Fic: Made Men, Entourage, Vince/Eric, NC-17, 4/6
Continued from Part 3.
They have a meeting with Ari the next day to go over final details for the movie, and then a lunch with Shauna to talk about upcoming press stuff. At both meetings, Eric gets interrupted by phone calls that he has to take.
“What’s his story?” Shauna asks when he leaves the table to take a call.
“He’s busy,” Vince says, shrugging. He knows the calls are really about the merger, but he can’t tell anyone about that. “Gotta work hard to keep me in the manner to which I’m accustomed.”
“Well, cheers for finding a man like that,” Shauna says, and takes a big sip of her martini. “So lets talk about these interviews.”
They start making arrangements for a pre-premiere spread that Vanity Fair wants to do, and when Eric slides back into the booth they’re talking about the photographer.
“Wait, pictures?” Eric says. “I thought this was just a short what’s-up-now thing.”
Shauna rolls her eyes. “Jesus Christ, Eric, do you read the things I send you or just use them to wipe Harvey’s ass? We’re a contender for the cover, and that requires pictures.”
Eric sighs. “Sorry,” he says. “I’ve had some other stuff going on, I guess I didn’t read through what you faxed.”
“What is your fucking job, exactly?” Shauna asks.
“I’m doing like eight different things right now, Jesus,” Eric says. “I just - Ari sent things, you sent things, I must have gotten them mixed up.”
“You’re fucking lucky this guy’s got such a hard-on for you,” Shauna says, leaning forward to whisper, though her voice is steely. “Any other manager was this checked out, he would’ve been on the curb weeks ago, Eric.”
“Yeah, I know, I know,” Eric says.
The defensive note in his voice makes Vince raise his hands. “OK, easy, easy. We’re all agreed on the photos now, though, right?”
Shauna nods sharply, still glaring at Eric, and Eric nods, too. They get back on track, but Vince can see that Shauna’s words are working on Eric a little. That night he says, “Do you think I’ve been dropping the ball with your career, lately?”
Vince doesn’t really know what to say to that. They’ve never made a habit of lying to each other, though, so he says, “Yeah, maybe, you’ve been a little distracted.”
Eric turns on his side and looks at Vince. “I know,” he says. “I don’t - I don’t mean to be. I just have a lot going on.”
“Yeah,” Vince says. He cups Eric’s shoulder, then says, softly, “Sometimes it feels like too much is going on.”
Eric turns back to his side. “I know,” he says again, but he doesn’t say anything else. Vince decides not to push. This is the way Eric works - he has to come around to it on his own. He’s just relieved to see he’s starting to realize that he’s got too much going on, that this second career with Harvey can’t really work out. Vince decides he’ll give him a week, then bring it up again. Maybe he’ll get Ari to pile on a little, too. If it takes Ari to get through to Eric, Vince isn’t above using him. He wonders if he can figure out some reason to schedule another meeting for that week.
Vince spends the next few evenings with Turtle and Dom at their new place, even crashes there once when they all get drunk on a bottle of scotch Turtle found in one of his boxes. It’s a bottle he lifted from Vince’s bar, but Vince doesn’t care. It gets put to good use, after all. When he calls Eric to check in, Eric doesn’t sound pissed - he sounds almost relieved, saying he was going to have to work late anyway.
Dom says, “What, he’s fucking his secretary or something?”
Vince laughs, taking another drink. “Nah, he’s working.”
“Uh-huh. Wish I could find a girl who’d let me get away with half the shit you let that guy do.”
Vince rolls his eyes. “Dom, it’s E. He’s not cheating. He’s just always working.”
“Kids got it in the genes, I guess,” Dom says, and they all toast the memories of their fathers as they drink again.
Eric comes in the next evening and sits in the lounge chair that’s next to Vince’s, where he’s been reading for most of the afternoon. “Hey, you eat yet?” Vince asks.
Eric shakes his head. “I wanna talk to you,” he says.
“So talk.”
“I - Look. I’ve been, these last few months, I’ve -” He stops, takes a breath, and Vince starts to worry a little.
“Spit it out, E,” he says. “Are you feeling sick?”
“No,” he says. “I just - I think you’re right. You’re right, and Ari’s right, and Shauna’s right, and even Harvey’s right. I’ve been working too much.”
Vince nods and smiles a little. “Thank God,” he says, “I didn’t know if you were ever going to come around.”
Eric’s smile is also very small. “Yeah, well. Something’s gotta give, huh?”
“No kidding. What’d Harvey say?”
Eric frowns. “That’s, uh. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” He clears his throat, but to his credit he looks Vince right in the eye. “I don’t think I should be your manager anymore.”
Vince has to ask him to repeat that, and even when he’s heard it again, he doesn’t believe it. “What are you talking about?”
“I think - you’ve been Oscar nominated, Vin. You’ve got great prospects ahead, maybe it’s time you got a real management company behind you.”
“Fuck that, you know what I think of those places,” Vince says. “I get all that stuff working with you.”
Eric nods, and he rubs his neck. “OK,” he says. “OK. The thing is - I don’t think I can do it, anymore.”
“Because you’re too busy working for fucking Harvey!”
“No,” Eric says, and when Vince rolls his eyes, he says, “No. Seriously. That’s not the reason. I mean, it’s part of it, but - no. I just - this thing, you and I -” and he reaches over and grips Vince’s wrist - “We haven’t had a lot of time, recently.”
“And you quitting is going to improve that?” Vince asks. He kind of wants to pull his hand away; all he’s feeling, right now, is wounded.
“I’m saying, we already don’t get as much time as we should, because you’re busy and I’m busy, and then half the time I see you we have business to talk about anyway. And I gotta tell you, I don’t need to come home to business, too, you know?”
“I don’t know,” Vince says quietly. “I like how things are. How they were. You’re, like, the only person I trust with this stuff, E.”
He nods. “I know,” he says. “Either way, you’re gonna get my advice on everything, you know that, but I think you gotta have someone else around to really look out for you, and maybe someone who can be there, at every single event.” Vince frowns. “I can’t be rational about you anymore,” Eric says. “That’s what I’m saying. I’m overinvolved.”
“Why do you -”
“I feel like, we’ve reached a point where we have to choose, OK? Either we’re business partners, or we’re partner partners.”
“Either business or pleasure, huh?” Vince asks.
“Yeah,” Eric says, “and I’m choosing us. OK? Over business, over the job, I choose being with you.” He offers a tentative smile. He can tell Eric’s already made this decision, and Vince didn’t get to where he is by doubting Eric’s decisions, but he doesn’t like it, doesn’t even really believe what Eric’s saying. “Think about it this way, next time we hit a premiere together, I won’t be working.”
That makes Vince feel some better, and he nods, and lets Eric kiss the inside of his wrist. “OK, but you gotta help me find someone new,” he says, and Eric nods.
“Deal.” He rubs his hands together. “We’re gonna find you the ugliest, straightest man on the planet.”
Actually, they find Vince a nice-looking straight man, Kelvin, who is totally not his type and who works for a very small firm in Beverly Hills. Kelvin’s an all right guy - not Eric, by any means, but someone who has enough experience around town that there’s not much necessary training. He reads scripts and hands off a few that sound good, takes meetings with Ari, finds Dom a job working security at a film warehouse, and plays basketball with Vince and the guys in the driveway while Vince is waiting on Eric to get home. When Vince starts filming on the Cuarón movie, Kelvin’s on set every day dealing with problems and questions, and between him and Ari (who is Kelvin’s number one fan) they manage to get Vince a little salary boost on the picture to reflect his nominations. Kelvin also helps Vince score a cabin in Australia in the fall, where he plans to take Eric as a surprise, since their summer plans have gotten shifted back.
They never officially come out - there’s no big announcement, no party, no interview - but they do, somehow, get figured out. Maybe it’s leftover observation from the hospital (Vince imagines someone reported that Eric was asking to see his partner all night); maybe it’s that after Eric quits as his manager, they still show up together everywhere; maybe it’s Shauna working behind the scenes. Whatever it is, they manage to keep it off the covers of the magazines, but everyone they know seems to know. Vince goes to one of the premieres for a movie Eric’s been working on, and there’s a seat reserved for him next to Eric (which puts him a row back from Harvey’s fourth wife). When a reporter asks him outside what he’s doing there, he doesn’t feel weird at all saying, “I’m here supporting my guy, he produced this.” What does feel weird is that no one has to ask him for Eric’s name.
