Action

by Quinn Anderson

  Pete held on to Kyle’s shoulders for dear life, comforted by his weight on top of him even as it locked him in place. Somewhere between the first flash of tongue and Kyle’s teeth nipping his bottom lip, Pete forgot himself. This was what drowning must feel like.

  At some point, he must have genuinely forgotten to breathe, because his lungs burned. He tore his face away and drew a ragged breath. When he looked back, Kyle was staring at him, expression caught somewhere between wonder and disbelief.

  “Fuck.” Kyle sounded wrecked. “You taste good.”

  “Cut!”

  That word was supposed to mean something to Pete, but he ignored it. He slid his hands into Kyle’s hair and urged him closer. Kyle’s eyes darted back down to his lips, and for a captivating moment, it seemed like he was going to kiss Pete again.

  “I said cut!”

  Kyle jolted away from him. Pete almost whined in protest. He swung his head in the direction of the noise. It took him a moment to process what he saw, and then it all came rushing back. Colette. Heat Wave. Shit.

  “Jesus, you two.” Colette was standing next to the camera with her arms crossed. “I know I said act natural, but you still need to follow my directions.”

  “Sorry,” Kyle rasped.

  Pete studied him. His lips were spit-shiny, and his hair was wild. He didn’t meet Pete’s gaze as he moved backward into a kneeling position. Pete, on the other hand, couldn’t seem to take his eyes off him.

  “Did we fuck something up?” Kyle asked.

  “Quite the contrary,” Colette said. “That’s a wrap.”

  At that, Pete finally glanced her way. “Really? You don’t want us to do another take?” He couldn’t keep the disappointment from his tone.

  “Nope, I feel confident we have everything we need. Though I could have done without the deviations from my script.” A gloating smile crawled over Colette’s face. “I knew it. I so called that.”

  “What?” Pete asked.

  “Your chemistry.” She motioned between them. “The tension between you is tangible. Even when you finally kissed, it just got stronger. The second I met you, Darko, I knew you were the right choice to inspire Jaden. Hopefully it’ll work the other way too.”

  Pete considered Kyle, attempting to gauge his reaction. His attention was directed at the floor, shoulders rigid. Pete frowned and pushed himself up onto his elbows. Had he done something wrong?

  “So, what’s the verdict, Darko?” Colette continued, seemingly oblivious. “I know I said I’d leave it up to you, but if I get a vote, I’d say Jaden’s definitely in.”

  “Yeah.” Kyle’s voice still sounded rough, though now Pete couldn’t tell if it was from desire or something else. “I can work with this.”

  He wished Kyle would acknowledge him. Anxiety clawed at his insides.

  “Then we’re all set.” Colette gave Yolanda a signal, and she switched off her camera. “The next step is to work out the filming schedule. We have a photo shoot to do and scripts to go over and—”

  “Would you mind sending me whatever I need when you’re finished?” Kyle interrupted. “I’m not so great with the planning. I’m more of an action kind of guy.”

  Colette frowned. “I suppose, but you should really be present for this. Heat Wave is your project too.”

  “Just tell me when to show up, and I’ll be there.” Kyle climbed off the sofa. “Do you need me for anything else?”

  Pete looked nervously between Kyle and Colette. There was no rule saying a porn star had to stick around once filming was done, but most did in case the director wanted to go over something or get in a quick interview. Maybe that wasn’t Kyle’s modus operandi, though. Pete had worked with people who needed to jet as soon as the scene wrapped. Usually people who had kids to get back to or spouses who didn’t know what they did during the day.

  That last thought made Pete stop short. Kyle had a whole life outside of this room. He could have a boyfriend. Or a wife, for all Pete knew. A family. The idea made his chest constrict for reasons he didn’t want to entertain.

  From the bewildered and somewhat irritated expression on Colette’s face, however, it seemed like Kyle didn’t usually run off so fast. “All right, you can go. I’ll call you later.” She said it like it was a threat.

  Kyle didn’t seem the slightest bit fazed as he strolled out of the living room, through the dining room, and out of sight.

