Something Like Hope
By Kris T. Bethke
Published by JMS Books LLC
Visit jms-books.com for more information.
Copyright 2019 Kris T. Bethke
ISBN 9781634869218
Cover Design: LC Chase
Image(s) used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.
All rights reserved.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Published in the United States of America.
* * * *
Something Like Hope
By Kris T. Bethke
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Epilogue
Chapter 1
I was exhausted and relieved to be home. Shooting on location always took a lot out of me, but we’d finally wrapped filming on the last episode of the third season of the wildly popular police procedural Rourke and Geary. I played Deputy Riley Cates, a recurring character only brought in when the main characters needed backup. My character had actually featured heavily in the last few episodes. In fact, the deputy getting shot had played a large role in the season’s cliff hanger. None of the cast members knew what season four would bring—the scripts, by all accounts, hadn’t been written yet—but I figured we’d have a clue by the time hiatus was over.
Finally making it through the door to my crappy little apartment, I dropped my duffle bags with a satisfying thump. I kicked off my shoes, wiggling my toes. I’d decided to drive from where we shot the show in Seattle back home to LA so that I could detour to Montana and visit with my family for a while. It had not been one of my best ideas. Two weeks into hiatus, and I’d spent nearly half of that driving.
I started tugging off my shirt, intent on a shower, but stopped when my phone chirped out a Lady Gaga song. I knew it was Casper Jones, my agent. I stopped stripping to answer it.
“Aaron! My man!” Cas’s boisterous voice came over the line as soon as I answered. “How’s hiatus?”
I shook my head, even though he couldn’t see. I’d gotten lucky when Cas agreed to take me on. He was a no-nonsense kind of guy, a little blunt, but good at what he did. He kept me booked for enough jobs that I didn’t starve, and he’d gotten me the audition for Rourke and Geary eighteen months ago. And he really had a good heart underneath. Sadly, that wasn’t something found too often in this business.
“Casper,” I greeted him warmly. There was no point in answering his question. He cared about me as a client, not as a person. “What’s up?”
He was uncharacteristically quiet for a moment, then he blew out a breath. “Listen, man. I just got a call from Marc Bergman.”
My agent had gotten a call from the producer from the show on which I was cast. And where my character had gotten shot and left bleeding in the street as the season ended. I groaned. “They’re killing off my character aren’t they?” Dammit. I liked working on that show. Everybody was great and got along. Well mostly. Lucas Logan was kind of asshole, but that came with the territory of being the hotshot lead character.
“No, actually, they aren’t,” Cas responded quickly. “In fact, they want to bring you on as a full-time cast member and give your character a bigger role.”
Right in that second, my heart leaped. It was a dream come true. I knew I’d never be a huge name in this business, but I loved acting and I really loved a steady paycheck. That was often hard to come by. “That’s great!”
“Yeah,” Cas said slowly. “There’s a catch though.”
Of course there was. I closed my eyes. “What?”
“Your character is going to become romantically involved with one of the leads.”
I couldn’t quite see how that was a catch. “Mary Alice?” She was the only one who made sense. Allison’s character was happily married with a baby on the way.
“Uh, no. Actually, Riley Cates will fall in love with Frank Geary.”
For a second, I couldn’t breathe. A gay relationship? On prime time network television? On one of the biggest grossing shows that wasn’t a comedy? It didn’t seem possible.
“Aaron?” Cas’s voice shocked me out of my thoughts.
“Yeah?”
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah. I’m just…processing. I know times are changing, but I didn’t think the network was progressive enough to put one of the leads of one of their most popular shows in a gay relationship.” A thought occurred to me. “Wait. They are going to treat this right, aren’t they? It isn’t going to be some joke or just filled with hurt or—”
“According to Bergman,” Cas cut me off. “They are playing on the chemistry that you and Jacobs have on screen. He said it would be treated with respect, and that your character getting shot and nearly dying opens Geary’s eyes to his deeper feelings for you. I imagine there will be all sorts of drama surrounding him coming to terms with his sexuality. But yes, this isn’t going to be a joke.”
It was about fucking time. LGBTQ people need representation in all facets of the world, especially on television. I know that if I had seen a gay character on my favorite shows as a teenager, I wouldn’t have had such a hard time with my sexuality. To think that I could play a role in some unknown person’s life, that they could see acceptance by the role I portrayed on TV, filled my heart. This was what I was waiting for. I could do something I loved and make a difference while I was at it.
“Zeller,” Cas growled, cranky I’d gone quiet again. “What do you want me to tell the show?”
“I’m in,” I whispered. Then cleared my throat and tried again, with all the conviction I felt. “I am so in.”
* * * *
It felt different reporting to the set this time around. Who was I kidding? It was different. Before, I’d always shown up for a day or two, maybe a week, shot my scenes, and gone home again. This time I’d given up my apartment because I didn’t have a choice, found a new one in Seattle, and would be in nearly every episode of the season. The pay bump was nice, too.
