Cruising/Chapter 5
Title: Cruising/ chapter five
Author: Rebop 13
Artist: pirl
Rating: Much NC-17ness. Yea!
Disclaimer: They aren't mine, but I own the lube.
Characters/Pairings: Luke, Noah, Ameera, Lucinda, many, many OC's
Word Count: Lots. Sorry, but my %&$#@ Mac writing program has no word count.
Warnings: Some angst. I mean, this is me.
Spoilers: None. We are way into AU land.
Summary: AU. Luke and Noah are emotionally blackmailed into going on a gay cruise. Romcom antics, misunderstandings, hot sex, schmoop, snappy dialogue and angst ensue. Also lots of lovely international scenery and fine cuisine.
Author’s Notes: OMG. Thank you Moey Mo for be so tolerant of my incredibly tardy ass. This thing came down to the wire, and for awhile, I didn't think I was going to make it. I am so grateful you didn't spank me and send me to my corner. Also pirl, for being both incredibly gracious, patient and talented-you rock so hard, you would scare Mick Jagger. I love Luke's cowboy stance and Noah's nose. And sorry to all my wonderful Nukies, who I've missed terribly. As usual, long story, but like a bad penny, I will continue to turn up. Hugs and smishings to all.
Noah woke up, feeling a heavy weight on his chest. It turned out to be his book, which he had fallen asleep reading. He yawned, rubbed his eyes and grinned a little, and glanced at the bedside clock. It was a bit after ten am, which meant that he'd gotten a mere five hours of sleep, since he'd stayed up reading until the wee hours of the morning.
Noah didn't mind in the least. In the first few pages, The Ghost Hunter Dairies had him hooked, he couldn't put it down. At first glance, it was just about a bunch of sad misfits who band together-rather ineptly-to explore the paranormal, and are ridiculed by the small town they live in.
But while parts of the story were truly funny, the author also injected a sense of sadness and sweetness to the plot. The characters were real, three dimensional people, and the whole ghost hunting venture was also an effort to reconcile with events in their lives. Marsha was dealing with breast cancer while Tim was still trying to cope with the tragic accidental death of his brother when he was fifteen. Howard had never come to terms with his mother's long illness and death, and Susie had a number of miscarriages. They formed a small, tightly knit family in spite of the weirdness, and Noah thought the unexpected romance between Tim and Howard-both deeply in the closet-was lovely and heart breaking.
Noah couldn't help himself, he kept thinking that the book would translate so well to the screen. Halfway through, he pulled out his laptop and tried to find out anything he could about Edward Grimaldi, the writer. There was precious little to be discovered on Google, save that he lived somewhere in the Midwest and that he'd written two other books. Basketball Season was a story of a high school athlete who is secretly gay, and Anonymous, which was about two people who fall in love while attending AA meetings. Noah immediately ordered both of them from Amazon.
All Grimaldi's books got sterling reviews, and Noah was slightly shocked that he wasn't better known, although the gay themes running through his novels may have explained it. But that was just a small part of the Ghost Hunter Diaries, Grimaldi wisely didn't hit anyone over the head with it. The book was about love and loss, grief and happiness, life and death, and Grimaldi handled all of it with amazing skill.
Noah got up to shower, thinking about certain plot twists and incidents-they all played out perfectly in his head. By the time he'd gotten shaved and dressed, he decided to do something that would no doubt get him in big trouble with his aunt-he was going to write a screenplay based on the book. It was a Don Quixote tilting at windmills kind of project, as Grimaldi might already have a studio deal.
But Noah couldn't help himself. He hadn't been this excited about anything since he was a student, which pointed something out about his current career. He was bored. Shooting commercials could be sometimes challenging and fun, but when he was nineteen, all he wanted to do was tell stories-not sell dishwashing liquid. When he and Danny and Ameera had first formed Terrible Trio, they did ads as a side project, which turned out to slowly consume them. It was a gilded cage, as the money was so good, it soon became impossible to turn down.
