[ multi-chapter ] Take In the Show II [ original ]
Title: Take in the Show II
Author: frostberryjam
Rated: PG (NC-17 overall)
Fandom: Original.
Warnings: May or may not make you laugh inappropriately. Lot of gay. It's original. It's a multi-chapter. There will probably be smut, and swearing, and God knows what else.
Summary: Officer Terry Wells has seen it a dozen times. A cheater gets caught in flagrante delicto and clothing is defenestrated. Yet this case is different. Mr. TV's Sexiest Bachelor is the one being cheated on, and Kaylen Dellington has a deliciously wicked sense of humor when it comes to delivering justice to his ex. Unfortunately for Terry, it doesn't seem to involve a rebound lay.
Author Notes: Chapter 2! My thanks to kitrinathegreat for being my beta once again.
If you're the type curious to know how the author envisions the characters -- here is Terry and here is Kaylen. Kay's hair is lighter than that though.
<< Previous Chapters
Chapter ❷
✪ dazed and confused
“Douche muffins!” The front door opened and then slammed shut with enough force to make the air vibrate. A low, feminine voice swore again, alerting Kay to the fact that the time had come to rejoin the world of the living.
He combed his hair with a flick of his wrist and stepped out of the bedroom in time to see a tall, skinny woman coming towards him wearing a fierce scowl.
“That’s not a pretty image.”
“Neither was what I saw on TV this morning. Well, okay, it was kind of funny, and Jessie has a Winnie the Pooh tattoo on his ass, which is hilarious. You didn’t tell me about that!” Despite the summer scorch that heated the pavement outside, Magda was unwrapping a red cashmere scarf from her neck. Her sleek black hair was cropped close to her head that month, styled like a mushroom cap. In addition her eyes were outlined with smoky, heavy makeup, vaguely Egyptian.
Put bluntly, more than one person took a look at Magda and took an automatic step back.
Which Magda liked.
Kay toyed with the idea of retreating back into the bedroom and then stood his ground, smiling fondly.
She bared her teeth at him, not quite a replying smile. “So, tell me, little boy, why you didn’t--oh, hell, you look like shit. Have you been crying?”
Kaylen almost reached to check his eyes for inflammation, having thought he looked okay. Maybe not Mr. TV‘s Sexiest Bachelor okay, but not living death either. “No.”
“You were, weren’t you? What the hell did that asshole do to you? Am I going to have to string someone by their heels?”
“Not a single tear squeezed out, I swear. The jetlag isn‘t quite done with me yet.” He explained patiently and walked past her into the kitchen. A trip to the supermarket after work was sorely needed, his fridge was as barren as the Sahara. “Do you have time to go to Trader Joes with me later? Seems my couch wasn’t the only thing defiled in my absence.” He didn’t need to go shopping himself, not since he had Magda to do it, but he wouldn’t miss one of their shopping forays for all the Emmys in the world. “You want coffee?”
“Supermarket run, right. Yes. Coffee; also a yes. What happened?” His best friend and PA was like a bulldog with a bone. She dogged him closely, leather boots squeaking on the floor. “Come on, KayKay, I can’t fix this if you don’t tell me.”
Kay closed his eyes and then reached up into a cupboard to take out two painkillers from a bottle. His temples were throbbing from a night spent half-asleep, plagued by stray thoughts from needing to call his grandmother to let her know he was back on US soil, to Jessie’s betrayal and his need to get tested for possible STD, to remembering he needed to shop for birthday gifts and even alighting temptingly on the cop he’d met.
Trying to stave off a full migraine, he swallowed them dry, busying his mouth so that he wouldn’t verbally vomit every single little thought caught in his head like flies on a web. It wasn’t Magda’s job to fix anything, Kay was a big boy. On the other hand, telling her that would not only be futile, but she’d puff out her chest and dive into a convoluted explanation as to why it was indeed her job to fix everything, not as his PA, but as his best friend.
And she’d get him there, hook, line and sinker. Kay would be using the same line of reasoning if their positions were reversed.
Therefore, Kay made two cups of black instant coffee and took a seat, ready to spill the pertinent details.
“Sum of events; came home, found Jessie and Nameless Guy getting down and dirty in ways that imply the Kama Sutra was referenced at one point. Very politely, I showed them the way out.” He gestured towards the couch with a flick of his fingers to indicate where he‘d found them. Magda’s jaw dropped.
“In here.” She paraphrased carefully.
Kay nodded and sipped from the blue mug cradled between his palms, needing the caffeine as much as he needed oxygen. It was going to get him through the day without falling asleep.
“In. Your. Apartment. Why? He doesn’t even live here.”
