by L. A. Witt
Then he got the hell out of there and hurried down the road to where he’d parked. He started the Jeep, but didn’t move yet. Instead, while the engine idled, he pulled out his phone and speed-dialed Anna.
She picked up right away, which meant she wasn’t busy. Considering her shooting schedule—any executive producer or director, never mind both, of a show like Wolf’s Landing was lucky to have much downtime—that was unusual. “Hey, Levi.”
“Hey. I’m surprised you answered.”
“Yeah, well.” She sighed. “I kind of figured you’d be calling.”
His hackles went up. “So you knew he was meeting with me.”
“I didn’t know until he’d already gone to meet you, or I’d have said something.” She exhaled hard. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I fought this whole thing like crazy, but the studio is just . . . ugh.”
“What is their damage, anyway?”
“Besides the fact that they’re idiots?”
“Besides that, yeah.”
“It just keeps coming back to the same old shit: they’re worried about Wolf’s Landing becoming some sort of queer statement.” She clicked her tongue. “But listen, between you, me, and the fencepost, are you seeing Carter?”
I wish. “No.”
She was quiet for a moment. “That’s a shame, to be honest. You two would make a great pair.”
Levi bit back a groan. “Thanks. That helps a lot.”
He could almost feel her wincing as she said, “Sorry. I guess that probably doesn’t help.”
No, not really. “It’s okay. Listen, I gotta run.”
“Okay. Tonight’s still on, right?”
He chewed his lip for a moment. He did want this role, damn it. “I’m . . . still not a hundred percent sure.”
“Okay. I actually have to go myself. Why don’t you think on it for a bit longer, and then text me later if we’re on for tonight. Or rather if I should bring the paperwork. I want to see you either way.”
“Sounds good.”
After they’d hung up, he didn’t put the Jeep in drive. His mind was going a million miles per hour, but the vehicle wasn’t moving.
There was nothing going on between him and Carter, but he couldn’t say that nothing would happen. And what if it did? Going public with any man, especially that one, could never be anything but a decisive move. A statement to the world about a part of his life he’d always tried to keep private.
But it didn’t just mean broadcasting a piece of his personal life to the population at large. It didn’t just mean revealing who he was to those with clout and checkbooks.
It meant coming out, at thirty-eight goddamned years old, to his parents.
His ultraconservative, disapproving, hypocritical parents who’d never quite left the 1950s, who expected their kids to forgive decades of alcohol-fueled misery, and had all but disowned his sister after her long-overdue divorce. They were better than they used to be, enough that Levi and his siblings weren’t estranged from them anymore—not completely, anyway—but the Pritchard family was still a long way from functional.
Groaning, Levi scrubbed his hand over his face. If he’d just come out when he was a teenager and gotten it over with, at least this would all be behind him. They’d have disowned him, he’d have moved on with his life, and he could’ve been out for the last twenty fucking years. He wouldn’t be jeopardizing the results—tenuous as they were—of a decade of slow, steady work rebuilding his relationship with them.
He wouldn’t be telling his mother he’d looked her in the eye and lied to her at every single family gathering and joint counseling session when she’d asked when he was going to get married, when he was going to settle down, and if he was absolutely sure he wasn’t—hushed voice—gay.
Levi closed his eyes and leaned his head against the headrest. He should’ve known this whole thing was too good to be true. Playing Max Fuhrman? Having a shot at the career he’d given up on a long time ago? Making friends with Carter Samuels? Something had to fall apart.
Which opportunity was he supposed to take? His one and only shot at being the actor he’d always dreamed of being? Or the first chance—however slim—he’d had in ages to really connect with someone?
