“It is. It really is.” He paused. “Hell, everybody involved in the show is interesting as hell. Chip introduced me to his stunt double, Kester.” Anthony whistled. “That dude is nuts. And the stunt coordinator? Tally?” He shook his head and grimaced. “They’re both crazy. But, then, I guess people who throw themselves off buildings and in front of cars for a living have to be a bit crazy.”
“Ya think? You ever thought of using CGI to make their lives easier?”
“Hey, that’s on Frankie, and she’s the one who wants everything as real as possible.” Anthony chuckled. “If I’d known what it takes out of the stuntmen, I’d have gone easy on the fight scenes and characters getting beaten up with chairs and thrown out of windows. But when I wrote the first book, it never occurred to me somebody might buy it for film rights.”
“Well, it does keep stunt people employed, I guess.” Samir paused. “Shit, stunt people aside, you’re probably thirty percent of the local economy.”
“Possibly more. Some hate me for it, others think it’s the best thing ever. The people who hate me are a good portion of the reason I eat here—” he tapped the table with his knuckle “—rather than other places because there’s a very limited amount of werewolf-related tourists here. I mean, that couple over there? They’re probably just on a road trip for the scenery. They might be totally unaware what’s up with that other town we don’t need to mention.” Anthony took a sip from his coffee. “And I like it that way.”
Don returned with their breakfasts steaming on plates. “Doing the woe-is-me-I’m-famous spiel again?”
“Hey.” Anthony nodded toward Don. “Everything you say can and will be used in calculating your tip.”
“Uh-huh.” Don laid the plates in front of them. “Keep it up, Rawson. Hope you don’t taste the rat poison.”
Anthony turned to Samir. “See what I put up with?”
“Eat your food before it gets cold.” Don pointed at the plate, mock-serious, and wished Samir a healthy appetite. Then he slapped Anthony’s shoulder before he headed over to the tourists.
As they ate, Anthony stole a few glances at Samir. It was strange to actually spend time with someone after a night like last night. Whenever he met up with Ryan, they spent most of their time in the gym or in bed, eating together only to recover from a workout before diving into another workout. They were perfectly compatible in bed, less so in terms of spending clearheaded time with each other. He liked the guy, but ran out of conversation topics way too quickly with him. And Ryan was a regular fixture, unlike some of the other guys he ended up spending the night with when he went out to find sex.
As much as that separation had worked so far and as much as it was the sensible thing to do and prevented some headaches, he was lacking other things in his life. Geeking out with someone like Samir, for example. The same Samir who shouldn’t have even been in his dating pool, but somehow was. Maybe it was even nicer to help a young writer get a break now that he had a bit of clout.
He didn’t know what he wanted out of this. What Samir wanted, or expected, or didn’t want. All he knew right now was everything that had happened between them so far was like nothing Anthony had experienced with any other man. That thought terrified and excited him just the same—he missed having a companion, but bringing someone in could quickly get suffocating. He didn’t want that to happen with Samir. Not with anyone, of course, but he also didn’t want to lose one of his closest friends—and possibly cowriter—when one of them got tired of Anthony insisting he needed to spend more time with his mistress, the flashing cursor.
“Anthony?”
He blinked and looked across the table.
Samir cocked his head. “Thought you’d checked out on me there for a minute.”
“No, just thinking.” Anthony laughed quietly. “You know how it is—mind keeps running back to the work in progress.”
“God. Yeah.” Samir sliced off a forkful of egg. “Which work in progress? The book eight you were working on, or ...?”
“That one. Where to go after Axis Mundi.” Anthony shrugged. “You know how it is—you haven’t finished chapter one and you’re already getting ideas for the damn sequel.”
“Yeah, I get that.”
He took a bite of hash brown and washed it down with some coffee. “So do you think you’re ready for tomorrow?”
Samir paled a little. “Define ‘ready.’”
“You’ll be fine.” Anthony smiled. “She’s actually great fun. Fucking crazy, to be honest.”
