by L. A. Witt
“Let me just put this away, and we can go back downstairs.”
Just before he turned to put the bottle in the fridge, he caught Carter’s eye again, and they both froze for a second. The kid’s expression was unreadable, but definitely different than it had been a minute ago.
Was he thinking the same thing?
Levi cleared his throat and picked up one of the Coke glasses. “So. Double Indemnity?”
“Yeah.” Carter looked down at the binder as if he’d forgotten it was there at all. “Definitely.”
As they headed back to the theater, Levi was sure of two things:
One, his drink needed to be a lot colder than it was.
Two, this was probably going to be the first time in history he couldn’t pay attention to Double Indemnity.
Levi could definitely get used to this. When it came to films, he and Carter never stopped talking unless they were actually watching one. Whether it was comparing directors, bringing up obscure films no one else had ever heard of—but they’d both seen or even had on DVD—or snarking about modern Hollywood’s attempts to stack up to the artistry of indie films, they could’ve gone on all night.
But several hours and three DVDs after they’d met in the café, Levi drove Carter home, and the second they pulled into the driveway, the conversation died. As the engine idled, they exchanged a glance, but quickly broke eye contact.
A full minute passed, and it was Carter who finally spoke.
“Today was a lot of fun. And thanks again for the Tin Horse DVD. I’m looking forward to rewatching it.”
“You’re welcome.” Levi paused. “If, uh, you want to see it on the big screen, we can always watch it at my place.”
“Oh, hell yeah. That’d be awesome.” Carter’s smile made the world spin faster. “When?”
The sooner the better.
Levi swallowed. “You’re on a schedule, not me.”
“Well, you have your rehearsals and stuff.”
“Just a few nights a week.” He tapped his thumbs on the wheel. Then, conscious of how obvious it made his nerves, he withdrew his hands. “I do have rehearsal tomorrow night, but we’re usually done around nine if that’s not too late for you.”
“No, not at all. I could meet you there, or at your place.”
“My place is fine if you can remember how to get there.” He raised his eyebrows.
“Text me the directions just in case.”
“Will do. See you tomorrow night, then?”
Carter’s smile broadened. “I’ll see you then.”
They locked eyes for a moment, just like when Carter made that unintentionally loaded comment, and Levi was sure one of them was going to say something. Or worse—better?—do something.
Then Carter dropped his gaze. “Anyway. Thanks for the lift.”
“Anytime.”
They exchanged one last look that went on a second longer than it should have, and then Carter was gone, the Jeep door shut behind him as he strode up the walk.
Levi didn’t move quite yet. He told himself he was merely waiting until Carter opened his front door, but . . . yeah, right.
The door opened.
Carter looked back.
Levi’s heart skipped.
He waved, and so did Carter, and then the door was shut and suddenly Levi could breathe again. Sort of.
On the way down the road, Levi kept glancing at the seat next to him. It was rare for anyone to sit there—the cat carriers occupied it more often than people did—but now that Carter wasn’t in it, Levi was hyperaware of the empty space between the console and the door.
He shook his head and tried to focus on the road as he headed out of Carter’s neighborhood.
As he drove away from town on autopilot, he kept replaying the day in his mind. Tried to make sense of it. He hadn’t felt like this in he didn’t know how long. This fluttery feeling? Borderline queasy but in a good way, if such a thing was possible. It had been so long, it was almost alien.
He didn’t want to overanalyze anything. It made perfect sense that spending half a day in the company of Carter Samuels would leave him reeling and dizzy and off-balance, and it didn’t matter if it was because he was starstruck for the first time in years or . . . or if it was something else.
It didn’t matter.
So he didn’t think about it.
He just sat back and enjoyed the high.
Levi was toweling his hair dry the next morning when he heard the muffled chirp of his cell phone. At nine in the morning? What the hell?
He went to pick it up, but it wasn’t on his nightstand. Shit. He looked around, waiting for another beep. When the sound came, it was still muffled. He ran his hands over the rumpled bedspread, checking every crevice for his phone while trying not to disturb either cat.
The phone chirped again, and it was definitely on the bed somewhere. When it went off yet again, he turned toward the sound. Zelda peered back at him, smug as always. He gently pushed her onto her side, and sure enough, there was his cell. She swatted at his hand as he drew the phone away.
“Hey! It’s your own fault for laying on top of my stuff.”
She glared at him, then rolled all the way onto her back, stretching her paws out. Absently scratching her exposed belly with one hand, Levi checked his phone with the other. Two missed calls. One from his mom, one from his dad. About ten minutes apart. That was odd. He gulped. They didn’t call often, and it always stressed him the hell out when they did.
He debated calling them right away and getting it over with, but it could wait until later. There was no voice mail, so it wasn’t an emergency. They could wait.
Besides, he also had a text from Finn that made his stomach lurch even harder than seeing their names:
We need to talk.
Oh. Fuck.
Okay.
While he dressed, he kept eyeing the phone, waiting for a response. He was just buckling his belt when the phone chirped again, and he damn near knocked Link out of the way as he lunged for it.
Meet me at the same café as last time. 1 hr.