Noah suddenly had this fantasy about contacting Grimaldi's agent, and perhaps persuading the writer himself to allow him to develop Ghost Hunter Diaries into a film. it was a long shot, but he was willing to try. He imagined himself in a meeting with Grimaldi, dazzling him. The Grimaldi in his head had to be entirely imaginary, since the writer was shy about having a picture published. Noah imagined a wise looking soul, with a slightly greying beard and one of those jackets with elbow patches. It was a bad stereotype, and Noah realized he needed to work on that a little.
He also realized how this was allowing him to procrastinate in regards to just why he was on this cruise. His aunt had pinned a lot of hopes on this trip, and didn't expect him to huddle in his room, typing out a script.
Then again-this was all about him being happy, right? And there was no denying the bubbling, crazy excitement he felt about the book. Much better than the knot of anxiety he experienced when Graham St. Griffin was staring at him like a piece of top sirloin.
Noah opened the curtains, and gazed out on a dazzling blue sea and a sky full of sunshine. It lifted his mood even further, and he decided that instead of room service, maybe he could find a somewhat secluded area to eat something and start work on the screenplay.
He packed up the book, his laptop, a couple of pens and a highlighter and threw them in his worn messenger bag, and cautiously ventured outside. The halls were deserted-no doubt everyone was enjoying the fabulous weather-and he consulted a map of the ship's layout on one of the walls. He took an elevator to the Polaris deck and managed to find the Moonbeam Cafe without any trouble.
It was deserted, save for a lone gentleman sitting in the corner, doing a crossword puzzle. Noah went and ordered a large cappuccino and two muffins, blueberry and banana nut. As he was waiting for the barista to finish his drink, Noah glanced at the gentleman again, as there was something suddenly nagging him. He looked really familiar. He was in his mid sixties, rather elegantly dressed, with close cropped grey hair and a goatee, a pair of half moon spectacles perched on his nose.
It was then that it hit him, like number eleven earthquake. "Roland Green?" he blurted, and then was mortified that he'd actually said it out loud. The man looked very startled at first, then gave him a cautious, courteous smile.
"Why, yes. May I help you?"
Noah fell into a weird state of being incredibly embarrassed and thrilled beyond words that he was meeting one of his heroes. In perhaps the last place he ever expected to. He took a deep breath and tried to calm down, at lest a little. God, he couldn't wait to tell Danny and 'meera.
"Oh. I'm sorry to bother you, sir. I just, um, am a really huge fan of you and your work. And I guess the shock of seeing you here made me forget my manners."
Mr. Green's smile grew slightly wider. "Well, I'm surprised as well. I didn't figure anyone would recognize an old has-been like me."
"Are you kidding?" Noah said, waving his arms a little. "My god-you've directed so many wonderful movies."
"Back in the seventies and eighties. In Hollywood time, that's an eternity. " Green squinted up at Noah. "You are far too young, so my best guess is that you were a film student, Mr…?"
"Mayer. Noah Mayer." Noah said, blushing as he walked over to Green's table. "And yeah. Guilty as charged. I think I read your book, Movies on a Shoestring fifty times. It's kind of like my bible." Noah stuck out his hand. "Well, it is an honor to meet you Mr. Green, and I want to thank you for everything I've learned from you and well, everything." He sort of cringed inwardly, knowing how idiotically fanboyish he was starting to sound like.
"Sir- your coffee is ready." The barista said from behind the counter. Noah ignored her as THE Roland Green was taking his hand in both of his, and giving it a gentle shake. "Well, Noah-it's nice to meet you too. Real nice. And you can drop the "Mr. Green" and grab that coffee and join me."
Noah felt himself blushing again in epic neon sign proportions. "Sure I'm not imposing?"
"Not at all. I could really use some company, to tell you the truth. Plus-you do crossword puzzles?" Noah gave a slight nod."Got any idea what a six letter word for 'sea bird' is?"
Noah drew a complete blank for a second, then the Crossword Gods smiled down on him, as this was recently a clue in the Trib. "Would, uh, 'petrel' work?"