That got a laugh out of Samir. “She sounded nice enough on the phone.”
“She is. She really is.” He hesitated, wondering how much reality Samir needed before he met with one of Those Who Made Shit Happen (or Not). “Are you up-to-date with the publishing industry?”
Samir shrugged. “I’ve done some research in case I ever finished something original, but mostly just what the other writers in my crit group say.” He rolled his eyes. “Or bitch about.”
“Such as?”
“To hear them tell it, the whole shebang is run by self-righteous gatekeepers who wouldn’t know a decently written piece from a hole in the ground.” Stabbing at his eggs, he muttered, “These people were simultaneously enraged and vindicated with the whole Fifty Shades thing.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard a lot of that too.”
“But you’re in with an agent and a publisher. It must not be that bad.”
“It’s got its pros and cons. The thing is, I have no idea how the publisher is going to take to the idea of a Triple Moon sequel from another author. I just, I have zero clue.”
“But your agent is flying out here to discuss it. That’s promising. Right?”
“Yes. No. I have no idea.” He busied himself refilling his coffee cup. “I don’t want to tell you it’s all sunshine and roses, because I promise you, it’s not. At the same time, I don’t want to turn you off to the whole idea.”
“So who has it right? The ones acting like being an author like you is the greatest thing ever? Or the ones who say publishing is dying?”
“There’s probably some truth coming from both camps. One thing you can be sure of, Leanne does not fuck around. She fought tooth and nail to make sure I wasn’t selling my soul to the publisher, that I got a good deal, and just generally didn’t get screwed. There are good agents out there, and there are bad ones. If I can promise you anything, it’s that you’re getting a good one.”
“Assuming she actually signs me.”
“Right. If you sign with Leanne, you’re in good hands.”
“But we still have no idea how your publisher will take to me joining Triple Moon.”
Anthony shook his head. “No. But if the publisher goes for it, and you need any help with anything, looking over the contracts or coping with the edits, my door’s always open. Between Leanne and me, we’ll keep you on a good path.”
Samir smiled, one of those adorably sweet smiles that melted Anthony’s heart. “Thanks. It’s intimidating, but definitely not as bad when I’m going into it with someone who knows what he’s doing.”
“I wouldn’t go that far. Don’t tell anyone, but I’ve kind of been bullshitting my way through it from day one, and fortunately, it’s worked out.”
“Dude, you’ve scored an entire empire. Yeah, I’d say it worked out.”
“Mm-hmm. And my empire ran peacefully and perfectly until a cute little usurper came along to overthrow me.” Anthony raised an eyebrow.
“I’m not here to overthrow you.” Samir shrugged. “Just, you know, throw you against walls and—”
Anthony choked on his coffee. He sputtered and coughed, and of course Samir laughed because he was a sadistic bastard. The old couple peered over their newspapers, and shook their heads but didn’t say anything.
Samir batted his eyes. “Sorry.”
“Uh-huh. Sure you are.”
“So, um.” Samir pushed his plate aside and folded his hands on the laminated place mat. “There�
�s something I’ve been thinking about.”
“Shoot.”
“How are your fans going to react to this?”
“Honestly? They’ve been chomping at the bit for so long, they probably don’t care who writes the next one as long as somebody does.”
Samir chuckled. “You did leave book seven on a bit of a cliffhanger, asshole.”
Anthony flashed him a toothy grin. “Keep ’em wanting more.”
“Mm-hmm.”
Anthony rested his elbow on the table. “To be serious, how would you have felt about it? As a fan?”
Samir swallowed. “Depends on how good the book was.”
“But you’d have been willing to give it a chance?”
“Sure.”
“I think the rest of fandom will too. Hell, a lot of people weren’t happy about Chip playing Raphael. This was like six weeks after it came out that he gave up a part on Family Joyce. You know, the show set in Key West?”
“Right, I remember that.”