His gaze drifted to his cell phone. The fact was, he and Carter had just met. They barely knew each other, and Levi couldn’t justify gambling a career opportunity like this for the minuscule chance that Carter was even attracted to him, never mind interested in dating. While Levi wasn’t thrilled about playing games with studio execs, and he was admittedly tempted to pursue Carter as a “fuck you” to the powers that be, he couldn’t. This was the one and only time he’d been offered a serious, complex role outside of an indie film, and he was kidding himself if he thought another would come along this side of the Apocalypse. Giving it up for a one-in-a-million shot with a guy who was fifteen years younger than him with the choice of Hollywood’s available gay men?
He picked up his phone and wrote a text.
I’ll see you tonight. Bring the contracts.
Levi was on edge.
Carter could feel it the minute the front door opened. The man could act circles around anyone in Hollywood given half a chance, but when it came to keeping nerves beneath the surface when he wasn’t on set, not so much. Sometimes it was easier to fake a character’s emotions than it was to keep your own off your sleeve, after all.
“Something wrong?” He stepped past Levi into the foyer. “You look kind of rattled.”
Levi closed the door and turned to Carter, holding his gaze for a moment. Then he gestured toward the kitchen. “Come on in.”
Carter tried not to get frustrated. They barely knew each other. Levi hardly owed him an answer. Without a word, Carter followed him.
Levi opened the cabinet, but paused. “Something to drink?”
“I’m okay, thanks.”
Levi nodded and pulled one glass down instead of two. Carter grabbed a barstool on the opposite side of the kitchen island, watching Levi put ice in the glass before filling it with Coke. The fizzing of the settling bubbles amplified the silence between them.
Carter tried not to stare at him, hoping he wasn’t too obvious in trying to figure out what was behind the tension plainly visible in Levi’s neck and shoulders. It wasn’t stiffness like he’d injured himself or something. Maybe he’d overdone it at the gym—the man kept himself in spectacular shape, so he must’ve had a strict workout regimen.
But, no, the way he moved didn’t strike Carter as nursing exhausted muscles or anything like that. Levi seemed wound tight, ready to . . . what? Snap?
Levi winced as he rolled his shoulders.
Dude, you know there’s a massage therapist in town, right? I’ve got her number . . .
Levi took a sip and set the glass down with a clink. “So, uh, I don’t know if you follow the tabloids . . .”
Carter’s chest tightened, and he shook his head. “I avoid them like the fucking plague.”
“Smart man.” Levi absently ran his finger around the rim of his glass, watching that instead of Carter. “So, I had lunch with Finn today. He, uh, showed me an interesting article.”
Something twisted beneath Carter’s ribs. “Interesting, how?”
Levi pulled his phone out of his pocket, and Carter cringed. Whatever this was, he was pretty sure he didn’t want to see it.
Levi slid the phone across the island. “Apparently someone saw us in town.”
“Of course they did.” Carter eyed the picture. He remembered walking with Levi yesterday, lost in conversation between the café and the cars, but he hadn’t seen a single reporter. Though he’d never admit it out loud, that only added credence to the tabloid’s claim that there was something brewing between them. He’d long ago developed a sixth sense for cameras and eavesdroppers, but in that moment, he’d been aware of nothing except Levi walking beside him. Judging by the angle, and knowing the width of that particular street, the image had probably been taken from across
the road, likely from the window of a car—sneaky bastards. If he’d been paying attention to anything besides Levi, he’d have noticed. Maybe subtly put a little more space between them. Kept the eye contact to a minimum. Not done such a piss-poor job of hiding the DVD.
But nothing else had existed. It could’ve been a two-foot-long lens right in his face, and he wouldn’t have noticed.
Because . . . Levi.
Pretending to be unfazed, he shrugged as he handed back the phone. “Eh, let ’em talk. The way these idiots act, I might as well have a gay Midas touch. They’d have you believe every man spotted within a ten-foot radius of me is automatically in my bed.” I wish . . .
“Right.” Levi laughed, but it sounded forced. He gave the phone another glance, and then pocketed it. “I think I’d just forgotten what it was like to live under a microscope.”
“Lucky you,” Carter grumbled. “So, what? Did Finn drag you in for lunch just to tell you the tabloids were spreading rumors?”
