Dante vs the Internet

by H. L. Holston

  Dante opened his mouth to protest. Chris wasn’t like that. Even if they had been dating for real, Dante couldn’t see Chris as the clingy, jealous type, nor would he need a pre-nup, as Dante didn’t have any money for Chris to take in a divorce.

  “Chris’ isn’t like that, Rupert-”

  Justin interrupted, “I’m sure your fiancé is great, but call him back later. We’re here,” Justin said, as he pulled his car up to the valet. He turned around and grinned, “I’m thirsty, and you’re buying, Moretti.”

  Dante put his phone back in his pocket. He’d figure out a way to call Chris back later even if he had to find a pay phone. For now, it was time to schmooze the hell out of his co-star and director.

  Dante realized he’d forgotten all about Chris’ call until the cab dropped him off in his driveway nearly seven hours later. Shit!

  As he stumbled through his front door, Dante noticed that all the lights were out in the house except a small one in the kitchen.

  When Dante entered the kitchen, he found Chris sitting at the table. His eyes were cold when he looked up from the coffee cup he twirled around on the table. His facial expression at Dante’s arrival grew stormy, then shut down. It was then Dante knew he was in deep shit. The other man was obviously fuming that Dante hadn’t returned his call.

  “Chris, man, I’m so sorry. I was so engrossed in the reading, I forgot to call you back.”

  “Did they conduct the reading in a bar?” Chris asked, scorn dipping from his voice.

  “What? Oh. No, I went out for drinks at Bar Marmont with Rupert and Justin. Have you ever been there? Place is amazing!” Dante tried to deflect Chris’ anger with his charm.

  Chris wasn’t buying it. “No, I haven’t been there,” he said, quietly. “But it looks like you had a good time, if the pictures from SurferGirl98’s Instagram were any indication.”

  Chris tossed his phone across the table and Dante saw some of the images from the social media site. Wow did Rupert and he look wasted. Dante vaguely remembered some women asking for pictures with Rupert, but the night had been foggy after their second bottle of Dom.

  From the look on Chris’ face, Dante could see this discussion was not going to go well. He walked carefully to the sink and filled a glass with water, hoping to flush some of the alcohol out of his system. He couldn’t figure out why Chris was so mad about a forgotten phone call and going out with his co-stars for a few drinks, but he was going to find out.

  He plowed on, upset Chris was treating him like a wayward husband. They weren’t really a couple, so why all the hassle? “What’s your problem, anyway? So, I forgot to call you back. It happens.”

  The look on Chris’ face was so icy Dante could have sworn that the temperature in the room dropped ten degrees. He was silent for a moment before he said, “Did Pirate greet you at the door?”

  Dante thought back. He hadn’t. Chris had blown up his phone earlier and Pirate had not greeted him at the door like he always did. Stomach churning, Dante asked. “Where is he?”

  “He’s at the vet’s, Dante. He jumped out of my car while we were at In-N-Out and got hit. He had to have surgery. Pirate might lose his back leg.” Tears slipped down Chris’ cheek, his expression one of grief. “I really needed you with me today. After all, he is your dog.”

  The revelation immediately sobered up Dante. Even if he’d only adopted the dog as a publicity stunt, the little shit had wormed his way into Dante’s heart. Tears blurred Dante’s vision, and his chest ached. “He’s going to be okay, right? I’m so sorry.” Dante moved in to hug Chris, but the other man shrugged him off.

  “You’re always sorry, Dante.” Chris put his arms around his middle and backed up from Dante. “I can’t do this anymore. I accepted your apology last time, but when I really needed you, you couldn’t even call me back. I knew you wouldn’t be able to leave the meeting, but just hearing your voice would have-”

  Chris stopped talking, turned and strode out of the room. Dante followed Chris hoping he would give him a chance to explain fully. He’d never meant to hurt Chris this way. How was he to know that Pirate had been hit by a car?

  A suitcase he hadn’t seen when he came in sat by the door.

  Holy shit, Chris was leaving him? Dante ran over and put himself in front of the other man. “Please, Chris. I can explain. My phone died and I couldn’t call you back. I didn’t mean to upset you. Please,” Dante pleaded.