“He wanted to take on a more serious, dramatic role, and didn’t think it was quite up his alley. Then he didn’t get the part he wanted on some cop show, so people thought he was just a dumb pretty boy who thought he was too good for Family Joyce.”
Samir rolled his eyes. “Please. That show is great, but Chip is definitely better for darker roles.”
“Exactly.” Anthony leaned forward. “And the rest of the Triple Moon fandom agrees, right? Even though they were livid when they found out he was cast?”
“True.” Samir exhaled. “I guess I’m just worried about pissing them off.”
“You’ll piss a few off. It’s par for the course.” Anthony smirked. “You think I don’t still make them angry sometimes? Hell, I once had members of the cast threatening me.”
Samir’s eyes were huge. “Why?”
“Because I made some noise about Raphael shaving his head in one book, and both Chip and Kester threatened to personally lead a rioting mob right to my front door.”
Samir gulped. “I guess people really do get upset when you make changes they don’t like.”
“Well, those two were just being smart-asses, but I mean, you’ve seen the discussions on the forum.” Anthony shrugged and picked up his coffee. “Everyone wants the story to go a certain way, and they want the characters to look a certain way, and ... yeah.”
Samir stared into his mostly empty coffee cup.
Anthony fought the urge to reach across and put a hand on his arm. He’d been a public figure too long to let PDAs happen, even when the only witnesses were a couple of retirees who probably didn’t know what werewolves were or why one moon wasn’t plenty. “Relax. Honestly, everything you did in your story is well within canon.”
“Yeah, but I had to make some changes. I mean, there’s no way Raphael is recovering without a scar on his face.” He glanced at the kitchen door, then back at Anthony. “Think Kester and Chip will send the fans after me for that one?”
Anthony waved a hand. “Nah, you’ll be fine. Besides, that could always wind up getting cut during edits. No sense sweating over it until we know what’s making the final cut.”
“Good point.” Samir fidgeted. He wore his nerves on his sleeve, but was obviously trying not to, and dissecting all the things that might happen, could happen, probably would happen, and wouldn’t happen this side of Ragnarok wasn’t going to help him relax.
Anthony set his coffee cup down. “So how about that drive down the coast?”
“Sounds good. Or I could think of a few other ways to kill an afternoon.” Samir grinned, and Anthony’s brain went: Holy crap, already? We just ate!
He cleared his throat. “You’re going to be the death of me, you know.”
“Probably.” Samir chuckled. “The drive sounds great.” With a wink, he added, “For now.”
Chapter 8
Anthony drove down a winding stretch of forest-shaded highway. Every now and then, there were turnouts where a car or two was parked beside a trailhead.
“Where do these trails go?”
“Down to the ocean.” Anthony shifted gears. “And in fact ...” The Ferrari started to decelerate. “This is one of my favorite spots.” He pulled into an empty turnout. “Let’s go.”
He got out of the car, and Samir did the same. As Anthony headed for the trailhead, though, Samir hesitated.
“You’re just going to leave a car like this here?” He gestured at the road. “Out in the open?”
Anthony shrugged. “It’s insured.”
“I thought this thing was your baby.”
“It is.” Anthony took Samir by the hand. “But it’ll be fine.” He nodded toward the Ferrari. “There’s nothing that can happen to her out here that couldn’t happen just as easily in a grocery store parking lot.”
“Hmm. And there’s not too many runaway shopping carts out here.”
“Exactly. Come on.”
Samir shot the car one last glance, then shrugged and followed Anthony.
The trail was absolutely gorgeous. The smell of moss and damp foliage was refreshing, and everything was beautiful with sunbeams peeking through the branches of immense old-growth evergreens and dew-covered spiderwebs. The sun-dappled trail wound through the thick forest, leading Samir and Anthony away from the road.
Before long, the dirt ended and the terrain became mostly smooth rocks. Not far beyond those, densely packed wet sand that went right to the edge of the Pacific. The beach stretched for miles in either direction, and aside from a red-and-black cargo ship in the distance, there wasn’t a soul in sight.