Levi’s fingers drummed rapidly on the granite countertop. “Kind of.”
“Kind of?” Carter tilted his head. “What did he want?”
Levi took a deep breath. “He wanted to let me know the reality of my career’s future.”
“Which is?”
“That until I’ve established myself as something other than a macho action-hero type, I’d better keep myself on the straight and narrow.” Into his Coke glass, he added a muttered, “Emphasis on ‘straight.’”
Carter blinked. Well, that explained a lot. “So, he was threatening you with your career if . . . seriously?”
Levi swallowed a mouthful of soda and set the glass down again. “Basically, yeah. Apparently they’re concerned about Wolf’s Landing becoming the LGBT show.”
Carter’s spine straightened. “You’re shitting me.”
“Nope. With a lesbian producer and—” His eyes flicked up and met Carter’s. “Well . . .”
“With me being out.”
“Yeah. He’s concerned that if I were gay and they added me to the cast, it would just look like they’d gone overboard with the diversity. Especially with all the speculation about ‘homoerotic undertones’ on the show.”
Carter gritted his teeth. “I’m not surprised. The studio that’s producing it doesn’t want to be known for being the most gay-friendly studio in town.” He rolled his eyes. “They fought Anna hard when she suggested me for the role. They pretty much told her to kick rocks until Hunter Easton stepped in and said I was perfect for the role.” He laughed bitterly. “Guess we can all be glad he demanded a certain amount of creative control on the show, right?”
“Yeah, guess so.”
The silence settled in again, Levi’s soda bubbling softly in the background. As Carter searched for a way to steer them back into a more comfortable topic, he realized Levi wasn’t actually annoyed about the accusation that he was gay, only the studio’s insistence he not be gay. Even the most accepting straight men Carter had ever known, the ones who didn’t have a homophobic bone in their bodies, would’ve thrown out an emphatic “I am not gay” before the conversation had gone on very long.
His mouth went dry, and he suddenly wished he’d taken Levi up on the offer of a drink. He cleared his throat. “All the studio’s bullshit aside, you’re, uh, okay with what the tabloids are saying, right? I mean, you’re not freaking out that they think you’re with me?” He swallowed. “You’re still comfortable being around me? When they’re—”
“Are you kidding? It isn’t like you wrote the article.”
“Yeah, but I am gay.”
“So?”
“So, some straight guys are, you know, weird about that.”
Levi shrugged and went for his drink again. “It isn’t like it’s some big secret that you’re gay. If it bothered me, they never would’ve gotten that picture of us in the first place.”
A dozen more questions hovered at the tip of Carter’s tongue, but he was afraid to hear the answers. At least Levi was still cool with hanging out with him and watching movies. Bringing his sexuality into the conversation as something more than a rumor had the potential to make things awkward, and he’d already bungled things yesterday with the Corvette conversation.
Levi absently swirled his Coke like it was wine. “Anyway, Finn just wanted to put it out there before I signed the contract. And to let me know my role wasn’t written in blood until my episodes actually aired.”
Carter snorted. “It’s not even written in blood then. They recast Alicia halfway through the first season.” He paused. “Except you’re a bit higher profile. They probably wouldn’t let you go once it came out that you were on the show.”
“You would think.”
Carter watched him for a moment. “Do you know yet if you’re going to sign? I’m guessing this didn’t help with the decision.”
Levi nodded. “Yeah.” A hesitant smile formed on his lips. “I signed the contracts earlier this evening.”
“Oh. Awesome!” Carter grinned. “Welcome to Wolf’s Landing.”
The smile finally came to life. “Thanks. I’m looking forward to it.”
So am I. Believe me, so am I.
“When do you start shooting?”
“Not for a couple of weeks yet. Might not be until the middle of next month.”
“That soon? Wow.” He hoped he was doing a good job of hiding the fluttery feeling that he’d had since he’d walked in the door. It was intensifying now thanks to Levi’s confirmation that they would—holy shit, oh my God, seriously?—be working together.
