by Tara Lain
René put a warm hand on his forearm. “It’s my job to perceive even minute details of the emotional landscape of my actors.”
Merle shook his head. “I just have some personal shit on my mind. I’m actually thrilled about the nuances of the film and can’t wait to get going.” That was the truth.
“I’m glad of that, but is there anything I can help with?”
“Probably not, but thank you. Thanks a lot.” He smiled.
“At least we can use your melancholy to benefit the film.” He laughed, and Merle joined in.
René paid the check even though Merle offered. “This is business, my dear. A working dinner.” Then they walked through the smallish restaurant to the lobby. Several people waved at René, and Merle felt eyes all over him. Antoinette gave René a hug, then turned to Merle. “You’re lovely and you’re also lucky. René’s a catch.” She kissed Merle’s cheek even though he couldn’t muster a smile.
They walked out the front door and Merle said, “There are apparently a lot of rumors flying around about us.” He tried to make his voice sound light but probably didn’t succeed.
“Yes. A number of people have asked me about you. I’ve even gotten a few calls. That’s the result of our being seen together.”
Merle felt the tendon in his jaw jump. “May I ask what you’ve told them?”
René stopped walking and faced Merle. “That you’re my new star and we’re busy working on the film.”
Merle nodded.
“I’ll confess that hasn’t completely satisfied people’s curiosity, especially since we were seen at a dance club. Fortunately, you also danced with Tom, so that confused the gossips a little.”
“Good.”
“I know this is an area about which you’re very sensitive. But truly, Merle, anyone who knows me understands that I would never hire an actor because I wanted to sleep with him.”
He tried to smile. “What about the people who don’t know you?”
“Come, come. All publicity is good publicity, they say.”
“Who the hell are ‘they’ anyway?” But this time he did smile. If you were in Hollywood and alive, people were going to talk about you. And if they didn’t, you were in even more trouble.
“How’s Tom, by the way?”
“Uh, he was well—the last time I saw him. My house is almost done thanks in large part to him.”
“Give him my best.”
“Sure. Whenever I see him.” Man, Justice, you’re such a liar.
“So, tomorrow night?”
He must have looked at least a little surprised before he controlled his face. René seemed to want to end the evening. “Right. Hang on.” He pulled out his phone and checked his texts while his brain swirled on the fact that René hadn’t come on to him. Maybe he’s not interested anymore. “My folks made reservations at Okayama. Do you know it?”
“Yes. It’s supposed to be very good.”
“She says meet at eight. Does that work for you?”
“Of course. When I was young, we ate at ten. I’ve never quite gotten used to American eating schedules.”
“At least it’s not the early bird special.”
“So I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
“Good. I’ll look forward to it.” He paused since he wasn’t quite sure what to think about the shift in sexual innuendo.
René leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “Have a good night.” He walked off to the Ferrari, got in, and drove away before Merle could pull himself together enough to get in his car.
Finally Merle drove toward his apartment in a kind of daze. Yes, he felt relieved, but also suspicious. Could they really move on to just a friendly relationship? Is that what he wanted?
Bottom line, his brain kept coming back to Tom.
His hands gripped the wheel. He really wanted to jump on the freeway and drive to Laguna, but he wouldn’t get there until after midnight. What am I going to do? Call Tom and ask him to meet me on the beach for a quick fuck? That went way beyond fuck buddy to total user. On Saturday, Tom usually worked—on Merle’s damned house. All I can do is hang around and watch like a sad puppy?
He didn’t turn, but stomped his foot on the accelerator and made it to his apartment in land-speed-record time. With a yank of the wheel, he parked, banged his fist on the console once, and dragged his body out of the car, fighting every instinct that yelled at him to keep driving. Why is this such a big damned deal? Easy. Sex that good just didn’t happen—like, ever.