Mr. Green studied his puzzle for a moment, then cackled loudly. "Yes! Perfect! Thank you! I owe you one."
Noah went to fetch his coffee and muffins in bit of a daze, not able to really comprehend his good fortune. He sat down at Roland's table awkwardly, unsure of what to say and hoping he wouldn't make a complete ass of himself. In the meantime, Roland neatly folded up his newspaper and gave him his full attention. He also broke the now awkward pause. "So-a film student. Still toiling in the industry?"
"Sort of. I direct commercials, mostly." Noah stammered, hoping against hope that he wouldn't have to discuss the ads he did for toilet bowl cleaner with the guy that directed the brilliant Love and Money and Snake Eyes. So he desperately tried to change the subject. "Um-you know, it's funny. You are one of the people I've always admired and I've fantasized about having a conversation with you, but now that you're here, I'm drawing a blank."
"Not going anywhere, Noah." Roland said gently. "You can take your time. I remember getting pretty tongue tied when I ran into Gordon Parks at a party. Honestly, it's been a long while that anyone has asked me about my work."
"Gordon Parks? Oh. My. God." Noah tired to comprehend that, and took another deep breath. "Mr. Green-uh, Roland…one thing I've always wanted to know, is, well-why did you stop? Directing. I mean, your films made money…" He started blushing again. "And uh-if that's far too personal a question, I apologize."
"Well, it is and it isn't. And I don't mind telling you, since you seem like such a nice kid. Truth was-I got tired." Roland leaned back in his chair. "When I got started in the seventies, it was a wild time. I rode the big Blaxplotation wave as a wet behind the ears kid. So many people of color like myself suddenly got opportunities to write, act, direct- chances they normally wouldn't have had. I learned a lot. And when those kinds of movies went out of vogue, I managed to keep plugging away at it. But damn Spielburg and George Lucas's hides-they changed movies. It went from telling personal stories to creating blockbusters with all the jazzy special effects. And I know that there are still some excellent indie movies being made, but for a lot of reasons, it just stopped being fun anymore. But don't look so sad, Noah. I have a good life. I teach classes at the American Film Institute in LA and have a ball, I still write the odd script now and again. Every now and then I get the itch, but reason wins out, as getting a film made is a bit like birthing sextuplets. And I'm long past my prime child bearing years." Roland added with a laugh.
"Well, while I think you could teach both Lucas and Spielburg-especially Lucas- a thing or two about filmmaking, I understand." Noah finally took a sip of his now barely warm latte.
Roland suddenly had a mischievous twinkle in his eyes."And now I'll answer your most obvious question, before you embarrass yourself to death having to ask it-what the hell is the director of Cade's Song doing on a damn gay cruise?"
Noah had to laugh, and almost did a spit take with his coffee." I uh, was so excited meeting you, Roland, that I sort of forgot where we both were. And I really wasn't going to ask that, sir."
"Well, I was trying to answer that very question myself this morning. As I have no idea how I ended up here either-'specially after checking out the pretty wild scene at the disco last night. I really felt too fucking old. But, my daughter-bless her well intended heart-bought me this ticket to get me, as she said it, out in circulation again. I don't think she had any idea what sort of goings on would be happening on this damn boat."
Noah goggled, then laughed. "Your daughter bought you a ticket? Forgive me for laughing sir, as not only is she really open minded, but here's a weird coincidence-my aunt sent me on this cruise."
"Really?" Roland started to bust up, and he had a wonderful laugh, like sunshine on a meadow.
"Really." Noah said, laughing some more. And suddenly, it didn't feel so awkward and Roland Green was an actual person, not a icon. "So-I didn't know you had a daughter."
"Yeah. I was married-very briefly-to a lovely and ultimately, very compassionate woman, and we had my darling Keisha. Who is bright, funny and a director as well, which means she's also incredibly bossy. She decided that I've been alone too long-my partner passed away five years ago-and so, here I am. I figured I will at least have fun checking out Barcelona and Lisbon. I haven't been to Europe in ages."