In fact, as the summer goes on, they go to more events just like that, and though Vince continues to make a bigger splash on the red carpet, Eric’s the one who gets the attention inside. Half the people who come by to say hi don’t give Vince more than a cursory hello. At first, he enjoys it, but then it starts to get annoying.
“Jesus, what am I, your industry trophy wife?” Vince asks one evening as they’re headed home. He spent the whole night texting Turtle as Hollywood royalty stopped by to tell Eric how much they loved the new film. Worse than that, a director Vince liked from Sundance two years back stopped over, and was way more interested in talking to Eric than he was Vince. Apparently they’ve got some deal going that Vince didn’t even know about. “I’m your Kate Capshaw, now?”
Eric laughs. “You are way hotter than Kate Capshaw,” he says, “and way more famous. Than her, and than me. I’m sorry, I know it’s a drag to do business all night.” He reaches over and rubs Vince’s neck, which is the most affection Vince gets in public. “But tomorrow night, we got nothing going. Right?”
“I’ll have to check with Kelvin,” Vince says, feeling a little sulky.
Eric keeps rubbing. “I think you’re free,” he says. “And we’re gonna go to dinner.”
It doesn’t turn out to be the intimate night Vince was hoping for, because Johnny calls in the middle of the day and basically invites himself and the other guys along. Dom can’t go, because he’s working, so it’s just the four of them. They end up at a place Johnny picks, and as they’re waiting for their main courses, Johnny blurts out, “I asked Larissa to marry me and she said yes!”
“Holy shit,” Vince says, and then realizes he was in perfect unison with Eric and Turtle. They all laugh, and there’s an immediate rush to clap Johnny on the shoulders and hug him and high-five him. “Wow, so, when?” Vince asks, after signalling the waiter and ordering champagne.
“June,” he says. “She wanted some time to plan it. I think she wants - we’re talking about, maybe like a destination type deal. And she’s got like eight cousins, they all gotta be bridesmaids.”
“Hot cousins?” Turtle asks.
Johnny rolls his eyes. He’s grinning ear-to-ear, and Vince feels a real rush of happiness for him. He’ll find a way, later, to make sure that he covers whatever expenses Johnny needs for this wedding. Johnny’s been working steady recently, but television still isn’t movies. “So listen, I wanted - I mean - I thought, you guys, since we’re all out here, and we’ve been like family - “ He shakes his head, and Vince can see he’s getting a little choked up.
“Of course, Johnny,” Vince says, gripping his shoulder. “We’ll do it.”
Johnny nods. “I need some decent fucking groomsmen, you know?”
“Yeah, Drama, of course,” Eric says, and Turtle echoes that. Vince looks over and catches Eric’s eye, and he smiles a little, both a can-you-believe-it smile and something more tender and warm, and Vince returns the look.
“Jesus, that kind of blows my news out of the water,” Eric says, and Vince looks over, curious.
“Your news?” He leans in. “Are we getting married?”
Eric shakes his head. “Not in this state,” he says. “No, I, uh - I signed a deal with Paramount.”
“Yeah? What’s the new project?” Johnny asks. “Anything in it for me?”
“Not that kind of deal,” Eric says, crossing his arms, smiling a little to himself. Vince gets a sudden cold feeling in his stomach, though he can’t explain why. “I’m going to work there.”
“What?” Turtle says. “They need a cafeteria manager?”
“No, fucktard, they need a new co-VP for production at Dreamworks.”
Vince sets his glass down. “Dreamworks. Steven Spielberg’s Dreamworks?” Eric nods. The smile is growing a little, but he manages a calm sip of his beer. “You met with Steven Spielberg and you didn’t mention it?”
He shrugs. “I didn’t know if it was gonna come through,” he says. “Their last guy had two MBAs and fucked David Geffen.”
“Tell me you didn’t take that route,” Turtle says, and Eric shakes his head, laughing.
“Paramount’s looking at HWP right now, so they want someone on board who’s dealt with Harvey. And they liked the work on Mastery. I’ve spent the last six months talking to Goodman nearly every day, so when the spot came open -”
“Jesus,” Vince says, and then he says it again, for lack of anything better to say. “E - that’s -”
“Fucking amazing,” Johnny says.
“A fucking miracle,” Turtle says. “Two in one night, holy shit. We need another bottle.”
“On E,” Johnny says, and Eric laughs again.
That night, when it’s just the two of them in Eric’s car on the way home, Eric says, “You’re kind of quiet.”
Vince nods, still looking out the window. “Honestly, I’m still taking it all in. Johnny’s getting married and you’re working at Dreamworks - it’s a lot, you know?”
“Yeah,” Eric says. “I, uh. I wanted to tell you, just the two of us, tonight, but - it’s gonna be in Variety tomorrow maybe, so I didn’t think I should wait.” He glances over. “Are you OK?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Are you OK?”
“I’m - yeah, Vin, I’m good. I’m great.”
“Then I’m happy for you.”
“Right. You look happy.”
Vince shrugs. “E, what do you want me to say? I just heard about this for the first time two hours ago, though you’ve obviously been planning it for a while. I’m surprised, I’m - I’m a little hurt you didn’t say anything before, I guess, but I’ll get over it.”
“I didn’t know if it was going to work out,” Eric says. He sounds exasperated. “And - the whole thing’s been pretty hush-hush, like, I didn’t want anyone at Harvey’s shop to know other than him, and I couldn’t have Ari telling anybody -”
“So what, you don’t think I could keep a secret from Ari?” He shakes his head. “I’m trying, OK, to give you the benefit of the doubt here, but it sort of seems like you don’t trust me.”
“Hey, I trust you,” Eric says quickly - too quickly. “Of course I trust you. I just - this is the biggest fucking deal I’ve ever worked on. If Paramount buys HWP, that’s automatic distribution for the last six films we’ve got in the pipeline, and that’s - it’s seriously like 20 million dollars for me.”
“I don’t fucking care about the fucking money,” Vince says, the words coming out almost like a hiss. “Jesus Christ, Eric, who do you think I am that that kind of stuff would impress me?”
“I thought you were my fucking boyfriend, and I thought you might actually be happy for me, instead of being such a fucking pain in the ass about stuff,” Eric says. The light turns green and Eric zips forward into traffic, and neither of them talks for a few blocks. “Look,” he says, his tone still a little sharp. “I didn’t not tell you because I don’t trust you. I’ve just - I kept meaning to, but everything was so busy. And Dom was around, and you were filming, and I just - I got busy and I fucked up, and I’m sorry.”
“We’re supposed to be partners,” Vince says. He doesn’t like the plaintive note in his voice, but he can’t quite squash it. “E, you used to tell me everything.”
“I still do,” Eric says, and Vince’s head jerks up. “OK, all the important stuff.” He sighs. “Fuck, Vin, I know, I know, I’ve got a lot going on, I’m sorry.”
Vince shakes his head and looks out the window. He feels kind of like he’s being a bitch, but - the truth is, his feelings are hurt. Eric bought a fucking house without telling him. He changed jobs without telling him. Vince doesn’t know a lot about serious relationships, but he knows they’re supposed to be different than this.
“Are you really pissed at me?”
Vince shrugs. “Kind of,” he says.
“You can’t just be happy for me?”
“I am,” Vince says. He turns in his seat, faces Eric. “E, I want to be. OK? I want you to do well, I want you to have a job you love and be successful and all of that. But you keep doing shit like this, you keep - you bought a house, you changed jobs, you - you didn’t even ask me, you didn’t even talk to me.”
“Vince,” Eric says, and he sighs. “I said I was sorry. I am sorry. I really, really - I was going to take you out tonight, just the two of us -”
“And what the fuck is that shit, anyway? The two of us. But not really, right? Not really a date, because no one fucking knows.”
“Hey, you said that was OK, to wait, you said -” Eric swerves, and Vince jerks back into his seat, a second before Eric’s arm flings out across his chest. There’s a screech of tires and then a loud honk, and they sail past a red car that’s come to a halt in the next lane.
“Jesus!” Vince yells.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Eric says, drawing his arm back and putting both hands on the wheel.
“You’re gonna get us killed!” Vince says. His voice is shaky.
“I know, I know.” He takes a deep breath, and they drive about a block before he speaks again. “Can we talk about this at home?”
