by Witt, L. A.
“Yes, ma’am.”
This particular set was one he’d seen a few times on the show, though it was strange to physically be here. The “room” was mostly bare concrete walls surrounding a metal table and a pair of folding chairs, plus the usual two-way mirror on the whitewashed wall beside the steel gray door. The cinematographer had painstakingly lit the room to be as bleak and soulless as possible on the screen, but while it appeared cold, it was actually quite hot. Just as well, since Levi’s character was supposed to break into a sweat during his interrogation. That would be easy enough.
Levi took a seat in one of the folding chairs. A crew member put a pair of handcuffs on his wrists and Levi rested them in his lap.
Carter toed the other chair out from under the table and stood beside it, facing Levi. He tugged at his tie, disheveling it, and someone from the crew tweaked his hair slightly to give him a more frazzled look.
And then Levi and Carter were alone on the set. They were surrounded by at least two dozen people—the director, those manning cameras and equipment, makeup artists standing by for touch-ups—but everyone and everything behind the bright lights disappeared into heavy shadows. The two of them may as well have been isolated in a real interrogation room, staring each other down over the table without oversized lenses looking on like prying eyes.
“Action!”
The set was completely silent. Carter’s character perused something in a file folder while Levi watched him. Without looking up, Carter said, “Tell me again where you were last night.”
“At home.”
“Doing?”
“I was asleep.” In character, Levi tried to wring his hands, but the cuffs hindered him, so he dropped them in his lap again. “And no, there’s nobody who can vouch for me. I live alone.”
“Care to explain this?” Carter fanned a series of blurry black-and-white photos on the table.
Levi gave them a cursory look, then sat back and shook his head. “It’s not me.”
“Really?” Carter snorted and dropped the file folder on top of the pictures. “You know anyone else in this town who’s got a jacket like that?” He gestured so sharply at Levi’s patch-covered field jacket, he almost smacked him.
Levi glared up at him. My God, you’re fucking gorgeous. “It’s not me.”
Carter—Gabriel—leaned over the table so they were almost face-to-face. “I’m done playing games, Max.”
Levi fidgeted and squirmed under his scrutiny, cuffs rattling between his hands beneath the table. “Who’s . . . who’s playing games? I told you everything I know.”
Gabriel slammed his fist down on the table, the bang nearly sending Levi toppling backward. Christ, it was a good thing Max was supposed to be ready to jump out of his skin during this scene.
“Quit lying to me!”
Levi shook his head and stared at the table. “You’ve got no proof. I”—can’t remember what the fuck I’m supposed to say—“wasn’t anywhere near there when—”
“Like hell you weren’t.” Carter snatched the front of Levi’s shirt and dragged him halfway up out of his chair. Their faces were almost touching, Carter’s eyes flashing with fury. “So help me, if anything happens to her, I’ll—” He hesitated, the rage vanishing for a split second in favor of something Levi couldn’t identify. “I will—”
“Cut.”
Carter released Levi’s shirt and swore under his breath. “Sorry.” He laughed halfheartedly. “I know my lines, I promise.”
“Sure you do.” Anna laughed. “Start with ‘I’m done playing games’ and go from there.”
Carter nodded. Levi eased himself back into his chair and straightened his clothes as much as he could in cuffs. He mentally ran through his lines while he pretended his heart wasn’t racing.
They faced each other, and Carter took his place again, leaning over the table, though he kept his gaze down.
“Quiet on the set!” A second later, “Take two. Action!”
Carter lifted his gaze and that simmering fury was back—goddamn, he was good at this—boring into Levi as Carter glared down at him. “I’m done playing games, Max.”
Levi shifted, wringing his cuffed hands under the table. “Who’s . . . who’s playing games? I told you everything I know.”
Carter slammed his fist down on the table. “Quit lying to me!”
Levi shook his head and—thank God—broke eye contact. He stared at the table. “You’ve got no proof. I wasn’t anywhere near there when—”
“Like hell you weren’t.” Carter dragged Levi up by his shirt, cuffs banging against the table’s edge, and that momentary pain distracted Levi for a second before he was completely focused on Carter’s face again.
“So help me,” Carter snarled, “if anything happens to her, I’ll break your damned neck.”
Levi drew back as much as Carter’s grip allowed. “I don’t know where she is.”
“Then who does?”
“How the hell am I supposed to—”
The door flew open, and Paul stepped in. “Detective Hanford, I’ve got something you need to see.”
“This had better be important.” Carter shoved Levi back into his chair, spun on his heel, and stormed out.
“Cut! Perfect, guys.”
Levi pulled the quick release on the cuffs, dropped them on the table with a loud clang, and rubbed his wrists gingerly.
Carter came back through the door. “I felt your hands hit the table. Didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“No, no.” Levi forced a laugh. “The cuffs just got caught. It’s fine.”
“Oh. Good.” Their eyes met, and they both quickly looked away.
“Nicely done, gentlemen,” Anna broke in. “You two take a break, and the crew will set up for the next scene.”
Carter and Levi left the set in opposite directions. Levi dabbed some sweat from his face before he hunted down a cup of coffee—as if he needed it—and found an out-of-the-way spot to go over the next scene while the crew moved cameras and lights around.