He climbed the steps and entered the apartment, tossing his keys, and padded into the bedroom without even turning on a light. He undressed, brushed his teeth, peed and washed up, then crawled into bed. Hello, ceiling.
I don’t want Tom to be mad at me.
Tom would never be mad at him, and knowing that was worse.
I don’t want to hurt Tom.
Shitty time to think of that, asshole.
Oh God, he wanted to tell Tom he was sorry and really didn’t mean to just disappear on him. I want him to believe me.
He reached for the phone he always kept on the bedside table. It’s 1:00 a.m. Get over yourself. The phone felt warm cradled against his chest.
Shit! He dialed and listened to the ringing start.
I’ll apologize and explain. I planned to come see him. I wanted to say goodbye before I started shooting. I forgot about my parents and I kind of had to have the dinner, uh, meeting with René since he’s in charge of the movie. I want to be Tom’s friend and—
How many times has it rung?
He held his breath as the tinny sound vibrated in his ear. Tom, who always breathlessly grabbed any call from Merle on the first ring, didn’t answer.
MERLE STRODE across the parking lot to Okayama resisting the urge to think. He’d spent the day searching for rugs and looking at furniture for his house. Results? Nada. He just couldn’t get his heart or his head into it. Especially after he tried to call Tom once again—and got no answer. Just thinking of it made his hands clammy.
He walked in the front door of the restaurant, and René rose from a side bench, extending his hands. René glanced around and lowered his voice. “I didn’t want to barge in without you.”
Merle smiled. “Chicken.”
“Precisely.”
Merle walked to the reception desk. “Hi. I’m Merle Justice. I’m meeting my parents.”
“The name is Justice?”
“No, sorry. It’s actually Justinian.”
“Oh, yes sir. Tamiko will take you in.”
He and René followed the pretty Asian girl to a table near the windows. His father rose as they approached and both he and Merle’s mother smiled, but their gazes rested on René.
Tamiko gave them a small bow and left on her little cat zori. Merle’s mom gave him a hug and his father shook his hand.
“Mom, Dad, this is René Montrose. René, my parents, Angela and Carter Justinian.”
René extended a graceful hand to Merle’s mom, and she took it and pressed her other hand over his. “Mr. Montrose, we’re so delighted to meet you. Both my husband and I are ardent admirers of your work.”
He nodded his head in that very European way he could have. “I’m honored that you are. And please call me René.” He shook hands with Merle’s father and sat between Merle’s mom and the seat Merle took.
His mom folded her hands in front of her chin. “What would you like to drink?”
“Permit me to select a bottle of champagne to celebrate our meeting.”
His dad said, “Oh no, we invited you. This is our treat.”
René waved a hand at a man standing near the wall who looked like he might be a wine steward. “We’ll argue about dinner later, but I insist on providing the champagne.”
His mom laughed musically. “Well, thank you. We’ll succumb to your insistence.”
All the charm being thrown around was as thick as butter icing.
René ordered, and the steward hurried back with the very ex
pensive bottle in an ice bucket. René slid a warm hand over Merle’s. “Can I persuade you to have champagne, or would you like your beer?”
Over René’s shoulder, Merle saw his mother’s eyes widen at the familiarity. She glanced at his father with a knowing grin. How the fuck do I feel about this? “I’ll have champagne, thanks.”
Once they were sipping bubbly, his mom said, “We’re so anxious to know about your new film. Assuming it’s not all hush-hush.”
René glanced at Merle. “I’m sure I can trust your discretion. It’s a metaphoric fantasy. If you’ve ever seen Cocteau’s Beauty and the Beast, it has some qualities in common, though it’s much more contemporary and not so ethereal, nor does it ever break the fourth wall.”
His father nodded. “Yes, of course, we love that film.”
“How did you happen to select Merle to be in your film?” His mother smiled. It might be more motherly if she didn’t sound so fucking amazed.
René smiled and raised his brows. “First I should say, Merle isn’t just in the film. He’s the very heart of it.”