  “Upset? Upset me?” Chris shouted. “I was upset when Pirate went into surgery. I was upset when after calling your phone repeatedly for hours, you didn’t answer. But when I saw the pictures of you out and about in Hollywood, drunk off your ass? I passed upset and went straight into I don’t give a fuck territory!”

  Dante didn’t know what to say. His usual glib or sarcastic responses weren’t going to calm Chris down. He’d never seen Chris this angry before, this was even worse than when Dante had announced their fake engagement, and that fight had been spectacular. He’d fucked up, perhaps beyond repair with this incident.

  “Please, Chris. I’m begging you, don’t leave. We can work this out. I promise.”

  That comment seemed to push Chris over the edge. Dante could see his eyes shut down, his posture straightened, and he looked Dante square in the eyes as he said, “Your promises, as I’ve found out, are meaningless. I don’t believe you anymore. About anything.”

  Chris brushed past him and opened the door. “Goodbye, Dante. Pirate’s at the Echo Park Veterinary Hospital. They open,” he glanced at the watch on his right wrist, “in six hours. I trust you’ll be there?”

  Dante moved to touch Chris but stopped when he pulled back.

  Walking out the door, Chris glanced back, pain evident in his blue eyes. “The engagement’s off.”

  He dismissed Dante with a cool look, “Good luck with your career. I hope it brings you everything you’ve always wanted.”

  As he watched Chris walk out, Dante wondered how the best day of his life had suddenly turned into the worst.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Swiping his finger across the screen for the third time this morning, he sent Katie’s call to his voicemail. He had no desire to hear yet another tirade from his former co-star about Chris. He knew he’d fucked up; he didn’t need to be reminded of the fact every single day.

  He settled further into the couch cushions, pulling his favorite blanket over top of Pirate and him. The dog had come home from the hospital last week after recovering from surgery. The vet had been able to save his back leg, but Pirate still hobbled around and needed a bit of extra love and attention, which Dante was happy to provide. His house seemed empty now that Chris had moved out. Pirate liked to cuddle on the sofa, so who was he to argue if the dog wanted to curl up in his lap and watch crappy Lifetime movies on television with him?

  Forty minutes into another Tori Spelling, woman-in-peril flick, Dante nearly knocked Pirate off the sofa when a fierce pounding on his front door woke him up out of a short cat nap. It was probably a Jehovah Witness looking to save his soul or something, hopefully they’d go away. He settled back down.

  But the pounding continued and when he heard Katie’s voice, he knew his peaceful Sunday was about to be interrupted. He looked at Pirate and said, “Stay,” and got up and went to his door, pulling it open to reveal his former co-star looking chic and sporty in yoga pants and a tight white T-shirt which showcased her perfect C-cup boobs. Girl looked good, even dressed to go to the gym.

  Katie pushed past him, stomping into the living room.

  Dante turned, shut the door and said, “Sure, come on in, Katie. Make yourself right at home!”

  The glare she gave him made him feel like an insect she’d deemed needed terminating. “You look like shit.”

  Sheepishly, he pulled on the ragtag hem of Chris’ old Bon Jovi T-shirt that he’d found in the washer. The other man must have forgotten about it in his rush to move out of Dante’s house. So yeah, he hadn’t showered in three days, let alone done
his hair, which probably looked like a grease pit, but hey, no reason to be rude!

  “I’ve been under the weather, but thanks for the fashion commentary, Coco Chanel,” he ground out.

  Katie eyed him up with utter disgust. “You reek. Go and take a shower. I can’t talk to you like this, it’s too depressing. When you get out, we’ll have a nice, little chat about your asshole-ish tendencies.” She made shooing motions and gestured for him to go away.

  He muttered about “uninvited house guests,” but trudged down his hall and into the master bedroom and his shower anyway.

  Thirty minutes later, feeling relatively human again, Dante walked into his living room to find Katie curled up on the couch watching The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills with Pirate’s head in her lap, eating a bag of his favorite gourmet popcorn.

  “Made yourself at home, I see,” Dante griped. “Do I pass inspection, madame?”