“A fact I grow increasingly thankful for.” Kay tucked back a light brown strand of hair over his ear, having mused over that. Why his place? Jessie had a house up in the hills. He’d known Kay would be coming back from France that day. The whole thing left an acidic, ashy taste in his mouth that the sweet coffee couldn’t eradicate. Why his place, and had Jessie done it before? He’d had a key to Kay’s home for over six months. Was he being naïve in hoping it had only been a one-time thing?
Fighting the urge to be ill, Kay set the mug down and rubbed at his mouth. “At the intolerable risk of sounding pitiful, I‘m thinking a new home is in order.”
Magda nodded. The kitchen light glinted on the row of piercings lining both of her ears. “Want me to start looking? You want a house? You want a beach property? Tell me what you want, and I’ll get it for you.” She drummed her fingers with a steady beat against the tabletop, violence thrumming through the motion. The room was filled with her long, harassed exhale. “You should have called me.”
“For what?” Kay gentled his voice. “It happened faster than you could have even gotten here, M.”
“Well, for one, this is going to be a PR nightmare for the rest of the week. ‘Gay actor kicks out two naked guys from his apartment. Is Kaylen Dellington having homosexual threesomes? Did things go sour? More after the break!’”
Kay managed a brief smile at the imaginary headline. Or at least, he hoped it was imaginary. Magda continued. “Not that I don’t think he deserved it. Kudos to you for not cracking his ribs with your ninja skills. So… it’ll blow over quick. I promise. I’ll blackmail someone if I have to. Uhm. I’m real sorry, Kay.”
“Thank you.” He reached across the table and placed his hand over her restless fingers, squeezing gently to still them. She was tying herself into knots for him, more emotional and sensitive despite her exotic exterior than anyone he knew. “I have every intention to get over Jessie in record time.”
“Well, he was a whoring idiot. You deserve someone better.” Magda announced, squeezing his hand back, careful with her long, black nails. Unbidden, Terry’s face flashed across Kay’s mind. He blinked, a little surprised that the cop seemed better looking in memory. Or maybe he just hadn’t been paying enough attention the night before.
“You think so? That‘s good.” He winked. “I‘ve started lining up prospects already.”
Magda’s eyebrows fused and hitched to her hairline. “Come again? When? Who? Do I know them? Please don‘t tell me you‘re bringing a Frenchie home. Those bastards are pretentious.”
Kay gave her a diaphanous, slow smile and stood up, putting the mugs in the sink. “What, you expect me to give you a name without a bribe? No way, Mags. Bring me some strawberry shortcake and we‘ll talk.”
“That is so not fair, KayKay!”
Magda was still intent on squeezing something less enigmatic out of Kay when they made their way down to the underground garage. By mutual agreement Kay handed the keys to the Lamborghini Murcielago to her, wanting to avoid any issues like ‘accidentally’ running over a paparazzo’s toes.
Not that he would, even if tempted, but those assholes would do anything for a story, including shoving their feet under the wheels of his car.
They cautiously drove out the back gate. Discretion over valor won out; no nosy reporters were there to hound them. Out of wariness Kay monitored the traffic behind them, trying to see if anyone was following them. A Lamborghini wasn’t exactly inconspicuous even in LA, but he just couldn’t give his baby up for anything short of a life or death situation.
Satisfied that they wouldn’t run into trouble until they entered the studio, he relaxed.
Magda pounced. “Is it a guy? It’s a guy, right? I imagine it’s hard to give up the cock--”
She stopped cold as Kay dropped his head back against the seat, pushed his sunglasses into place and pretended to go to sleep.
“I am so not buying that. Coward.”
The morning scenes went off without a hitch. It took a lot to drag a production to a standstill and even a couple reporters trying to break in was standard faire. Kay evaded the few questions he got from cast mates with a smile and a joke. He wasn’t about to give them the sob story of being cheated on.
Just. No.
During the lunch break he reached into his pocket and pulled out a wallet. Stuck to the leather was a sticky note with an address. Casually he summoned a production assistant over and instructed her to mail the wallet. Jessie could have it back. It wasn’t a magnanimous decision on Kay’s behalf, he just grated at the idea of being accused of theft. Removed from an inner pocket had been Kay’s house key and the security card for the building.
The only reason it hadn’t gotten tossed over the balcony was that he hadn’t found it until picking the sofa cushions from the floor that morning. Now… he simply wanted to wash his hands of it.
“You want to go out for lunch?” The voice punctured the air to his left, lazy Southern warmth infusing it. “Or ya gonna keep on hidin’ from the buzzards?”
Kay turned, amused. “Fie upon you for daring to imply I am doing anything so trite. I’m game for lunch -- if you’re prepared to be gossiped about. I’m a man on the rebound, after all.”