  Pete stared after him, wondering why he’d gone that direction instead of heading for the front door. Kyle had made it seem like he was itching to leave, and yet. Something else had to be going on.

  Before he could think about it too much, Colette said, “Great work today, Jaden. You really connected with the scene.”

  “Thank you,” he said, eyes still trained on the door Kyle had disappeared through. He swung his legs over the side of the sofa. “So, the role is definitely mine?”

  “You heard Darko. He wants to work with you.”

  “Excellent. When do we start?”

  There was a noticeable pause. Pete glanced at her. She was frowning, but it was different from how she’d looked at Kyle. Less annoyed and more troubled.

  “What?” he asked. “Something wrong?”

  “Not yet,” Colette said. “But there could be.”

  “Hmm?”

  “Tell me, what was different about today? What got you out of your head?”

  “Kyle, obviously,” Pete answered. “You said it yourself: we work well together.”

  “Yeah, but that was something else. I’ve never seen you show such passion on screen. I’ve seen a lot of porn in my life, and I can attest that it’s possible to be sexual without being even remotely intimate. What you and Darko just pulled off was the opposite of that.”

  Pete couldn’t tell if he was being scolded or not. “What are you getting at? I thought you said we did good.”

  “You did. Just . . . be careful.”

  Pete squinted at her. “Huh?”

  “I just don’t want— You and Darko seem—” She stopped with a huff. “Like I said, be careful. Okay?”

  Pete wasn’t certain what he was agreeing to, but he replied, “Yeah, okay.”

  Colette sighed. “Let’s wrap this up. If you don’t mind sticking around for a minute, I need to consult with Yolanda for her availability.”

  Pete nodded. “I’ll be here.”

  As soon as Colette walked away, Joyce rushed over, a big smile on her face. “Jaden! You were so great! Totally hot.”

  Pete started to reply, but Joyce threw herself onto the sofa and engulfed him in a perfumed hug.

  “Wow, okay,” he half choked. “Did not expect that.”

  “I’m officially your biggest fan.” She pulled away. “I wasn’t sure how I’d feel about it at first. You know, because of the gay thing.” She whispered the word, which almost made Pete laugh, considering the circumstances. “But that was hot! I’m starting to understand what Colette was getting at when she said this kind of porn is for women too.”

  “I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Pete said. “That’s a good thing, since you’ll be seeing a lot of me and Kyle.”

  Joyce laughed. “Yeah, if he doesn’t climb out my bedroom window and disappear.”

  Pete jerked away from her. “What? Why would he do that?”

  “Because of whatever spooked him,” she said, as though the answer were obvious. “I don’t know what you did to the guy—and frankly, I don’t know what you could have done. We were watching you the whole time—but if I were you, I wouldn’t do it again.”

  “Wait, what? What are you talking about?”

  “I suppose you couldn’t see his face,” Joyce said thoughtfully, tapping her chin with a manicured nail. “When Colette called cut and he pulled away, it was written all over him.”

  Pete’s throat tightened. He managed to croak, “What was?”

  “Well, I’m no expert, but if you ask me, it was terror.”

  Two days later, Pete was still re
eling from Joyce’s revelation. It threw some light on Kyle’s hasty departure, but that was the only illuminating thing about it.

  Even work couldn’t distract him. He’d spent the better part of his shift at the Globe, a coffee shop near his campus, replaying their kiss in his head. He couldn’t seem to pinpoint what he’d done wrong. Kyle had seemed to enjoy it. Was he simply that good of an actor? It was a possibility. They were both there for the same reason, after all: because Colette was paying them to be.

  That was a sobering thought. Had Kyle even wanted to kiss him? Pete had gone back and forth on this before, wondering if Kyle was as attracted to him as he seemed. Colette had confirmed it, but now he was back to doubting it.

