Encore Encore (29 page)

Will’s voice rose above the merriment. “Just give us a minute.

Okay? Just a minute of privacy, then we’ll make a statement and you can get some pictures, I promise.” Good natured groans and a few chides followed.

“Two minutes, that’s it, Will,” somebody yelled. “And if you’re faster than that, I feel really bad for him.” More laughter.

Will turned, still grinning, and stepped inside. He shut the door and, mercifully, the noise faded.

Kieran rounded on him. “What are you talking about pictures and a statement? Are you crazy?”

“Take it easy, babe.” Will held out the slightly mangled bouquet. “I brought these for you.”

Kieran didn’t take the fl owers. “What’s wrong with you? We’re all over the tabloids and you show up here with fl owers for me and start kissing the press’s ass. Have you lost your mind?”

“I have not lost my mind.” Will set the fl owers on an end table. “In fact, I am a fucking genius, whether you know it or not.” He held out his arms. “Now, c’mere and give me a kiss. I missed you all weekend.”

224 Gardner ~ His Leading Man

“No!” Kieran stepped back, well out of reach. “I didn’t give that story to
Spotlight
, you know that, right?”

“Of course I know that. You wouldn’t do that to me. Roxanne did.”

Kieran’s jaw literally dropped. “Roxanne? But how—”

“She’s been having me followed,” Will said. “For like the past month and a half, she’s had some private investigator on my tail.

She thought I was banging some big-boobs, no-brain bimbo at the studio. Then she found out I was banging you. Joke’s on her, right?” He laughed like this was the funniest thing ever. “So, problem solved. No more jealous Roxie. And the best part is she doesn’t even want me to dump you.” He grinned and leaned in, dropping his voice to a confi dential murmur even though it was just the two of them. “She thinks it’s hot, you and me together.

How about that?”

How about that indeed.

Kieran opened his mouth, not sure what was going to come out. But Will was on a roll.

“And here’s the best, best part, even better than me not having to dump you.” He paused. “Are you ready for it?” Dumbly, Kieran nodded. He was not at all ready for it, but what the hell? If he was listening he didn’t have to talk, so why not?

“This whole thing gave me an idea for a new show. I’ve already pitched it to a couple of people on the QT and they just about shit themselves. They’re dying to hear more. Isn’t that fan-fucking-tastic?”

“What new show? You mean you’re quitting Drag?”

“Drag?” Will blinked. “Oh, Drag.” He snapped his fi ngers.

“Christ, I completely forgot. You don’t know yet.”

“Know what?” Kieran’s stomach tensed. This was going to be bad, he just knew it.

“Drag’s being cancelled, babe. I found out a couple days ago, but I didn’t want to tell you before the big awards thing. Then we ENCORE! ENCORE!
225

had that stupid fi ght and this thing with
Spotlight
happened and, like I said, I totally forgot.”

Cancelled. They were being cancelled. The news was like a punch in the gut.

“But why? It’s a great show. Everyone loves it. How can they just cancel it?”

Will shrugged. “You know how it is, babe. They do whatever they want.”

“When?”

“It’s already done. The episodes we haven’t aired will go straight to DVD as extra footage. It’ll be a great selling point.” Kieran fumbled behind him for a chair, afraid that his legs might give out. He was going to be unemployed. What was he supposed to do now?

“Wait, baby. Don’t look like that.” Will caught his arm and tugged him in close. “It’ll be all right. I’m taking care of everything.”

Kieran leaned back in Will’s arms. “How are you going to do that?”

“My new show, I’m taking you with me.” Will chuckled. “Hell, without you there won’t be a show.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s a reality show based on our…situation.”

“Our situation?”

“Yeah, you, me and Rox. The show is about the three of us and our relationship. It takes place in this condo in Malibu. The three of us are going to be living together, for the duration of the show, you know? And they’ll do the fi lming out there—” Kieran broke away, horrifi ed at what he was hearing. “Are you fucking kidding me? You are, you’re fucking kidding me, right?

Because if you’re not—”

“No, I’m not kidding. It’s a great idea. People will love it. The ratings are going to be through the roof. Everyone I’ve talked to
226 Gardner ~ His Leading Man

thinks so. Look, I know it’s hard to picture it, but when we all meet tomorrow—”

“When who all meets tomorrow?”