“Yes,” Vince says. “Yes. Just - please get us there.”
Eric nods. He takes a deep breath, and then nods again, and he doesn’t talk the rest of the way, and Vince doesn’t take his eyes off the road, either.
At the house, they stop in the driveway, and Vince climbs out and leans against the car. Eric walks around and faces him, and he says, “I’m sorry.”
He’s still a little shaky form the near-miss in the car, but he makes his voice steady. “Don’t be sorry,” Vince says. He watched his parents fight the whole time he was growing up, he’s played a dozen crappy boyfriends and seen a million more on television. The thing he hates most in the world is fighting - no, the thing he hates most in the world is fighting with Eric. Maybe Dom’s right, maybe he lets Eric get away with stuff, but - it’s Eric. At the end of the day, he’s a good guy, and he’s Vince’s guy, and that’s what matters. He reaches out and puts his hands on Eric’s shoulders, and Eric looks up at him with wide eyes. He is sorry, Vince can tell. “Don’t be sorry. Be better, OK? Don’t take a job without telling me. Basic couple stuff, right?” Eric nods. “OK. So don’t do that again.”
Eric smiles just a little. “I promise I won’t.” He reaches up and puts his hands over Vince’s, and then ducks his head and rests it against Vince’s chest.
Vince rubs his neck. “E, we gotta figure some stuff out,” he says. “I wanna talk about coming out for real.”
“Yeah,” Eric says. He pulls back, looks up at Vince. “We should talk about that.”
“And about - I miss you,” Vince says. He feels a little lame for saying it, but it’s true.
Eric blinks. “What?”
“I never get to see you,” Vince says quietly. “I know you’re working, I know you’re new to this job, but - I’m home alone way too often.”
Eric frowns, but then he nods. “I know,” he says. “I know. We’ll - I just, it’s gonna be hard the next month or two, but then I should have a break before I start at the new place. We could go somewhere.” He looks up, and he looks hopeful. “Anywhere you want.”
“OK,” Vince says. He leans down and kisses Eric, cupping his face in both hands. “I don’t even care where we go, if I get to see you the whole time we’re there.”
“As much of me as you want,” Eric says, and Vince snorts, which makes them both laugh. “Seriously, though,” Eric says, touching Vince’s face. “Are we OK?”
“Yeah,” Vince says. It’s not totally true, but he’ll work on making it that way. He can pretend to be OK with things until he actually is, and by that time, maybe, they’ll be lying on a beach somewhere. “We’re good.”
For the next couple of weeks, though, it’s just business as usual - for Eric, at least. Vince is still killing time, and he finally sets a date for dinner with Johnny and Larissa. Eric, the night before, brings home a very expensive bottle of wine and tells Vince he can’t make it; Vince takes it in stride, because honestly, he expected this.
They go to the Ivy, just the three of them. Johnny wants it to be just family, because he’s taking Larissa to New York in a week to meet the rest of the family. She’s a sweet girl, with just enough sass that Vince believes she can survive their mother unscathed. “They’re gonna love you,” Vince assures her.
“You think?” She looks over at him, then over at Johnny. Vince knows this is the girl for his brother because of things like this. Larissa’s not unattractive - she’s got long, toned legs and long black hair, and though she’s not model-thin, she’s fit, and nice-looking, and always well-dressed (though rarely scantily clad). Definitely Johnny’s type, but not the type that usually goes for him. That Johnny’s ga-ga for her is no surprise; what Vince likes, what convinces him that this girl is for real, is that for Larissa, sometimes, Vince isn’t even in the room.
“I know,” Vince says. “Hey, we all love you. If you weren’t tied up to this guy -”
“Hands off, baby bro,” Johnny says, putting an arm around Larissa. “Besides, E would have your balls.”
Vince laughs and lifts a glass in toast to that.
“So where is he tonight?” Larissa asks after the appetizers are served.
Vince shrugs. “Working. He’s got this new job - you know, I don’t even exactly remember the title.”
“He’s co-VP for production at Dreamworks,” Johnny offers.
“You don’t know what he does?”
“No, I know,” Vince says. “I just - he just took the job recently.”
Larissa glances at Johnny. “Hey, you didn’t tell me Eric had a new job.”
Johnny shrugs. “I forgot, baby, I’m sorry. It was the same night I told the guys about us getting engaged.” He smirks. “And if you think you’re surprised, think how Vince felt.”
Larissa looks over at him. “You didn’t know?” Vince shakes his head, chewing on an artichoke fry. “Oh, no way,” Larissa says. “He took a new job without talking to you? I barely let your brother get dressed without my say-so.”
Vince expects Johnny to object, but he just looks at Larissa with a pleased little smile. “She has great taste,” he says, shrugging, and Larissa gives him an affectionate smile back. “You ought to let her take you shopping sometime, bro.”
“Sure, any time,” Vince says.
As the meal goes on, he watches them. It’s what actors do, after all. He watches his brother and his soon-to-be sister-in-law as they flirt, as they laugh, and they break into each other’s stories. He watches them hold hands on top of the table, watches Larissa’s half-annoyed, half-affectionate look when Johnny tells an off-color joke, watches the way his brother glows a little when Larissa talks about the job she’s working on, a period piece out of Universal. Basically, he watches them to see what being in love, for a normal everyday couple, looks like, and he both likes and feels discouraged by what he sees.
When he gets home, Eric’s already in bed, dozing against the headboard, the TV remote having dropped out of his slack hand. Vince gets ready for bed quietly, then crawls in next to Eric, ducking under his arm. Eric snuffles and wakes, bends and kisses his head. “You have fun?” he asks.
Vince nods. “I wish you’d been there,” he says, resting one hand on Eric’s warm belly.
“I’m sorry,” Eric says, voice still sleepy. “Glad you had a good time.”
They shuffle down into bed, touching a little, and Eric reaches out for a kiss good-night. Vince kisses back, touches Eric’s face, looks at his closed eyes. He wants what his brother has, and he feels like, maybe, it’s right here. But he also worries that it might never be possible for the two of them.
“Don’t worry,” Eric says, snuggling into his pillow, one of his hands tangling up in Vince’s shirt. “Vacation soon.”
“Not soon enough,” Vince murmurs, but Eric’s already asleep.
Vince thinks about the promised vacation whenever he gets annoyed over the next few weeks, and it acts as a tonic. He still doesn’t see enough of Eric, but for once, he’s busy, too. Kelvin’s spotted a couple of things he says are promising, so they take a meeting early the next week with Ari to talk things through.
“Screw all of this shit,” Ari says, sweeping Kelvin’s suggestions off his desk onto the floor. He reaches instead into a desk drawer and draws out another script, which he drops onto the table in front of Vince. “Medellin,” Ari says, throwing the script on the table in front of him.
“Holy shit,” Vince says, picking up the script. “Seriously? I thought that was dead.”
“Seriously,” Ari says. “New studio, new schedule, and new director, baby, all breathing life into the craziest motherfucking druglord of our time.”
“Who’s the director?” Kelvin asks.
“Excellent question, for which I have an excellent fucking answer. You ready? No, seriously, are you -”
“Ari,” Vince says.
“Paul Haggis is directing, his first project since Crash, and he loves you. Did I tell you? You do Coaster, you keep your midget-fucking predilection on the DL, and good shit happens.”
Vince feels like his grin might split his face. “This is awesome!”
“Read it, get back to me, meet with Haggis next week and we can get this sewed up by Labor Day, film in the fall, roll out for festivals in the summer and Oscars next year.”
Vince holds his script in both hands. “Ari, thank you,” he says.
“No, thank you,” Ari says. “Haggis fucking loved Coaster. This is where we’ve been headed, gentlemen. You nail this, I don’t care if your next film is you nailing E on camera, you’re gonna be a serious star.”
Vince takes the script home and reads half of it after dinner, while he’s waiting for Eric to get home. It’s good - better, even, than when he read it with Eric in New York. And with Haggis directing, it’s gonna be amazing. The only things he’s not looking forward to are the 70 pounds Haggis wants him to gain, and the three months of filming in the jungle, away from Eric.
