The Final Act

by Dee, Bonnie

  Jake struggled to find a reason why she should waste any more time on him. He forced his eyes up to meet hers. He could at least be man enough to do that. “Because it was a mistake. I want to try harder, to be better for you. Because…” He squeezed the words past the lump in his throat. “I love you.”

  Her blue eyes shone like searchlights scouring his soul, judging him.

  “I’ve never felt like this about anyone before. And having someone like you actually care for me was…I didn’t know how to deal with it. I was stupid and I’m sorry.”

  There was a very long pause. Time was palpable, as the world turned with a grinding creak, and his future hung in the balance.

  “I’m sorry, too,” Gretchen finally said. “A month ago I would have given anything to hear you say that, but now it’s too late. It’s just too late.”

  Jake’s body clenched against the blow. He nodded.

  “Maybe in some ways you were right. I don’t like the person I was turning into when I was with you. So, the answer is no.”

  “I understand.” His mouth formed the words without his brain engaging. “All right then. Thanks for listening.”

  She turned from him and opened the door. Walking past her was painful. He felt her eyes burning into him, but he couldn’t look at her.

  “I’m sorry,” she repeated quietly, before the door closed behind him.

  Scene Fifteen: Green Bay

  “I never imagined I’d have the best sex of my life in a motel in Green Bay, Wisconsin.” Tom snuggled closer to Denny under the ugly, teal and rose polyester bedspread covering the skimpy double bed. “That was fucking amazing, dude.”

  “Dude?”

  “Dude,” Tom confirmed. “I’m feeling young again.”

  “You are young. You’re only thirty-four.”

  “Yeah, but I aged ten years over the past six months. Tonight I’m rejuvenated by the power of amazing sex.”

  Denny smiled and held his hot, sweaty body close, treasuring the precious moment. Although Tom was currently cancer-free, Denny lived in fear of the disease now, prowling somewhere out there in the woods beyond their little cottage perhaps waiting to attack again. Denny no longer felt safe. He slid a hand all the way up Tom’s back and into his crisp, black curls. “Glad to be of service. If it’s going to keep you healthy, I can supply a therapeutic fuck every day.”

  He felt Tom smile against his chest. “Sounds good.”

  “As soon as I get home,” Denny added. “Then we can do it every day, five times a day if you want to.”

  Tom lifted his head and looked at him through squinted eyes. “Five times? I’m not feeling that young.”

  Denny laughed as Tom laid his head back down.

  “How’s your new job?” he asked after several silent moments.

  “Good. Pretty good. It’s not all that challenging, but I suppose that’s good right now. And there are opportunities for advancement.”

  “How about your co-workers? Are you playing nice with the other kids?”

  “Yeah. I even share my lunch with one pretty boy,” Tom teased.

  Denny smiled, but a pang of remorse stabbed him. Jokes about other men were no longer comfortable. The shadow of his infidelity added nuances of guilt and subtle accusation to even innocent teasing.

  “How about you?” Tom asked. “How’s the cast doing? Getting completely sick of each other yet?”

  “Oh yeah. I know I’ll miss them when the tour’s over, but right now I can’t imagine it. Living with Bill is like taking Novocain every day. I’ve never met anyone so dull. Of course, it could be worse. Michael’s stuck with Logan, who never shuts up.”

  Tom yawned and stretched. He crawled up the bed to lie with his head on the pillow so they were face to face.

  Drinking in every angle of his beloved face, the curve of his lips, the crook in his nose and his wildly tousled hair, Denny felt such a surge of love race through him it made his bones ache.

  “Have you heard from Elena? How does she like being in the movies?” Tom asked.

  “She emailed a couple of times right after she left, but I guess she’s gotten too busy. Haven’t heard from her lately.” Denny wondered if she was trying to get over Michael by cutting off all ties with the show. He was convinced they were in love, but both of them were too stubborn to be the first to reach out.

  “And how’s the new girl doing?”

  “Nichole’s a solid performer, and Michael would have chemistry with a lamppost. But it’s nothing like the spark Michael and Elena had.”