Levi wrote back that he’d be there, and refrained from a sarcastic Can’t wait.
Exactly an hour after they’d exchanged texts, he walked through the door of the café. He hadn’t seen Finn’s flashy Mercedes outside, and didn’t immediately smell sleaze and expensive hair products, so he assumed the man wasn’t here yet.
The same waitress who’d waited on them before met him at the front. “Just you today, darlin’?” Her forehead creased, and her eyes were nothing if not hopeful.
He offered an apologetic smile. “No. Two.”
“All right. This way.” She led him to a table, and he had no doubt she did a little “please God, grant me the serenity . . .” while her back was to him. He couldn’t blame her.
Once he was seated, he ordered a cup of coffee, and then played on his phone while he waited for Finn to show up. They’d agreed to meet at ten, and it was five minutes till ten, so he’d be there any minute. In theory, anyway.
Ten minutes went by.
Fifteen.
Twenty.
After a full thirty minutes, Levi wondered if he could say he’d made a good faith effort but left because he thought he was being stood up. Naturally, just as he’d come to the conclusion that, hell yes, he could bail, Finn strolled through the front door.
Halfway to the table, he waved at the waitress. “Hey darlin’, could I get a coffee?” He gestured at the table where Levi was sitting.
She responded with a tight-lipped smile. “Of course, sir. I’ll be right there.” Then she went back to taking an order from another customer, and Levi tried not to crawl under his own table and die of embarrassment.
“We gotta talk.” Finn dropped into the booth across from him.
“So you said.” Levi folded his hands and tried not to look or sound impatient. Or annoyed. “What’s this about?”
Finn pulled out his cell, and Levi gritted his teeth as
the man started searching for something. If it was on his phone, couldn’t he have just sent it? Did they really have to—
Finn turned his phone around, and Levi’s stomach dropped.
He and Carter were walking together down the sidewalk in front of the antique store on Sandy Bluff Road, Carter laughing at something Levi was saying. The photographer had frozen them in a moment of direct eye contact. Though they’d probably turned to one another for a split second, the static image turned the glance into a lingering gaze. The photo wasn’t exactly incriminating, but he was all too familiar with how the media could spin, spin, spin an image like that. He didn’t recall what they’d been talking about right then, only that they’d been heading from the coffee shop to where they’d parked their cars. A chill ran through him. What if they’d been followed? If Levi had been seen pulling into Carter’s driveway, and then the two of them stealing off to his place? No one had followed him past the highway turnoff, he’d been absolutely certain of that, but how far had they been followed?
He scrolled past the picture to the headline.
Does ‘Chad Eastwick’ Have Wolf’s Landing Star in His Sights?
Below that, Rumors have circulated about ‘retired’ action hero’s sexuality—is he about to go public with Samuels?
Well. That explained the missed calls from his parents.
He scrolled farther, and fortunately, the only other images were similar to the first. Just the two of them walking down the sidewalk, though his heart went into his throat when he realized the copy of Tin Horse was visible in Carter’s hand. Maybe it was a good thing that film wasn’t well-known—he could only imagine the conclusions the reporters would draw. And thank God it wasn’t Broken Day. Of all of Levi’s films, that one easily had the most on-screen sex and nudity.
Face on fire, he handed the phone back to Finn, who set it facedown on the table.
The producer shifted uncomfortably. This must’ve been the one topic on God’s green earth that could make him squirm like that. “So, um.” He cleared his throat. “You want to tell me what’s going on between the two of you?”
“Pictures say a thousand words. Is it so hard to believe two actors might be seen walking and talking around—”
“Cut the crap.” Finn’s eyes narrowed. “Is there or is there not something going on between the two of you?”
He bit back a response of “What does it matter?” After all, Finn had made it abundantly clear that the studio wanted him in part for his heterosexuality, and he doubted they were playing games. So he went with a flat, “There isn’t.”
An eyebrow rose.
Levi put up his hands. “It was—”
“It wasn’t what it looked like, you were just talking, yadda, yadda, yadda.” Finn inclined his head. “Yes or no, Levi. You guys have a thing or not?”
“We don’t. We really were just talking.” The producer eyed him, and Levi added a growled, “You want a play-by-play of everything we were talking about?”
Finn scowled. “I just want to make sure you’re not pissing away your—”
“What is this all about?” Levi growled. “My personal life is none of your business or anyone else’s.”
“It is when the possibility of your acting comeback is hanging in the balance.”
Levi clenched his jaw. Two days ago, he hadn’t even wanted a comeback, but now the thought of having it pulled out from under him was enough to twist his gut into knots.
“Now that I have your attention . . .” The producer folded his hands. “Your career’s in a very precarious spot right now. You’re looking to get back on the scene—”
“I beg your pardon?” Levi growled. “You came to me. I didn’t ask for this role.”
“No, but you didn’t turn it down either.” Finn’s expression hardened. “And don’t think for a second that just because we came to you means you’re calling the shots here. Especially since you’re not the only one in the running for this role. And for that matter, this is an opportunity for you to get back on the scene in an entirely different capacity than before. I don’t think I need to explain to you that breaking out of being typecast is harder than breaking out to begin with.”