"I'm very sorry about your partner, sir." Noah said, feeling suddenly like a bucket of cold water was thrown on him. How sad.
"Thank you, Noah. I'm sorry too. I miss him every damn day." Roland's eyes grew bright. "But-we had a lot of good, crazy years, and I'm grateful for them. Micah was, frankly, a egotistical pain and I loved the hell out of him.
Something clicked in Noah's head and his jaw dropped. "Micah? As in Micah Stone???" He was a frequent star in many of Roland's films.
Roland broke up again. "Oh, man. The look on your face. Priceless. And yes, the Michah Stone, star of all those macho Elijah Cole detective movies, with all the bare boobs and trash talkin' and butt-whuppin', was also pretty damn gay. And while I sometimes regret we kept it a secret, it would have destroyed his career, something he was pretty proud of. Micah came from nothing, so he loved getting good seats in restaurants, and having fancy suits and a house in Beverly Hills."
"Still-it must have been really rough sometimes."
"I won't lie. It was. I come from an older generation, so hiding in the closet seemed like the price you needed to pay. And god, when Micah got sick, well, to not say anything except that we were 'good friends' was a bitter tragedy." Roland took off his glasses and wiped his eyes. "Sorry. Didn't mean to get so maudlin. And honestly-talking about it kind of helps."
"I'm glad, sir." Noah said, heart breaking a little. "And I'll keep your confidence."
"You strike me as the sort of young man that would." Roland said with a sad smile.
"Um-can I get you anything? Glass of water? A coffee?" Noah said, wanting desperately to do something.
"You know-a cup of tea would be lovely." Roland put his glasses back on. "Thank you."
"You got it." Noah hustled back to the cafe counter and was about to order, when another person strode in to stand behind him. Noah got a glimpse of him from the corner of his eye. Shit. It was the blond Adonis with the foul temper from the day before. And from the angry look the Adonis was giving him, Noah saw that he recognized him as well.
The guy turned on his heel and started to stalk out and Noah found himself saying, "Wait!"
Sometimes he was just a glutton for punishment.
Author: Rebop 13
Artist: pirl
Rating: Much NC-17ness. Yea!
Disclaimer: They aren't mine, but I own the lube.
Characters/Pairings: Luke, Noah, Ameera, Lucinda, many, many OC's
Word Count: Lots. Sorry, but my %&$#@ Mac writing program has no word count.
Warnings: Some angst. I mean, this is me.
Spoilers: None. We are way into AU land.
Summary: AU. Luke and Noah are emotionally blackmailed into going on a gay cruise. Romcom antics, misunderstandings, hot sex, schmoop, snappy dialogue and angst ensue. Also lots of lovely international scenery and fine cuisine.
Author’s Notes: OMG. Thank you Moey Mo for be so tolerant of my incredibly tardy ass. This thing came down to the wire, and for awhile, I didn't think I was going to make it. I am so grateful you didn't spank me and send me to my corner. Also pirl, for being both incredibly gracious, patient and talented-you rock so hard, you would scare Mick Jagger. I love Luke's cowboy stance and Noah's nose. And sorry to all my wonderful Nukies, who I've missed terribly. As usual, long story, but like a bad penny, I will continue to turn up. Hugs and smishings to all.
Noah woke up, feeling a heavy weight on his chest. It turned out to be his book, which he had fallen asleep reading. He yawned, rubbed his eyes and grinned a little, and glanced at the bedside clock. It was a bit after ten am, which meant that he'd gotten a mere five hours of sleep, since he'd stayed up reading until the wee hours of the morning.
Noah didn't mind in the least. In the first few pages, The Ghost Hunter Dairies had him hooked, he couldn't put it down. At first glance, it was just about a bunch of sad misfits who band together-rather ineptly-to explore the paranormal, and are ridiculed by the small town they live in.
