Closer by Morning (13 page)

Dale shook his head. “Don't you get it? That's not going to happen. Nothing else is ever going to happen between us.”

“Why not? I give great blow jobs. You said so yourself.”

“No.”

“C'mon, Dale. I'm damn horny. Slip me some meat. I want you to fuck me.”

“Forget it.”

Dale headed to the door. Aaron beat him to it, blocking his exit. “Why not? You were all over me a week ago. What changed?”

Dale looked him straight in the eye. His mouth was set in a tight, angry line.

“C'mon,” Aaron pleaded. “What did I do to piss you off? I know you enjoyed the things we did. Why are you being so cold to me now?” It took a lot of restraint not to grab Dale right then. To force a kiss upon him and prove just how hot he was.

Dale closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I've met someone else, okay? It's nothing you have or haven't done. The truth of the matter is I've met someone and I really want to give it a go. So that means no cheeky blow jobs or whatever else you had in mind.”

Aaron looked at him incredulously. “Who is it?”

“Nobody you know.”

“It's Mike from carpentry, isn't it? I knew he'd been making a move in your direction.”

“What? No.
Mike?
Of course not. It's no one involved in the show. You really don't know him. He has nothing to do with the industry. Aaron, you're a great guy and you do give incredible head. In other circumstances, I'd accept your offer in a heartbeat, but not anymore. I want to give this my best shot.”

Aaron slowly deflated, accepting defeat. “When did you meet this guy?”

“Last week. It's early days.”

“Monday?”

Dale nodded.

“That makes sense.” Aaron sighed, stepping away from the door. “It was after Monday that you started to go cold on me. Okay. I won't push it. Good luck. Tell him he's a lucky man.”

“No, I'm the lucky one,” Dale said as he left.

Shit!
He felt like an idiot now, making his stupid passes. Why hadn't Dale said something before, instead of letting him play up like this? Despite what people sometimes thought about him, Aaron always had complete respect for other people's relationships. He wouldn't have interfered with that, however much he wanted Dale.

He wondered who the other man was, this rival. Someone young and gorgeous no doubt. The very best. Aaron wouldn't be able to compete, however great his blow jobs were.

There was nothing else for it. He would forget about Dale. Get drunk and find someone else to blow.

It was a short-term solution but better than nothing.

****

Dale's plans for an early exit came to nothing. Johan Turner intended to wring every ounce of publicity from the paid talent. The photos seemed to go on forever. It was worse than a wedding—solo portraits, two shots with Keeley, group photos and every variation in between. With Elton already steaming drunk and Roxanne well on her way to joining him, he began to regret his decision to stay sober and drive.

It was almost ten. Damn it. Next time Johan took his beady eyes off him, he was out of there. He wanted to be with Matt. More than ever. All of this was bullshit. Unnecessary bullshit. If they had only taken charge of the situation last week and put out an appropriate statement then.

Keeley Rank made him uncomfortable. She was a crazy lady and kind of creepy.

It may be paranoia, but she spent a lot of time looking his way. Not in an obvious way either, kind of slyly. Like a cat with the canary in its sights.

Roxanne's words came back to him.
‘I just hope you don't have any secrets in your closet.'

Was that a direct warning?

Dale wasn't out to anyone in the crew. Not officially anyway. There was Aaron, but that was a private matter. As an actor, he wasn't out at all. He didn't want to be. There were rumors, he'd heard them all but said nothing to confirm his sexuality.

Except that wasn't true either. He played up the fact that he'd once been married, that he was a dad. Suggesting, without ever saying as much, that these gay rumors were nothing more than bitchy gossip. He couldn't afford to be an out actor. Maybe if he was more famous, or acclaimed for his acting rather than his looks, he could take the risk. But when the bulk of his work came from playing heroes and boyfriends, he couldn't be a fag actor.

Rightly or wrongly, he
was
a closet case. And that was how it had to stay, at least for now.

He should find out more about Keeley Rank. Was she a serious journalist or a gossip hound?
Know your enemy
.

He saw Aaron across the room. He was with some of the other production assistants. He looked as if he were getting steadily drunk, along with everyone else. At least he'd had the good sense to come on to him in the privacy of the bathroom and not here in front of everyone.