  Their talk drifted from tour gossip back to New York. Now that his health was better and he had a new job, Tom was interested in remodeling the kitchen so they discussed the best way to reorganize their tiny kitchen space. Denny had never imagined he could get so stoked about interior design, but it was their home they were planning and suddenly maple versus cherry veneer on the cupboards was exciting. He couldn’t wait to shop for tile. Only a couple more months of traveling then the show would be over.

  Mingled with his eagerness for that day was sadness. The unending tour, which had almost ruined his relationship with Tom, was suddenly dear to him. He’d miss putting on the play for enthusiastic audiences. He’d even miss the other actors he’d lived, breathed, laughed and fought with for almost a year.

  “Hey, where’d you go?” Tom tapped his stomach. “We were talking ranges and refrigerators.”

  “Sorry. I was just thinking about being finished with all this and coming home.” Denny gestured at the motel room.

  “You’re going to miss it.”

  “I’ll find something nearby this time. There’s always another show.”

  “Did I remember to tell you what a great job you did tonight, by the way?” Tom rubbed his hand up and down Denny’s stomach, moving closer with every stroke to his sleeping cock. It twitched awake.

  “Thanks. Did I remember to tell you what great head you gave tonight?”

  “It’s my special talent. Are you ready for more?”

  “Always.” Denny leaned in and kissed Tom softly on the lips, caressing his rough, stubbled jaw. Their mouths touched softly at first, a brush of lips, then the kiss deepened. Their tongues slid deliciously together like two bodies wrestling on silken sheets.

  Denny groaned and pulled Tom tight up against his rapidly hardening cock. Face to face, chest to chest, belly to belly, cock to cock, they pressed together. Mirror images that couldn’t look more different locked in an embrace.

  Rocking his hips, Tom rubbed his erection against Denny’s, then encircled both cocks in his fist, massaging them. His hand slid up and down their combined shafts; one a little longer, the other a little thicker, both heads engorged an angry purple-red.

  Arousal flared in him like a lit torch and Denny moaned his approval. He smoothed his hands down Tom’s back to cup his ass, then teased the tip of his finger into his hole until Tom shifted and pressed back onto it with a soft groan.

  Impatient to be inside him, Denny pulled away from his embrace. He grabbed the lube from the nightstand. A squirt of the slippery lubricant on Tom’s hand made his manipulation of their cocks much smoother. It glided over them, gathering speed and heating with friction.

  Applying the gel to his fingers, Denny pushed into Tom’s ass once more, farther and deeper, stretching the ring of muscle with first one finger, then two. He buried his face in the crook of Tom’s neck, sucking the soft skin and concentrating on the swelling pleasure in his cock. Tom’s relentless grip had become almost unbearable, but it wasn’t enough. Denny needed to be inside him.

  Once more Denny pulled away, this time to grab Tom and roughly flip him over. Straddling his lover’s hips, his knees dug into the hard mattress as he guided his cock to the slippery entrance he’d prepared. The heat of the tight channel enveloped him and he pushed in, hard and deep, grunting with the effort. His hands gripped Tom’s bulky shoulders, braced against solid muscle. The clenching muscle around his cock as he pulled out and presse
d back in was amazing, and watching his slick length emerge then disappear into Tom’s body was supremely erotic.

  The slice of his lover’s angular profile and dark curls against the dingy white pillowcase made Denny’s heart clench with emotion. Love, lust, and desperate need swirled together inside him. This was the place he wanted to be, with the man he would love faithfully for the rest of his life.

  Tom thrust back against him, and reached beneath his body to tug on his erection. His eyelids fluttered and he swallowed with a little gulp. The soft, vulnerable sound sent another wave of emotion through Denny. He gripped Tom’s hips and thrust faster as the tension in his groin reached its peak.

  “Oh, God, baby, now!” he groaned, reaching the edge of bliss and tumbling over. His eyes closed, and he rose above his body, floating in a rapturous haze while his cock pulsed and released.

  Tom’s hand pumped his cock fast and hard then he arched back into Denny with a hoarse cry as he came.

