by Tara Lain
“You hardly need them. Your new place is going to be a masterpiece.” René held up a hand. “Which reminds me. Please be comfortable while I call.”
Merle sat, and René grabbed his phone and wandered back toward the open kitchen as he dialed. He said, “Hi, dear. Yes, it was lovely. Tell me, what do I have on the schedule for tomorrow?” He listened. “Oh right. But I might have a few hours in the morning, correct? Excellent. I’m going to Laguna Beach. I’ll call you when I get back and meet you there. Thanks, dear.” He hung up, walked to a bar cart where a bottle of champagne rested in an ice bucket, poured himself a glass, and carried it back to the couch where Merle sat. “I have a reception in the afternoon for a colleague’s daughter’s wedding, but I’m free in the morning, so I’ll hop down to Laguna with you and then come back with your parents—or you, if you don’t stay.”
“That’s great, but wouldn’t you rather sleep in?”
René raised his eyebrows.
Well, damn, why did I say that? “I mean, that’s making it an awfully busy day.”
“Not to worry. If I’m not up to it tomorrow, I’ll just bow out. It seems like your parents’ attendance doesn’t depend on me anyway.”
“No, but I’m sure they’d be happy to see you.” He sipped his wine. “I know you couldn’t tell from our discussion, during which they both acted like true film aficionados, but my folks don’t like movies, TV, actors, or anything having to do with what they call ‘frivolous wastes of time.’ I wasn’t kidding when I said you upped my currency with them by light-years.”
René gave him a long look. “It must have been hard, being the black sheep.”
Merle nodded. “You could say that. It’s never easy being an outsider. I always say I don’t care, and it’s pretty much true, but there’s that whole parents-are-God thing that it’s hard to shake.”
“More champagne?”
If I’m driving, I should say no. If I’m not driving—well, I need a helluva lot more champagne. “I’ll take a little.”
René went over and grabbed the still partly full bottle and brought it back to the glass coffee table. He refilled Merle’s glass and handed it over, then topped off his own. With a flourish, he clinked glasses. “To new homes, new enterprises, and new friendships.”
Merle nodded and took a swig. Here we go.
“Would you like a snack?”
“No, thank you. I enjoyed the sukiyaki, even if eating with my parents is a bit ulcer-producing.”
“Interesting that they should accept your being gay but denigrate you for not being a scientist. It’s almost funny.”
“Oh yes. In my family it’s far more acceptable to be gay than to be an actor.” He snorted.
“My family was much more traditional. They threw me out for my homosexuality.”
“But you’re French.”
“You think the French can’t be bigots?” He laughed. “I was unfortunate enough to come from the only family in the nation that still took religion seriously.” He didn’t sound amused. “But it was a blessing. I’d probably be some clerk in a small town if they hadn’t disowned me.”
“And the world would be a sorrier place for it.”
“What a sweet thing to say.” René gazed at him.
Merle released his breath. Wouldn’t it be better to just quit fighting? He looked up and met René’s eyes. As expected, René leaned in and caressed Merle’s lips with his own, softly, like maybe he didn’t want to startle the shy horse.
Pleasant, warm, a little sexy. Merle opened his mouth and accepted an exploring tongue. René made a soft sound in his throat and pressed his advantage, leaning his body weight against Merle until he fell back against the soft couch cushions.
They were still mostly upright, but René lay against Merle so that the ridge of his erection thrust hard against Merle’s thigh. His kiss intensified, tongue surging in and out, soft sounds coming from his throat as his hips bobbed and weaved.
Merle wrapped his arms around René, and that invitation obviously encouraged him, because he adjusted his body so his hard cock fit itself against Merle’s crotch. Okay, a little embarrassing. Merle’s cock wasn’t dead. It liked the pressure and the sexy smells, but to call it enthusiastic would be a gross overstatement. Maybe René wouldn’t notice.
Merle kissed a little harder. Still not much reaction. What if he gave René head? He could do that without being hard. He liked oral and enjoyed giving it. He hadn’t done many blow jobs lately because he and Tom liked to fuck—shit.