He sets the script down. It doesn’t feel right to make this movie without Eric. Eric found the script; he was the one who dropped it in front of him while they were filming Queens Boulevard and said, “I found our next fucking movie, man.” They were so excited, it was one of the only things - other than that bitch Kristen - that they talked about on the flight home from New York. Vince flips through the pages and suddenly, it strikes him that maybe he doesn’t have to do it without Eric. There is no logical reason that Eric can’t come to Colombia with him. He’s nearly done with his current project, and he’s been saying - they’ve both been saying - that they need a break. This could be the thing. They need a restart, Vince thinks. They need to get back to how things were in Australia and just after, when they couldn’t keep their hands off each other, when Eric wanted him all the time.
“Yo,” Eric calls, walking in the front door.
“Hey.” Eric walks into the kitchen still carrying his bag, and he’s grinning. “You look happy. What, you get to kill someone at work today?”
“Even better,” he says, dropping his bag into a chair. “We’re finishing shooting two days early. You believe that?”
“Nice,” Vince says. He tilts his head and Eric kisses his neck as he passes by. “You get some kind of bonus for that?”
“Anything that saves Harvey money is a bonus in the end,” he says. He grabs a beer out of the fridge, and after a glance at Vince, grabs a second. He passes one over and says, “What’re you reading?”
Vince smiles and turns the script around. “Ari came through.”
“Medellin? Holy shit, Vince,” he says. His beer, unopened, gets pushed to the side as Eric looks at the pages. “Who’s directing?”
“Paul Haggis,” Vince says, and Eric looks up with a huge smile on his face. “Yeah.”
“You’re doing it.”
“I’m totally doing it,” Vince says, and Eric laughs and reaches across the island, kisses him quick.
“Jesus, congratulations!”
“I’m fucking psyched.”
“You should be. This is the same script we were looking at?”
“Yeah. Haggis has made a couple changes, I think, but - it looks awesome.” He pats his stomach. “You still gonna love me with an extra 70 pounds?”
“I’d love you with an extra 140,” Eric says, still smiling. “Ho-ly fuck. I owe Ari an apology, I never thought he’d get this for you.”
Vince leans forward. “You got this for me,” he says.
Eric laughs. “Are you confusing me with Kelvin again?”
“I mean - you found this script, E. You found it in New York, you brought it to Ari. I’m getting this because of your good eye.” He grins. “Kind of like the old days, you know?”
“Yeah, except I don’t get ten percent anymore,” Eric says, shaking his head. “What’d they offer?”
“Ten million,” Vince says, and Eric whistles.
“Ten million and an Oscar, not a bad combo plate,” he says. He finally opens his beer. “So when do you start? What’s the schedule like?”
“Starts in September. Filming in Colombia.”
Eric finishes his sip and says, “Colombia? Is that safe?”
“Paul’s done a bunch of negotiating with the locals, I guess. We should be fine.” Vince raises his eyebrows. “But if you’re worried, you could always come along.”
“Right.” Eric walks around the island still carrying his beer. “We ought to go celebrate this. The guys know yet?”
“I wanted to tell you first,” Vince says. He keeps watching Eric, who’s suddenly concentrating on his beer. “E. I want you to come with me.”
“Come with you where?”
“To Colombia.”
Eric laughs, just once. “Wait, you’re serious?” Vince nods. “Vince, I can’t. I got work to do, you know that.”
“I know you said you were getting a break. And you’re about finished with your other project, right?”
“It’s not - I still have stuff to do,” Eric protests. “I gotta finish things out for Harvey, I can’t just -”
“You can,” Vince says, reaching out. His hand rests on Eric’s side. “Come on, E. You said - we both said, we were gonna try and spend more time together.”
Eric shrugs. “I can’t just up and leave, Vince.”
“Right.” Vince pulls back. What he sees on Eric’s face and hears in Eric’s voice isn’t an inability to leave - it’s a lack of desire. He stands up and walks to the living room, and it takes Eric a minute to follow.
“Vince -”
He turns around slowly, sees Eric standing in the doorway with his arms crossed, looking pissed. “You have to work.” Eric nods. “Every day. From now until when?”
Eric shrugs. “From now until retirement. That’s how it works, that’s what a real job is like. I have to fucking work.”
“A real job. Right. So tell me - when were we going to take this vacation, anyway? You said, anywhere I wanted to go. You said, as much of you as I wanted. When the fuck was that gonna happen, E, around your real job?”
“I am trying -”
“You are not!” Vince is yelling; he can hear the anger trembling in his voice. None of this is put on, none of this is acting. It’s everything that’s been bothering him for the last few months - hell, the last two years, it’s all coming up. “You’re not trying at all! You don’t even - when was the last time you even made an effort to come home early, Eric?”
“Jesus Christ, we’re gonna get into this right now?”
“When else can we get into it? Should I schedule an appointment? Maybe you could just staff me out to Steph.” He’s fucking shaking, even as he points at Eric. “When the fuck have you made an effort?”
“Right fucking now, asshole,” Eric says. “Right now, I came home just to see you, because you’ve been on my fucking case all week,” and here his voice pitches high and it’s so stupid, Vince knows he doesn’t sound like this, “‘Oh, I never see you, oh, wah wah wah.’”
“This is early? This is - it’s fucking 9 o’clock, E, and you wake up at the ass-crack of dawn.”
“Yeah, and you know what, I could just go home and go to bed, but instead, I busted my ass to get here, to spend a little time with you, instead of hanging around for cigars after dinner -”
“After dinner?”
“Harvey and Katzenberg.”
“Jesus Christ,” Vince says. He rubs his forehead. “Somehow, I thought when you quit working for him, you’d actually stop working for him.”
“We still have things in production,” Eric says. “What is it you think I do all day?”
“I don’t have a goddamned clue,” Vince says.
Eric huffs and walks out of the room, and Vince stands there in silence for another minute. What he thinks, as he hears Eric slamming dresser drawers and the bathroom door down the hall, is that it really isn’t any fun anymore. Eric needs to relax so badly it’s like a sickness he needs treatment for, like something Vince wishes he could call in an expert to treat. It’s gone beyond something he can fix or wait out, he thinks, and that makes him feel anxious and unhappy all over again.
Eric walks back through a minute later carrying his bag again. Vince groans. “What is this shit, now you’re gonna run away from home? Oh wait, I forgot, this isn’t even your home, is it?”
“Fuck you,” Eric says, “you said the house thing was OK, you -”
“You bought an entire fucking house without telling me, E! I’m supposed to be - I’m supposed to be your partner, but you know what? I bet I know who you did tell. I bet Harvey knew all about it, I bet -
“What is your deal with him?”
“My deal is he’s the most important man in your life, E. And that ain’t how it was supposed to go.”
Eric shifts his bag. “Give me a break,” he says, his voice dripping with disdain and disbelief. “Harvey - Harvey made me, Vin, you think I should just turn my back on his advice, his help?”
“Fuck you, Harvey made you!” Vince says. His blood is pounding in his ears, his chest is tight, and he’s hurting and he wants, suddenly, he wants Eric to hurt right back. “I fucking made you.”
Eric takes a step back. Vince can see he’s shaking, and his face is red. “Who fucking made who?” he yells, pointing at Vince. “If it wasn’t for me, you’d still be waiting around for Matterhorn to get made.”
Vince stands, too, and crosses his arms. “If it wasn’t for you, I’d be fucking Aquaman.”
“And Mandy Moore,” Eric sneers. “Why don’t you look her up, because I get a feeling like you’re gonna be lonely tonight.”
“Maybe I fucking will! At least I’d probably get to see her sometimes, at least with her I could have an actual fucking relationship instead of this home alone bullshit.”
Eric is panting, still shaking, and Vince knows he must look the same. Eric says, “You know what your problem is? You just liked it better when I was the supporting guy. It bothers the fuck out of you for me to have an actual job, for me to have some actual power, right?”
“It bothers me,” Vince says, “that you’re a fucking clone of all the guys we said we’d never be, yeah, E, that fucking bothers me. You, in your suits with your business meetings and your stock portfolio and your goddamned investment house. You aren’t even the guy I knew two years ago, you’re like the guy who fired that guy.” He shakes his head. “I’m doing this fucking movie,” he says. “Two years ago, you would have been with me.”
“Yeah, well, have a fucking great time in Colombia,” he says.
“Have a fucking great life in Malibu.”
Vince walks out of the living room, hears the front door slam just before he reaches his bedroom. It takes him the rest of the night, tossing and turning, to realize what’s really happened: he just broke up with Eric.