Light, jade-green eyes almost twinkled with amusement. It didn’t seem physically possible but Jake could manage it. He tipped the brim of his worn cowboy hat. It appeared ready for retirement, worn soft with use. Kay had never known the man to go out without it. “I don’t mind if you don’t.” He drawled, unconcerned.
Kay uncharacteristically hesitated, unsure. Usually, being publicly bisexual wasn’t a big a deal. Under the circumstances… “Seriously. That might not be a good idea.”
“Your yellow is showing. But hey, if it’ll stop you from worryin’-- hey, Richie! Ya wanna go out for lunch with Kay? I reckon they’ll think we’re both banging him.” Jake raised his voice, uncaring of how it echoed across the studio. Kay’s lips twitched in a suppressed smirk. He could do a lot worse than Richard and blond, lean, cowboy Jake. Definitely.
Not that he had a snowball’s chance in hell with either.
He had a chance with someone else though. Kay’s thoughts took a meandering turn. A cop was probably good with handcuffs, right?
Richard approached, tall, pale, looking more like a Byronic poet or a romantic vampire than anything. Black curly hair fell over his brow, so artlessly attractive that it had to be styled. He regarded both with bemusement as if they were unruly children. “I was going to lunch with my wife. Why don’t you both join us?”
“Oooh, a foursome. Count me in.” Jake reached out and delivered a hearty slap between Kay’s shoulder blades. “Buck up. Let’s make some news!”
“Sure. Let’s feed the sharks.” Kay‘s gaze flickered from one man to the other for a moment. Both totally disinterested in him. Not that he was ready to hop into bed with just anyone. But a distraction? That he could definitely use. “Think you can spare me five minutes to make a call?”
“Annie is bringing the van. Back entrance?” Richard explained, and waited until Kay shook his head.
“No, what’s the point? I’ll meet you at the front.” He gave his friends a little wave with the tips of his fingers and moved towards a relatively less populated area. He pulled the slim cellphone out of his back pocket. It wasn’t anything spectacularly fancy. It was just a phone, and that was all Kay required it to be. From the other pocket he pulled out the piece of paper with Terry’s scrawled phone number.
He was almost an entire 100% sure that Officer Wells was attracted to him. Fair enough, from what he could remember, Terry was pretty hot himself. It was rather shallow to ask someone out just because they were physically pleasing -- wasn’t that really what had gotten him tangled up with Jessie in the first place? But Terry had seemed like a decent guy.
So. Terry was almost certainly batting for the right team. Terry had practically stuffed his phone number into Kay’s hand. Terry had eyes the color of whiskey, pale brown with flecks of gold, and, if Kay recalled correctly, a smile delicious enough to eat.
What was he doing, hesitating? He could ask the guy out. If he got rejected -- it wouldn’t be the first, or last time. His ego wouldn’t crumble.
Kay dialed the number and brought the phone to his ear, listening to it ring. Once. Twice.
Terry’s voice flooded the line, out of breath. “Hello?”
“Mr. Wells? It’s Kay Dellington.”
“Yeah, I know. Caller ID.” That smile was in the officer’s voice, softening his words. There was a pause, then cautiously, “Is your ex giving you grief?”
“Not that I know of. I imagine he’s at home licking his wounded pride.” Or someone else’s cock. Kay eyed the ticking hands on his wristwatch, determined not to let the thought sour him. “I’m about to go to lunch -- so I’ll be blunt. If I ask you out on a date, will you slam the phone on me?”
He waited, almost holding his breath. Kay was willing to bet his next paycheck that he hadn’t misread the signs. Still…
“Terry?” He prodded gently, hearing the other breathe, inhale in, exhale out, over and over, letting the silence drag on uncomfortably.
“I… Christ, yes. I mean, no, I won’t slam the phone on you.”
How adorable. The man was practically stuttering. Kay was grinning without realizing it. “Would you like to go out with me this weekend? I’m free Friday night and all of Sunday. We could do the classic dinner and a movie, or… something else.”
“Like?” Terry asked softly.
Kay laughed. “Nothing that involves a bed, at least not on the first date. I’m open to anything. We could go to a museum, or a park, or a game. I’m easy to please.”
“Yeah? Okay. So am I.”
“Then we’ll get along great. Can I call you later? Or you can call me, if you get an idea. I hate to woo and dash but I suspect my friends will abandon me if I keep them waiting.”
“Gotcha. We’ll talk, then.”
Kay chuckled. “Goodbye, Officer Wells.”
“Goodbye, Mr. TV’s Sexiest Bachelor.”
Kay wore a grin all the way out the front doors where a green Escalade waited. The sliding door popped open and he climbed in, settling next to Jake, who took one glance at his expression and burst out laughing.
“That good a call, huh?”