He took out his phone and pulled up the Twitter app. “Holy shit . . .”
There must have been five hundred tweets tagging him under the Wolf’s Landing hashtag. He scrolled through them, not entirely sure what to expect.
OMG! Is that real? Please tell me that’s real.
HOLY FUCK I KNEW IT.
Wolf’s Landing just turned into the most awesome show ever.
Levi laughed and shook his head. Apparently Anna was right. Aside from some trollish tweets—
Chad Eastwick is going to ruin Wolf’s Landing.
WTF. Way to fuck the series, assholes.
Levi Pritchard as Max Fuhrman? Nooooooooo
—the response was largely positive.
He continued reading as the crew rejiggered the set. There was nonstop activity on a soundstage, and he’d long ago learned to ignore it when someone brushed by him.
But then a presence right next to him sent a tingle up the length of his spine. When he turned, he wasn’t at all surprised, but he still couldn’t quite breathe.
“Hey.” Carter hesitated. “Can we talk for a minute? In private?”
Levi’s heart skipped. “Sure.” He pocketed his phone. “What’s up?”
Carter glanced around, then gestured for Levi to follow him.
They left the soundstage and went to the portable building between Anna’s office and the storage shed.
The door was unlocked. Carter went in first.
Levi followed, and nudged the door shut behind him. “So what’s—”
Carter kissed him.
One second, they were an arm’s-length apart. The next, Carter had him pinned up against the door, crushing Levi’s mouth with his. Levi was stunned, but his body didn’t hesitate—he grabbed onto the back of Carter’s neck and returned the breathless, hungry kiss.
The forcefulness melted away. They remained as passionate as the moment their lips had met, but the sheer violence faded, replaced by gentlene
ss. Carter’s fingers ran down Levi’s face. Levi held him close and explored his mouth like they had the whole damned night instead of a few stolen minutes.
When they came up for air, they were both shaking.
“I . . .” Carter licked his lips. “We— Fuck it.” He kissed Levi again, raking his fingers through Levi’s hair and pressing him harder against the door.
“But I thought you . . .” Levi gasped for breath and struggled to form words between kisses. “I thought you were dating—”
“Didn’t work out.”
“Oh. I’m, uh, sorry to—”
Carter silenced him with a deep kiss. “I’m not.” He drew back enough for their eyes to meet. “I . . . I had to let him go because I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
Levi stared at him. “You . . . what?”
Carter swept his tongue across his lips. “You heard me. And I know we shouldn’t. But I don’t care.” He cradled Levi’s face in both hands and touched his feverish forehead to Levi’s. “I don’t want to keep fighting this. I want you.”
Levi’s spine melted.
Carter kissed him again. “I can’t even think when I’m around you.”
Levi stroked his hair. “I can’t either. You’ve had me tripping over my own feet since day one.”
“You too, huh?”
“Yeah.”
Carter ran his thumb across Levi’s cheekbone. “Then why do we keep doing this to ourselves?”
“Fuck, I don’t even know anymore.” Levi kissed him, drawing it out for a moment, savoring it, because he was sure they were seconds away from being interrupted by Anna or their own sense. “We can’t do this here.”
“Then where?” Carter was out of breath, panting hard against Levi’s lips. “I can’t . . . I can’t fucking wait.”
Jesus Christ. “Neither can I. And goddamn it, my place is so far.”
“Mine is . . .” Carter shook his head. “There’s too many people around. Who know who we are.”
“We can’t . . .” Levi licked his lips. “And we can’t do this right now. We’re still shooting.”
“I know.”
Levi brushed a few strands of blond hair out of Carter’s face. “The marina.”
Carter blinked. “What?”
“My place is too far, and yours isn’t discreet.” Levi trailed unsteady fingers along Carter’s jaw. “But the marina’s only ten or fifteen minutes from here. You remember which slip is mine, right?”
“I . . .”
“Twenty-two. Meet me there and we’ll . . .”
Shivering, Carter closed his eyes. “I’ll be there.”
A mix of relief, excitement, and nerves rushed through Levi. “My scenes are done before yours. I’ll . . . I’ll make sure we’ve got everything we need.”
Carter laughed softly. “You don’t think buying condoms and lube at Walgreens will kick up more rumors?”
Levi grinned. “There are more discreet places in town. Trust me.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” Carter swallowed. “We should get back to the set. Before someone figures out we’re gone.”
“Yeah, good idea.” Levi paused. “One more thing before you go, though.”
“Hmm?”
He didn’t say a word. He just pulled Carter close and kissed him.
As luck would have it, Levi’s character was supposed to be a jittery wreck who was half out of his mind in this episode. In later appearances, he’d be cold and calculating, but tonight, Max was shaking and stuttering, and Levi didn’t even have to fake it.
“Great job!” Anna hugged him as he stepped off the set. “I knew you were perfect for this role.”
Levi laughed. “I’m not sure if I should take that as a compliment or an insult.”
“Hmm. Probably a little from column A—”
“Shut up.”
“Hey. Don’t talk to your boss like that.” She nodded toward the set and turned serious. “I do want to get that last bit one more time from a different angle.”