  Katie looked up and gave him the once-over. “You’ll do.” She patted the couch and said, “Come over here and sit down. Kyle and Teddi Jo are about to fight again, it’s getting juicy.”

  Dante sat and watched as two grown-ass women argued over some petty slight, the blonde one got shriller as the argument intensified.

  “They asked me to appear in a few episodes next season you know,” Katie said. “The producers are friends with my husband.”

  “Like the show needs another rich brunette smartass, but I guess you could do worse.” Dante stated without any heat. “Is the money good?”

  Katie rolled her eyes. “I don’t need the money, but yeah, the money’s good. Plus, the publicity-”

  She offered him her bag of popcorn, Dante reached inside and grabbed a few kernels. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten.

  “Thanks.”

  They sat in silence, snacking on the popcorn until the show ended, then Katie turned down the TV and said, “So, you’re a douche.” She leaned over and smacked Dante in the head. Hard.

  “Ouch! Jesus Christ, Kathleen, that hurt!” Dante sputtered, rubbing his head. He glared at her, but she glared back. Their battle of wills segued into a staring contest, each determined not to break eye contact, but when Katie reached out and pinched his left nipple, Dante broke.

  “You are such a bitch,” Dante complained.

  “Takes one to know one,” Katie replied.

  The dog made his way gingerly off the sofa, glanced at them in annoyance for disrupting his nap, then hobbled off to the kitchen. Dante wanted to leave, too. However, he knew Katie would follow him, so he stayed put. He’d never win against Katie and her smart mouth. She was the female equivalent of Dante Moretti. A real man knew when to accept defeat and give in.

  Plus, judging from the outraged expression on her face, Chris must have spilled the whole shebang. Dante had figured this was why Katie had been calling all week, never leaving a message beyond “call me back now, you dick.” While they had been friendly, they’d never been super tight, especially after Katie left the show. He liked Katie, but they’d always run in different circles. Chris and Katie had always been closer, bonding over their shared experiences as child stars.

  “So, what did Chris say when he called you?” Dante asked. He might as well get the gory details. He’d always had a masochistic streak.

  Katie crumpled the empty bag of popcorn and threw it at his head. “Called me? Dante, Chris is living in my pool house since he had nowhere else to go.”

  Well, shit. He should have known that. Should have guessed at the very least. Even though Chris made enough money with the voiceover work to keep up with his share of the expenses, it wasn’t enough to get him into a decent hotel for a week or two, never mind his own apartment. Not in this town.

  “He didn’t have to leave. I never asked him to,” Dante stuttered. “And I didn’t twist his arm to pretend to be my boyfriend. He did it of his own free will.”

  Katie stared at him as if he were utterly stupid, then started laughing. “Oh. My. God. You don’t know. Dante Moretti, you’re a fucking moron. I’m gonna rat you out to TMZ.”

  “Hey, I am not a moron. I went to college! Maybe not Julliard like Chris, but I went to school.”

  In between chuckling, Katie said, “Not book stupid, life stupid. I can’t believe I have to explain this to you! But I guess all those guys you’ve been screwing over the years, you didn’t have time to, you know, actually talk to them.”

  Dante threw up his hands. “Why does everyone think I’m some gay George Clooney, afraid of commitment? I’ve had boyfriends before.”

  “Real boyfriends that lasted more than a month, or fake ones like Chris? You couldn’t keep any of the real boyfriends anyway because you’d screw them, but you’d never talked to them.”

  “Jesus, can you bust my balls another day, Katie.” Dante said. “I know I screwed up with the dog, but in my defense, I didn’t know Pirate had been hit by a car. I was in an important read-through and couldn’t take a phone call from my fake boyfriend.”

  That comment earned him another head slap.

  “No one expected you to leave that meeting. Chris, of all people, knows how important this movie is to your career. But, couldn’t you have called him after the read-though? No, of course not. Dante Moretti only thinks about himself, so you pranced off to Bar Marmont. By the way, how fucking cliché, and blew off all of Chris’ calls and text messages. Way to go there, asshole.”