Holy fuck.
Part 5
They have a meeting with Ari the next day to go over final details for the movie, and then a lunch with Shauna to talk about upcoming press stuff. At both meetings, Eric gets interrupted by phone calls that he has to take.
“What’s his story?” Shauna asks when he leaves the table to take a call.
“He’s busy,” Vince says, shrugging. He knows the calls are really about the merger, but he can’t tell anyone about that. “Gotta work hard to keep me in the manner to which I’m accustomed.”
“Well, cheers for finding a man like that,” Shauna says, and takes a big sip of her martini. “So lets talk about these interviews.”
They start making arrangements for a pre-premiere spread that Vanity Fair wants to do, and when Eric slides back into the booth they’re talking about the photographer.
“Wait, pictures?” Eric says. “I thought this was just a short what’s-up-now thing.”
Shauna rolls her eyes. “Jesus Christ, Eric, do you read the things I send you or just use them to wipe Harvey’s ass? We’re a contender for the cover, and that requires pictures.”
Eric sighs. “Sorry,” he says. “I’ve had some other stuff going on, I guess I didn’t read through what you faxed.”
“What is your fucking job, exactly?” Shauna asks.
“I’m doing like eight different things right now, Jesus,” Eric says. “I just - Ari sent things, you sent things, I must have gotten them mixed up.”
“You’re fucking lucky this guy’s got such a hard-on for you,” Shauna says, leaning forward to whisper, though her voice is steely. “Any other manager was this checked out, he would’ve been on the curb weeks ago, Eric.”
“Yeah, I know, I know,” Eric says.
The defensive note in his voice makes Vince raise his hands. “OK, easy, easy. We’re all agreed on the photos now, though, right?”
Shauna nods sharply, still glaring at Eric, and Eric nods, too. They get back on track, but Vince can see that Shauna’s words are working on Eric a little. That night he says, “Do you think I’ve been dropping the ball with your career, lately?”
Vince doesn’t really know what to say to that. They’ve never made a habit of lying to each other, though, so he says, “Yeah, maybe, you’ve been a little distracted.”
Eric turns on his side and looks at Vince. “I know,” he says. “I don’t - I don’t mean to be. I just have a lot going on.”
“Yeah,” Vince says. He cups Eric’s shoulder, then says, softly, “Sometimes it feels like too much is going on.”
Eric turns back to his side. “I know,” he says again, but he doesn’t say anything else. Vince decides not to push. This is the way Eric works - he has to come around to it on his own. He’s just relieved to see he’s starting to realize that he’s got too much going on, that this second career with Harvey can’t really work out. Vince decides he’ll give him a week, then bring it up again. Maybe he’ll get Ari to pile on a little, too. If it takes Ari to get through to Eric, Vince isn’t above using him. He wonders if he can figure out some reason to schedule another meeting for that week.
Vince spends the next few evenings with Turtle and Dom at their new place, even crashes there once when they all get drunk on a bottle of scotch Turtle found in one of his boxes. It’s a bottle he lifted from Vince’s bar, but Vince doesn’t care. It gets put to good use, after all. When he calls Eric to check in, Eric doesn’t sound pissed - he sounds almost relieved, saying he was going to have to work late anyway.
Dom says, “What, he’s fucking his secretary or something?”
Vince laughs, taking another drink. “Nah, he’s working.”
“Uh-huh. Wish I could find a girl who’d let me get away with half the shit you let that guy do.”
Vince rolls his eyes. “Dom, it’s E. He’s not cheating. He’s just always working.”
“Kids got it in the genes, I guess,” Dom says, and they all toast the memories of their fathers as they drink again.
Eric comes in the next evening and sits in the lounge chair that’s next to Vince’s, where he’s been reading for most of the afternoon. “Hey, you eat yet?” Vince asks.
Eric shakes his head. “I wanna talk to you,” he says.
“So talk.”
“I - Look. I’ve been, these last few months, I’ve -” He stops, takes a breath, and Vince starts to worry a little.
“Spit it out, E,” he says. “Are you feeling sick?”
“No,” he says. “I just - I think you’re right. You’re right, and Ari’s right, and Shauna’s right, and even Harvey’s right. I’ve been working too much.”
Vince nods and smiles a little. “Thank God,” he says, “I didn’t know if you were ever going to come around.”
Eric’s smile is also very small. “Yeah, well. Something’s gotta give, huh?”
“No kidding. What’d Harvey say?”
Eric frowns. “That’s, uh. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” He clears his throat, but to his credit he looks Vince right in the eye. “I don’t think I should be your manager anymore.”
Vince has to ask him to repeat that, and even when he’s heard it again, he doesn’t believe it. “What are you talking about?”
“I think - you’ve been Oscar nominated, Vin. You’ve got great prospects ahead, maybe it’s time you got a real management company behind you.”
“Fuck that, you know what I think of those places,” Vince says. “I get all that stuff working with you.”
Eric nods, and he rubs his neck. “OK,” he says. “OK. The thing is - I don’t think I can do it, anymore.”
“Because you’re too busy working for fucking Harvey!”
“No,” Eric says, and when Vince rolls his eyes, he says, “No. Seriously. That’s not the reason. I mean, it’s part of it, but - no. I just - this thing, you and I -” and he reaches over and grips Vince’s wrist - “We haven’t had a lot of time, recently.”
“And you quitting is going to improve that?” Vince asks. He kind of wants to pull his hand away; all he’s feeling, right now, is wounded.
“I’m saying, we already don’t get as much time as we should, because you’re busy and I’m busy, and then half the time I see you we have business to talk about anyway. And I gotta tell you, I don’t need to come home to business, too, you know?”
“I don’t know,” Vince says quietly. “I like how things are. How they were. You’re, like, the only person I trust with this stuff, E.”
He nods. “I know,” he says. “Either way, you’re gonna get my advice on everything, you know that, but I think you gotta have someone else around to really look out for you, and maybe someone who can be there, at every single event.” Vince frowns. “I can’t be rational about you anymore,” Eric says. “That’s what I’m saying. I’m overinvolved.”
“Why do you -”
“I feel like, we’ve reached a point where we have to choose, OK? Either we’re business partners, or we’re partner partners.”
“Either business or pleasure, huh?” Vince asks.
“Yeah,” Eric says, “and I’m choosing us. OK? Over business, over the job, I choose being with you.” He offers a tentative smile. He can tell Eric’s already made this decision, and Vince didn’t get to where he is by doubting Eric’s decisions, but he doesn’t like it, doesn’t even really believe what Eric’s saying. “Think about it this way, next time we hit a premiere together, I won’t be working.”
That makes Vince feel some better, and he nods, and lets Eric kiss the inside of his wrist. “OK, but you gotta help me find someone new,” he says, and Eric nods.
“Deal.” He rubs his hands together. “We’re gonna find you the ugliest, straightest man on the planet.”
Actually, they find Vince a nice-looking straight man, Kelvin, who is totally not his type and who works for a very small firm in Beverly Hills. Kelvin’s an all right guy - not Eric, by any means, but someone who has enough experience around town that there’s not much necessary training. He reads scripts and hands off a few that sound good, takes meetings with Ari, finds Dom a job working security at a film warehouse, and plays basketball with Vince and the guys in the driveway while Vince is waiting on Eric to get home. When Vince starts filming on the Cuarón movie, Kelvin’s on set every day dealing with problems and questions, and between him and Ari (who is Kelvin’s number one fan) they manage to get Vince a little salary boost on the picture to reflect his nominations. Kelvin also helps Vince score a cabin in Australia in the fall, where he plans to take Eric as a surprise, since their summer plans have gotten shifted back.
They never officially come out - there’s no big announcement, no party, no interview - but they do, somehow, get figured out. Maybe it’s leftover observation from the hospital (Vince imagines someone reported that Eric was asking to see his partner all night); maybe it’s that after Eric quits as his manager, they still show up together everywhere; maybe it’s Shauna working behind the scenes. Whatever it is, they manage to keep it off the covers of the magazines, but everyone they know seems to know. Vince goes to one of the premieres for a movie Eric’s been working on, and there’s a seat reserved for him next to Eric (which puts him a row back from Harvey’s fourth wife). When a reporter asks him outside what he’s doing there, he doesn’t feel weird at all saying, “I’m here supporting my guy, he produced this.” What does feel weird is that no one has to ask him for Eric’s name.