Kay slid the door shut. The car‘s A/C system pumped cool air into his face, making his arms break out in goose bumps. “Oh, yeah.”
“What? What?” Annie, skin as black as biker leather, petite, and three months pregnant, turned her head to look at them from the driver‘s seat. “What happened? Did someone have phone sex?”
Kay paused. That had possibilities. He cleared his thoughts, guiding his mind away from the dumpster. “No, my dear, nothing as engaging as that.”
Jake gave him a sideways look, which then dropped to his lap. “Seems to be telling the truth. But that was still one shit-eatin’ grin you were wearing.”
“Drive, honey.” Richard advised his wife, ignoring the show in the backseat. Kay winked at Jake and pulled his seatbelt on, in a better mood than he could recall being in a long time.
Even the brief uncomfortable moment of paparazzi ambushing them on the way into the restaurant wasn’t enough to derail it. They had a quick, pleasant lunch, defiantly sitting close to the window. Annie in particular enjoyed the experience, blowing kisses outside, claiming a pregnant woman had to get her kicks somewhere.
Then they were back to filming for the rest of the afternoon. Kay stopped by his dressing room for a change of clothes and found a bouquet of yellow roses on the vanity. He read the card with exasperation.
I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you.
“Little late for the change of heart, Jason.” He crumpled the card and tossed a two-pointer to the waste basket.
Someone knocked on the door. Jake. “Hurry up, they want Mr. Hottie Lead Angel on the set.”
“Be right out.” Kay wiped his palm against his jeans as if he’d touched something vile, and changed outfits.
Smooth, Wells. Like a train crash. Of all the ways he’d envisioned that phone call to go, stuttering like a middle school student hadn’t been the top scenario. Apparently Kay was kryptonite to his impeccable charm. He’d have to develop an immunity. Couldn’t have the man rethinking their date, could he?
Sweat dripped down the side of his face, pooling uncomfortably, making him reach for the towel around his neck to wipe it off, also taking the opportunity to remove the earbuds, iPod on the last dredges of battery. The Stairmaster wasn’t his usual machine but he was pumped with sufficient nervous energy to run ten city blocks. Twice.
He read his wristwatch, unsurprised that he’d been in the gym over an hour since Kay’s call. Kaylen. He liked that name. Fit the guy. Pretty but not too pretty. A little enigmatic.
Hell, if he didn’t watch it he’d start sprouting poetry. A rose by any other name.
Wondering if he might have missed a call, he also checked his phone. Nothing. Not even a text. OK. It’d only been an hour, he had no idea what kind of schedule TV actors worked on. Later probably meant much later. Terry collected his water bottle and went into the locker room, changing into street clothes for the ride home. He’d worked the night and morning shift; by all rights he should be exhausted and ready to pass out, not behaving like an edgy crackhead.
He left the police department and went home to his one-bedroom condo, placed at the end of a dead-end street where suburbia ruled with an iron fist. He drove cautiously, since the kids in the neighborhood weren’t shy about shooting suddenly across the road, since they lacked the normal street traffic. Sometimes he sat them down for a discussion about that. And sometimes, even if he was cop, he just couldn’t summon the energy to give a damn.
On an early Monday afternoon, however, the street was quiet. Terry parked his two-door Sedan, got out, and crawled into his dark, cool house without bothering to do anything but lock the door, engage the security system and turn on the central air conditioner. Then with great deliberation he turned off the cellphone and plugged it in to recharge. If Kay called, Terry assumed the man knew how to leave a message.
Then he had a late lunch, browsed online for ideas as to what sort of date they could go on, took a shower, and then went to sleep after setting the alarm, only to dream of a phone ringing over and over again.
Two hours later the shrill electrical beeping of the alarm woke him up. Terry yawned and groaned, stretching until it seemed every joint in his body had been given a chance to pop. He lingered in a hazy half-asleep state until he turned his head to look at the neon green numbers. 5:00. Time to get up, or he’d be awake all night.
He rolled out of bed and then with great, deliberate dignity, walked into the kitchen to check to see if he had any messages.
He’d received a call from his mother, one from his brother -- and a text message from a K. Dellington.
Do you know how to surf?
Terry was answering before his eyes even adjusted to the lighting of the kitchen. No. You gonna teach me?
He added a little smiley face. Because he was in a dorky mood like that. Then he reluctantly set the phone down and took a Corona out of the fridge, trying not to stare the cellphone, pointedly not willing it to beep in indication of a reply.
When it did beep, he made it a point to wait a full minute, nursing the cold beer, before reading the text.
Saturday/5:00 AM, my house? I‘ll make it worth your time.
Oh, hell. Terry didn’t even mind the awful, awful thought of getting up before the crack of dawn.
I’ll be there with bells and whistles on.
Kay replied shortly.