  Dante hung his head. “I turned off my phone, okay. And then it went dead. I’m not psychic, Katie. I would have come home immediately if I had known about the dog. I’m not that much of a douche.”

  Katie’s look said otherwise. “You didn’t think it was strange for Chris to be blowing up your phone during the most important day of your life? He’s not some amateur. He wouldn’t have called you unless it was an emergency. And why the hell didn’t you ask to borrow someone else’s phone?”

  She sighed, dismayed. “I think he’s more hurt than pissed, after all he did for you. Do you even realize how much of his career he put on the line for this ridiculous scheme? You know how hard it is for actors with a gay rep to land top-paying jobs, and you couldn’t even be bothered to call him back.”

  “But, but-”

  “But what, Dante? Because from where I’m sitting it looks like you used Chris. You got what you wanted, this role, and when you didn’t need your pretend fiancé anymore, you ditched him.” She eyed him up and down, “We won’t even discuss the fact you literally fucked him, too. That’s a whole other conversation I want to have, but not now.”

  Shit, Chris really had spilled his guts to Katie.

  “I didn’t force him into that either,” Dante protested. “We both wanted to have sex with each other.”

  “Are you really this dumb or just oblivious?” Katie shook her head. “Jesus Christ, how did I become involved in your drama?”

  Dante lowered his voice and stated, “I never asked you to become involved in my drama. And how come you’re not at home reaming Chris out? What did I do to deserve this special visit?”

  “I’ve already ‘reamed’ Chris out. Now it’s your turn.” She glared at him pointedly. “The last thing I want -- the last thing Chris deserves -- is to live in my pool house forever because you wrecked his life and his career. And believe it or not, I care about you, too, and the idea of you sitting here all depressed and shit...” She took a deep breath, as if she couldn’t believe she’d just said that. “Anyway, it looks like someone has to get you two idiots to pull your heads out of your asses.”

  “My head is not-”

  “Shut it,” Katie’s tone broke no further arguments. “Not in the mood for your whining. You will listen to me or else.”

  He deserved this. He knew it. Deep down, he knew he should have tried harder to contact Chris. He took his penitence, and for the first time in a long time shut his mouth and listened.

  “How long have you known Chris?” Katie asked.

  He rolled his eyes. “A few years. Sa
me as you, Miss Smarty Pants.”

  “And how long have you wanted to bone Chris?”

  Dante’s eyes darted around the room, glancing anywhere but at Katie.

  She hit him on his arm.

  “Jesus, what’s up with the domestic abuse?” That earned him another glare. “Okay, okay. I’ve wanted Chris since the moment I met him.”

  He’d tried so damn hard to bury his crush for the sake of the job. Space Pirates had been his first big break. He didn’t know anyone in Hollywood back then. He had no support from his family. He needed the fucking job and he’d have been damned if he’d let a stupid crush on his same-sex co-star ruin his dreams. Everything in Hollywood got earned by rep and cred and back then he’d had neither. But apparently, he hadn’t fooled Katie. And even today, years after the show went off the air, she’d suspected he’d never gotten over his infatuation. No matter how hard he’d tried to convince the world otherwise, Katie managed to figure him out and had never forgotten.

  The last few weeks of having Chris in his life, and in his bed had been heaven. He’d fallen hard for his best friend, and now he’d screwed it up. He didn’t need Katie to remind him of that fact. What he needed was for her to help him fix it.

  “You love him.” She said, pointing out the obvious.

  Dante dropped to the couch and pressed his face into his hands. He sat there silently for a few moments, knowing it was the truth but unsure whether he was ready to say it.

  He heard Katie swear and then she was prying his hands away from his face. She looked more annoyed than he’d ever seen her. And he’d seen her annoyed a lot, usually at something he or Chris had done on set, some crazy prank they’d pulled.

  “You do, don’t you?” She asked, determined to get an answer whether he wanted to give one or not. And she was obviously not going to leave him alone until he gave her one.

  “Yes, okay? I do.” He pushed her hands away gently. “Satisfied?”

  “Happy to hear it.” She walked over and picked up her purse from the chair she’d slung it in when she arrived. Hand on the doorknob, she turned and gave Dante a serious look.