  Denny collapsed on Tom’s hot, sweaty back, breathing hard against his shoulder. “I’m going to keep you like this,” he whispered. “Trapped beneath me. I’ll never let you go.”

  “Fine by me.” Tom grunted, lifting his ass against Denny’s softening cock.

  They clung together like winded runners, panting while their heartbeats steadied.

  “Two for two.” Tom’s chuckle was as warm and rich as coffee.

  Denny smiled, happy as hell to feel the rumble of mirth in Tom’s chest. “Maybe we can make it a triple play before the night’s over.”

  After a time locked in their sticky embrace, Denny broke free, picked his T-shirt up off the bedroom floor for them to clean up with, and padded to the bathroom for a glass of water to slake their thirst. Then he returned to bed and spooned around Tom’s back.

  Wrapped in drowsy comfort, they didn’t talk as time slipped away, but Denny wasn’t sleepy. Everything seemed good between them, healed and normal, but was it? The incident with Paul—God, he didn’t even know the guy’s last name—still haunted him, would probably always haunt both of them. They hadn’t spoken about it. Tom seemed to want to put it firmly in the past, which was fine with Denny, yet fear gnawed at him.

  “Tom, are we all right?” He dropped the words like pebbles into a still pool, hoping the ripples wouldn’t change the surface of the water beyond recognition.

  Tom shifted in his arms and looked over his shoulder. His eyes were dark and deep. “It’s not forgotten, but, yeah, we’re okay. We’ll be fine.”

  Denny bit his lower lip to keep it steady. He nodded.

  Tom turned away, and Denny hugged him even tighter, vowing he’d never take this precious gift of forgiveness lightly. The rest of their life together he’d spend rebuilding the wall of trust, brick by brick.

  Scene Sixteen: Final Curtain

  “Cut!” Rawlings called.

  Elena exhaled and shook the tension from her body. She rubbed her cheek, stinging from the fifth slap she’d received that morning.

  “Sorry. I really nailed you that time,” Jillian said.

  “It’s okay. You were in the moment.” Elena smiled at the actress who played her older sister in Ragged Quality. Jillian was supposed to pull her punch, but the choreographed hit had connected more often than not.

  The make-up woman came over to cover the red mark on her cheek before the next take. Elena held still and submitted patiently. All around her, the crew worked, re-setting the scene, placing the props and strewn furniture from the sisters’ fight back in place for the next shoot.

  Wash, rinse and repeat. Elena sighed at the tedium of the repetition, more than ready to have this scene wrapped.

  “Looks great, ladies,” Rawlings called from behind the monitor. “I think we’ve got something. You’re done for the day.”

  “Thank God. My voice is about gone. I don’t think I could shout anymore,” Jillian said.

  Elena was relieved, too. With an early morning shoot of a pretty short scene, she’d been sure she could catch her afternoon flight to Detroit. But often there were snags and a shoot took longer than expected.

  Detroit was the closest the Transitions tour came to Toronto and she couldn’t resist going to see it. Again she reminded herself she’d made the right choice in leaving the show. The movie role was definitely an advancement of her career, offering better money and future opportunities, so why did she feel melancholy whenever she thought of Transitions?

  “What time’s your flight?” Jillian sipped from the water bottle a grip had handed her.

  “Not until four thirty.” Elena accepted a bottle, dripping with condensation, and unscrewed the cap. She swallowed deeply, replacing the fluids she’d sweated out under the hot lights.

  “Couldn’t resist seeing your replacement?” Jillian teased. “You miss theater work, don’t you?”

  “I miss connecting with an audience,” Elena admitted, “and the cast was kind of like family.”

  Her smile widened. “Maybe there’s somebody in particular you miss?”

  “No. Not really.”

  Did Michael lie in bed at night and think of her the way she thought of him? Did he ever start to dial her number? She fought the urge to call him almost every day. Time and distance were supposed to put things into perspective, but it hadn’t worked that way. Instead, as weeks then months passed, she craved him more than ever. Knowing she’d see him tonight had her pulse fluttering and stomach jumping.

  “Are you sure?” Jillian raised her perfectly arched eyebrow even higher. “Then why do you look all heartsick and moody when I ask questions about the tour?”