=)
Terry grinned like a dork.
Author: frostberryjam
Rated: PG (NC-17 overall)
Fandom: Original.
Warnings: May or may not make you laugh inappropriately. Lot of gay. It's original. It's a multi-chapter. There will probably be smut, and swearing, and God knows what else.
Summary: Officer Terry Wells has seen it a dozen times. A cheater gets caught in flagrante delicto and clothing is defenestrated. Yet this case is different. Mr. TV's Sexiest Bachelor is the one being cheated on, and Kaylen Dellington has a deliciously wicked sense of humor when it comes to delivering justice to his ex. Unfortunately for Terry, it doesn't seem to involve a rebound lay.
Author Notes: Chapter 2! My thanks to kitrinathegreat for being my beta once again.
If you're the type curious to know how the author envisions the characters -- here is Terry and here is Kaylen. Kay's hair is lighter than that though.
<< Previous Chapters
Chapter ❷
✪ dazed and confused
“Douche muffins!” The front door opened and then slammed shut with enough force to make the air vibrate. A low, feminine voice swore again, alerting Kay to the fact that the time had come to rejoin the world of the living.
He combed his hair with a flick of his wrist and stepped out of the bedroom in time to see a tall, skinny woman coming towards him wearing a fierce scowl.
“That’s not a pretty image.”
“Neither was what I saw on TV this morning. Well, okay, it was kind of funny, and Jessie has a Winnie the Pooh tattoo on his ass, which is hilarious. You didn’t tell me about that!” Despite the summer scorch that heated the pavement outside, Magda was unwrapping a red cashmere scarf from her neck. Her sleek black hair was cropped close to her head that month, styled like a mushroom cap. In addition her eyes were outlined with smoky, heavy makeup, vaguely Egyptian.
Put bluntly, more than one person took a look at Magda and took an automatic step back.
Which Magda liked.
Kay toyed with the idea of retreating back into the bedroom and then stood his ground, smiling fondly.
She bared her teeth at him, not quite a replying smile. “So, tell me, little boy, why you didn’t--oh, hell, you look like shit. Have you been crying?”
Kaylen almost reached to check his eyes for inflammation, having thought he looked okay. Maybe not Mr. TV‘s Sexiest Bachelor okay, but not living death either. “No.”
“You were, weren’t you? What the hell did that asshole do to you? Am I going to have to string someone by their heels?”
“Not a single tear squeezed out, I swear. The jetlag isn‘t quite done with me yet.” He explained patiently and walked past her into the kitchen. A trip to the supermarket after work was sorely needed, his fridge was as barren as the Sahara. “Do you have time to go to Trader Joes with me later? Seems my couch wasn’t the only thing defiled in my absence.” He didn’t need to go shopping himself, not since he had Magda to do it, but he wouldn’t miss one of their shopping forays for all the Emmys in the world. “You want coffee?”
“Supermarket run, right. Yes. Coffee; also a yes. What happened?” His best friend and PA was like a bulldog with a bone. She dogged him closely, leather boots squeaking on the floor. “Come on, KayKay, I can’t fix this if you don’t tell me.”
Kay closed his eyes and then reached up into a cupboard to take out two painkillers from a bottle. His temples were throbbing from a night spent half-asleep, plagued by stray thoughts from needing to call his grandmother to let her know he was back on US soil, to Jessie’s betrayal and his need to get tested for possible STD, to remembering he needed to shop for birthday gifts and even alighting temptingly on the cop he’d met.
Trying to stave off a full migraine, he swallowed them dry, busying his mouth so that he wouldn’t verbally vomit every single little thought caught in his head like flies on a web. It wasn’t Magda’s job to fix anything, Kay was a big boy. On the other hand, telling her that would not only be futile, but she’d puff out her chest and dive into a convoluted explanation as to why it was indeed her job to fix everything, not as his PA, but as his best friend.
And she’d get him there, hook, line and sinker. Kay would be using the same line of reasoning if their positions were reversed.
Therefore, Kay made two cups of black instant coffee and took a seat, ready to spill the pertinent details.
“Sum of events; came home, found Jessie and Nameless Guy getting down and dirty in ways that imply the Kama Sutra was referenced at one point. Very politely, I showed them the way out.” He gestured towards the couch with a flick of his fingers to indicate where he‘d found them. Magda’s jaw dropped.
“In here.” She paraphrased carefully.
Kay nodded and sipped from the blue mug cradled between his palms, needing the caffeine as much as he needed oxygen. It was going to get him through the day without falling asleep.
“In. Your. Apartment. Why? He doesn’t even live here.”