But while parts of the story were truly funny, the author also injected a sense of sadness and sweetness to the plot. The characters were real, three dimensional people, and the whole ghost hunting venture was also an effort to reconcile with events in their lives. Marsha was dealing with breast cancer while Tim was still trying to cope with the tragic accidental death of his brother when he was fifteen. Howard had never come to terms with his mother's long illness and death, and Susie had a number of miscarriages. They formed a small, tightly knit family in spite of the weirdness, and Noah thought the unexpected romance between Tim and Howard-both deeply in the closet-was lovely and heart breaking.
Noah couldn't help himself, he kept thinking that the book would translate so well to the screen. Halfway through, he pulled out his laptop and tried to find out anything he could about Edward Grimaldi, the writer. There was precious little to be discovered on Google, save that he lived somewhere in the Midwest and that he'd written two other books. Basketball Season was a story of a high school athlete who is secretly gay, and Anonymous, which was about two people who fall in love while attending AA meetings. Noah immediately ordered both of them from Amazon.
All Grimaldi's books got sterling reviews, and Noah was slightly shocked that he wasn't better known, although the gay themes running through his novels may have explained it. But that was just a small part of the Ghost Hunter Diaries, Grimaldi wisely didn't hit anyone over the head with it. The book was about love and loss, grief and happiness, life and death, and Grimaldi handled all of it with amazing skill.
Noah got up to shower, thinking about certain plot twists and incidents-they all played out perfectly in his head. By the time he'd gotten shaved and dressed, he decided to do something that would no doubt get him in big trouble with his aunt-he was going to write a screenplay based on the book. It was a Don Quixote tilting at windmills kind of project, as Grimaldi might already have a studio deal.
But Noah couldn't help himself. He hadn't been this excited about anything since he was a student, which pointed something out about his current career. He was bored. Shooting commercials could be sometimes challenging and fun, but when he was nineteen, all he wanted to do was tell stories-not sell dishwashing liquid. When he and Danny and Ameera had first formed Terrible Trio, they did ads as a side project, which turned out to slowly consume them. It was a gilded cage, as the money was so good, it soon became impossible to turn down.
Noah suddenly had this fantasy about contacting Grimaldi's agent, and perhaps persuading the writer himself to allow him to develop Ghost Hunter Diaries into a film. it was a long shot, but he was willing to try. He imagined himself in a meeting with Grimaldi, dazzling him. The Grimaldi in his head had to be entirely imaginary, since the writer was shy about having a picture published. Noah imagined a wise looking soul, with a slightly greying beard and one of those jackets with elbow patches. It was a bad stereotype, and Noah realized he needed to work on that a little.
He also realized how this was allowing him to procrastinate in regards to just why he was on this cruise. His aunt had pinned a lot of hopes on this trip, and didn't expect him to huddle in his room, typing out a script.
Then again-this was all about him being happy, right? And there was no denying the bubbling, crazy excitement he felt about the book. Much better than the knot of anxiety he experienced when Graham St. Griffin was staring at him like a piece of top sirloin.
Noah opened the curtains, and gazed out on a dazzling blue sea and a sky full of sunshine. It lifted his mood even further, and he decided that instead of room service, maybe he could find a somewhat secluded area to eat something and start work on the screenplay.
He packed up the book, his laptop, a couple of pens and a highlighter and threw them in his worn messenger bag, and cautiously ventured outside. The halls were deserted-no doubt everyone was enjoying the fabulous weather-and he consulted a map of the ship's layout on one of the walls. He took an elevator to the Polaris deck and managed to find the Moonbeam Cafe without any trouble.
It was deserted, save for a lone gentleman sitting in the corner, doing a crossword puzzle. Noah went and ordered a large cappuccino and two muffins, blueberry and banana nut. As he was waiting for the barista to finish his drink, Noah glanced at the gentleman again, as there was something suddenly nagging him. He looked really familiar. He was in his mid sixties, rather elegantly dressed, with close cropped grey hair and a goatee, a pair of half moon spectacles perched on his nose.
It was then that it hit him, like number eleven earthquake. "Roland Green?" he blurted, and then was mortified that he'd actually said it out loud. The man looked very startled at first, then gave him a cautious, courteous smile.
