by Andrew Grey
“I don’t know, Meyer. Since you never called, I’m going to guess that you were happy.” Okay. A little pissiness came forward.
“Luke, I didn’t call because I would have come back. I couldn’t have stayed out here and done what I needed to do if I had done that.” The ache in Meyer’s voice was almost too much for me to take. That couldn’t be faked. “Like I said, I thought the food would be enough. It wasn’t, and I knew that as soon as I saw you again. The restaurants and the food, the fame—none of it will be enough once you go back home and I’m alone again.” He swallowed and pushed away from the counter, moving closer, but I put out my hands, closing myself off.
“I need for you to say what it is you have to.” I wanted to hear it, and I think Meyer needed to say it.
“It’s pretty simple. I could have stayed home, but I didn’t want to. See, I know now… I understand. I want you more than I want the food and the fame. I want this—us—more than all the rest of it. I couldn’t have stayed home tonight any more than I could stop breathing or not eat a perfectly made soufflé.” He gasped, his chest rising and falling quickly, and I swallowed around the lump in my throat. “See, Luke, I want you more than the food—more than anything.”
I lowered my arms, and Meyer came to me, holding me tightly, clutching me, his fingers entwining in my hair, making my head tingle, and I held him in return. I needed Meyer, and I could admit it now.
“I need to be here with you.”
I sniffed and buried my face in Meyer’s shoulder. “What do we do now?”
“I don’t know. But you and I will figure it out. Whatever comes, I’m not going to give you up. So if I have to rent a billboard to say that you’re mine, then I will. I can’t hide any longer, and if someone wants to follow me here and hide in the bushes to get something salacious, then let them. I can’t fight this, and I don’t want to.”
“So you’re willing to pay the price? Because there will be one, you know that. Someone isn’t going to like that we’re together, and some people might stay away from the restaurants. Who knows?”
“Yes, I know. But there’s only one person I don’t want staying away, and that’s you.” He clutched me so tightly that I could barely breathe, and yet I’d stay just like that forever. “If people don’t like that I’m gay, so be it. I can’t change any of that, and I don’t want to hide any longer. I’d like to finish out this season on the show so you and I don’t become a distraction, but what the hell. If it happens, it happens.” Meyer backed away, turning to the stove.
“What is it?” His demeanor and stance had changed.
“I didn’t know it would feel like this. I hadn’t known what it would be like when I decided I’d had enough and it was time to just come clean, as it were. I was expecting something grand and momentous…. Instead, it’s a relief. I know what I want and I can have it.”
I placed my hand in the center of Meyer’s back, just to have contact with him. “Yes. There is something pretty special when you figure out that you aren’t going to fight yourself any longer.” I inhaled and drew closer. “That dinner smells amazing. I’m going to set the table, and then after we eat your meal, I’ll serve up the dessert… on sheets.” I wagged my eyebrows and left the room, because if I didn’t, I wasn’t going to be able to keep my hands to myself and it was likely I would jump the man while he was still cooking.
Setting the table was difficult with Rosco deciding he wanted to help me. I nudged him away from the table multiple times until he finally got bored and went to explore his dish, which seemed to have sprouted something interesting, thanks to Meyer.
“I try to keep my guys happy.”
I liked being one of his guys.
I finished with the table as Rosco ambled away from his dish, most likely to take a nap. God, what would it be like to have a cat’s life?
“Dinner will be about fifteen minutes. Why don’t you go shower if you want, and by the time you’re done, I’ll be ready.”
I wasn’t going to argue. I went to the bathroom and started the water before stripping down. Desire and arousal had simmered right on the edge for long enough that as soon as the hot water coursed over me, it threatened to break free. Taking myself in hand would be so easy, and relief begged, but I held firm, washed quickly, and then got out and dressed.
Damn, was I glad I had waited once I stepped out of the bedroom and into the dining area. Candles glowed on the table, and Meyer brought plates from the kitchen and set them at our places.
“Wow, you’ve never done this before.”
“Nope. Not for you or anyone. I’ve served important and romantic dinners to plenty of couples, but I never did one for you. I thought it was time that changed.” He reached for the bottle of wine, pulled the cork, and poured us each a glass, then motioned to a chair as he returned to the kitchen and brought back the warmed bread and herbed butter with him. “I tried to make what I remembered were some of your favorites. A little pasta with a light sauce, some pork with a pan sauce that made your eyes close, and of course a few lovely vegetables in a little butter with some herbs and onion. You always had simple taste in food.”
“And complicated taste in men,” I clarified. “We can’t all like everything.”
“Nope.” He sat down and lifted his glass. “How is your blog? I read it sometimes. It always makes me smile. You talk about what you don’t like, but you do it with such humor.”
I took a bite of the pork and hummed. It was well seasoned, with a hint of heat that made my tongue tingle. It was pretty awesome. “I really try to talk about my food issues and make fun of myself a little for having them. It’s disarming, and I hope it helps my readers.” I took another bite and then a sip of the wine. This was an amazing meal, and instantly I was famished—in more ways than one.
“SWEETHEART,” MEYER said.