In fact, as the summer goes on, they go to more events just like that, and though Vince continues to make a bigger splash on the red carpet, Eric’s the one who gets the attention inside. Half the people who come by to say hi don’t give Vince more than a cursory hello. At first, he enjoys it, but then it starts to get annoying.
“Jesus, what am I, your industry trophy wife?” Vince asks one evening as they’re headed home. He spent the whole night texting Turtle as Hollywood royalty stopped by to tell Eric how much they loved the new film. Worse than that, a director Vince liked from Sundance two years back stopped over, and was way more interested in talking to Eric than he was Vince. Apparently they’ve got some deal going that Vince didn’t even know about. “I’m your Kate Capshaw, now?”
Eric laughs. “You are way hotter than Kate Capshaw,” he says, “and way more famous. Than her, and than me. I’m sorry, I know it’s a drag to do business all night.” He reaches over and rubs Vince’s neck, which is the most affection Vince gets in public. “But tomorrow night, we got nothing going. Right?”
“I’ll have to check with Kelvin,” Vince says, feeling a little sulky.
Eric keeps rubbing. “I think you’re free,” he says. “And we’re gonna go to dinner.”
It doesn’t turn out to be the intimate night Vince was hoping for, because Johnny calls in the middle of the day and basically invites himself and the other guys along. Dom can’t go, because he’s working, so it’s just the four of them. They end up at a place Johnny picks, and as they’re waiting for their main courses, Johnny blurts out, “I asked Larissa to marry me and she said yes!”
“Holy shit,” Vince says, and then realizes he was in perfect unison with Eric and Turtle. They all laugh, and there’s an immediate rush to clap Johnny on the shoulders and hug him and high-five him. “Wow, so, when?” Vince asks, after signalling the waiter and ordering champagne.
“June,” he says. “She wanted some time to plan it. I think she wants - we’re talking about, maybe like a destination type deal. And she’s got like eight cousins, they all gotta be bridesmaids.”
“Hot cousins?” Turtle asks.
Johnny rolls his eyes. He’s grinning ear-to-ear, and Vince feels a real rush of happiness for him. He’ll find a way, later, to make sure that he covers whatever expenses Johnny needs for this wedding. Johnny’s been working steady recently, but television still isn’t movies. “So listen, I wanted - I mean - I thought, you guys, since we’re all out here, and we’ve been like family - “ He shakes his head, and Vince can see he’s getting a little choked up.
“Of course, Johnny,” Vince says, gripping his shoulder. “We’ll do it.”
Johnny nods. “I need some decent fucking groomsmen, you know?”
“Yeah, Drama, of course,” Eric says, and Turtle echoes that. Vince looks over and catches Eric’s eye, and he smiles a little, both a can-you-believe-it smile and something more tender and warm, and Vince returns the look.
“Jesus, that kind of blows my news out of the water,” Eric says, and Vince looks over, curious.
“Your news?” He leans in. “Are we getting married?”
Eric shakes his head. “Not in this state,” he says. “No, I, uh - I signed a deal with Paramount.”
“Yeah? What’s the new project?” Johnny asks. “Anything in it for me?”
“Not that kind of deal,” Eric says, crossing his arms, smiling a little to himself. Vince gets a sudden cold feeling in his stomach, though he can’t explain why. “I’m going to work there.”
“What?” Turtle says. “They need a cafeteria manager?”
“No, fucktard, they need a new co-VP for production at Dreamworks.”
Vince sets his glass down. “Dreamworks. Steven Spielberg’s Dreamworks?” Eric nods. The smile is growing a little, but he manages a calm sip of his beer. “You met with Steven Spielberg and you didn’t mention it?”
He shrugs. “I didn’t know if it was gonna come through,” he says. “Their last guy had two MBAs and fucked David Geffen.”
“Tell me you didn’t take that route,” Turtle says, and Eric shakes his head, laughing.
“Paramount’s looking at HWP right now, so they want someone on board who’s dealt with Harvey. And they liked the work on Mastery. I’ve spent the last six months talking to Goodman nearly every day, so when the spot came open -”
“Jesus,” Vince says, and then he says it again, for lack of anything better to say. “E - that’s -”
“Fucking amazing,” Johnny says.
“A fucking miracle,” Turtle says. “Two in one night, holy shit. We need another bottle.”
“On E,” Johnny says, and Eric laughs again.
That night, when it’s just the two of them in Eric’s car on the way home, Eric says, “You’re kind of quiet.”
Vince nods, still looking out the window. “Honestly, I’m still taking it all in. Johnny’s getting married and you’re working at Dreamworks - it’s a lot, you know?”
“Yeah,” Eric says. “I, uh. I wanted to tell you, just the two of us, tonight, but - it’s gonna be in Variety tomorrow maybe, so I didn’t think I should wait.” He glances over. “Are you OK?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Are you OK?”
“I’m - yeah, Vin, I’m good. I’m great.”
“Then I’m happy for you.”
“Right. You look happy.”
Vince shrugs. “E, what do you want me to say? I just heard about this for the first time two hours ago, though you’ve obviously been planning it for a while. I’m surprised, I’m - I’m a little hurt you didn’t say anything before, I guess, but I’ll get over it.”
“I didn’t know if it was going to work out,” Eric says. He sounds exasperated. “And - the whole thing’s been pretty hush-hush, like, I didn’t want anyone at Harvey’s shop to know other than him, and I couldn’t have Ari telling anybody -”
“So what, you don’t think I could keep a secret from Ari?” He shakes his head. “I’m trying, OK, to give you the benefit of the doubt here, but it sort of seems like you don’t trust me.”
“Hey, I trust you,” Eric says quickly - too quickly. “Of course I trust you. I just - this is the biggest fucking deal I’ve ever worked on. If Paramount buys HWP, that’s automatic distribution for the last six films we’ve got in the pipeline, and that’s - it’s seriously like 20 million dollars for me.”
“I don’t fucking care about the fucking money,” Vince says, the words coming out almost like a hiss. “Jesus Christ, Eric, who do you think I am that that kind of stuff would impress me?”
“I thought you were my fucking boyfriend, and I thought you might actually be happy for me, instead of being such a fucking pain in the ass about stuff,” Eric says. The light turns green and Eric zips forward into traffic, and neither of them talks for a few blocks. “Look,” he says, his tone still a little sharp. “I didn’t not tell you because I don’t trust you. I’ve just - I kept meaning to, but everything was so busy. And Dom was around, and you were filming, and I just - I got busy and I fucked up, and I’m sorry.”
“We’re supposed to be partners,” Vince says. He doesn’t like the plaintive note in his voice, but he can’t quite squash it. “E, you used to tell me everything.”
“I still do,” Eric says, and Vince’s head jerks up. “OK, all the important stuff.” He sighs. “Fuck, Vin, I know, I know, I’ve got a lot going on, I’m sorry.”
Vince shakes his head and looks out the window. He feels kind of like he’s being a bitch, but - the truth is, his feelings are hurt. Eric bought a fucking house without telling him. He changed jobs without telling him. Vince doesn’t know a lot about serious relationships, but he knows they’re supposed to be different than this.
“Are you really pissed at me?”
Vince shrugs. “Kind of,” he says.
“You can’t just be happy for me?”
“I am,” Vince says. He turns in his seat, faces Eric. “E, I want to be. OK? I want you to do well, I want you to have a job you love and be successful and all of that. But you keep doing shit like this, you keep - you bought a house, you changed jobs, you - you didn’t even ask me, you didn’t even talk to me.”
“Vince,” Eric says, and he sighs. “I said I was sorry. I am sorry. I really, really - I was going to take you out tonight, just the two of us -”
“And what the fuck is that shit, anyway? The two of us. But not really, right? Not really a date, because no one fucking knows.”
“Hey, you said that was OK, to wait, you said -” Eric swerves, and Vince jerks back into his seat, a second before Eric’s arm flings out across his chest. There’s a screech of tires and then a loud honk, and they sail past a red car that’s come to a halt in the next lane.
“Jesus!” Vince yells.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Eric says, drawing his arm back and putting both hands on the wheel.
“You’re gonna get us killed!” Vince says. His voice is shaky.
“I know, I know.” He takes a deep breath, and they drive about a block before he speaks again. “Can we talk about this at home?”