  Pete felt silly for dwelling on it, but he couldn’t help himself. No matter how many times he ordered himself to focus on the gig, he kept getting drawn in by the mystery that was Kyle. That raised an uncomfortable question. What exactly did Pete want from his mercurial costar? Sex? Obviously. Something more? God, he hoped not. He’d thought he was too smart to confuse lust with love. It was the ultimate rookie mistake and not one Pete had ever been in danger of making. But then, he’d never experienced such magnetic attraction to another person before.

  Pete sighed to himself. He’d gone into the shoot determined to prove himself to Kyle. Instead, he was agonizing over him yet again. He should have known he’d never be able to pull something like that off. Leave it to him to botch a seduction so badly he sent the other guy running.

  Colette had certainly gotten her wish. Her leading men had chemistry, the kind that led to nuclear fallout and fire raining from the sky. Pete imagined sirens wailing in the distance. Breaking News: Man Dies From Embarrassment After Making Ass of Himself in Front of Hot Coworker. More at eleven.

  Sometimes, Pete envied people with a nine-to-five. If they met someone they liked, they went on a date. When Pete met someone he liked, he banged them for money while a director told him to mind his angles.

  It was remiss of him to let his attraction to Kyle override his common sense. He’d forgotten what porn was: business with a side of pleasure. No more thinking with his dick, he swore to himself.

  The only thing left to do was wait and see how Kyle acted around him next time. Just thinking about it sent apprehension spiderwebbing through him.

  “So, who is he?”

  Pete—who had been staring at a fascinating stretch of empty space for the past five minutes—startled at the question. Sana had appeared next to him behind the counter.

  “Sorry, what?” He smoothed the black apron tied over his clothes, even though it wasn’t wrinkled. Guilt pierced him. He was slacking, and it was obvious. He picked up the washcloth he’d abandoned on the counter and went back to wiping up stray coffee grounds.

  Sana’s strained expression suggested she was holding in laughter. “I said, ‘Who is he?’ You’ve been making moony faces at the wall all morning. If you’re going to be useless as an employee, you might as well provide some entertainment.”

  Managers weren’t required to wear an apron—none of the employees were, really, despite what the handbook said—but Sana had thrown one over her yellow, ankle-length dress anyway. It was the only thing about her that wasn’t colorful, from her patterned hijab to her personality. She also had on five-inch orange stilettos that looked like they could double as weapons. Despite being nearly as tall as Pete and on her feet all day, Sana lived in heels.

  Pete arranged his features into what he hoped was an innocent expression. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Sure you do. You’ve been wiping that same spot of counter for so long it’s gone from dirty to clean and back again. And your other hand seems to have developed a mind of its own.” She pointed to it, and only then did Pete realize he was still smoothing his apron. “That’s a sure sign something’s going on.”

  “Yikes. Am I that transparent?”

  “Yup.” She laced her long fingers together and rested her chin on them, elbows on the counter. “So spill.”

  Pete faltered. One of the reoccurring issues he’d encountered while leading a double life was that when people asked for details, he couldn’t often provide them. He could only imagine how she’d react to the truth: Well, you see, Sana, I’m distracted because I just had the best kiss of my life while filming this gay porno.

  Instead, he said, “It’s nothing serious. I’m, um, worried about my class later.”

  “Isn’t it a little early for that? I thought spring semester just started a couple of weeks ago.”

  “It’s never too early to start worrying about midterms.” He gave a beatific smile.

  Sana quirked a thick, perfectly shaped eyebrow at him. “You are such a liar, but whatever. I just thought I’d ask, since you’ve scalded yourself with the milk steamer three times today.”

  Pete grimaced. That wasn’t all he’d done. On top of the milk incidents, he’d given away seven dollars’ worth of incorrect change and had spent half his shifts staring into space. It was a miracle it had taken Sana this long to say something to him.

  “I’m sorry,” Pete said sincerely. “I know I’m screwing up. I’ll do better.”

  “Fair enough.” Sana shrugged. “Just let me know if something’s wrong, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Just then, a middle-aged woman approached them, nose in the air. She set a cup of coffee primly down on the counter and stared at them expectantly.

