Acting Out

by Tibby Armstrong

  “Whatever you thought we had? It’s over,” Kit said, wanting to hurt and control as much as he’d been hurt and controlled. “Consider our little fling my experimental phase. Or research. Just don’t consider me interested.”

  As soon as the words flew out of his mouth and Jeremy stepped back, face reddening as if slapped, Kit hated himself. Still, he hated being trapped into examining himself more.

  “Fuck you. You prick.” Jeremy choked on the words. “You think just because life handed you a golden ticket you have the right to screw with people’s emotions?”

  “Calm down,” Vance muttered, but both Kit and Jeremy ignored him.

  Working his jaw, Kit stepped in, ready to do some serious damage. Life hadn’t been so goddamned easy for him as people thought. He never knew who to trust. Most everyone wanted to use him for something. He’d arrived at his parents’ house on Christmas day to find out they’d gone to Belize without telling him. How was that easy? How was being blackmailed by people like Amber easy?

  Jeremy swallowed twice. Audibly. Clenching his fist, Kit braced himself for another insult. Instead, Jeremy said, “I love you, you…you complete…shithead.”

  Love? The word heated his heart, thawing it until the ice shield grew so thin it frightened him. People only said I love you when they wanted things. Big things. Things he couldn’t give.

  “Get in line,” Kit said on reflex. Then turned and walked away.

  JEREMY WATCHED KIT leave—watched him make his way to Amber and disappear into the crowd. He wanted to vomit. To scream. Run after Kit. Make him see. Yet he knew, after all, it wouldn’t do any good.

  “Oh my God,” he whispered. “It’s really over.”

  Vance muttered something about Kit being a privileged, self-centered asshole.

  Jeremy shook his head, bewildered. “He’s not. Not really.”

  Though he’d accused him of having a golden ticket, he recognized the cheap shot when he delivered it. He wanted to lash out—to hurt as much as he hurt. Kit’s actions didn’t make sense. At all. It killed him that he’d never know what had gotten in the way of their relationship. How he could have prevented it. He looked up at Vance, who eyed him like he might combust or crumble at any moment.

  Feeling wetness on his cheeks, Jeremy swiped at his face self-consciously and turned away. “Are we sitting together?”

  “Front row,” Vance answered.

  “Shit.” Facing Kit right now—sitting next to him and pretending this conversation never happened—really might kill him, if they didn’t kill one another first.

  “Want me to talk to Greg about getting you a different seat?” Vance asked.

  He felt like such a goddamned diva, but he nodded anyway.

  “Think you can go out there?” Vance nodded to the lobby where the house lights flickered, indicating five minutes to show time.

  “Yeah.” The hoarse catch in Jeremy’s voice made him clear his throat. “I’m not a total baby. Not usually.”

  Vance’s heavy hand weighed on his shoulder, and he seemed to be eyeing the lobby for Greg. “You got a raw deal, Jer. Just…be careful who you trust next time.”

  He nodded his thanks, and Vance went to grab Greg. Jeremy saw his doppelganger turn toward the coat-check room. Eyeing him, Greg talked out of the corner of his mouth to Vance, then returned his attention to Aaron and a distribution-company executive. Jeremy met Vance halfway across the lobby.

  “Do you want to see the film?” Vance asked quietly.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Aaron and Greg will screen it for you later this week if you want to get some air, then go to the after-party. There aren’t any empty seats—at least not planned. You’d have to wait until the house lights go out, and then have an usher help you find one.”

  Merely picturing that scenario made Jeremy color. He hated to miss the premiere, but sitting next to Kit for the next couple of hours didn’t seem like a good idea given their present tempers.

  “How do I get out of here without being seen?”

  “You’ll be at the after-party?” Vance’s question came out more as a demand.

  Jeremy nodded. “Yeah. I’ll be there.”

  “Good. Then use the side door that opens onto the fountain courtyard. It’s locked from the outside. Only security will be there.”

  Vance clapped him on the back and left as the house lights flickered a second time. Looking around the glitter and dazzle of his first Hollywood premiere, Jeremy wondered why he’d wanted to work in this town in the first place. Without Kit, it all seemed so fake. So pointless.