The reclaimed warehouses that held the indoor sets was also home to the production offices. When the car pulled into the lot at eight-thirty, I thanked the driver and headed in through the side door that would take me to the offices. We were scheduled to start shooting later in the week, but first there would be meetings and rehearsals.
Daniel Jacobs, the actor who played Frank Geary, was waiting in the hall outside the producer’s office. He smiled when he saw me and gave me a firm handshake. He towered over me by a good four inches, but I’d never felt intimidated by him. Dan had a warm smile that lit up his dark brown eyes and lips to die for. Though kissing him on set wouldn�
�t exactly be private, I knew I wouldn’t mind it one bit.
The producers had chosen well when they’d decided to pair our characters off. Not only did we have great chemistry onscreen—Dan and I had always played our characters off one another, making the best use of the witty banter that had been written—but we also made a striking pair. I was smaller and leaner, my blond hair was kept cut close to my head for the show, and I was pale and gray eyed. Dan was bulkier, his shaggy dark hair and deep brown eyes giving him a swarthy look that made everyone swoon. Together we were a study in opposites, and that always made for a pretty picture.
“Hey, Aaron,” Dan greeted me warmly. “How’s it going?”
“Can’t complain,” I responded, trying for unaffected. I was an actor. I think I pulled it off. “How’re you?”
“Good, good.” He paused to lick his lips and I couldn’t help but track his tongue with my gaze. “You see the scripts yet?”
“Just the first one,” I admitted. “Looks pretty intense. Even if all I’ll be doing is lying in a hospital bed.” I was trying for funny, but Dan didn’t seem to be paying attention. His gaze darted nervously around the empty hallway, and then he placed a hand on my arm.
“Can I talk to you for a second?” he asked, his voice low. I tried not to be suspicious as I nodded. The hand on my arm took hold of my elbow, and he guided me a few feet away to where there was a stretch of nothing but wall.
“When they asked me if I was up for this,” Dan began conspiratorially, “my first thought was it’s about fucking time, you know? But the thing is, I’m not gay.”
“Okay. And?” My voice sounded wary, but that couldn’t be helped. I braced myself for what he would say next, fully expecting it to be a line about how I shouldn’t read into anything we did on set or not to get any ideas.
Daniel’s gaze met mine, and all I could see was utter sincerity. “So I don’t have any idea what I’m doing.”
I blinked, a little surprised, but also relieved that he hadn’t gone where I thought he was. It wasn’t the gay that was his problem, but rather that he felt out of his element. That, I could work with.
“Well,” I said slowly. “I rather imagine it’s like kissing a girl.”
Dan quirked one of his perfectly shaped brows, and some of his regular humor bled through in his voice when he asked, “You imagine?”
I grinned. “Since I haven’t kissed a girl since high school, I’m only going by what I vaguely remember. Not that different. Kissing is kissing, you know?”
Dan laughed and gave me a playful punch to the arm. Then his expression turned serious, even though the smile never left his face. “Aaron, man, I know you don’t advertise but it’s not really a secret, right?” He paused and looked at me expectantly. I could only nod. I wasn’t in the habit of lying. Daniel looked relieved and continued, “So yeah. You’ll help me not fuck it up, right?”
“Yeah, Dan,” I assured him, grateful and pleased he was taking this seriously. “It’ll be fine. You’ll see.”
His smile was big and beautiful, and I couldn’t help smiling back. This was why I was happy to work on this show. It was filled with people who actually cared. It didn’t happen as often as people thought. Being with the same people, day in and day out, for long stretches of time either created a tight knit group of friends or raging hostilities. I was very lucky this show fell into the former group.
“Thanks, Dan.”
He quirked one of those perfect eyebrows at me. “For what?”
“For, you know, treating this whole thing with respect.” I shrugged. “It’s going to make an impact. The show has a huge fan base. I want it to be important.”
Dan nodded, his eyes serious. “Yeah, I hear you.”
Just then someone called our names. I turned quickly to see Lisa, one of the PAs, gesturing to us. I took a deep breath and headed down the hall, Dan at my side. Time for the production meeting.
Chapter 2
The scruff on my face was scratchy and irritating as hell. Since my character was hospitalized, they’d asked me not to shave to give realism to Riley’s situation. But I knew it would be a while before I was allowed to shave it off. Especially if we couldn’t get this fucking scene done.
My part was easy. All I had to do was lie there and breathe, with my eyes shut, and not react at all to what was going on around me. Sedated after surgery, Riley was supposed to be out of it. But the cannula in my nose was making it hard to breathe, and this was our twenty-seventh take. I wanted nothing more than to yank it out so I could breathe normally. I could have dealt with it if there was any end in sight. Maybe this time, we’d get it right.
When the director called cut, I couldn’t help the groan that escaped. Not again.