Whatever starch had crept into his dick withered at one thought of Tom.
His whole body must have reacted, because René tensed and pulled back from the kiss. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No.” He sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m kind of—” What? What was he kind of? “—I guess you could say on the rebound. I’m just recuperating from, uh, another relationship, and I’m not feeling completely comfortable yet.”
René gave Merle a long look, still breathing kind of hard. “I understand. I was attached to the same man for a number of years. It took a while before I felt I wasn’t cheating.”
Merle nodded.
René sat back. “And just as you don’t want to think I offered you the part to get you into bed, I don’t want to think you’re having sex with me out of gratitude.” He raised his eyebrows and his lips turned up slightly.
Merle flopped into the cushions. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate knowing that.”
René’s lips kept turning. “That’s not to say I don’t always welcome a blow job when your heart’s in it.”
Merle grinned back. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“I’ll also confess that I was rather hoping I’d be sleeping in with you tomorrow. Since that’s not in the cards, perhaps I won’t join you for the drive to Laguna. While I’d love to see your house again, it would simplify my day to not spend two hours on the freeway.”
“I totally get it. My mom’ll be heartbroken, but I’m sure she’ll recover.” I hope. He downed the last of his champagne. “I guess I better go.”
“If you must.” René threw a hand dramatically to his forehead, and Merle barked a laugh.
He took one last look around the house, decided against asking for a tour, and walked to the front door. “Then I’ll see you Monday.”
“Come prepared to work your ass off, my friend.”
“I look forward to having no ass.”
René glanced at Merle’s posterior. “Let’s not go that far.” He leaned forward and kissed Merle’s cheek. “See you Monday.”
Merle trotted down the steps to his car, looked back to find René’s front door closed, climbed into the Audi, and drove off.
How the fuck do I feel about this whole thing? Answer—uneasy going on shitty.
He wanted to want René. That simple. It would make life so easy if his cock—and his heart—would just cooperate. René was a nice guy. He deserved to be appreciated and lusted after. No such luck. But where does that leave me? Was René actually pissed and just hiding it? He’d been rejected. Softly, but still totally. Would that pissedness start to show during filming? Hell, a director could pretty much ruin even the best performance. But René wouldn’t want to do that—would he?
And what about my folks, so anxiously expecting to see René tomorrow?
Oh shit, life would be so much simpler if he just wanted René.
His foot stomped the accelerator as he sped onto the freeway on-ramp heading south toward Laguna.
Chapter Twenty-two
AN HOUR later, Merle pulled in to the driveway at Ru and Gray’s. They had no idea he was coming. That made three of them. I hope they’re not licking whipped cream off each other.
It wasn’t midnight yet and it was the weekend, so they might be up. He gently tapped on the front door and waited. Some kind of sounds came from inside, but he couldn’t be sure over the pounding of the surf, which seemed to be high tonight. He fit his key in the lock—and th
e door flew open.
He gasped and Ru laughed. “Did you knock, silly thing? We’re watching Die Hard with a Vengeance, and no sound rises above the gunfire and explosions. Come in.”
“I’m so sorry to just drop in. I only decided to come an hour ago.”
“Don’t be crazy. You’re always welcome. Go change into jammies, then come watch yummy Jeremy Irons for the fiftieth time. There are only a few minutes left, but he’s still wearing that undershirt.” He slapped a hand to his heart.
Merle laughed as he walked down the hall. When he got to his room, though, he quit laughing. A quick yank opened the french doors and let in the ocean music. He sucked in air—the same air Tom was breathing. He smiled, and it felt soft on his lips. Tom’s air would be a little hairier with two dogs snuggled next to him. So sad to admit, he’d like to be snuggled next to Tom too.
With a long sigh, he pulled on his jammies, as Ru called them, and walked down the hall.
Ru looked up and motioned for him to hurry. Merle got to a chair in time to see Jeremy looking skinny, fit, and devastating.