  Several miles lay between him and the after-party venue. He walked as far as he could without attracting attention. When he reached the Boulevard, he flagged a cab. Staring out the window as they passed the palm trees on Rodeo, he remembered the shopping trip with Kit. The woman—Steph—they’d run into in the shop ended up playing the part of a record-store clerk in the film. She’d been just what Greg wanted, apparently.

  “Stop the car,” he said as they approached the jewelry boutique.

  He asked the cabbie to wait and got out. The glow of the setting sun seemed to paint the white storefront a brilliant gold as Jeremy pushed into the quiet confines. Steph looked up from behind the counter where she slid a jewelry tray into a slot.

  “Hey!” A brilliant smile lit her face.

  She came around the corner and pulled Jeremy close to plant a quick kiss on his mouth. She tasted like bubble gum and peaches, and he laughed as she pulled away.

  “What?” she asked, tilting her head to the side to consider him. “Why aren’t you at the premiere?”

  Jeremy looked around the shop. “I heard you had to work. Sorry they didn’t pay you enough so you could quit.”

  “It’s all right. I’ll be at the after-party,” Steph said, beaming at him. “I mean, how lucky am I that I even got to be in a film, right?”

  “Are you closing up?” Black cloths covered some of the trays, and a safe stood open at the back.

  “Yeah.” Steph looked around as if seeing the shop for the first time. She had beautiful eyes. Clear and luminous.

  “Look…” Clearing his throat, Jeremy stepped closer to her. “Do you mind…if I try something?”

  Catching his intent, she widened her eyes. “Um, Jer?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I like girls.”

  “Oh!” Jeremy stepped back and blushed furiously. “I—I don’t. It’s just…”

  “You never kissed one?” she asked.

  He nodded and pretended fascination with the gilded painting on the opposite wall.

  “What happened to you and Kit? Why aren’t you at the premiere?” Steph walked to the front door and flipped the sign to CLOSED.

  Jeremy leaned his elbows on the glass counter and made a frustrated sound into his hands.

  “You knew?” he asked, his voice muffled by his palms.

  “Holy shit, Jer. Everyone on set knew.” Her voice sounded closer, and he looked up into sea-green eyes.

  “Knew what?”

  “That Kit and you are…well, in love?”

  How could it have been that obvious? They only macked on one another in front of people during shooting. They rarely even spoke on set. Sure, they socialized after work, but didn’t a lot of people?

  Reading the question in his face, Steph answered, “It was the way you looked at each other. The way Kit looked at you really. He adores you.”

  Jeremy barked a laugh at that one and straightened from the counter.

  “What?” Steph picked up a tray and carried it to the safe.

  When she returned Jeremy shook his head. “I don’t know what you saw, but it was…research. Kit’s not gay.”

  “Oh puhlease.” Another tray went to the safe, and Steph called over her shoulder, “Is that what he told you?”

  Shrugging, Jeremy lifted a diamond ear stud from its pillowed case. Examining it, he thought of Kit. He had a pierced ear. “Something like.”


  “It’s why you’re not at the premiere?”

  “How much is this?” He avoided the question, he knew, but he couldn’t contemplate the conversation with Kit, or he’d start blubbering like a baby. Even now the tightness in his chest made it difficult to breathe.

  Steph peered at the diamond. “It’s twelve thousand dollars.”

  Jeremy choked and put the stone back on the velvet. “Jesus.”

  “I’ll give you my employee discount.” Steph plucked the stud from the counter and grabbed a case. Wrapped it with ribbon before Jeremy even knew what she’d done.

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?” She looked at him—her stare appraising—and Jeremy knew she saw things in him in that moment he couldn’t see.

  “I can, can’t I?” The notion he had money—real money—ripped through him with startling clarity. If he wanted this ear stud, he could afford it and several more. He didn’t have a pierced ear, but Kit did. He could give it to… “Fuck”

  “Give it to him anyway,” Steph said, folding his fingers around the wrapped box.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Though he meant it to sound angry, the question sounded plaintive to his ears.

  “What do you think’s wrong with him?”

