Question Mark (28 page)

When Loren gave the go ahead, there was a short break where the set was closed to all but essential personnel. It was go time. Here came the bathrobes and the cock socks and the nipple rouge…

Renée was jittery; it was her first love scene. Fortunately for them both, Zane was actually able to look at the scene as all business. He didn’t want Renée. She was beautiful and female and he wasn’t at all in the mood to have sex with her. Never would be in the mood. Renée gave the impression of being incredibly innocent outside this scene they were filming. It wouldn’t have surprised Zane to find out she was a virgin. She was barely nineteen. With all that in mind, he tried to make the scene as professional as possible.

When the cameras finally rolled and they went through several takes, the scene went well with only a few small hiccups. There was a lot of back arching, fake thrusting, passionate kissing, ass shots, and nipple shots. Clothes went flying and Renée, blushing at the raw moments, handled the breast stuff and his “roaming” hands bravely. He hoped she never lost that innocent look, but it was unlikely that three years down the line she’d be blushing at all. That happened in the business.

By the time they finished everything—opting to eat lunch in bathrobes right on set—it was nearing six in the evening. Zane’s stupid brain automatically did the math to Albuquerque time and he hissed aloud at the sudden spark of pain. No one seemed to notice and he covered for himself by stepping into a pair of sweats and a t-shirt he’d brought to wear once they were finished for the day. He could’ve put on his costume again, but didn’t want anything to do with it. Trekking across the lot to his trailer in just a robe was also a no-go.

Loren thanked them, called it quits officially and told them when dailies would be up. Zane had no problem leaving his view of those particular takes until the movie was released.

The rain had settled into a bothersome mist but the air seemed colder as he hitched a ride on a golf cart back to his trailer. He was so exhausted and wanted nothing more than to get back to the hotel, shower off the body makeup and hair grease, and order room service. Zane could shower on set, but today he preferred to get away from it all.

He pulled open the door with his name mounted on it and dragged his tired ass up the stairs.

“Zane.”

His head whipped around to the small sofa and his body lurched to a halt. Across from him, looking worried and worn was Mark Newland who ran a shaking hand through his hair at the sight of Zane.

Mark stood and stepped close enough for Zane to see his bloodshot eyes but stopped when Zane took a step away from him.

“Please don’t kick me out yet,” Mark pleaded. “I can explain everything.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

The cold seeping through Mark had nothing to do with the temperature. For days the chill residing in his chest had spread until he thought warmth was out of his reach. He’d been dreading and anxiously awaiting this chance to speak to Zane and now that he was standing just feet away, fear was vibrating in the cells of Mark’s blood. There was a very small window to get Zane’s attention and keep it long enough to explain that goddamned fucking night with that ass-bastard Christian. Mark didn’t need to be told that even if he got the whole story out, the likelihood Zane would believe it was practically nonexistent.

Zane still looked too shocked to move and Mark took advantage of that.

“Please don’t kick me out yet,” he begged. “I can explain
everything
.”

Blood flooded Zane’s cheeks and Mark watched as the life came back to the man’s face. He was furious and clearly hurting. Mark cursed to himself, sensing his doom. How could he make Zane see the truth?

“How did you get in here?” Zane growled, sounding more like the Mercenary than Mark had ever heard him. He was like ice.

“I called Jenny—”

“What the hell?” Zane snapped back and Mark jumped a little. “This is—” He acted like he was searching the trailer for where he might’ve left his cell phone so he could call his manager and demand an explanation from her. “What do you want?”

“I called her and told her everything that I have to tell you and she set it up for me to get on set. An assistant named Anthony dropped me off here. Jenny smoothed it over and made it so he wouldn’t tell you I was here waiting.” Mark dug through his pockets and pulled out a security pass to show Zane, sadly searching for any sign of approval.

“Maybe because she knew that I don’t really want to see you right now, Mark. She’s been on the phone with me a lot lately—telling me what’s new in this tabloid fire storm you stirred up. I’m surprised she didn’t mention talking to you.”

Wincing, Mark eventually managed to nod and cleared his throat twice to try speaking again. “I begged her not to tell you. I wanted to tell you all of this myself.”

“Then pick up your
fucking telephone
, Mark. I was here. I was
waiting
for you to call me Sunday night.”

Mark lifted a hand to calm him. “I know. I know, Zane. I want to tell you the whole story. I’m begging you for a chance, just like I did with Jenny.”

Zane stared at him stonily, his jaw hard and flexing as his teeth clenched together. The silence stretched between them and Mark saw just how shaky the ground beneath his feet was. The driving, the flying, the delays, the phone calls—somehow Mark had given himself hope that Zane wouldn’t turn him away. He’d convinced himself that he had a chance once he got Jenny to talk to him, but seeing Zane as he was now turned all that hope to dust. All Mark could do was wait.