“Oh, I see.” She looked at Merle appraisingly.
“He was recommended to me first by friends whose judgment I trust who had seen his performance in his series.”
“Not his vampire series surely?” She sipped her wine.
“Yes, very much his vampire series. My God, he was nominated for an Emmy playing the type of part that’s seldom recognized for any critical acclaim. An amazing accomplishment. I wanted someone with both maximum talent and maximum sex appeal. Merle provided me with both.”
Merle flashed a snarky smile. “I’ll pay you later for the testimonial.”
His mother eyed him. “Very interesting.”
René smiled. “I’m sure you’ve observed the level of sensitivity Merle brings to a role that could have otherwise been totally forgettable. I believe the renewal of the series for another year is largely due to Merle’s talent. Wouldn’t you agree?” René looked back and forth between his parents.
His father nodded. “Oh yes, of course.”
If he could have leaped from the chair and hugged René, he would have. Clearly his parents had never seen his series, probably even once. Receiving this level of praise from someone they respected might be the best thing that ever happened to his family image. He wanted not to care—but sadly he did.
They ordered dinner and chatted about the movie and about the conference Merle’s father was attending. Over sukiyaki, they even drilled down into how the Justinians had met and fallen in love—arguing over the relative merits of genetic testing in cancer research while sharing coffee in the student union at Harvard. Merle sighed very softly. The trials of a black sheep.
Chapter Twenty-one
AFTER THE entrée, René excused himself to visit the men’s room and make a quick phone call. As soon as he left, his mother leaned over. “What an amazing man. Intelligent, thoughtful, and obviously very impressed with you. I do hope there’s a future here beyond an actor/director relationship.” She smiled and his father nodded.
Suddenly all that family status René had conveyed morphed into a straitjacket of expectations. Shit. “I don’t know, Mom. We’ve talked a little about a personal thing, but I really don’t want people to think I’m sleeping with the boss, and I sure as hell don’t want them thinking that’s how I got the job.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Maybe that’s how you did get the job. He mentioned sex appeal.”
He sat back. “Thanks a lot for your vote of confidence.”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”
He leaned toward her. “No, I don’t know it, Mother. You not only don’t believe in my talent, you won’t even accept someone else’s word for it. Someone who happens to be an expert.”
His father put a hand on his arm. “That’s not true, Merle. We simply don’t know anything about film or acting or all the things at which you excel.”
“Since you’re not experts, is it so hard to accept that someone who is an expert might have hired me based on skill?”
René approached the table, and Merle’s mother smiled in welcome. Merle’s belly clenched and his hands joined in. No way to win with these people. No way.
They ordered dessert, and Merle pushed some coconut sorbet around on his plate while the other three talked.
René said, “Have you seen Merle’s new house? It’s just beautiful. The location’s amazing and the renovations he’s undertaken are masterful. It’s going to be a work of art when he’s finished.”
His dad said, “No, we haven’t seen it since this is our first visit in some time.”
“You must make it a priority to get to Laguna before you leave. It will be well worth the trip.”
Merle didn’t even bother to look up.
“That sounds like a great idea, don’t you think, Angela?” His dad oozed hale heartiness. “Maybe we can go down to Laguna tomorrow after the sessions are over.”
His mother frowned a little. “Don’t you have an appointment with the editor of the journal?”
His father waved a hand. “Yes, but I can change that. If worse comes to worst, we’ll talk on the phone. There’s no need to meet face-to-face. This way we can see Merle’s house, and who knows when we’ll get another chance?”
“True.” She turned to Merle. “Would that work for you, dear?”
“Yeah, sure.” He tried not to sound too excited. They’d do something to fuck it up.
She looked at René. “Can you join us? It sounds like you’re a great admirer of Merle’s new digs.”
“I am, and there’s a chance I might be able to join in. I have to check with my assistant.”