“A fact I grow increasingly thankful for.” Kay tucked back a light brown strand of hair over his ear, having mused over that. Why his place? Jessie had a house up in the hills. He’d known Kay would be coming back from France that day. The whole thing left an acidic, ashy taste in his mouth that the sweet coffee couldn’t eradicate. Why his place, and had Jessie done it before? He’d had a key to Kay’s home for over six months. Was he being naïve in hoping it had only been a one-time thing?
Fighting the urge to be ill, Kay set the mug down and rubbed at his mouth. “At the intolerable risk of sounding pitiful, I‘m thinking a new home is in order.”
Magda nodded. The kitchen light glinted on the row of piercings lining both of her ears. “Want me to start looking? You want a house? You want a beach property? Tell me what you want, and I’ll get it for you.” She drummed her fingers with a steady beat against the tabletop, violence thrumming through the motion. The room was filled with her long, harassed exhale. “You should have called me.”
“For what?” Kay gentled his voice. “It happened faster than you could have even gotten here, M.”
“Well, for one, this is going to be a PR nightmare for the rest of the week. ‘Gay actor kicks out two naked guys from his apartment. Is Kaylen Dellington having homosexual threesomes? Did things go sour? More after the break!’”
Kay managed a brief smile at the imaginary headline. Or at least, he hoped it was imaginary. Magda continued. “Not that I don’t think he deserved it. Kudos to you for not cracking his ribs with your ninja skills. So… it’ll blow over quick. I promise. I’ll blackmail someone if I have to. Uhm. I’m real sorry, Kay.”
“Thank you.” He reached across the table and placed his hand over her restless fingers, squeezing gently to still them. She was tying herself into knots for him, more emotional and sensitive despite her exotic exterior than anyone he knew. “I have every intention to get over Jessie in record time.”
“Well, he was a whoring idiot. You deserve someone better.” Magda announced, squeezing his hand back, careful with her long, black nails. Unbidden, Terry’s face flashed across Kay’s mind. He blinked, a little surprised that the cop seemed better looking in memory. Or maybe he just hadn’t been paying enough attention the night before.
“You think so? That‘s good.” He winked. “I‘ve started lining up prospects already.”
Magda’s eyebrows fused and hitched to her hairline. “Come again? When? Who? Do I know them? Please don‘t tell me you‘re bringing a Frenchie home. Those bastards are pretentious.”
Kay gave her a diaphanous, slow smile and stood up, putting the mugs in the sink. “What, you expect me to give you a name without a bribe? No way, Mags. Bring me some strawberry shortcake and we‘ll talk.”
“That is so not fair, KayKay!”
Magda was still intent on squeezing something less enigmatic out of Kay when they made their way down to the underground garage. By mutual agreement Kay handed the keys to the Lamborghini Murcielago to her, wanting to avoid any issues like ‘accidentally’ running over a paparazzo’s toes.
Not that he would, even if tempted, but those assholes would do anything for a story, including shoving their feet under the wheels of his car.
They cautiously drove out the back gate. Discretion over valor won out; no nosy reporters were there to hound them. Out of wariness Kay monitored the traffic behind them, trying to see if anyone was following them. A Lamborghini wasn’t exactly inconspicuous even in LA, but he just couldn’t give his baby up for anything short of a life or death situation.
Satisfied that they wouldn’t run into trouble until they entered the studio, he relaxed.
Magda pounced. “Is it a guy? It’s a guy, right? I imagine it’s hard to give up the cock--”
She stopped cold as Kay dropped his head back against the seat, pushed his sunglasses into place and pretended to go to sleep.
“I am so not buying that. Coward.”
The morning scenes went off without a hitch. It took a lot to drag a production to a standstill and even a couple reporters trying to break in was standard faire. Kay evaded the few questions he got from cast mates with a smile and a joke. He wasn’t about to give them the sob story of being cheated on.
Just. No.
During the lunch break he reached into his pocket and pulled out a wallet. Stuck to the leather was a sticky note with an address. Casually he summoned a production assistant over and instructed her to mail the wallet. Jessie could have it back. It wasn’t a magnanimous decision on Kay’s behalf, he just grated at the idea of being accused of theft. Removed from an inner pocket had been Kay’s house key and the security card for the building.
The only reason it hadn’t gotten tossed over the balcony was that he hadn’t found it until picking the sofa cushions from the floor that morning. Now… he simply wanted to wash his hands of it.
“You want to go out for lunch?” The voice punctured the air to his left, lazy Southern warmth infusing it. “Or ya gonna keep on hidin’ from the buzzards?”
Kay turned, amused. “Fie upon you for daring to imply I am doing anything so trite. I’m game for lunch -- if you’re prepared to be gossiped about. I’m a man on the rebound, after all.”
