?”
“Pretty much. After we finish up here, I can take you over to my place to check out the collection.” Levi paused. “I mean, if you’re okay with that.”
“Okay with it?” Carter smiled. “If it means I get to see the revolver from Tin Horse? I’m there.”
Holy shit.
He said yes.
Levi followed Carter to his rental house just outside of town. Carter left his Porsche in the garage, and then climbed into the passenger seat of Levi’s Jeep. They drove back the other direction, taking the hig
hway across town to the expanse of thick forest and not much else between this town and the next one. Then Levi turned off one of the barely visible side roads, and they continued deeper into the hills.
All along the road, huge old-growth cedars shot up from a carpet of ferns, their broad trunks covered on one side with thick moss. Carter wasn’t sure if this was the northern edge of the rain forest, or if it was separate, but it certainly reminded him of the trails he’d hiked out in Olympic National Park.
The pavement ended, and Carter gripped the edge of his seat as Levi expertly navigated the deep potholes—well, the ones he could avoid. They were almost thirty minutes from town now, an exit and three or four turns from the main highway, and there was less and less civilization out here.
As the dusty old Jeep bounced and bumped down the dirt road, Carter wasn’t sure what to expect. Where Levi lived, what kind of house it was. There’d been rumors flying around for the last year or two that Levi had bankrupted himself and was just getting by out here in Bluewater Bay. Some people said he’d sold off two of his three Corvettes to make ends meet—his movie wealth wouldn’t last forever. Others said he and a bottle of tequila had wrapped the third Vette around a tree. Everyone had seen pictures of the wreck, but the booze part had never been confirmed. All Carter knew for sure was this wasn’t the passenger seat of any Corvette. The Jeep was in good repair, but definitely an older model.
Levi might’ve lived in one of the mobile homes they kept passing, the ones clustered between run-down gas stations and cheap motels, or in a mossy trailer tucked behind the trees, next to cars on blocks. It was just as possible he had a sprawling farm, or a luxury house overlooking the Strait of Juan de Fuca.
Carter had no idea. Every time they passed another home, farm, trailer park, or gated driveway out here in the sticks, Levi intrigued him a little more.
The trailer parks and gated driveways faded behind them, and for a good five miles, there was nothing but trees and the odd service road for the Department of Forestry. At a lone mailbox beneath a pair of towering cedars, Levi turned down a gravel driveway, which wound through the woods for almost a mile before the house came into view.