“Of course, I’m sure you’re so busy.” She smiled at Merle. “But we’ll plan to go either way.”
Son of a bitch. René worked a miracle.
After a polite argument about the check, his dad paid and they all left the restaurant. In the parking lot, René said, “Thank you. I’ve been wanting to try Okayama, and you provided that opportunity along with the delightful chance to meet you and get to know you a little. It’s easy to see where Merle gets his brilliance.”
His mother’s eyes widened and she smiled. “Thank you. The pleasure was all ours. So what time shall we plan to come to Laguna, Merle? Do you want to ride with us?”
“Uh, no. I might want to stay a bit longer than you’ll be able to, so I’ll drive myself.”
“But what if René can come?”
Trapped. “We can probably go together, and he can ride back with you if he needs to leave early.” He smiled at René. “Just let me know if you can make the trip.”
“I’ll check with my assistant as soon as I get home.”
Everyone exchanged handshakes, cheek kisses, and hugs; then Merle’s folks walked to their rental car, calling back, “See you tomorrow.”
Holy shit.
Merle stood beside René and waved as his parents drove out of the parking lot. He turned and burst out laughing. “If I’d scripted your lines and paid you a million dollars to say them, I don’t think that could have gone better. My God, I haven’t seen my mother look at me as if I had a brain—maybe ever.” He wrapped his arms around René and hugged him.
René beamed. “Happy I could help.” He leaned in and pecked a kiss on Merle’s lips. “Can I offer you a nightcap while I check with my assistant?”
What the hell? “Sure.”
René pressed a hand against his chest. “Oh my. Let me put my address in your GPS.” He took Merle’s offered phone and clicked away, then handed it back. “See you shortly.” His sideways glance seemed to say he didn’t quite believe Merle would show up.
Not sure I believe it either. “See you soon.” He walked to the Audi and crawled in, started it, and pulled out of the parking lot with the voice of his phone telling him to turn left at the light and what the hell was he thinking.
The idea made him laugh despite his nervous stomach. What’s the big d
eal? He’s a great guy, very attractive, super influential, and he just did the impossible. Made my parents impressed with me. For that, I ought to blow him into next week.
Okay. Not really. But René had been great. He hadn’t pushed or played the casting couch game, and that counted for a lot.
“In two hundred feet, turn left.”
He followed the directions.
“Make a U-turn at the next intersection.”
U-turn. Tom’s sweet face flashed in his mind. Tom doesn’t want to talk to me. Whew, that felt like a punch to his chest. No way to blame him. Me and Tom together is hurt waiting to happen. He’s trying to bail. If I push it, I know he’ll see me again, but that’s so not fair. Why should I restart something just to leave again in a week or a month? Still, the lump in his throat felt the size of a baseball.
“Destination ahead on the right.”
The low, midcentury house made him catch his breath. Beautiful, understated, classic, avant-garde all rolled into one. So very René. He pulled over and parked at the edge of the landscaped front yard. No sidewalks. The Ferrari wasn’t in sight. René probably parked in a garage, though one wasn’t visible from the front. Merle walked up the wide slate stairs to the front door and rang the bell.
It popped open. René stood there with a bubbling glass of champagne and a smile. “Welcome.” He handed the glass to Merle, who chuckled.
“Thank you.”
The entry was surrounded by glass that looked out into interior courtyards. Ahead was a large room featuring a sliding wall of glass with a vista over a forested setting. The panel stood slightly open, and the sound of water could be heard beyond.
“This is gorgeous.” It was genuine midcentury, perfectly restored.
“Thank you. I’m very at home here, although I still think of my Paris apartment as my main residence. I actually spend more time here, though.” He extended a hand toward the living room. “Please come in.”
Merle carried his champagne into the big space with its polished hardwood floors, an open stone fireplace, and lots of built-in bookshelves and display niches holding objects of art that appeared to be from all over the world. What a dream house. “I’m getting new ideas with every step.”