“Anna said she’d call me.” Levi turned around to put the Coke bottle back in the fridge. “But she wants to start filming my episodes sooner than later.”
Carter furrowed his brow. “Why’s that? Fuhrman doesn’t even show up until halfway through next season.”
Levi faced him again. “Yeah, but the sooner the episodes are in the can, the sooner they can be ‘leaked’ and, as you said, my role will be official enough that the studio can’t replace me.” He chuckled. “Anna can be devious when she wants to be.”
Carter cocked his head. “Do you guys know each other or something?”
“Oh yeah. We go way back. I had a small part in a short she directed in film school.” He picked up his glass and gestured down the hall. “To the theater?”
There must’ve been a nerve there—Carter was quickly learning that an abrupt subject change was Levi-speak for “I don’t want to go into it.”
So he stood and nodded. “To the theater.”
Downstairs, they agreed on a French film from the 1980s. While Levi put it in the DVD player, Carter took the same seat he’d occupied last time, and his ass had barely landed on the leather chair before Link jumped up and parked himself in his lap.
“Um, hello.”
Levi glanced over his shoulder, and grinned. “Looks like you’ve made a friend.”
“Guess I have.” Carter petted the cat, who was purring loudly now. “Heavy as he is, do I have to worry about losing circulation in my legs?”
Laughing, Levi came back to his own seat with the remote in hand. “Nah. If you start getting uncomfortable, just fidget a little. He’ll get annoyed and leave.”
“Good to know.”
Levi settled beside him, and though they’d sat like this last night, the armrest between them suddenly seemed too narrow. And at the same time, too wide. It kept them unnaturally far apart, preventing them from letting things progress however they were destined to progress. At the same time, it felt like a reassuring barrier, a physical presence to maintain their comfort zones and keep things from getting awkward.
Am I losing my mind? I’m losing my mind.
Levi turned on the film, and Carter focused on watching the screen and petting the cat.
The subtitles didn’t make any sense. For all his ability to comprehend them, they may as well have been written in Swahili.
He and Levi were going to be working together? Sooner than l
ater? And right on the heels of the producers warning Levi to stay closeted and away from Carter?
In spite of the rapid-fire dialogue he’d never understand without reading that block of text at the bottom of the screen, he let his gaze slide toward Levi.
Was there more to the studio’s concerns than just the photo on the tabloid site? Was there something to the rumors that had been flying around since the dawn of Levi’s career?
Swallowing hard, he focused on the screen again. Focused his eyes, anyway. His mind was having no part of it.
Of course he’d had thoughts about Levi since the first time he’d seen him as Chad Eastwick on the big screen. And of course he’d fantasized about him after they’d met. But now that the article was out there, now that they’d had a conversation that skirted the laughably hypothetical possibility of them hooking up and all the reasons that would be a disaster, he couldn’t get it out of his head. As if the conversation had been some sort of incantation that made a fantasy into something nearly tangible that just needed a little nudge to become real. It was like his mom telling him to stay out of the package of cookies she’d put in the top shelf of the pantry when he was a kid. It hadn’t seriously occurred to him, but now that someone had mentioned it . . .
Levi hadn’t come out and admitted to being gay. For all Carter knew, Levi’s silence on his history with Anna meant there was a history there. And even if he was gay, there was no guarantee he found Carter the least bit attractive.
But that sure didn’t stop Carter from wishing.
If there was one thing Levi had learned after directing half a dozen shows at the playhouse, it was that rehearsal times were more of a suggestion than anything. The people involved had jobs and families, not to mention inevitable snafus like malfunctioning cars and late ferries.
So it didn’t really surprise him when Wednesday’s rehearsal, originally scheduled for six thirty, started at quarter past eight. Between Marti’s late babysitter, Jennifer getting stuck in traffic on the way back from Port Angeles, and Shannon’s shift running two hours over, just getting everyone into the theater had become a comedy of errors.