Levi ground his teeth.
“So if you want this role,” Finn said, raising his eyebrows, “then I would suggest you play the game.”
“Okay, first of all, no matter what’s in the tabloids, just because Carter’s gay doesn’t mean that if we’re seen together, we’re sleeping together.”
“No, it doesn’t. But if there is something going on, the studio wants it nipped in the bud.”
“What? Jesus Christ, Finn. It’s the twenty-first goddamned century. People are gay. And actors come out all the time!” He shrugged. “Hell, Carter’s out.”
“Yeah, he’s out, which is part of the problem.”
“Can’t handle the show being any gayer?” Levi didn’t even try to rein in his sarcasm.
Finn huffed. “Look, people know Carter’s gay, so after all the rumors that have gone around about you, when people see you with him . . .” He waved a hand. “And also, Carter’s not you.”
“What difference does that make?”
“Carter’s young, new talent who’s been playing a variety of roles, and he’s been out from day one. You, however, are an action hero.”
“And as you mentioned,” Levi said through his teeth, “I’d like to break out of that, thank you.”
“I know you would.” Finn locked eyes with him. “But for the time being, everything about you is ‘action hero,’ and America is just not ready for someone in that role to be gay.” He paused, but before Levi could interject, he continued. “Listen, here’s the bottom line: This role on Wolf’s Landing? It’s your ticket to more serious ones.”
“I know.”
“But as far as the powers that be are concerned, you’re still Chad Eastwick, and until you’ve proven and re-proven your chops at something else, that’s all you’ll ever be. Which means you have to appeal to Eastwick’s fans, or the powers that be aren’t going to risk their time and money casting you.”
Levi’s stomach knotted. He knew where this was going.
“You’re the Sly Stallone, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Vin Diesel—”
“Yeah, I get it.”
“And people might think it’s cute when a romcom star comes out of the closet, but the people who come to see Diesel, Stallone, and you?” Finn shook his head. “They don’t, buddy. They want macho, manly men.”
Levi barely kept himself from rolling his eyes.
“It would be a different story if you were doing musicals and shit, but—”
“I got it. But you saw the article. The rumors have been going around for years. It’s not like it would be a surprise to anyone if I was gay.” Levi’s heart jumped. Just saying the words was as close as he’d ever come to admitting it, and he nearly choked. “I’m not, but if I—”
“Doesn’t matter. The thing is, people get ideas in their head about their heroes, and they don’t like it when those ideas change. Especially when the hero confirms it. I mean, people have been trying to out Steve Bancroft for years, and no one bats an eye because it’s just rumors. The minute someone actually comes out, then it’s . . .” He shook his head. “Bottom line, Levi? If you want a shot at that serious acting career—and I assure you, this is your last shot at any kind of acting career—you’d better be what those who sign the checks want you to be. And gay?” He shook his head again. “That ain’t what they want.”
“Not that it’s any of their business.”
“It is what it is. And I wanted to make sure this is absolutely clear before you sign on the dotted line.” Finn waved a hand dismissively. “I really couldn’t care less what you do in your personal life, but the reality is that it can hurt your career. Conveniently coming out right when you’re trying to get back into the spotlight? It might get you some attention in the media, but it won’t get folks to take you seriously.” He paused. “T
hink about Carter too.”
Levi bristled. “What about him?”
“The consequences this could have for his career.”
“He’s already out.”
“Yes, but his popularity hinges on sex appeal to a female audience. That audience can deal with him being gay when they’re not seeing him out and about with another man. When they can fantasize about him without being constantly reminded that he’s not interested in them.”
Levi folded his arms on the edge of the table. “So it’s okay for him to be gay as long as he doesn’t throw it in everyone’s faces by being, you know, gay?”
Finn shrugged again.
Rolling his eyes, Levi reached for his cooling coffee.
“I’m not kidding about any of this,” Finn said. “Neither is the studio. And you might want to bear in mind, your role on Wolf’s Landing isn’t written in blood until your episodes have actually aired. And even then . . .” He locked eyes with Levi. “Let’s just say that ‘out’ Anna had written into your contract works both ways.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“No. I’m merely reminding you of the reality of your situation.” He flattened his palms on the table and leaned closer. “The reality, Levi, is that Anna and the author have fought tooth and nail to cast you, but the studio has their heart set on another actor. And he’d like the role, believe me.”
Levi’s chest tightened, but he didn’t speak because anything he might’ve said began with “fuck” and ended with “you.”
Finn steepled his fingers. “They’re letting you have the role to appease Hunter Easton, and they’re looking for a reason—any reason at all—to replace you before you start shooting. If you are gay, and I don’t care one way or the other if you are, but you need to understand that opening the closet door right now will close a lot of other doors.” Yet another shrug, this one even more blasé than the last few. “Sorry, Levi.”
Yeah. I’ll bet you are.
Neither of them bothered ordering more than coffee. Levi tipped the waitress the cost of the bill plus an extra twenty, hoping that was enough to atone for subjecting her to Finn a second time.