But how much could he trust him? What if he decided to get his own back and tell everyone what they used to do in his trailer? And he'd just confessed to being serious about another man. How much would Keeley pay for
that
exclusive? God, what an idiot. Could Aaron be trusted? He barely knew him. He'd been careless this time and allowed his dick to get the better of his brain.

Roxanne left the group that had gathered around Keeley and sauntered to the bar. Dale followed.

“She's quite something, this Keeley,” he said, coming up behind her.

“
Something?
Oh, she's that all right.” Roxanne signaled the waiter and ordered a large vodka and tonic.

“Still not a fan?”

She licked her glossy lips. “I can't stand the woman. But that's all right because she detests me. I can't believe they were stupid enough to bring her on board. As if we weren't in deep enough shit already.”

“Why does she hate you so much? Have the two of you got history?”

“No. She hates me because I'm a woman. And a successful one. There's no sisterly solidarity with her. Other women are the enemy. All women.”

“I can't say I got the warmest reception from her myself.”

Roxanne dramatically closed and opened her long lashes. “You're a handsome man, Dale. If you can muster a hard-on to fuck her with, you might do all right. She'll go easy on you. You might even come out of it okay when she writes her story. But if not…” She mimed a bullet to the head.

“Now I'm worried.”

“You should be. That article she wrote about my play—complete character assassination. Not just me. The director, writer, my co-stars—she trashed us all. Affairs, drink, drugs, attitude, there was nothing that didn't make it into print.”

“Fuck, the worst kind of hack.”

Roxanne laughed softly. “She gives hacks a bad name. Most of them would be mortified by the comparison.”

“Why the hell did Johan invite her?” he asked angrily.

The waiter brought Roxanne's vodka. She took a long, grateful drink. “For some bizarre reason they seem to like each other. I don't know why. I can tell you right now how her article will go. She'll dish the shit on all of us, then conclude by saying that, despite all of our failings, and incompetences, the strength of Johan's writing means that we've still managed to produce a great series. But how much
better
it would be if they had cast Rosamund Pike and John Hamm instead of us. She'll spread it over eight pages or so, but that is basically what she'll say.”

Dale laughed bitterly. “So we're fucked.”

She shrugged. “Who gives a shit? She's tried to stitch me up so many times in print. It hasn't done me any harm. No one really takes any notice of her columns—only those in them.
Sweet Bird
was a hit at the box office, despite what she wrote. It might not seem that way now but we're making a good television show. I know it. I've got a sense for these things. I've acted in real crap before and I know this isn't it. The elitists who take any notice of Keeley's column don't watch this kind of TV. She won't harm our ratings in any way. Trust me.”

Dale was reassured but it didn't stop him worrying. Maybe Keeley couldn't do much to harm the fortunes of the show but she could sure as shit do some damage to his reputation. To his career. He would have to play her very carefully.

“Have a drink. Relax,” Roxanne said. “You look like you're at a funeral.”

“I just want to get out of here. I might make a move now. Where is Johan?”

Roxanne glanced over her shoulder. “Still kissing Keeley's arse. You know, I've often wondered about him.”

“Johan?”

“Hmm. He's fruitier than a fruit cake, and I know he's a fan of the cock, but even still… I don't think he's sniffing round Keeley's fanny for the good of the show. There
could
be something going on between them.”

“Johan and Keeley? No way.”

“It's a ghastly idea, I know. And once you've got the image on them going at it in your mind, you can't get rid of it. But I don't think it's that far-fetched, do you? He's a funny one. They both are.”

“You're right.” He laughed. “That's not a picture I want in my head. On that note, I think I will split.” He leaned in to kiss her cheek. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

Roxanne put two very strong hands on his waist.

“Don't rush away so quickly,” she said.

“I really need to go.”

She moved in closer, moving that tight body of her against his, pushing her tits against his chest. “Don't you think it's time we got to know each other a little better?” She swayed her hips against his.

Oh God.
Please tell me this isn't happening. What's got into everyone tonight?