  Pete took a step back, not because of the woman’s venomous aura, but because of the twinkle in Sana’s brown eyes. He knew what was coming next.

  “May I help you, ma’am?” Sana asked, voice as sweet as spun sugar.

  “You got my order wrong.” Her vitriolic expression and tart, puckered mouth suggested she thought this was a personal attack.

  “We’re so sorry, ma’am,” Sana said. “If you tell us what your drink was, we’ll make you a new one right away.”

  “It’s a little late for that,” the woman sneered. “I can’t take time out of my day to wait for two drinks. I have things to do. I wanted you to make it right the first time.”

  “We’re so sorry again, ma’am,” Sana repeated. “How about we refund your money?”

  “That doesn’t help me either. The service here is completely unacceptable.” She paused for breath. Sana leaned forward eagerly just as Pete prayed the woman wouldn’t say what he thought she was going to—

  “Go get your manager,” the woman sneered. “I’d like to speak to him.”

  Pete ducked behind the espresso machine and peeked over the top like a meerkat. As he watched, Sana rested her palms on the counter. The woman fell back, eyes fixed on Sana’s face. Pete could guess what she saw there: pure, malicious glee.

  “As it just so happens, ma’am,” Sana replied, smile sharp as broken glass, “I am the manager.”

  Several people had looked up from their laptops to watch the exchange. Pete tried to edge farther out of view, an ambitious move for someone his height.

  The woman looked flummoxed but recovered quickly. “Then I must say you’re doing a terrible job. Your staff are incompetent, and don’t get me started on the décor.” She waved at the overlapping bumper stickers covering the espresso machine, which bore such catchy slogans as Have you hugged a queer today? and Fuck the Patriarchy. Then she pointed to the rainbow flag undulating by the entrance. “And I can only assume you have no idea what that flag means, or you wouldn’t dare hang it outside a business. Children might see it.”

  “This is an independent coffee shop, ma’am. We do what we want.” Sana was apparently no longer bothering to sound polite. “And we’re LGBT-friendly, among other things. If you have an issue with that, we invite you to stop patronizing us.”

  The woman opened and closed her mouth several times. “That’s it, I want to talk to whoever’s above you!”

  “That would be the owner, and he’s the one who put the flag up. I’d fetch him for you, but he’s currently on vacation with his hu
sband.”

  Having apparently reached her limit on consumer fury, the woman whirled around and stomped out.

  Sana called after her: “If you like that, you should hear our bathroom policy!”

  Pete waited until the door had shut behind her before inching out from behind his makeshift shield. “I don’t know how you do that.”

  “Do what?”

  “Tell off customers like that. I feel queasy just watching.”

  “It’s all about attitude, my friend. If theirs is shitty, they get shit back. Besides, Mr. Hamm legitimately told me I’m allowed to kick out anyone who doesn’t fit the ‘values’ of our establishment. It’s one of the many things I enjoy about this job.”

  “Well, I could never do it.”

  “And that is why you should be grateful to have such a wonderful manager.” Sana batted her long eyelashes at him.

  “More like a bloodthirsty she-demon,” he rejoined.

  “That is the single highest compliment anyone has ever paid me. Though, for the record, in my culture, I’d be a jinni. Get it right. Or, better yet, get back to work. If you’re not going to be helpful here, Joshua could probably use a hand in the back.”

  Pete scurried off to do as she said, wondering how he’d ended up with two such similar bosses in such different industries. He ducked through the swinging door next to the line of sinks and found himself in the stockroom. It wasn’t as big as the main room, but without the squishy couches, abstract artwork, and the eclectic odds and ends stuck everywhere, it was far less cramped.

  As promised, Joshua was opening boxes and tallying their contents on a clipboard. He looked up when Pete entered. “Hey, flamer.”

  “Don’t call me that,” Pete answered without inflection. He was so used to Joshua’s jabs, they barely fazed him anymore.

  “Oooh,” Joshua cooed, “a declarative statement. That’s a huge step for you. Next you’ll mouth off to Sana or—gasp!—say a bad word.”