“Yes,” Vince says. “Yes. Just - please get us there.”
Eric nods. He takes a deep breath, and then nods again, and he doesn’t talk the rest of the way, and Vince doesn’t take his eyes off the road, either.
At the house, they stop in the driveway, and Vince climbs out and leans against the car. Eric walks around and faces him, and he says, “I’m sorry.”
He’s still a little shaky form the near-miss in the car, but he makes his voice steady. “Don’t be sorry,” Vince says. He watched his parents fight the whole time he was growing up, he’s played a dozen crappy boyfriends and seen a million more on television. The thing he hates most in the world is fighting - no, the thing he hates most in the world is fighting with Eric. Maybe Dom’s right, maybe he lets Eric get away with stuff, but - it’s Eric. At the end of the day, he’s a good guy, and he’s Vince’s guy, and that’s what matters. He reaches out and puts his hands on Eric’s shoulders, and Eric looks up at him with wide eyes. He is sorry, Vince can tell. “Don’t be sorry. Be better, OK? Don’t take a job without telling me. Basic couple stuff, right?” Eric nods. “OK. So don’t do that again.”
Eric smiles just a little. “I promise I won’t.” He reaches up and puts his hands over Vince’s, and then ducks his head and rests it against Vince’s chest.
Vince rubs his neck. “E, we gotta figure some stuff out,” he says. “I wanna talk about coming out for real.”
“Yeah,” Eric says. He pulls back, looks up at Vince. “We should talk about that.”
“And about - I miss you,” Vince says. He feels a little lame for saying it, but it’s true.
Eric blinks. “What?”
“I never get to see you,” Vince says quietly. “I know you’re working, I know you’re new to this job, but - I’m home alone way too often.”
Eric frowns, but then he nods. “I know,” he says. “I know. We’ll - I just, it’s gonna be hard the next month or two, but then I should have a break before I start at the new place. We could go somewhere.” He looks up, and he looks hopeful. “Anywhere you want.”
“OK,” Vince says. He leans down and kisses Eric, cupping his face in both hands. “I don’t even care where we go, if I get to see you the whole time we’re there.”
“As much of me as you want,” Eric says, and Vince snorts, which makes them both laugh. “Seriously, though,” Eric says, touching Vince’s face. “Are we OK?”
“Yeah,” Vince says. It’s not totally true, but he’ll work on making it that way. He can pretend to be OK with things until he actually is, and by that time, maybe, they’ll be lying on a beach somewhere. “We’re good.”
For the next couple of weeks, though, it’s just business as usual - for Eric, at least. Vince is still killing time, and he finally sets a date for dinner with Johnny and Larissa. Eric, the night before, brings home a very expensive bottle of wine and tells Vince he can’t make it; Vince takes it in stride, because honestly, he expected this.
They go to the Ivy, just the three of them. Johnny wants it to be just family, because he’s taking Larissa to New York in a week to meet the rest of the family. She’s a sweet girl, with just enough sass that Vince believes she can survive their mother unscathed. “They’re gonna love you,” Vince assures her.
“You think?” She looks over at him, then over at Johnny. Vince knows this is the girl for his brother because of things like this. Larissa’s not unattractive - she’s got long, toned legs and long black hair, and though she’s not model-thin, she’s fit, and nice-looking, and always well-dressed (though rarely scantily clad). Definitely Johnny’s type, but not the type that usually goes for him. That Johnny’s ga-ga for her is no surprise; what Vince likes, what convinces him that this girl is for real, is that for Larissa, sometimes, Vince isn’t even in the room.
“I know,” Vince says. “Hey, we all love you. If you weren’t tied up to this guy -”
“Hands off, baby bro,” Johnny says, putting an arm around Larissa. “Besides, E would have your balls.”
Vince laughs and lifts a glass in toast to that.
“So where is he tonight?” Larissa asks after the appetizers are served.
Vince shrugs. “Working. He’s got this new job - you know, I don’t even exactly remember the title.”
“He’s co-VP for production at Dreamworks,” Johnny offers.
“You don’t know what he does?”
“No, I know,” Vince says. “I just - he just took the job recently.”
Larissa glances at Johnny. “Hey, you didn’t tell me Eric had a new job.”
Johnny shrugs. “I forgot, baby, I’m sorry. It was the same night I told the guys about us getting engaged.” He smirks. “And if you think you’re surprised, think how Vince felt.”
Larissa looks over at him. “You didn’t know?” Vince shakes his head, chewing on an artichoke fry. “Oh, no way,” Larissa says. “He took a new job without talking to you? I barely let your brother get dressed without my say-so.”
Vince expects Johnny to object, but he just looks at Larissa with a pleased little smile. “She has great taste,” he says, shrugging, and Larissa gives him an affectionate smile back. “You ought to let her take you shopping sometime, bro.”
“Sure, any time,” Vince says.
As the meal goes on, he watches them. It’s what actors do, after all. He watches his brother and his soon-to-be sister-in-law as they flirt, as they laugh, and they break into each other’s stories. He watches them hold hands on top of the table, watches Larissa’s half-annoyed, half-affectionate look when Johnny tells an off-color joke, watches the way his brother glows a little when Larissa talks about the job she’s working on, a period piece out of Universal. Basically, he watches them to see what being in love, for a normal everyday couple, looks like, and he both likes and feels discouraged by what he sees.
When he gets home, Eric’s already in bed, dozing against the headboard, the TV remote having dropped out of his slack hand. Vince gets ready for bed quietly, then crawls in next to Eric, ducking under his arm. Eric snuffles and wakes, bends and kisses his head. “You have fun?” he asks.
Vince nods. “I wish you’d been there,” he says, resting one hand on Eric’s warm belly.
“I’m sorry,” Eric says, voice still sleepy. “Glad you had a good time.”
They shuffle down into bed, touching a little, and Eric reaches out for a kiss good-night. Vince kisses back, touches Eric’s face, looks at his closed eyes. He wants what his brother has, and he feels like, maybe, it’s right here. But he also worries that it might never be possible for the two of them.
“Don’t worry,” Eric says, snuggling into his pillow, one of his hands tangling up in Vince’s shirt. “Vacation soon.”
“Not soon enough,” Vince murmurs, but Eric’s already asleep.
Vince thinks about the promised vacation whenever he gets annoyed over the next few weeks, and it acts as a tonic. He still doesn’t see enough of Eric, but for once, he’s busy, too. Kelvin’s spotted a couple of things he says are promising, so they take a meeting early the next week with Ari to talk things through.
“Screw all of this shit,” Ari says, sweeping Kelvin’s suggestions off his desk onto the floor. He reaches instead into a desk drawer and draws out another script, which he drops onto the table in front of Vince. “Medellin,” Ari says, throwing the script on the table in front of him.
“Holy shit,” Vince says, picking up the script. “Seriously? I thought that was dead.”
“Seriously,” Ari says. “New studio, new schedule, and new director, baby, all breathing life into the craziest motherfucking druglord of our time.”
“Who’s the director?” Kelvin asks.
“Excellent question, for which I have an excellent fucking answer. You ready? No, seriously, are you -”
“Ari,” Vince says.
“Paul Haggis is directing, his first project since Crash, and he loves you. Did I tell you? You do Coaster, you keep your midget-fucking predilection on the DL, and good shit happens.”
Vince feels like his grin might split his face. “This is awesome!”
“Read it, get back to me, meet with Haggis next week and we can get this sewed up by Labor Day, film in the fall, roll out for festivals in the summer and Oscars next year.”
Vince holds his script in both hands. “Ari, thank you,” he says.
“No, thank you,” Ari says. “Haggis fucking loved Coaster. This is where we’ve been headed, gentlemen. You nail this, I don’t care if your next film is you nailing E on camera, you’re gonna be a serious star.”
Vince takes the script home and reads half of it after dinner, while he’s waiting for Eric to get home. It’s good - better, even, than when he read it with Eric in New York. And with Haggis directing, it’s gonna be amazing. The only things he’s not looking forward to are the 70 pounds Haggis wants him to gain, and the three months of filming in the jungle, away from Eric.