“I'm staying right here in the hotel,” she drawled. “Why don't we go up to my suite and get better acquainted? You've got a mighty fine arse that I'm just dying to see in the flesh.”

“Roxanne, stop.” He tried to remove her hands but her grip was tight.

She moved closer, reaching up so her face was close to his. Her warm breath on his face. “C'mon, Dale. Don't be so shy. I like to screw all my leading men.”

Her lips covered his and she shoved her tongue into his mouth.
What the fuck is happening?

There was a sudden flash and the awful realization that Roxanne's stolen kiss had just been caught on camera.

Could this nightmare evening get any worse?

Chapter Twelve

“You interfering bastard.” Brian ‘Lugz' Mosley was waiting on the steps of the courthouse when Matt came out. Lugz was a six-and-half-foot wall of muscle, fat and attitude—bad attitude. He had a large football-shaped head with Toby jug ears and no discernible neck, just a colossal set of shoulders. A serpentine tattoo slithered from the open neck of his shirt to twist around his left ear. His face was distorted into a mask of demonic rage.

Matt was in trouble.

It had been an arduous morning in Crown Court. He had been defending Akram Khan, a post office manager. Akram's wife had been working on the counter of their family business when Luke Mosley, the seventeen-year-old son of Lugz, had held up the counter with a large ax. Akram had come to the assistance of his wife, tackling the teenager to the floor while getting in a few well-placed punches, breaking Luke's nose and two of his ribs in the struggle.

As well as an assault conviction for the post office manager, the Mosley family was hoping to claim a hefty compensation payout. It wasn't to be. At this morning's plea and directions hearing, ahead of a trial, Matt and Devon Morris, the barrister acting on their behalf, had managed to convince the judge that there was no case to answer against Akram Khan.

His case had been dismissed while the trial of Luke Mosley for aggravated robbery would go ahead regardless.

Matt, in a hurry to get back to the office and prepare his next case, thought nothing of leaving the court on his own. A big mistake.

Lugz's bald head was red with anger, his huge ears, one of which had a partially chewed lobe, was even more livid. “
You Paki-loving bastard
.” He came closer, clenching his tattooed fists. “No fucking case to answer. No case to answer. Did you see the state of my boy when that Paki bastard had finished with him?”

“Mr. Khan was acting in self-defense. Luke held up his store and threatened his wife. With an ax!”

“The dole had sanctioned his benefits. He had no money. What was he supposed to do? He was desperate.”

On the day of the robbery Luke Mosley had been desperate all right. For a fix. The seventeen year old had huge drug debts—heroine, amphetamine, cannabis—most of which were owed to his own father and his associates. Lugz was one of the biggest dealers in the area. The beatings he had dealt his son in the past for failing to pay up made Akram Khan's assault look like slap and tickle.

“It's over, Brian. Case dismissed.” The dealer took a menacing step toward Matt.

“Over? Nothing is over. Not for you or that Paki scum you represent.”

Matt had heard threats like this before. They were nothing new, just part of the job. But with a hulk like Lugz in your face, threatening to do some damage, you had to take it seriously.

He took a step back toward the door. It was time to involve security. And prevent Akram Khan, and his wife Feeza, from coming out the same way.

“Don't walk away from me, you cunt.” Lugz suddenly lunged at him.

Matt had speed and agility on his side. He was through the door and into the court foyer before Lugz reached the top step. Two uniformed security guards stood beside the body scanners. Beyond them, the waiting room was full of defendants, their relatives and lawyers, waiting for their cases to be called. All heads turned toward the commotion.

The guards were quick to recognize Matt and realize what was happening. One was already on his radio, calling for back up, while the other let him straight through the gate, before closing it again.

“Get outta my way, you fuckers,” Lugz Moseley roared.

Matt turned in time to see him strike one of the guards straight in the face. The second guard tried to tackle him but Lugz brushed him aside like a five year old. Across the waiting room, Matt spotted Mr. and Mrs. Khan and waved frantically at them to stay back. The sight of them would only infuriate the drug dealer and send the situation further out of control.

Black-uniformed reinforcements came pouring out from the courtrooms. Lugz was big but he was no match for their numbers. He shouted and swore but soon he was down and cuffed.