Light, jade-green eyes almost twinkled with amusement. It didn’t seem physically possible but Jake could manage it. He tipped the brim of his worn cowboy hat. It appeared ready for retirement, worn soft with use. Kay had never known the man to go out without it. “I don’t mind if you don’t.” He drawled, unconcerned.
Kay uncharacteristically hesitated, unsure. Usually, being publicly bisexual wasn’t a big a deal. Under the circumstances… “Seriously. That might not be a good idea.”
“Your yellow is showing. But hey, if it’ll stop you from worryin’-- hey, Richie! Ya wanna go out for lunch with Kay? I reckon they’ll think we’re both banging him.” Jake raised his voice, uncaring of how it echoed across the studio. Kay’s lips twitched in a suppressed smirk. He could do a lot worse than Richard and blond, lean, cowboy Jake. Definitely.
Not that he had a snowball’s chance in hell with either.
He had a chance with someone else though. Kay’s thoughts took a meandering turn. A cop was probably good with handcuffs, right?
Richard approached, tall, pale, looking more like a Byronic poet or a romantic vampire than anything. Black curly hair fell over his brow, so artlessly attractive that it had to be styled. He regarded both with bemusement as if they were unruly children. “I was going to lunch with my wife. Why don’t you both join us?”
“Oooh, a foursome. Count me in.” Jake reached out and delivered a hearty slap between Kay’s shoulder blades. “Buck up. Let’s make some news!”
“Sure. Let’s feed the sharks.” Kay‘s gaze flickered from one man to the other for a moment. Both totally disinterested in him. Not that he was ready to hop into bed with just anyone. But a distraction? That he could definitely use. “Think you can spare me five minutes to make a call?”
“Annie is bringing the van. Back entrance?” Richard explained, and waited until Kay shook his head.
“No, what’s the point? I’ll meet you at the front.” He gave his friends a little wave with the tips of his fingers and moved towards a relatively less populated area. He pulled the slim cellphone out of his back pocket. It wasn’t anything spectacularly fancy. It was just a phone, and that was all Kay required it to be. From the other pocket he pulled out the piece of paper with Terry’s scrawled phone number.
He was almost an entire 100% sure that Officer Wells was attracted to him. Fair enough, from what he could remember, Terry was pretty hot himself. It was rather shallow to ask someone out just because they were physically pleasing -- wasn’t that really what had gotten him tangled up with Jessie in the first place? But Terry had seemed like a decent guy.
So. Terry was almost certainly batting for the right team. Terry had practically stuffed his phone number into Kay’s hand. Terry had eyes the color of whiskey, pale brown with flecks of gold, and, if Kay recalled correctly, a smile delicious enough to eat.
What was he doing, hesitating? He could ask the guy out. If he got rejected -- it wouldn’t be the first, or last time. His ego wouldn’t crumble.
Kay dialed the number and brought the phone to his ear, listening to it ring. Once. Twice.
Terry’s voice flooded the line, out of breath. “Hello?”
“Mr. Wells? It’s Kay Dellington.”
“Yeah, I know. Caller ID.” That smile was in the officer’s voice, softening his words. There was a pause, then cautiously, “Is your ex giving you grief?”
“Not that I know of. I imagine he’s at home licking his wounded pride.” Or someone else’s cock. Kay eyed the ticking hands on his wristwatch, determined not to let the thought sour him. “I’m about to go to lunch -- so I’ll be blunt. If I ask you out on a date, will you slam the phone on me?”
He waited, almost holding his breath. Kay was willing to bet his next paycheck that he hadn’t misread the signs. Still…
“Terry?” He prodded gently, hearing the other breathe, inhale in, exhale out, over and over, letting the silence drag on uncomfortably.
“I… Christ, yes. I mean, no, I won’t slam the phone on you.”
How adorable. The man was practically stuttering. Kay was grinning without realizing it. “Would you like to go out with me this weekend? I’m free Friday night and all of Sunday. We could do the classic dinner and a movie, or… something else.”
“Like?” Terry asked softly.
Kay laughed. “Nothing that involves a bed, at least not on the first date. I’m open to anything. We could go to a museum, or a park, or a game. I’m easy to please.”
“Yeah? Okay. So am I.”
“Then we’ll get along great. Can I call you later? Or you can call me, if you get an idea. I hate to woo and dash but I suspect my friends will abandon me if I keep them waiting.”
“Gotcha. We’ll talk, then.”
Kay chuckled. “Goodbye, Officer Wells.”
“Goodbye, Mr. TV’s Sexiest Bachelor.”
Kay wore a grin all the way out the front doors where a green Escalade waited. The sliding door popped open and he climbed in, settling next to Jake, who took one glance at his expression and burst out laughing.
“That good a call, huh?”
Kay slid the door shut. The car‘s A/C system pumped cool air into his face, making his arms break out in goose bumps. “Oh, yeah.”