I lifted my head off the pillow, a pleasant soreness reminding me of Meyer’s efforts the night before. “What?” I groaned, and buried my face back in the pillow. “It isn’t even light out.” God, I did not want to get up. Between the bottle of wine that Meyer and I drank at dinner and the intensely athletic lovemaking, I had been wrung out and had no more to give. Sleep was needed, and my body still craved it, almost as much as it did the immensely caring and studly hot man next to me.
“We have to get up and meet Ethan.”
I groaned and pushed back the covers. “How can you be so chipper?” I trudged toward the bathroom, nearly walking into the wall.
“I didn’t sleep much, so I figured I might as well get up. I’ll have a light breakfast for you once you’re awake.”
I cracked my eyes open, managing to make it into the bathroom this time, sitting down to take care of business, and holding my head. I kept wondering why I felt like a kid being called to the principal’s office. But that’s what this morning resembled. I finished and cleaned up, dressed in clothes that would be easy to change out of once I got to wardrobe, and met Meyer for a light breakfast.
“Why aren’t there any carbs? I would kill for a bagel,” I grumped as I sat down and ate the half grapefruit that Meyer had set out for me.
“Someone’s being a pain in the tuckus this morning,” Meyer said as he sat down across from me. “I don’t remember you being a real morning-hating kind of person.”
“I’m not. It’s just that I’m worrying about what Ethan wants. His ‘invitation’ sounded pretty ominous.” I finished eating and set down my spoon and napkin. “Maybe I’m blowing this out of proportion.”
“Remember what we said last night. Whatever it is, we will figure it out together.” Meyer seemed so calm, and I wondered why I was getting jittery and realized it was for him. I didn’t want him hurt or pressured into doing something he might not be ready for. Yes, I wanted him to be able to live his life honestly, but I believed it should be on his terms and in his time, not someone else’s.
“We’d better go.” I stood. “Rosco, are you going to come?” He’d been nowhere to be found a
nd still didn’t make an appearance. I went into the bedroom and found him curled up near my pillow, the little scamp. I lifted him and carried him out of the apartment, and we went down. Meyer said goodbye and went to his own car, while I met Felix for my ride into the studio. The arrangements seemed stupid but necessary, or at least they had been up until now.
Rosco got comfortable, and I tried to relax but remained on edge as Felix navigated morning rush hour and pulled through the studio gates and up to the production office. I thanked him and took Rosco to the trailer, checking that he had food and water, then trudged back to the production office and went inside.
Ethan was waiting, and I sat in his office until Meyer arrived a few minutes later. Ethan closed the door and walked behind his desk. “All right. I don’t know who you two think you’re fooling, but I’m not one of them. You dodged a bullet yesterday, and you need to fix it.” He stood with his hands on the back of his chair.
I glanced at Meyer, who had gone pale. “Ethan… I….” The words refused to come.
He shook his head and pulled out the chair. “I’ve been around the block more than once, and I know when two people are falling in love. I’ve seen it more times than I can count. Like I said yesterday, I made a call to a contact at the network and found out what story they were running. I couldn’t get them to pull it, but I did give them one that they thought was much juicier and with a lot more meat on it.”
My mouth hung open. “You told them about Rachel?”
“I helped confirm it for them, yes. There have been rumors, and the two of them have been seen together since taping ended last season.” He leaned forward. “The producers have been on the edge about whether to renew her contract or not, and then they started seeing your tape and how much the contestants reacted to you.” Ethan looked right at me. “You’re fair with each of them; you often have a kind word, even when you say something awful about their food, including not feeding it to your cat, which was totally brilliant and honest. There isn’t much honesty in this business, but you have it, and we believe viewers are going to respond to it.”
I sat back but gripped the arm of the chair. “They want to replace Rachel with me?”
“Yes. But….” His expression softened. “Actually, they’re leaning toward both of you for next year. So you need to figure out how you are going to deal with what’s between you. If this is some itch that needed to be scratched and you’ve done that, then go your separate ways and have it be over with. But if it’s more than that… then make it honest. We can market you as a couple, and that will come across to viewers. But you need to shit or get off the pot.”
I thought Meyer was going to swallow his head, the way he gasped, “You’re serious?”
“It’s okay. I think we can speak freely here.” I turned to Meyer. “We’ll do whatever you want to do. There’s no pressure.” I took his hands and held them. It was strange and wonderful to do that in front of someone else. “I get the feeling you were prepared to take on the world.”
“At least most of Hollywood,” Meyer quipped, and I rolled my eyes.
“Rachel’s contract isn’t going to be renewed,” Ethan reiterated. “The producers have made that perfectly clear. I’m not sure who this letter writer is, but whoever is behind these notes and this campaign to dig up some dirt, they might have done the two of you a favor.”
“No. They were after us,” I told Ethan with a sigh.
“I think they were after whatever story they could sell, and they got a whiff of something between you and sold the story to the network. I wasn’t able to get any information about who is behind this, so they’re still out there. And the story about the two of you isn’t going away. It’s just been overshadowed for the moment. So, like I said, you need to figure out how you want to handle it. The production company will have no comment either way, and of course a final decision on the next season won’t be made until after this season is over.” Ethan paused dramatically and leaned over the desk. “How you handle this will determine what happens.”