Matt jumped as a hand was placed on his shoulder. It was Danny Frost.

“Are you okay?” The lawyer's eyes were full of concern.

Matt slumped, suddenly relieved and grateful to see a friendly face. “Shit, Danny. Yes, it was hairy for a moment there.”

Danny put a hand on the small of his back and led him toward a bench. “You're ghostly white. C'mon, sit down. You've had a shock.”

Lugz Mosley was marched out of the foyer, toward the holding cells.

“Get off me, you twats. I know where you all live. I'll find you. Fuck your wife. Fuck your kids. I'll break your kneecaps.
You cunts
.”

The doors closed behind him, though they could still hear his poisonous rants, slowly growing distant.

Danny brought him a coffee from the vending machine. “I know you don't take sugar but I got you one loaded with it. Drink it, you need it for the shock.” He sat beside him. “Feeling okay? God, Matt, that was a lucky escape.”

Matt nodded, sipping the hot, sweet drink. If Lugz had had the brains to tackle him away from the courthouse, the outcome would have been very different. His car was in the garage today, being fitted for new tires and he had come to court on foot. Lugz could have attacked him at any point on the route and there'd have been no security to help him.

“Could he have been the one to trash your car?” Danny asked when Matt told him about the slashed tires.

“Maybe, I don't know. Why would he bother? The damage was done last night, but at that stage none of us knew the judge was going to throw out the case. The Mosleys thought they were in for a nice compensation payout.”

“Someone has it in for you. You really know how to make friends and influence people.”

Matt laughed. It sounded flat. “It's not funny. But if I didn't laugh…”

“You would go crazy.”

“Already there. Thanks, Danny.”

Matt's hope of an early exit were dashed. One of the security guards came over to tell him the police were on their way. They wanted him to wait until they arrived and make a statement. He called the office to let them know what was happening and that he wouldn't be back for a while. By the time he finished the coffee Danny had bought, he felt a lot better, despite the sugar coating it left in his mouth. He went to the vending machine to get another, minus the sugar this time.

There was a discarded newspaper on one of the waiting room tables. A photograph caught his eye. It was Dale—on the front page. One of his smiling, staged publicity photos. The production on Dale's show seemed like a never-ending saga. What was it now? He picked up and unfolded the paper.

Kissing Co-Stars
exclaimed a bold headline. Beneath there was a new photograph. Dale and Roxanne were locked at the lips. It was a blurred paparazzi-style picture rather than a staged publicity shot. Roxanne had a diamond-decked hand on the back of Dale's head, pulling him into the kiss.

He scanned the article. The photograph had been taken last night, at the production party Dale attended before coming to his place.
‘The party was boring,'
Dale had told him. It didn't look that way.

Sexy co-stars Roxanne Maxwell and Dale Zachary can't keep their hands off each other, 
the article boasted
. Maneater Roxanne, forty-seven, currently filming the controversial serial killer series, was all over the American hunk at a reception in Durham. Sources from the set say that Dale, thirty-four, is smitten with his foxy leading lady. If these two can steam up the screen in the same way they steamed up the party, then we're all in for a treat when the series airs later this year.

What the fuck!
Red heat rose from Matt's chest, creeping up his neck and envelope his face. What the hell was going on? Dale had said nothing about this. The article was full of hype and speculation—probably all made up—but there was no way he could ignore that photograph. Fuck, look at their mouths. That was a proper French kiss with tongues.

Matt was overwhelmed by emotions. Anger. Disappointment. He read the story again and a sense of hurt replaced his fury. Was any of it true? Was Dale stringing him along? Using him for a convenient fuck, when he couldn't be with his glamorous co-star? The story in the paper was plausible enough. They had been at that party together.

Dale said he had no interest in women. Could he believe that? The photo told a different story.

Matt felt desolate. He'd been drawn into an intimate relationship with a man he didn't know at all. Jumped in with both feet. Had he made a stupid mistake?

****

If the purpose of Keeley Rank's presence was to bring a sense of hope and optimism to the set, then the opposite had been achieved. On Tuesday, Dale was more unsettled than ever. Keeley lurked around the old building. When she wasn't trying to ingratiate herself with members of the crew, she was out front talking to the protestors, whose numbers had at least diminished.