Ru rolled his eyes. “Jeremy’s finest hour. Body-wise, at least.”
Gray grabbed Ru and hauled him closer. “Should I be worried? Is skinny your new preference?”
“No, darling. I’d never trade all your divine muscles. I’ll leave Jeremy for Merle.”
“Nope.” Merle shook his head. “He’s lovely but not my type. I like them big and brawny too.”
Ru threw a hand to his head, which reminded Merle of René. “Ah yes, I remember, I’ve faced that you never really loved me.”
“I made an exception for you, dear.”
Ru put a hand under his chin. “Speaking of brawny, how’s Tom?” He fluttered his lashes.
Merle stared at his feet. “Uh, I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to him.”
“Oh?”
“No, I’ve been in LA. My folks came to town. That’s why I’m here, actually. I’m meeting them tomorrow to show them the house. Then I have to go back to LA and start the movie.”
Gray said, “I can’t wait to hear about that. At the very least, call us, okay? I know it may be tough to get down here.”
Ru was quiet, gazing at Merle.
Merle looked at him. “What’s wrong?”
“Something Shaz told me makes more sense.”
“What?”
“Billy says Tom isn’t himself. It’s as if he’s depressed or sad. He found him crying.”
Merle felt like someone slammed him in the breastbone. “I tried to call him but didn’t get any answer.”
“I know he sometimes forgets his phone.”
Merle nodded, but Tom never forgot his phone if he thought Merle might call. “Last I heard, his sister was still here. Could that be the problem?” Shit, not likely.
“I suppose it’s possible.”
Just try to look like you aren’t the one who made Tom cry. That made him want to cry. “I probably won’t have a chance to see him before I start filming since my folks are here tomorrow and then I’m in LA for a month at least.”
Ru leaned back against Gray. “I guess it depends on whether you want to see him.”
Gray looked a little confused. “I imagine Tom understands.”
Ru nodded with a slight smile. “I’m sure he does.”
MERLE GLANCED down at the text on his phone. We’re about half an hour away according to the GPS. Looking forward to it.
He stared out the french doors at the ocean. What were they looking forward to? Seeing his house—or meeting René again? A possibility he’d pooch-screwed to the max.
Everything felt weird and wrong. Disappointing René. Disappointing his parents. Hiding in this room so he didn’t have to encounter his best friend and feel the weight of his judgment for leading on the nicest guy on earth.
How can I be facing the most exciting time in my life—a new house, an incredible film to make, a whole new level of income—and want to throw it all over and go polish surfboards in Tonga? Ungrateful bastard.
Shit, I feel bad about feeling bad.
Sucking it up, he opened the bedroom door and marched stalwartly toward the front. In some gift from the cosmic joker, Ru and Gray weren’t anywhere to be seen. He powered out the entrance and into his car before he tempted fate. Just get this day over with and then I can drown myself in the joy of acting for weeks without thinking much.
Staring fixedly out the windshield and stifling all thought, he navigated the short distance down the highway and pulled up in front of the house to see a rental car in his driveway with his folks sitting in it. He parked and waved as he climbed out. His parents met him on the front walkway.
His dad extended a hand. “It’s beautiful, Merle. It’s got to be exciting being a homeowner for the first time.”
“It is. Thank you, sir.”
His mother glanced around. “Where’s René?”
“Uh, he had to bow out. A friend’s wedding, I believe.”
“What a shame. Did you drive down this morning, then?”
“No. I came last night and stayed with my friends.”
“Oh.” Her lips pursed slightly. “I see.”
Merle pointed toward the house. “Shall we go in?” They started up the stairs. He stepped in front to unlock the door and pushed it open for them. They walked into the entry with its glowing light and the wide staircase leading up to the main living area. He smiled. “I’ll save the best. Let’s look at this floor first.”
He felt a little of his enthusiasm oozing back in as he showed off the house. The big-screens had already been installed. His father laughed. “It’s easy to tell what your passion is, son.”
