Question Mark (19 page)

“I understand that and you’re getting no argument from me, but I’m wondering something.”

“What?” Okay, so that time, he did snap.

“Is Mark prepared to deal with this? Is
he
going to say ‘No comment.’?”

Zane frowned and wrestled his tooth brush holder for his tooth brush. “I never told you his name. They’ve already identified him?” his voice rose.

“Several times over, actually,” she admitted. “A lot of people know him or his family in Bakersfield, sweetie. He’s going to be a pretty hot target now.”

“Did someone get a shot of us kissing, or is it something else?”

“Kissing, yes, and talking close together in a bar. The Bora Bora shots show you holding his hand and sort of looking territorial.”

Zane paused. Territorial, huh? Yeah, he guessed that could describe him where Mark was concerned. “Why are we acting shocked about this?” he griped. “I’m in those rags all the time and especially when I’m seeing someone. I’m not going to comment on him. He’s part of my private life, not my public life.”

“Well, word of advice, you might want to keep the extreme displays of affection off of the
public
streets, then. This kind of thing can still hurt you,” she said softly. “You have a strong fan base, but there are also a lot of people out there that won’t like being reminded that you’re into men. Action stars don’t give other guys blow jobs, Zane. Not in most people’s minds, anyway. You held onto your career by the seat of your pants when you came out, this could have you under the whipping arm of the not-so-supportive public again.”

“So, what are you saying to me? Is Leslie advising me to end my relationship with Mark?”

“Stop snarling at me, Zane. I’m on your side and so is she,” Jenny said hotly. “What I’m telling you is to be careful. Don’t let people bait you and turn this even further against you. Talk to Mark. Prep him if you can.”

“Put a gag order on him?” he answered, hugely pissed for too many reasons. “I won’t tell him what to say. I don’t want a relationship that makes him feel like a kept man or a secret lover. I have nothing to be ashamed about and neither does he.”

“Okay, all that aside, what happens when people start attacking
him
? You’re used to it, Zane. You’ve learned to deal with it in your own way. What’s going to happen when people begin assassinating his character? His family? Digging through his past? Interviewing his ex-boyfriends? Sifting through his public records?” She stopped talking and let the words sink in. The implications were truly ugly and Zane felt his heart crack a little at the thought of Mark being treated like a second-class citizen. “
I’m on your side
. Talk to him though. Prepare him. If he wants to be with you, he really should understand what this means.”  

But what if preparing him meant that Mark didn’t want to deal with it all? Zane sighed and cracked his knuckles out of nervous habit. “I’ll talk to him. I’ll call him now.”

Jenny murmured something that sounded encouraging and he ended the call. Why couldn’t this be even a tiny bit easier when he was feeling a way he’d never felt before? The only thing that seemed to be flowing along swimmingly was the attraction. Everything else was a great, big, fat challenge. Why, when they had so much going for them, did it have to seem like they were fighting against the current every step of the way? Mark was going to quickly run out of reasons to stick around if all he got from being with Zane was drama like this. And Zane wouldn’t be able to blame him.

***

Jeremy Halliday was late getting home from work and his boyfriend, Rafe Bridges, met him at the door to carry in his bag. The television was on quietly in the background and he spotted an unopened pizza box resting on the coffee table.

“Pizza?” he perked up.

“I was too tired to fix something,” Rafe admitted, “so I ordered in.”

“Bless you,” Jeremy grinned, kissing him warmly before sinking into the soft couch cushions with a tired sigh. “Today dragged. It’s getting colder out there.”

Rafe took a seat next to him, pulling Jeremy’s feet up onto his lap, and they didn’t move or say anything for awhile, soaking in one another’s presence and relaxing. On TV some gossipy entertainment show was on and Rafe leaned over to grab the remote and flip through the channels. He wasn’t paying attention until Jeremy gasped and grabbed his arm to stop him. His eyes shot to the screen and his jaw dropped.

“Is that—”

“Holy crap!” Jeremy yelled. “Mark Newland and
Zane Whitlow
?”

Rafe immediately upped the volume.

“…Hollywood’s hottest bachelor has been spotted out on the town with a new love interest—sorry, all you singles out there. Our favorite action star spent Wednesday evening with his latest beau, a native of Bakersfield, California, identified as Mark Newland. The two have also been seen together at a renowned Tahitian resort getting cozy after a little fun in the sun.”

The screen flipped to several long-range shots of Mark, some obviously in Bakersfield with his brothers flanking him, and a few were grainy pics of him holding hands with Whitlow in a crowd of people. The perky blonde reporter kept yapping in the background.

“For the time being, Mr. Newland is staying tight-lipped about his connection to one of the highest paid actors in Hollywood, and Whitlow couldn’t be reached for comment. Only time will tell about this budding new romance and you can keep track of the story by visiting us on our website…”

Rafe lowered the volume and slowly shifted to look at Jeremy.

“Zane Whitlow…” they both said at the same time and Rafe burst out laughing.

“Can you even imagine the drama? He’s dating The Mercenary.”

Jeremy shook his head and kept laughing, flipping open the pizza box and digging for a slice. “I knew he was on vacation because he wasn’t at the final softball practice… The guys aren’t going to shut up about this.”

“The only way to find your match is to meet your maker,”
Rafe intoned before cracking up again. “Ah, hell… Let’s hope Mark doesn’t freak out on him.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Three weeks had passed since Zane had last seen Mark and two weeks since he’d actually spoken to him. The goodbye in Bakersfield ended up being goodbye for much longer than Zane originally planned. He wanted to make it back that first weekend Mark was in Bakersfield, but production plans were moving so quickly that when he wasn’t meeting with expert advisors, historians, and the production team, he was rushing through a photo shoot and interviews. It figured that the one time he needed a movie to progress slowly, it wouldn’t work out that way. Add to it that he was just wrapping up the media junkets for
Innuendos
and he was ridiculously overextended.