"Why, yes. May I help you?"
Noah fell into a weird state of being incredibly embarrassed and thrilled beyond words that he was meeting one of his heroes. In perhaps the last place he ever expected to. He took a deep breath and tried to calm down, at lest a little. God, he couldn't wait to tell Danny and 'meera.
"Oh. I'm sorry to bother you, sir. I just, um, am a really huge fan of you and your work. And I guess the shock of seeing you here made me forget my manners."
Mr. Green's smile grew slightly wider. "Well, I'm surprised as well. I didn't figure anyone would recognize an old has-been like me."
"Are you kidding?" Noah said, waving his arms a little. "My god-you've directed so many wonderful movies."
"Back in the seventies and eighties. In Hollywood time, that's an eternity. " Green squinted up at Noah. "You are far too young, so my best guess is that you were a film student, Mr…?"
"Mayer. Noah Mayer." Noah said, blushing as he walked over to Green's table. "And yeah. Guilty as charged. I think I read your book, Movies on a Shoestring fifty times. It's kind of like my bible." Noah stuck out his hand. "Well, it is an honor to meet you Mr. Green, and I want to thank you for everything I've learned from you and well, everything." He sort of cringed inwardly, knowing how idiotically fanboyish he was starting to sound like.
"Sir- your coffee is ready." The barista said from behind the counter. Noah ignored her as THE Roland Green was taking his hand in both of his, and giving it a gentle shake. "Well, Noah-it's nice to meet you too. Real nice. And you can drop the "Mr. Green" and grab that coffee and join me."
Noah felt himself blushing again in epic neon sign proportions. "Sure I'm not imposing?"
"Not at all. I could really use some company, to tell you the truth. Plus-you do crossword puzzles?" Noah gave a slight nod."Got any idea what a six letter word for 'sea bird' is?"
Noah drew a complete blank for a second, then the Crossword Gods smiled down on him, as this was recently a clue in the Trib. "Would, uh, 'petrel' work?"
Mr. Green studied his puzzle for a moment, then cackled loudly. "Yes! Perfect! Thank you! I owe you one."
Noah went to fetch his coffee and muffins in bit of a daze, not able to really comprehend his good fortune. He sat down at Roland's table awkwardly, unsure of what to say and hoping he wouldn't make a complete ass of himself. In the meantime, Roland neatly folded up his newspaper and gave him his full attention. He also broke the now awkward pause. "So-a film student. Still toiling in the industry?"
"Sort of. I direct commercials, mostly." Noah stammered, hoping against hope that he wouldn't have to discuss the ads he did for toilet bowl cleaner with the guy that directed the brilliant Love and Money and Snake Eyes. So he desperately tried to change the subject. "Um-you know, it's funny. You are one of the people I've always admired and I've fantasized about having a conversation with you, but now that you're here, I'm drawing a blank."
"Not going anywhere, Noah." Roland said gently. "You can take your time. I remember getting pretty tongue tied when I ran into Gordon Parks at a party. Honestly, it's been a long while that anyone has asked me about my work."
"Gordon Parks? Oh. My. God." Noah tired to comprehend that, and took another deep breath. "Mr. Green-uh, Roland…one thing I've always wanted to know, is, well-why did you stop? Directing. I mean, your films made money…" He started blushing again. "And uh-if that's far too personal a question, I apologize."
"Well, it is and it isn't. And I don't mind telling you, since you seem like such a nice kid. Truth was-I got tired." Roland leaned back in his chair. "When I got started in the seventies, it was a wild time. I rode the big Blaxplotation wave as a wet behind the ears kid. So many people of color like myself suddenly got opportunities to write, act, direct- chances they normally wouldn't have had. I learned a lot. And when those kinds of movies went out of vogue, I managed to keep plugging away at it. But damn Spielburg and George Lucas's hides-they changed movies. It went from telling personal stories to creating blockbusters with all the jazzy special effects. And I know that there are still some excellent indie movies being made, but for a lot of reasons, it just stopped being fun anymore. But don't look so sad, Noah. I have a good life. I teach classes at the American Film Institute in LA and have a ball, I still write the odd script now and again. Every now and then I get the itch, but reason wins out, as getting a film made is a bit like birthing sextuplets. And I'm long past my prime child bearing years." Roland added with a laugh.