  “It was nothing. Just a brief…thing, a silly backstage fling.” Which I can’t put out of my mind.

  “That thing has got you tied in knots. Well, have a safe flight, and enjoy the show tonight. And do something about that thing.” Jillian winked at Elena before walking away toward her dressing room.

  It felt strange sitting in the audience instead of being onstage. Elena leafed through her program, looking at Nichole Marks’ name where hers used to be in the cast list. She read her bio. Nichole had quite an impressive resume, and was a graduate of both the New York School for the Performing Arts and Brown University.

  The lights dimmed and the overture began. Elena closed her program and settled back to watch as if she was any other audience member and hadn’t spent more than six months of her life waiting breathlessly through this overture for the spotlight to hit her.

  The cast was illuminated one by one, singing their solos. It was surreal watching Nichole, like those sci-fi movies in which an evil doppelganger takes the protagonist’s place. She wanted to rip the mask off the imposter. But Elena had to admit Nichole was good. Her clear soprano would make a nice contrast with Michael’s rough tenor during the duets.

  Elena watched, entranced, as each of her friends told his or her part of the story. Then the light hit Michael. She sucked in a breath and her heart pounded. Although she’d expected him, she hadn’t counted on her body’s immediate and intense response to seeing him again after so long apart. She’d forgotten how hot he looked slouching in his jeans and ripped T-shirt, brimming with raw magnetism, exuding so much sex her stomach clenched and her panties grew damp.

  Turning from the mock window, he sang toward the audience. Elena’s eyes half-closed as his growl skimmed up and down her spine like an electric current. God, what his voice alone could do to her! Her nipples peaked in response.

  Despite countless times hearing “We Are All”, the song sent chills through her. As the voices reached the powerful crescendo, her heart swelled and she applauded enthusiastically.

  Nichole’s acting was fine, but it was hard for Elena to remain objective when it came to the romantic scenes. A hot lick of annoyance shot through her when Michael and Nichole kissed desperately and he carried her to the bed.

  It was only acting, as Michael had often said about his easily manufactured tears. “We get paid to pretend. I don’t search the depths o
f my soul or ‘become’ the character like Denny.”

  Trying to make him admit to emotion was like a cat sharpening its claws on a marble column; she’d break a nail before marring the smooth surface of his composure.

  At intermission, Elena considered going backstage, but decided to wait. She hadn’t told anyone she was coming. She told herself it might throw them off to know she was out there watching, but it was really because she was nervous about facing Michael. What would happen when he saw her? Would it be extremely awkward or would his indifference let her know he hadn’t missed her at all?

  In the lobby, she eavesdropped on the conversations around her. Most of the audience seemed impressed by the performance, but Elena heard one woman say, “Well, I saw the show in Chicago and it was better. They’ve had some cast changes since then.” She couldn’t suppress a smile or deny the satisfaction the comment gave her.

  As the second act continued, Elena tried to stop judging and simply enjoy the rest of the play for what it was, a sometimes corny, but mostly wonderful piece of theater. At final curtain, she rose with the rest of the audience to give the performers a well-deserved standing ovation.

  She picked up her purse and brushed the wrinkles from her skirt before heading backstage, her heart beating steadily and her palms perspiring. Would Michael act as if she was a casual friend? Would he hug her and kiss her cheek or do his best to ignore her?

  The theater employee at the backstage door didn’t know who Elena was, but Austen passed by just then and vouched for her. He escorted her through the hive of activity behind the stage.

  “So, how is it working with Don Rawlings?”

  “Pretty amazing.” Elena didn’t feel like talking. Her fingers clenched at her sides as she focused on what she’d say to Michael.

  She stopped by the women’s dressing room first. Renée rushed toward her, greeting her like a long-lost sister instead of a barely tolerated ex-roommate. “Elena!” She air-kissed her cheeks.

  The other women quickly crowded around, hugging her and all talking at once. “I can’t believe you’re here! What did you think of the show tonight? How’s the movie going? Is Mark Grayson as hot as he looks onscreen? How’s Rawlings as a director? Do you like being on location? We miss you!”