His mother nodded. “Yes, it is.”
Somehow that didn’t sound like a compliment. “Maybe I’ll screen the new film for you the next time you come, Mother.”
“That’s one thing I do want to see. But I’m sure we’ll view it in New York.”
He sighed softly and pointed to the room at the end of the space. “This is the guest room where you guys can stay any time you want to visit.”
“Will you be seeing René tonight?”
A scream of frustration tickled his throat. Get over yourself. They finally found a reason to be impressed with you, and you’re ticked off about it. “No. No plans. As of tomorrow, I’ll be seeing him most of the hours of the day.”
She smiled a little. “And the night?”
Merle turned. “Let’s go upstairs.” He walked out of the family room and up the staircase. Halfway up, he heard a clanging sound. What? Maybe it came from the neighbors.
His dad smiled big when he saw the view. “This is breathtaking. I can just see you sitting here for hours staring at the ocean.”
His mom walked into the open kitchen. “Very well done. Excellent appliances.”
“Let me show you the master bedroom. The view’s just as good. That’s where I’ll really be hanging out.”
He led them down the short hall and stepped into the room—to a familiar, breathtaking sight. Tom on the top of a ladder. Merle’s heart beat so hard he saw spots.
His mother gasped and his dad said, “Oh!”
Tom turned, looked down, spied Merle, and his face lit up—but just for a second. Then he seemed to swallow his smile and everything dulled. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I was listening to the waves.” He pointed toward the open window through which the sound of the surf echoed.
“My apologies, Tom. I didn’t see your truck or I would have told you we were here.”
“I’m at the top of the hill. There were no spaces when I came.” He pointed toward the ceiling. “I just wanted to finish the job, Merle. Just wanted to finish.”
“Come down and meet my folks, Tom.”
“Oh, thank you.” He climbed down the ladder, his beautiful biceps flexing and relaxing in his T-shirt—to say nothing of his beautiful butt.
He stuck out his hand. “Hi. I’m Tom. I’m Merle’s friend.”
>
His mother looked—scared. Or maybe just leery. She extended her hand tentatively, and Tom grasped it and shook it.
“I’m so happy to meet Merle’s folks.” He took back his hand, oblivious to her uncertainty, and extended it to Merle’s dad. “Hi. Don’t you love Merle’s house? I got to work on it from the start.”
His dad seemed kind of startled, but not in a bad way. “That’s wonderful, Tom.”
“I can go away so you can show your folks the great bedroom.”
Merle shook his head. “No, it’s fine. Please finish your work. I’ll show my folks the bathroom and the closet.” He wiped his hands on his jeans.
“Uh, Merle, I had to move your mattress so I could put in the light, but I’ll put it back later, okay?”
Merle looked up and all he saw were those huge, sweet blue eyes drowning in sorrow. He just wanted to dive in and sink to the bottom. “That’s fine, Tom. Thank you.” Turning quickly so he didn’t have to look into Tom’s eyes anymore, he walked into the closet. Maybe his folks would follow. At this point he didn’t care.
His dad said, “Must be nice to get to design a place to your own specifications.”
“Yes. Yes, it is.” He looked over his shoulder and forced a smile.
His mother said, “Do you trust that young man to do a good job?”
Merle turned before he thought. “What do you mean? Tom’s a licensed electrician and a qualified carpenter. In case you don’t know, that’s very hard to do.”
“Yes, well, I’ll take your word for it.” She crossed her arms.
Merle stomped out of the closet into the bathroom. “This is the master bath.” He stared at the perfect slate Tom had installed. Why do I expect other people to understand Tom? Especially if those people are my parents.
“Wow, this is positively sybaritic. I’ll bet you can’t wait to move in.” His dad was at least trying.
Merle nodded. “Yes, but I won’t be able to do that until after the film wraps. I hope to get a week or so off before the series starts up again, during which I’ll set up my house.” He waved toward the door to the bathroom. “Let me show you the beach.”