  “Nothing a punch in the head couldn’t cure, I’m sure,” Jeremy muttered. Then, “I think he’s a fucking coward.”

  Steph sucked in a breath. “I wouldn’t tell him that.”

  “Why not?” Jeremy asked, knowing he already had.

  “Because he’s obviously struggling with his feelings, and he has a lot of pride. Tell him that, and he’d probably bite your head off just to prove he can.”

  Remembering the ensuing argument, Jeremy realized that was exactly what Kit had done. It didn’t excuse Kit’s actions, but Jeremy hadn’t made the evening any easier on either of them.

  “He came to the premiere with Amber.” Hurt threatened to crush his rib cage into his already bruised heart.

  Steph took his credit card from his fingers and slid it through the machine. “Did you ask him why?”

  Dumbfounded, Jeremy looked at Steph, who stared back at him with too much wisdom in her eyes for someone so young. He shook his head, and Steph smacked him lightly on the side of his head.

  “You’re lookin’ good, Jeremy. I’d say the jungle agrees with you.”

  He grinned at her despite himself. “Want to come to the after-party with me?”

  “Ooh!” Her eyes widened devilishly, and she handed him back his card. “The talk we’ll cause!”

  “An absolute scandal.” He nodded solemnly and signed the slip.

  She laughed, and his mood lightened a notch.

  “Come on. Let’s go to your place and get you changed, or we’ll be late. Aaron hates that.” Jeremy winked at her, and she smiled up at him. In that moment, he realized—he had more than riches. He had a friend.

  The after-party at the Beverly Wilshire’s Rodeo Terrace buzzed with guests by the time Jeremy arrived. Fashionably late himself, Greg didn’t catch Jeremy’s entrance, though when they spied one another across the room, he did give an odd glance at Steph, who hung on his arm. On reflex, Jeremy scanned the milling guests for Kit. Lights twinkled in decorated orange trees, giving the venue a magical feel, its overlook of Rodeo so exclusive you almost smelled the ink drying on crisp new bills as you breathed the rarified air.

  “I’ll get us some champagne.” Steph looked as uncomfortable as Jeremy felt. He nodded, and she stepped away, leaving him free to mingle.

  Feeling awkward standing alone, he approached Greg.

  “Where’s your pretty boyfriend?” Greg asked before Jeremy drew breath to say hello.

  Aaron frowned at Greg but remained quiet. Tense. In the past, the snark would at least have earned Greg a whispered, One. Maybe Greg’s “love letter” hadn’t worked as well as he’d hoped? Regardless, it didn’t bode well for any conversation he and Aaron had in store later this evening.

  “Congratulations on coming out,” Jeremy said, deflecting with his own friendly jab.

  As expected, Greg’s mouth tightened.

  Aaron snorted into his champagne flute. “The proper response is ‘touché,’ Greg.”

  Clearly startled that Aaron had spoken to him, Greg examined his face for signs of emotion. Aaron’s closed-off stare made Greg’s shoulders slump. For the first time since he’d known him, Jeremy saw fear and desperation in Greg’s face. No, things hadn’t gone well at all.

  Shit, if these two couldn’t make it… Well, who could?

  “Aaron…” The stricken expression drawing Greg’s brows together almost made Jeremy turn away, but Steph approached with the champagne.

  Taking the glass, Jeremy nodded his thanks and missed the approach of another woman.

  “Who’s the beard, Jeremy?” Amber asked, giving Steph a catty sweep with narrowed eyes.

  Greg swiveled his head with lethal grace, and even Aaron sucked air between his teeth. Jeremy ignored the insult and automatically searched the terrace for Kit.

  “Oh, he’s not here. He couldn’t be bothered,” Amber continued.

  Feeling Greg’s eyes on him, Jeremy realized the man waited for him to give Amber the set-down she deserved for her remark. He looked at Steph—took in her clenched fists and the anger pinking her cheeks.

  “What do you want, Amber?” he asked, feeling kind of lame but not wanting to ruin the rest of the evening with fending off her attacks.

  The leggy blonde crossed stick-thin arms under her augmented breasts and leaned in. “Nothing. Just to let you know to watch your back, Jeremy. After all, I know it’s your favorite body part.”