Last night's party had had an unsettling effect on the cast too. Roxanne was pissed at him over the knock back he gave her. Though she'd latched on tight for that damn kiss, he'd eventually managed to break her hold and told her very clearly that he wasn't going to join the list of guys she toyed with on location.

Unfortunately, that was not borne out in today's newspapers. Several of them had run the photo of the kiss, together with stories of their torrid behind-the-scenes affair. Dale had been oblivious to the headlines until mid-morning, when an assistant director had shown him one of the offending front pages. His blood boiled. Damn. He had to pay more attention to these frigging papers.

“Have you seen this?”

Roxanne was having her makeup retouched at the side of the set. She barely glanced at the paper and her expression didn't change. “Yes.”

“And it doesn't bother you? It doesn't piss you off? It's bullshit.”

“It's publicity. People are talking about us. We're trending online. It's good for the show.”

He couldn't believe what he was hearing. “Mismanaged publicity got us those crowds at the gate.”

She raised a weary brow. “And now they have something else to write about. Surely this is better than associating the show with the murders? Give the press a bit of spice and all that other stuff will go away.”

Was he hearing this right? 
A bit of spice
. “Did you engineer this?” He waved the photo of their kiss in her face.

“No, Dale, I didn't engineer it. But I'm not sorry about it. So what if it's not true? We can still use it to our advantage. It's show business. Don't be so naive.”

He was called for his next scene. There was no time to get a message to Jack or Matt. He didn't want either of them seeing these crappy stories before he had a chance to warn them. Neither would believe what the press were saying, but he'd feel better about it if they heard it from him.

The morning was a drag. A lot of the crew were nursing hangovers from last night. Work-night parties were never a good idea. Aaron hadn't even made it in yet. Dale hoped it was because he'd had too much to drink and not because of their confrontation in the bathroom. Aaron had nothing to be embarrassed about. Dale took full responsibility for their brief affair, but it was over now. They had to put it behind them.

When lunch was finally called, he hurried to his trailer to retrieve his phone. He keyed in a brief message that he copied to Jack and Matt.

Take no notice of the stories in today's press. I am NOT involved with Roxanne M
.

Surely Matt was sensible enough to realize the story, despite the corresponding photo, was crap. Then again… Matt was so removed from this crazy world, maybe he didn't understand the way it worked. Roxanne's attitude was pretty standard within the industry. There was no such thing as bad publicity. They knew well enough that the papers would write about someone else in a few days' time. Hot stories soon became old.

But, to an outsider, maybe that entire concept sounded as ridiculous as it was. From Matt's point of view, his boyfriend was on the front pages kissing a woman. For a regular guy, that was a pretty irregular situation to be in.

Dale picked up his phone again and dialed Matt's number. It went straight to voice mail.

“Hey,” he said to the answered phone. “You might have seen the papers today. I just want to let you know you have nothing to worry about. Roxanne kissed me at the party and that one photo is all that kiss amounts to. There's no affair, no on-set liaison, nothing. I'll tell you all about it later. I'll pick up a takeaway and see you around eight. Okay? Don't worry about this. I love you.”

I love you.

The words came out of his mouth before he even knew he was saying them.
I love you
. Holy shit. He'd said it out loud. And it was true. God damn him if it wasn't.

He suddenly felt light inside. He was in love with Matt Blyth. Why'd he have to say it for the first time to a fucking answering machine?
Idiot.

Still, he
had
said it. The words were out there. Dale laughed nervously. He just hoped Matt felt the same.

****

Jamie bought the coffee while his new partner, Detective Constable Shona Long, went outside to take a call from HQ. Unlike him, Shona was a permanent member of the MIT. A fact Jamie had yet to get over. It wasn't anything she had said, done or even implied, to make him feel like a spare part of the team, it was just the way it was. He was one of a number of officers seconded to the unit, but those placements would be short-lived. When the case grew cold and the budget tightened, they would go back to where they came from.

Jamie had a very short window of opportunity to make an impression. That window would close soon. He had to shine before it did.