“Wow, it’s really pretty down here.”
“Isn’t it?” As they started walking along the sand, Anthony added, “Seems almost surreal to bring you to this place. After we ...”
“How so?”
“I spent a lot of time down here after my last boyfriend and I split. I’ve only come down here alone.”
“Oh.” Samir wasn’t quite sure what to make of that. “You don’t mind being here with—”
“If I did, we wouldn’t be here.” Anthony wrapped his arm around Samir’s waist. “It’s kind of nice like this, actually.”
“It is.”
“This is one of the best parts of living in Viking Bay.” Anthony released Samir and gestured out at the water. “You don’t have to drive far to find a beach like this.”
“Seems like a good place to walk around and think if you’re stuck on a plot.”
“Oh.” Anthony laughed. “I’ve logged many, many miles in the sand because of plots. And breakups. If I ever go through another divorce, I’m just going to buy a house on the beach and save myself the gas.”
“Divorce?” Samir eyed him. “You were married?”
“Yep. Not for very long. It was during my first enlistment, so almost twenty years ago.” He chuckled quietly. “Then she realized she preferred Marines, and I realized I preferred men.”
“That does sound like a death sentence for a marriage.”
“It was.” Anthony’s humor faded. “Though I seem to be the death sentence for relationships.”
“How so?”
“I like to be alone more than most partners. Especially after spending so long in the military. Close quarters, no privacy, all shared spaces.” He shook his head. “Doesn’t bode well for coming home and being in a functional relationship.”
“I guess it wouldn’t.” Samir looked out at the water.
“It usually comes down to the same thing.” Anthony sighed. “My partner wants more and more of my time, I want more and more space, and the time we do spend together is spent arguing about the time we’re not spending together.”
Samir grimaced. “That doesn’t sound fun.”
“It’s not. And it’s as much my fault as theirs.” Anthony shrugged. “I’m just not one of those people who can handle being joined at the hip with someone. Maybe it’s a writer thing. I don’t know. I just need space.”
Samir glanced at him. “Is this
... what we’re doing ...”
“Hmm? Oh, no. You’re fine. We’re friends, we’re writing together, and we’re sleeping together. That’s probably the most I can offer.”
“Fair enough.” Samir chewed his lip. “If this new book really sells, we’re going to be tied to each other.”
Anthony nodded. “Yeah, we will.”
“And I ...” He took a breath. “You’ve been a really good friend all this time, and I don’t want to lose that. There’s a good chance we’re adding business to the mix, and we might have to work together creatively, plus now we’re—”
“Samir.” Anthony put a hand on his shoulder, and they both stopped. Anthony looked him in the eye. “Relax. This is all a good thing.”
“I know.” Samir swallowed. “I just don’t want to mess it up.”
“We won’t. We’ll just take it a little at a time.”
Samir wanted to believe him. Everything about Anthony felt so good, but ...
Anthony tilted his head. “Something wrong?”
“I, well ...” Samir cleared his throat. “A week ago, I didn’t even know you. Twenty-four hours ago, I was still thinking of you as this literary idol. And now ...”
“You do realize we’ve known each other for many months, right? Better part of two years, if my math is correct.”
Samir was quiet for a moment. “I guess that’s true. Maybe I’m just having a hard time reconciling you with Ulfhedinn. Or something.” He shook his head and gazed out at the rolling surf. “I don’t even know.”
“We can always slow down. Yes, things are moving at absolute light speed for you just in terms of your writing, so if you’re overwhelmed, that’s totally understandable.”
“I am, but that doesn’t mean I want to stop.” Samir turned toward him again. “I don’t have a damned clue where we’re going or what we’re doing, but I liked last night. And this morning.”
“I did too. I’d like to do it again, but it’s not like we’re tattooing each other’s names on our foreheads or anything.”
Moonstruck Page 11