He sets the script down. It doesn’t feel right to make this movie without Eric. Eric found the script; he was the one who dropped it in front of him while they were filming Queens Boulevard and said, “I found our next fucking movie, man.” They were so excited, it was one of the only things - other than that bitch Kristen - that they talked about on the flight home from New York. Vince flips through the pages and suddenly, it strikes him that maybe he doesn’t have to do it without Eric. There is no logical reason that Eric can’t come to Colombia with him. He’s nearly done with his current project, and he’s been saying - they’ve both been saying - that they need a break. This could be the thing. They need a restart, Vince thinks. They need to get back to how things were in Australia and just after, when they couldn’t keep their hands off each other, when Eric wanted him all the time.
“Yo,” Eric calls, walking in the front door.
“Hey.” Eric walks into the kitchen still carrying his bag, and he’s grinning. “You look happy. What, you get to kill someone at work today?”
“Even better,” he says, dropping his bag into a chair. “We’re finishing shooting two days early. You believe that?”
“Nice,” Vince says. He tilts his head and Eric kisses his neck as he passes by. “You get some kind of bonus for that?”
“Anything that saves Harvey money is a bonus in the end,” he says. He grabs a beer out of the fridge, and after a glance at Vince, grabs a second. He passes one over and says, “What’re you reading?”
Vince smiles and turns the script around. “Ari came through.”
“Medellin? Holy shit, Vince,” he says. His beer, unopened, gets pushed to the side as Eric looks at the pages. “Who’s directing?”
“Paul Haggis,” Vince says, and Eric looks up with a huge smile on his face. “Yeah.”
“You’re doing it.”
“I’m totally doing it,” Vince says, and Eric laughs and reaches across the island, kisses him quick.
“Jesus, congratulations!”
“I’m fucking psyched.”
“You should be. This is the same script we were looking at?”
“Yeah. Haggis has made a couple changes, I think, but - it looks awesome.” He pats his stomach. “You still gonna love me with an extra 70 pounds?”
“I’d love you with an extra 140,” Eric says, still smiling. “Ho-ly fuck. I owe Ari an apology, I never thought he’d get this for you.”
Vince leans forward. “You got this for me,” he says.
Eric laughs. “Are you confusing me with Kelvin again?”
“I mean - you found this script, E. You found it in New York, you brought it to Ari. I’m getting this because of your good eye.” He grins. “Kind of like the old days, you know?”
“Yeah, except I don’t get ten percent anymore,” Eric says, shaking his head. “What’d they offer?”
“Ten million,” Vince says, and Eric whistles.
“Ten million and an Oscar, not a bad combo plate,” he says. He finally opens his beer. “So when do you start? What’s the schedule like?”
“Starts in September. Filming in Colombia.”
Eric finishes his sip and says, “Colombia? Is that safe?”
“Paul’s done a bunch of negotiating with the locals, I guess. We should be fine.” Vince raises his eyebrows. “But if you’re worried, you could always come along.”
“Right.” Eric walks around the island still carrying his beer. “We ought to go celebrate this. The guys know yet?”
“I wanted to tell you first,” Vince says. He keeps watching Eric, who’s suddenly concentrating on his beer. “E. I want you to come with me.”
“Come with you where?”
“To Colombia.”
Eric laughs, just once. “Wait, you’re serious?” Vince nods. “Vince, I can’t. I got work to do, you know that.”
“I know you said you were getting a break. And you’re about finished with your other project, right?”
“It’s not - I still have stuff to do,” Eric protests. “I gotta finish things out for Harvey, I can’t just -”
“You can,” Vince says, reaching out. His hand rests on Eric’s side. “Come on, E. You said - we both said, we were gonna try and spend more time together.”
Eric shrugs. “I can’t just up and leave, Vince.”
“Right.” Vince pulls back. What he sees on Eric’s face and hears in Eric’s voice isn’t an inability to leave - it’s a lack of desire. He stands up and walks to the living room, and it takes Eric a minute to follow.
“Vince -”
He turns around slowly, sees Eric standing in the doorway with his arms crossed, looking pissed. “You have to work.” Eric nods. “Every day. From now until when?”
Eric shrugs. “From now until retirement. That’s how it works, that’s what a real job is like. I have to fucking work.”
“A real job. Right. So tell me - when were we going to take this vacation, anyway? You said, anywhere I wanted to go. You said, as much of you as I wanted. When the fuck was that gonna happen, E, around your real job?”
“I am trying -”
“You are not!” Vince is yelling; he can hear the anger trembling in his voice. None of this is put on, none of this is acting. It’s everything that’s been bothering him for the last few months - hell, the last two years, it’s all coming up. “You’re not trying at all! You don’t even - when was the last time you even made an effort to come home early, Eric?”
“Jesus Christ, we’re gonna get into this right now?”
“When else can we get into it? Should I schedule an appointment? Maybe you could just staff me out to Steph.” He’s fucking shaking, even as he points at Eric. “When the fuck have you made an effort?”
“Right fucking now, asshole,” Eric says. “Right now, I came home just to see you, because you’ve been on my fucking case all week,” and here his voice pitches high and it’s so stupid, Vince knows he doesn’t sound like this, “‘Oh, I never see you, oh, wah wah wah.’”
“This is early? This is - it’s fucking 9 o’clock, E, and you wake up at the ass-crack of dawn.”
“Yeah, and you know what, I could just go home and go to bed, but instead, I busted my ass to get here, to spend a little time with you, instead of hanging around for cigars after dinner -”
“After dinner?”
“Harvey and Katzenberg.”
“Jesus Christ,” Vince says. He rubs his forehead. “Somehow, I thought when you quit working for him, you’d actually stop working for him.”
“We still have things in production,” Eric says. “What is it you think I do all day?”
“I don’t have a goddamned clue,” Vince says.
Eric huffs and walks out of the room, and Vince stands there in silence for another minute. What he thinks, as he hears Eric slamming dresser drawers and the bathroom door down the hall, is that it really isn’t any fun anymore. Eric needs to relax so badly it’s like a sickness he needs treatment for, like something Vince wishes he could call in an expert to treat. It’s gone beyond something he can fix or wait out, he thinks, and that makes him feel anxious and unhappy all over again.
Eric walks back through a minute later carrying his bag again. Vince groans. “What is this shit, now you’re gonna run away from home? Oh wait, I forgot, this isn’t even your home, is it?”
“Fuck you,” Eric says, “you said the house thing was OK, you -”
“You bought an entire fucking house without telling me, E! I’m supposed to be - I’m supposed to be your partner, but you know what? I bet I know who you did tell. I bet Harvey knew all about it, I bet -
“What is your deal with him?”
“My deal is he’s the most important man in your life, E. And that ain’t how it was supposed to go.”
Eric shifts his bag. “Give me a break,” he says, his voice dripping with disdain and disbelief. “Harvey - Harvey made me, Vin, you think I should just turn my back on his advice, his help?”
“Fuck you, Harvey made you!” Vince says. His blood is pounding in his ears, his chest is tight, and he’s hurting and he wants, suddenly, he wants Eric to hurt right back. “I fucking made you.”
Eric takes a step back. Vince can see he’s shaking, and his face is red. “Who fucking made who?” he yells, pointing at Vince. “If it wasn’t for me, you’d still be waiting around for Matterhorn to get made.”
Vince stands, too, and crosses his arms. “If it wasn’t for you, I’d be fucking Aquaman.”
“And Mandy Moore,” Eric sneers. “Why don’t you look her up, because I get a feeling like you’re gonna be lonely tonight.”
“Maybe I fucking will! At least I’d probably get to see her sometimes, at least with her I could have an actual fucking relationship instead of this home alone bullshit.”
Eric is panting, still shaking, and Vince knows he must look the same. Eric says, “You know what your problem is? You just liked it better when I was the supporting guy. It bothers the fuck out of you for me to have an actual job, for me to have some actual power, right?”
“It bothers me,” Vince says, “that you’re a fucking clone of all the guys we said we’d never be, yeah, E, that fucking bothers me. You, in your suits with your business meetings and your stock portfolio and your goddamned investment house. You aren’t even the guy I knew two years ago, you’re like the guy who fired that guy.” He shakes his head. “I’m doing this fucking movie,” he says. “Two years ago, you would have been with me.”
“Yeah, well, have a fucking great time in Colombia,” he says.
“Have a fucking great life in Malibu.”
Vince walks out of the living room, hears the front door slam just before he reaches his bedroom. It takes him the rest of the night, tossing and turning, to realize what’s really happened: he just broke up with Eric.
Holy fuck.
Part 5