“What? What?” Annie, skin as black as biker leather, petite, and three months pregnant, turned her head to look at them from the driver‘s seat. “What happened? Did someone have phone sex?”
Kay paused. That had possibilities. He cleared his thoughts, guiding his mind away from the dumpster. “No, my dear, nothing as engaging as that.”
Jake gave him a sideways look, which then dropped to his lap. “Seems to be telling the truth. But that was still one shit-eatin’ grin you were wearing.”
“Drive, honey.” Richard advised his wife, ignoring the show in the backseat. Kay winked at Jake and pulled his seatbelt on, in a better mood than he could recall being in a long time.
Even the brief uncomfortable moment of paparazzi ambushing them on the way into the restaurant wasn’t enough to derail it. They had a quick, pleasant lunch, defiantly sitting close to the window. Annie in particular enjoyed the experience, blowing kisses outside, claiming a pregnant woman had to get her kicks somewhere.
Then they were back to filming for the rest of the afternoon. Kay stopped by his dressing room for a change of clothes and found a bouquet of yellow roses on the vanity. He read the card with exasperation.
I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you.
“Little late for the change of heart, Jason.” He crumpled the card and tossed a two-pointer to the waste basket.
Someone knocked on the door. Jake. “Hurry up, they want Mr. Hottie Lead Angel on the set.”
“Be right out.” Kay wiped his palm against his jeans as if he’d touched something vile, and changed outfits.
Smooth, Wells. Like a train crash. Of all the ways he’d envisioned that phone call to go, stuttering like a middle school student hadn’t been the top scenario. Apparently Kay was kryptonite to his impeccable charm. He’d have to develop an immunity. Couldn’t have the man rethinking their date, could he?
Sweat dripped down the side of his face, pooling uncomfortably, making him reach for the towel around his neck to wipe it off, also taking the opportunity to remove the earbuds, iPod on the last dredges of battery. The Stairmaster wasn’t his usual machine but he was pumped with sufficient nervous energy to run ten city blocks. Twice.
He read his wristwatch, unsurprised that he’d been in the gym over an hour since Kay’s call. Kaylen. He liked that name. Fit the guy. Pretty but not too pretty. A little enigmatic.
Hell, if he didn’t watch it he’d start sprouting poetry. A rose by any other name.
Wondering if he might have missed a call, he also checked his phone. Nothing. Not even a text. OK. It’d only been an hour, he had no idea what kind of schedule TV actors worked on. Later probably meant much later. Terry collected his water bottle and went into the locker room, changing into street clothes for the ride home. He’d worked the night and morning shift; by all rights he should be exhausted and ready to pass out, not behaving like an edgy crackhead.
He left the police department and went home to his one-bedroom condo, placed at the end of a dead-end street where suburbia ruled with an iron fist. He drove cautiously, since the kids in the neighborhood weren’t shy about shooting suddenly across the road, since they lacked the normal street traffic. Sometimes he sat them down for a discussion about that. And sometimes, even if he was cop, he just couldn’t summon the energy to give a damn.
On an early Monday afternoon, however, the street was quiet. Terry parked his two-door Sedan, got out, and crawled into his dark, cool house without bothering to do anything but lock the door, engage the security system and turn on the central air conditioner. Then with great deliberation he turned off the cellphone and plugged it in to recharge. If Kay called, Terry assumed the man knew how to leave a message.
Then he had a late lunch, browsed online for ideas as to what sort of date they could go on, took a shower, and then went to sleep after setting the alarm, only to dream of a phone ringing over and over again.
Two hours later the shrill electrical beeping of the alarm woke him up. Terry yawned and groaned, stretching until it seemed every joint in his body had been given a chance to pop. He lingered in a hazy half-asleep state until he turned his head to look at the neon green numbers. 5:00. Time to get up, or he’d be awake all night.
He rolled out of bed and then with great, deliberate dignity, walked into the kitchen to check to see if he had any messages.
He’d received a call from his mother, one from his brother -- and a text message from a K. Dellington.
Do you know how to surf?
Terry was answering before his eyes even adjusted to the lighting of the kitchen. No. You gonna teach me?
He added a little smiley face. Because he was in a dorky mood like that. Then he reluctantly set the phone down and took a Corona out of the fridge, trying not to stare the cellphone, pointedly not willing it to beep in indication of a reply.
When it did beep, he made it a point to wait a full minute, nursing the cold beer, before reading the text.
Saturday/5:00 AM, my house? I‘ll make it worth your time.
Oh, hell. Terry didn’t even mind the awful, awful thought of getting up before the crack of dawn.
I’ll be there with bells and whistles on.
Kay replied shortly.
=)
Terry grinned like a dork.