Levi saluted playfully. “You’re the boss.”
“I am. All right, places everyone. Camera three, I need you over here.”
Once the cameras had been reconfigured, they ran through the scene once more, and Anna was finally pleased with it. After that, Levi’s scenes wrapped up around nine, and as soon as he could escape, he slipped away from the set without a word or even a look at Carter. A shared glance would’ve given them away. A nervous good-bye would’ve put a spotlight on their quiet little scandal-in-progress. Worse, any interaction at all might remind them why they’d avoided this for so long and why they should keep avoiding it tonight.
Keeping his head down and his gait fast so no one could pull him aside and hold him up, he hurried out to the parking lot. There were some cast and crew out here smoking and chatting, but none of them said anything to him. Still, he didn’t slow down until he made it to his Jeep.
In the driver’s seat, he exhaled. Home free.
He headed across town, hands sweating on the steering wheel, and parked a few doors down from his destination—no sense giving the paparazzi a shot of his Jeep parked in front of Red Hot Bluewater.
The inside of the glass door was covered with black paper, as were all the windows, and it had “No One Under 18 Permitted” displayed in huge, red letters. He wondered if there should’ve been a restriction like “No One Who’s This Close to 40 and Still Worries His Parents Will Find Out He’s Gay.”
Chuckling nervously to himself, he pulled open the papered door and stepped inside. Immediately, he was greeted by the heady scents of leather, incense, and about seven hundred types of massage oil.
Violet Hayes, the owner, peered out from between a display of LED cock rings and some novelty penis lollipops on the counter. Her eyes lit up. “Oh hey, sweetheart! Haven’t seen you in here in a while.”
And if he wasn’t blushing before, he sure as hell was now. “Yeah, I haven’t been around much.”
“Well, glad to see you back.” She winked at him, and his cheeks were on fire, but for all she teased, at least he knew she’d be discreet. Violet probably knew a lot of things about a lot of people in this town, but she wouldn’t say a word to anyone. He was definitely safer buying what he needed here than at Walgreens.
Violet wouldn’t say a word, and no one who came in here would either—that would mean admitting they’d been in here. Soon, Levi would be on the boat with Carter, and there’d be no one around to find out at all. No one would know but them.
Just this once, Hollywood didn’t have him by the balls and his family didn’t have him in a choke hold. He wanted Carter. Carter wanted him. And if only for tonight, what they did together would be nobody’s goddamned business.
Levi pushed his shoulders back. No, he wasn’t going to get cold feet and call this off. He came here to get what he and Carter needed, and he would, because tonight was happening.
He knew the shop’s layout by heart, and went straight to the racks of every type of condom imaginable. He and Carter had no need for colored, flavored, or glow-in-the-dark, so he didn’t find the huge selection the least bit daunting.
Still, pulling the box of condoms off the rack made his knees shake. Not out of nerves this time. Just knowing he was taking another step toward being in bed with Carter.
Finally.
Chapter 20
This is a bad idea. You know it’s a bad idea.
Carter could barely hear his footsteps over his own heartbeat as he made his way across the gravel to the marina. Three times between his car and the edge of the pier, he stopped, rocking from his heels to the balls of his feet. Would a Maybe we shouldn’t do this text be any less awkward than a We probably shouldn’t have done that morning after?
One thing kept negating the million reasons he should’ve turned and run: he wanted this. Consequences be damned, Levi was waiting for him, and Carter wasn’t turning back. Not this time.
He kept walking, disbelieving this was real. It
wasn’t what he’d had in mind when he’d pulled Levi aside earlier. He’d only meant to talk to him. About what, he couldn’t even remember now, only that he’d needed a moment alone with him to step away someplace private and talk.
But the second that door had closed . . .
Carter shivered and started down the row of slips. His shoes clomped on the wooden pier, almost drowning out the blood pounding in his ears. What the hell was he doing?
Exactly what he’d done when he’d taken Levi aside—giving in to the inevitable before it drove him insane.
And Levi hadn’t resisted. Quite the contrary.
Carter walked past slip sixteen.
The pier creaked beneath his feet, and he was sure the sound would turn every head in Bluewater Bay. Maybe even in Victoria, which glowed faintly on the other side of the water.
Slip seventeen.
Eighteen.
Nineteen.
Who cared if it was a bad idea? No one had to know but them.
Twenty.
Shit, this was definitely not something they should be doing. They were asking for problems. With the production company. With the press. With Levi’s family. With Levi.
Carter stopped between slips twenty and twenty-one. He gulped.
It wasn’t too late to turn around. That would probably make him a coward, but he’d pretty well established that when he’d bowed out of fooling around with Marcus. Shit, the rumors must be flying by now. Wolf’s Landing Star Single-handedly Dispels Promiscuous Gay Male Stereotype—Is Either Terrified of Sex or a Fucking Prude.
Up ahead, beyond the sailboat in slip twenty-one, he could see the bow of Levi’s boat bobbing in the tide.
This is it. Here we go.
When he’d passed the sailboat, he didn’t even have to double-check the slip numbers. Every other boat was dark, but a soft light glowed in the windows of this one.