After he finished the
Men’s Health
interview and day long photo shoot, he was notified that the British branch of the production staff was ready for him in England—earlier than planned. He had to fly out the following morning for final wardrobe fittings, screen tests in costume and practice for some of the stunt work he’d be doing in
Sacrifice
. In the evenings and early mornings after he arrived, Zane did
a lot
of flying in
a lot
of old planes, which meant he was doing
a lot
of praying that he wouldn’t plummet to a fiery death. Each time he strapped himself into a seat, his respect for Richtfeld and pilots in general kicked up another notch.

The film crews were perfect. He’d worked with some of them on other jobs and their commitment to making the movie as good as the book was as strong as Zane’s. The cast, at least the guys who were also playing military characters, showed up throughout that first Friday in England and on Saturday all of them were packed off into the countryside for an accelerated two week training period to show them what it was like to be a part of the Army Air Forces during WWII. They weren’t given access to cell phones or any technology that wasn’t available in 1943. 

That’s why Zane was currently decked out in a WWII era uniform, freezing his ass off, and squeezed into a field tent that held five other members of the cast. They weren’t allowed to use their real names, it was in character or not at all, so after two weeks of indoctrination, Zane was finally getting comfortable being called Garret, Richtfeld, or Ricky.

He was actually enjoying himself in the moments he wasn’t frozen or thinking about Mark and inevitably worrying about what was going to happen between them. It was easy to figure that with all this silence and all this distance that the relationship was already null. What made it worse was that he had to cut off communication with Mark right when the tabloids were really getting into nose on the ground mode. Mark was getting calls at home. He was being followed. His friends and family were being harassed, too. And Zane couldn’t even make himself available to help Mark deal.

There was also the terrible phone conversation Zane had with Mikey after he and James returned from Tahiti. They’d seen Mark at dinner with some young dude in Bora Bora, apparently deep in conversation and sitting close. Zane didn’t have to hear that the guy was covered in tattoos to know it was Christian. Naturally he didn’t like the thought of Mark being out with the guy, but that wasn’t what bothered him the most. It was that Mark hadn’t mentioned it
once
. Not a single time had he casually tossed out a comment about breaking bread with that sneaky little bastard. The silence was a loud statement.

The cot next to him squeaked loudly and Zane glanced over at Bill Austen, the man cast as Richtfeld’s best friend, Ian Macomber. They got along really well, fortunately. Bill was quietly funny and had researched his part as thoroughly as Zane had his. Austen even mimicked Macomber’s Boston accent perfectly. Every time Zane turned around, he was hearing that great nasally bray.

Richtfeld was from the south so Zane was giving everything he said a hint of the Bible Belt. The two of them together were an odd combination.

The rest of the guys, some playing pilots, some playing ground officers in the air wing, were pretty nice, but Zane chose to stick closely to Bill who seemed to stick closely right back. Macomber was a
huge
part of Richtfeld’s life and after the ace’s death, Macomber actually married Richtfeld’s little sister. That being said, Zane and Bill had to have more than a rapport on camera. They had to come across as authentic—as two guys who
knew
one another without the bullshit.

All week long they’d been tromping through the woods playing soldier; learning basic land nav, enduring forced marches, soggy runs—some in the middle of the night—and getting basic firearm training. The only predictable part of their schedule was the ceaseless rain and chill. It soaked into the material of their uniforms and made all of them miserable. Another nod of respect to the guys who endured horrific winters in places like Bastogne where things were much worse than a cold, wet collar and a two-week growth of facial hair.

This final night together they expected to be called back out into the rain for an exercise in land nav that doubled as an odd scavenger hunt. The area of operation was probably going to be large and by the end of the drill, they were going to look like zombies fresh from the grave what with all the mud and staggering.

“Ricky,” Bill hissed Richtfeld’s nickname at him in the dim lantern light. “I got twenty bucks that says I get mud in places tonight that not even the sun shines.”

Zane nodded and wrapped his wool blanket tighter around him. It was a mistake to dig into the warmth because he’d be that much colder outside. “I thought it wasn’t supposed to be this cold in September and October over here. This always wet routine makes it worse. I’m a prune from head to toe,” he drawled.

“It’ll be nice to get back to real plumbing, and some fucking hot water in the showers,” Bill grumbled, punching his pillow. “My balls have crawled so far inside me, my kidneys are playing tennis with ‘em.”

The whole group of guys laughed at that one and then went immediately silent when they heard the shrill whistle outside the tent. The Call of The Wild. Zane thrust his feet into his boots and grimaced at the damp surrounding his toes. It was a little bit much on the commitment side, even for him, to leave two weeks of training with trench foot. He’d like to avoid that one.

The other guys all shrugged into their gear and together they hoofed it to a small clearing where one of the retired military specialists the production company hired was waiting with a whistle still hanging off of his lip.

“Let’s go, ladies. Last exercise. Line ‘em up.”

Why do they always call us ladies, he thought.

Zane and Bill settled into place next to each other, rifles over their shoulders, packs on their backs, and rain coursing in rivulets down their faces. They were both blinking non-stop to keep the water out of their eyes. Thoughts of Mark halfway across the world muscled their way to the forefront of Zane’s mind and he would’ve given half his miserable little kingdom to be able to call him that second.