“Logan, you really need to get your shit together. What the fuck is your problem?”
“Sorry, Con.”
Constance O’Meara was one of five or six directors that rotated through. I always liked working with her. She’d been the one to direct the previous season’s finale, and I was glad she was directing the two-part season opener. I thought it made for nice consistency, and she made me feel comfortable.
“Don’t be sorry. Just get it together,” Connie snapped. She paused and then let out a sigh. “Let’s take a ten minute break. And when we get back, I expect us to get this done.”
I didn’t bother moving. When Connie said ten minutes, she meant exactly that, and woe betide anyone who wasn’t ready when she was. I wasn’t the only one who stuck close. Most people milled around close-by. But Lucas Logan stomped off set.
I couldn’t figure out what his issue was, but he’d been like this all day. Well, ever since we’d started shooting this scene three hours ago. And paranoid as I was, I couldn’t help but wonder if it was because of the fact that Frank Geary was holding Riley Cates’s hand. Murphy Rourke was supposed to overhear Geary telling Riley what he meant to him, and then come around the curtain and place a supportive hand on his friend’s shoulder. We got that far every time, but when Lucas was supposed to be silent as Frank told Riley to get better, that he’d be waiting, Lucas fucking Logan kept fucking it up. And I couldn’t help but think the prick was a homophobe.
“He’s better than this,” Dan mumbled from where he’d leaned back in his chair. I turned my head to look at him as he scrubbed his hands over his face. “Everyone has off days, but not him and not like this.”
“He’s being a jerk,” I said softly. Dan and Lucas were close friends and I didn’t want to say what I was really thinking. Dan snorted out a laugh that made me think maybe he knew anyway.
“I’ll talk to him after, see where his head is at.” Dan shook his head and sat up straight. “Here we go.”
Everyone was back within another minute, and as places were called, the set fell silent. I closed my eyes and did my best to even out my breathing and to make my face impassive. Connie told us where to start, and I was glad it was near the end of the scene. I couldn’t handle it if we’d have to do the whole thing all over again. Dan took my hand in his big, warm grip.
“Action.”
“You scared the hell out of me, kid.” Dan’s voice was low but strong. I knew the boom mike over our heads would have no trouble picking it up. “You have no idea what it did to me, seeing you take that bullet. I’ve let too much time go by, denying my feelings. And that’s going to change.”
A beat of silence and then the heavy clomp of boots on tile. I knew what was supposed to be taking place, and every second that went by without Connie calling cut made me breathe a little easier.
“Hey,” Dan said.
“Hey,” Lucas answered.
A beat and then a sigh. Dan’s voice was sure but full of emotion when he said, “Things are going to change, Rourke.”
“I can see that.”
So far so good. From what I could hear, this was the best take yet, but the next part was where it all went to hell. I had to remind myself not to hold my breath.
“Get better
fast, Riley. I’ll be waiting for you. And then we’ll see where this leads, okay? No more pretending.”
Utter and complete silence. No one moved. No one said a word. The air was pregnant with expectation.
“Cut,” Connie said, and I nearly wept in relief because I could tell that this time, it wasn’t full of frustration. I opened my eyes and craned my neck to the side, where I could see Connie staring at the monitor in front of her. A few more seconds where no one dared to breathe, and finally Connie sighed. “That’ll do. Let’s call it a day, people.”
The set burst into activity as everyone started moving about, packing up, going on with their business. I was relieved to pull the plastic tubing out of my nose and reminded myself that if I threw it across the room, someone else would have to find it. I dropped it on the bed instead and then hopped over the side. I didn’t look back as I headed for my dressing room.
The hospital gown I wore wasn’t exactly warm, and I would be relieved to actually put on real clothes again. I pushed open the door and then looked around. I actually had a permanent room now that I was a full-time cast member, even if I shared it with Court Scully, who played the chief of police. He was a kind, older man, with hundreds of credits to his name. I liked him and we got along. Which was more than I could ever say for Lucas Logan.
God that man! What was his damage? Over the past couple of years, I’d shot numerous scenes with him and I’d never seen him fuck up so much. I thought he was a professional. Standoffish and a bit cold with me, in a way that Dan, Mary Alice, Allison, Court and the others had never been. But I just figured that was his personality, or maybe he’d let the fame of being the star of the show go to his head. Either way, he’d always done his job and done it well. But today he’d been a jerk, missing cues and messing up. Because why? For no good reason that I could see. What an asshole.
If he had a problem with the storyline, it was up to him to take it up with the producers. He didn’t need to be such an ass. I was sure he didn’t want to leave behind the show and the fame it provided in protest, but if he kept fucking up like this, he’d be out anyway. Then again, maybe he wouldn’t. I’m sure his contract was ironclad. Maybe this was his way of protesting. It was irritating as all hell, and if it was a portent of the way the entire shooting season would go, we’d all be in for a rough time.
Something Like Hope Page 1