"Well, while I think you could teach both Lucas and Spielburg-especially Lucas- a thing or two about filmmaking, I understand." Noah finally took a sip of his now barely warm latte.
Roland suddenly had a mischievous twinkle in his eyes."And now I'll answer your most obvious question, before you embarrass yourself to death having to ask it-what the hell is the director of Cade's Song doing on a damn gay cruise?"
Noah had to laugh, and almost did a spit take with his coffee." I uh, was so excited meeting you, Roland, that I sort of forgot where we both were. And I really wasn't going to ask that, sir."
"Well, I was trying to answer that very question myself this morning. As I have no idea how I ended up here either-'specially after checking out the pretty wild scene at the disco last night. I really felt too fucking old. But, my daughter-bless her well intended heart-bought me this ticket to get me, as she said it, out in circulation again. I don't think she had any idea what sort of goings on would be happening on this damn boat."
Noah goggled, then laughed. "Your daughter bought you a ticket? Forgive me for laughing sir, as not only is she really open minded, but here's a weird coincidence-my aunt sent me on this cruise."
"Really?" Roland started to bust up, and he had a wonderful laugh, like sunshine on a meadow.
"Really." Noah said, laughing some more. And suddenly, it didn't feel so awkward and Roland Green was an actual person, not a icon. "So-I didn't know you had a daughter."
"Yeah. I was married-very briefly-to a lovely and ultimately, very compassionate woman, and we had my darling Keisha. Who is bright, funny and a director as well, which means she's also incredibly bossy. She decided that I've been alone too long-my partner passed away five years ago-and so, here I am. I figured I will at least have fun checking out Barcelona and Lisbon. I haven't been to Europe in ages."
"I'm very sorry about your partner, sir." Noah said, feeling suddenly like a bucket of cold water was thrown on him. How sad.
"Thank you, Noah. I'm sorry too. I miss him every damn day." Roland's eyes grew bright. "But-we had a lot of good, crazy years, and I'm grateful for them. Micah was, frankly, a egotistical pain and I loved the hell out of him.
Something clicked in Noah's head and his jaw dropped. "Micah? As in Micah Stone???" He was a frequent star in many of Roland's films.
Roland broke up again. "Oh, man. The look on your face. Priceless. And yes, the Michah Stone, star of all those macho Elijah Cole detective movies, with all the bare boobs and trash talkin' and butt-whuppin', was also pretty damn gay. And while I sometimes regret we kept it a secret, it would have destroyed his career, something he was pretty proud of. Micah came from nothing, so he loved getting good seats in restaurants, and having fancy suits and a house in Beverly Hills."
"Still-it must have been really rough sometimes."
"I won't lie. It was. I come from an older generation, so hiding in the closet seemed like the price you needed to pay. And god, when Micah got sick, well, to not say anything except that we were 'good friends' was a bitter tragedy." Roland took off his glasses and wiped his eyes. "Sorry. Didn't mean to get so maudlin. And honestly-talking about it kind of helps."
"I'm glad, sir." Noah said, heart breaking a little. "And I'll keep your confidence."
"You strike me as the sort of young man that would." Roland said with a sad smile.
"Um-can I get you anything? Glass of water? A coffee?" Noah said, wanting desperately to do something.
"You know-a cup of tea would be lovely." Roland put his glasses back on. "Thank you."
"You got it." Noah hustled back to the cafe counter and was about to order, when another person strode in to stand behind him. Noah got a glimpse of him from the corner of his eye. Shit. It was the blond Adonis with the foul temper from the day before. And from the angry look the Adonis was giving him, Noah saw that he recognized him as well.
The guy turned on his heel and started to stalk out and Noah found himself saying, "Wait!"
Sometimes he was just a glutton for punishment.