I didn’t know what to say. This was up to Meyer more than me. I knew what I wanted, but I wasn’t sure how he wanted to proceed.
“You have to make a decision quickly.”
I clutched Meyer’s hand, hoping he didn’t pull away. I turned to Ethan with determination. “You want Meyer to make a choice about how he wants to go public about something that’s very personal. Who he loves is no one else’s business.” Anger grew in my gut. This wasn’t fair at all.
“What I want doesn’t matter. The news runs at a mile a minute here, and it’s hard to stay in front of a story. But we have a chance to do just that here.” Ethan sat back in his chair. “It doesn’t have to be a big thing, and we aren’t going to hire a brass band. But we can set up an interview on one of the morning talk shows. That’s usually a gentler and more sympathetic interview in front of a responsive audience. If that’s what you want, I’ll have someone arrange it. Let me know by eight tomorrow morning what you want to do, and I’ll get things in motion.” That was clearly a dismissal, and we all stood. “I’ll understand and support whatever you decide.”
Meyer and I left the office and went to wardrobe, where I was given the clothes to wear for the day and bumped into Justin on the way out.
“How are things going?” he asked. “You really seem to be working out.”
“I’d like to think so.” I tried to be as normal and casual as I could, but I wanted to keep my distance. Which made me sad, because Justin had been my first friend. I hated suspicion—it cast a long black shadow, and I knew most of the time it was over innocent people. But I didn’t know what else to do. “I’m only here for a few more weeks, though, and then I’ll go home to my life and figure things out from there.” I was keeping my answers as bland as I could. “What about you?”
Justin shrugged. “After this, hopefully Ethan will want to keep me on for his next project, but you never know.” He really seemed worried, and maybe that was what was motivating him to try to make some extra money. I had to mentally pause my thinking because I didn’t know for sure if Justin was behind this or not. I was learning just how easy it was to jump to conclusions.
“I hope so too,” I told him. “I really need to get to makeup before they shove me in front of the cameras looking as boring as I really am.” I flashed a smile and hurried off. I didn’t like that I felt like I had to run away from a friend. This whole thing sucked, and I wanted it to end. The edginess was getting to be a little much.
“DAMN, YOU were funny,” Meyer said as soon as we ended taping for the day.
“I was just honest. I told them up front that I tend to like broccoli when it’s used raw in a dish, yet most of them cooked the danged stuff. And one of the chefs who didn’t cook it put the damned thing on the plate in huge chunks.” I shivered. “The best one was that tangy salad, and the worst was the one that tasted like he’d dunked the stuff in the battery of his car.” I hadn’t been able to keep quiet about that one. “I swear he had gone all out to make a dish that I would find inedible.”
Meyer chuckled and shook his head. “I think a lot of them find it a kind of dare to actually see if they can make something that will surprise you. They’re chefs and they like a challenge. I have to give you credit, you tried each dish and didn’t shy away.”
“God, I wanted to. The very idea of eating some of those dishes was almost more than I could stand.” Thankfully I only had to eat a bite of each one, and I was getting better at it. That didn’t mean I necessarily liked the food, but I was able to eat it and be glad I didn’t have to have more. I supposed that was progress.
We left the studio as the chefs spent some time talking among themselves in the “stew” room. It wasn’t a challenge where someone was eliminated, so my quips and comments hadn’t had a great effect on the outcome of the overall contest, other than giving the winner an advantage. Still, there was plenty going on—it just didn’t involve Meyer and me. I was happy to have been
dismissed for the day.
“I need to get Rosco,” I told him. “Then maybe we can meet for dinner.” I stepped a little closer and lowered my voice. “I don’t want to talk here.” I slowed to add a little more distance between us. “I’ll see you later.”
I went to my trailer and glanced around, inhaling and squinching up my nose. Something smelled awful, sickly chemically, like maybe gas. I unlocked the door, throwing it open, only concerned for Rosco. It was hot as hell inside, and when Rosco barreled out, I caught him before he could get away. The floor was wet with moisture from the refrigerator. I held Rosco and walked around the side. The power cord had been unplugged, and the scent, which I recognized now as propane, was even stronger. I went around the front, turning off both tanks, and the scent quickly dissipated. Then I called Ethan and asked him to get studio security.
Men in blue uniforms hurried up. I wasn’t sure how effective they would be, but their professionalism surprised me. I told them what I’d found and that I’d shut off the gas. “I didn’t want anyone to get hurt.”
“Did you see anyone?” the guard asked as he placed his hand on the outside of the tanks. “The one is empty, and the other is nearly so.”
I shook my head. “No. I only smelled it and got Rosco out.” He was getting fussy, and I asked one of the guards to get the carrier, bowls, and litter box from inside. I told him where they were, and he came out with them in his hands.
“We’ll need to get someone to clean up in there. It doesn’t look like anyone got in, but the refrigerator is a mess, and I don’t want to open it.”