“We’ve got a lunch meeting tomorrow, you, me and Roxanne and the studio brass. I’m going to lay it all out for them, then we’ll start working out the details like where—”

“No.” Kieran bit off the single syllable.

“What do you mean, no? This is what you wanted, isn’t it?

You’ve been ragging me for months.” Will’s voice rose several octaves. “Why can’t we go out, Will? Why won’t you acknowledge me, Will? If you really cared about me you wouldn’t be keeping me a secret, Will.” Will’s voice returned to its normal register.

“Well, here you go. We’re out. We’re public and we’re going to make the most of it.”

“No!”

“Well, okay. I know it’s not exactly what you wanted, hell, it’s not exactly what I wanted either, but it’s all good, Kieran. The publicity—”

“No! Will, no! Listen to what you’re saying. This isn’t some circus freak side-show, it’s my life. It’s your life.”

“It’s just publicity, babe. Between the award and this, we’ll be getting tons of face time. You, me, Roxanne, we all win. Rox has already got a new agent. So, c’mon, let’s go talk to the nice reporters. Give them a cake shot.”

Will reached for Kieran and tried to pull him close. Kieran slapped his hands away, whirled and grabbed the fl owers. He shoved them at Will.

“Get out. And take your stupid fl owers with you.” Will started to protest, tried once again to touch him. But Kieran rushed to the door, fl ung it open. “Get out! Get the hell out right now!”

Cameras fl ashed, capturing every detail. Microphones appeared and reporters pressed forward, a roar of unintelligible questions swelling around them.

ENCORE! ENCORE!
227

“What are you doing? Are you nuts?” Horrifi ed, Will tried to slam the door, and for several seconds they struggled with it, Kieran pulling it open while Will pushed it closed. Then suddenly Will let go. The door slammed and Kieran fell against it.

“Fine!” Will yelled. “You want to fuck this up for me, that’s fi ne. Go right ahead. But don’t you fucking call me for help when you can’t even get a job sucking cock on the street corner, you selfi sh little prick.”

Shoving Kieran aside, Will yanked the door open and, without a backward glance, rushed out and down the steps.

“I don’t need your goddamn help!” Kieran fl ung the entire armful of fl owers out the door after Will, the brightly colored blooms scattering over the steps and sidewalk before being trampled under the reporters’ feet.

“Kieran, what happened?” A female reporter shouted.

“Is this a lovers’ spat or are you two breaking up?”

“Is this about Roxanne?”

Kieran slammed the door and collapsed against it, his breath coming in long gasps. He could still hear them out there, yelling questions and shouting for Will to wait, please wait and give them a statement. Then he heard the sound of a car engine as Will got the hell out of there, leaving him alone with the ravenous mob of reporters.

But at least they were out there and he was in here where they couldn’t get to him.

Kieran shut his eyes and struggled to even his breathing.

He might have stood there for a minute or fi ve or twenty. He couldn’t say. Shock and anger and hurt roiled in his gut, and on top of it all a thick layer of self disgust. He had let this happen, let himself be used, made into a fool and a slut. And now it was time to pay the price.

God.

Kieran scrubbed his hands down his face. They wanted to turn his life into fodder for a reality TV show. How pathetic was
228 Gardner ~ His Leading Man

that? And how pathetic would he be if he let that happen? He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. He might be a fool and, yeah, he might even be a slut, an unemployed one at that, but he would not allow them to turn him into some kind of joke. He would not be a victim of the twenty-four-hour entertainment news channels.

Taking a breath, Kieran shoved himself away from the door and staggered to the phone. He punched in a number and waited.

“Yes,” he said, when it was answered. “I’d like to book a fl ight to New York.” A pause. “As soon as possible. Tonight, if you can do that.”

“I’m sorry, papi, but I just can’t get away right now.” Even through the tinny cell phone speaker, Emilio’s voice held a note of what might have been sincere regret.

Or not.

Just as David had expected, when he broke the news that there was indeed no TV at the farmhouse, Emilio had suddenly acquired a pressing engagement that would keep him in the city for the weekend. Not that it had really been all that sudden, not instantaneous or anything. It had taken maybe half a day for him to come up with a reason not to accompany David to Massachusetts. Of course, maybe there really was a music video shoot, who could say?