  The solid thunk of bone hitting bone, followed quickly by a crunching sound and the spray of blood made, Jeremy look at his own fist. It all happened so fast. He’d been thinking of hitting her. Itching to hit her. Then someone had, but not him.

  Steph.

  Clutching her fist, the petite shop girl stood over her KO, looking ready to strike again should Amber do more than clutch at her face and howl. Curses and threats muffled in her hands, Amber, dress hiked past her waist, rolled on the pavement until Greg crouched low and said, “You’re ruining my party. Get out.”

  “Fucking queer,” Amber hissed, still holding her face.

  Aaron placed a quieting hand on Greg’s shoulder as a growl welled in the screenwriter’s throat.

  “Jeremy, call security,” Aaron directed as he tightened his hand on his lover’s shoulder. “Greg, get up or we’re gonna find out what lies behind door number eight.”

  Fingers digging into his own thighs, clawlike, Greg seemed ready to risk a public display for the opportunity to throw Amber over the balcony when two of the security team chose that moment to make a belated appearance.

  “Get her out of here,” Steph said.

  The duo looked to Greg, who slowly stood and nodded. The four of them walked away to the balcony so they didn’t have to watch Amber’s hissing display of temper as the security team lifted her from the pavement.

  “God, I need another drink,” Jeremy said as they all contemplated the glittering avenue stretching out before them into the twilight sky. “Anyone else?”

  “I’ll get it,” Steph said, still clutching her hand. “I need to use the ladies’ room anyway.”

  “You’re hurt.” Jeremy felt like an ass for not saying something sooner. “Can I—”

  Steph waved her good hand, airily. “It’s fine,” she said, then grinned. “I’ve always wanted to do that.”

  Greg barked a laugh and cupped her face in an affectionate gesture. Steph blushed a little and ducked away, still smiling. Leaning their elbows on the wall, the three men stood shoulder to shoulder in silence until Greg’s phone rang. Greg fished in his pocket, took out the cell, and silenced the ringer, then frowned at the number.

  “Falkner here.” He closed his eyes as the person on the other end rattled off some information. “Is he all right?”

  A
t Greg’s pained expression, something tightened in Jeremy’s middle. A cold something that threatened to turn his innards into an arctic landscape—barren and hopelessly frozen.

  “I’ll send someone over.” Greg ended the call and met Jeremy’s stare.

  “Kit?” Jeremy croaked.

  Greg nodded and put his arm around Jeremy’s shoulders. His stomach threatened to drop to his knees, while his knees threatened to drop to the floor as Greg guided him inside to the men’s room.

  “Not now.” Greg shut the door in Aaron’s bewildered face and turned to Jeremy. “There’s been an accident… His motorcycle.”

  “Fuck!” Tearing away from Greg, Jeremy grasped his middle and sank to the floor, sure he’d be sick when he heard the rest.

  “He’s at Cedars-Sinai.”

  Hope shouldered aside fear, and Jeremy peered up at Greg from his crouched position. “He’s all right?”

  “They’re running tests. That’s all they could tell me.”

  For some unfathomable reason, Jeremy asked, “You don’t really hate him, do you?”

  Greg pursed his lips and looked away. “I hate what he could do to you.”

  Jeremy stood and grabbed Greg—hugged him close—then left the screenwriter standing, arms at an awkward angle, in the middle of the marble men’s room.

  Two friends. He had two. And a third—maybe not his lover but definitely his closest friend—who needed him. Whether he knew it or not.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “Name?”

  The nurse—Donovan—stared hard at Jeremy when he approached the desk on the hospital’s sixth floor. A guard stood outside one of the doors, and Jeremy’s eyes automatically went to him, knowing they’d have security for a celebrity of Kit’s stature.

  “Jeremy Ash.”

  “Sorry.” Donovan’s expression softened with recognition. “Only family allowed.”

  “But—” He hadn’t expected this. “I’m like family to him.”

  Donovan shook his head. “Sorry. He’d have to authorize you, and he hasn’t.”

  “We’re… Could—”

  Dipping his head to look at a chart, the nurse whispered, “You’re lovers?”