“Don’t worry about it, baby. Work has to come fi rst. I completely understand.” David loaded the last of his laundry into the extra capacity washing machine, dumped in an unmeasured amount of soap and shut the door with a bang.

“I was really looking forward to going out to the farm. But this job, I mean, how often do you get to be in a Madonna video?”

“No, you’re absolutely right, it’s a once in a lifetime. You have to take it.” He pumped money into the machine. Water began to hiss and splash as the wash cycle started.

“You’re sure you aren’t mad?”

It was the third time Emilio had asked if he was mad and David had to struggle to keep the irritation out of his voice. “I told you, I’m not mad. You’ll just have to make it up to me, that’s all.”

Emilio laughed and made that sexy little growling sound low in his throat. “Eh, papi, that I can do. Next weekend, I promise, I’m all yours. Or, you know, I could come over tonight. I know it’s late but…”

230 Gardner ~ His Leading Man

Oh yeah, David’s dick liked that idea quite a lot. “Sounds like a plan. But listen, I’m at the laundrymat right now. I should be home in about an hour. Can you meet me at my place then?” They made the date and David snapped the phone closed before sinking down onto one of the hard plastic chairs across from the row of washers. Suddenly his prospects for tonight were looking a lot more promising.

Inside the machine his clothes went around and around in a torrent of soap suds. David watched as he imagined that lithe dancer’s body and the multitude of ways Emilio had found to use it for his own and David’s pleasure. Yeah, this night was defi nitely looking better.

It was late and he was alone in the laundrymat except for an elderly woman over by the dryers. She kept eyeing him when she thought he wasn’t looking, as if he might be an axe murderer or have some secret design on her delicate washables. After folding the last of her clean undies into a blue plastic laundry basket, she glanced his way again. He tried what he thought was a friendly smile. She started, seized her basket and scurried out the door.

So much for friendly and nonthreatening.

David sighed. With some time to kill, he took his laptop out of his bag and settled down to surf the net while he waited for the washing machine to do its thing.

Opening the laptop, he clicked on his web browser. He always used this laundrymat because, not only was it open twenty-four hours, but there were several unsecured wireless networks in the area and, on nights like this when he felt like screwing off rather than working, he could surf the net for free while he washed and dried his clothes. It was the best of all worlds if you couldn’t avoid going to the laundrymat.

He clicked on webmail and scanned the unread messages.

Halfway down the list, a new email alert for Kieran Reilly mocked him. It seemed to wink fl irtatiously like it was saying, “C’mon and read me, David. You know you want to.” ENCORE! ENCORE!
231

Oh no. Just no. His fi nger hovered over the delete key. But oh, he was so weak and so masochistic. He opened the email and, without even allowing too much time for thought, clicked on through to the site.

He found himself at one of the entertainment blogs, not
Spotlight
, but one of its close cousins. The story, if you could call unsubstantiated speculation a story, consisted mainly of snatches of dialogue caught on tape by a “reporter on the scene” and a series of pictures. The fi rst shot showed Will Tierney, his arms loaded with fl owers, his handsome, hated face smiling like he was fi t to bust as he mounted the front steps of a condo allegedly belonging to “his gay lover, actor Kieran Reilly.” The next pic showed the front door of that same condo fl ung wide, Kieran standing just inside, mouth open, clearly upset and clearly yelling something as he gestured wildly at someone or something outside the frame. The third and last picture showed Will and Kieran both, the fi rst fl eeing down the front steps while the second, face furious, fl ung the bouquet of fl owers after his lover’s retreating back.

There were other links as well, to recorded snippets of the fi ght. But he didn’t click on them. That seemed just too intrusive.

Instead he closed the site and sat there listening to the washer agitate, and tried hard not to be happy about what he’d just seen.

Not because he wished Kieran ill, no, in fact just the opposite. He wanted nothing more than for Kieran to be happy, ecstatically so, but with him, not with the loathsome Will Tierney or anybody else. Only him.

God help him.

As David sat there alone with his laundry, Gavin’s words came back to him.
My sister’s got some ideas for casting.
It wouldn’t hurt to take a look at who she has in mind, would it?