Without a word, Zane pushed past him and grabbed a bag off of a chair. He started filling it with items scattered about the trailer. He threw in clothes, what looked like a tattered script, deodorant, and a book. Glancing left and right he paused at a quick knock on his trailer door. When he stepped past Mark, he angled his body away like even the thought of touching him in passing was too much to take.

Zane swung the door wide and a handsome, smiling guy decked out in a ball cap and warm clothes stepped halfway into the trailer.

“Glad I caught you before you left,” the man said, still unaware of Mark’s presence. “Your cell must’ve fallen out of your coat in makeup.”

“Thanks, Dale. I was about to sound the alarm.” Zane poked away at the phone and the furrowed brow told Mark it was probably maxed out on messages from all sorts of people.

Dale started to say something else, but then his eyes lighted on Mark and whatever he’d intended to say never made it out. “Oh! Sorry. I had no idea you weren’t alone. Excuse me.”

Mark half-smiled and was about to introduce himself when Zane stepped past Dale and down the trailer steps. Confused, the other man followed and Mark heard him ask in a low voice if Zane was alright. Mark didn’t hear what Zane said back and when he moved to the doorway, Dale was already walking away. The glare the guy was giving Mark over his shoulder was a loud and clear:
Do not fuck with Zane.

Okay, Mark thought. Got it. He’d pissed people off worldwide.

Zane punched out a message on his phone and started walking, leaving Mark to wonder if he should follow or give the hell up. He sped back inside, grabbed his own bag and tore back out of the trailer after Zane. When he caught up, Zane barely spared him a look.

“I’m tired and I don’t want to talk here.”

“I can come back…or…find a place to stay and then meet up with you? What’s better?”

Zane didn’t say anything, just kept right on walking until they reached a flat-roofed building with several black sedans parked in front of it. Three hulking guys were waiting in front of one idling vehicle and when they saw Zane, they moved into action. One opened the front passenger door—on the left—and sat down. The next snugged up in the driver’s seat and the last man opened one of the back doors and waited silently for Zane to slide inside. Mark came to a halt—scared, lost, and stupidly hopeful.

“Get in the damn car, Mark,” he heard Zane grumble.

Like he’d been hollered at, Mark snapped forward and slid into the back seat. He left a space between him and Zane, but that was short-lived as bodyguard number three was coming in after him. He ended up squished up against Zane’s right side with his bag on his lap, blocking his view, while a guy who could probably get away with flexing his arms and talking about a “gun show” was crammed in on the other side.

No one spoke and the only sound was the engine. Digging for his seatbelt was a non-option, Mark decided.

Here we are, he thought. Nice and cozy. At least Zane hadn’t left him stranded. Mark doubted that the folks left on set would want to help him find a taxi—was that what they were called in England?—if they knew anything about the rumors. Not that having a picture taken of him being kissed was a
rumor.

The ride was awkward on a number of levels. Since Mark couldn’t see the road, he ended up making accidental eye contact with the driver over and over again. He mentally added another member to the Anti-Mark Club. The wall of man sitting beside him never once looked his way, but if animosity were a cologne, Mark was certain he’d have been sick from the heavy waves of it coming off the hulk.

There were photographers everywhere outside of the set, but once they passed through the security fencing, hidden behind darkly-tinted windows, there was a reprieve. It was only when they neared the hotel that Mark considered crapping his pants. It was
really
bad here. This was more than a gaggle of reporters. This was a swarm. A frenzy. A raging herd of camera-toting buffaloes.

Mark whispered a prayer to himself and stole a glance at Zane. The brooding man looked unmoved by the display of media. Surprising Mark and making him jump guiltily, Zane met his eyes. There was no warmth in the blue depths and Mark hated himself for causing that.

“Don’t say anything. Stick close behind me. Arnold will come around the back of the car as Ryan opens my door. Slide out behind me and move fast. We’ll keep Ryan in front and Arnie in back.” Mark swallowed and nodded, twice as nervous now.

Wait—the bodyguard next to him was named Arnie? How fitting.

The car pulled through the round drive and the swarm moved in. There were ropes up that appeared to serve no purpose whatsoever. The cameras were
right there
.

“Stop looking like that,” Zane snapped. “They’ll pounce on it if they didn’t get a shot of you already.”

Mark instantly followed the order and wiped the fearful look off of his face. His heart was grooving as Ryan opened Zane’s door. It was suddenly Mark’s turn to move and as he stepped from the back of the car, the flashes seemed to quadruple. Nearly blinded, he stumbled forward until he felt a steadying hand on his back—Arnie. He did as Zane advised and moved quick, but the sight of him and Zane together was driving the throng crazy. They pressed in and the distance between the two of them grew. Arnie tried helping Mark from behind, but they weren’t making a lot of progress in the media mania.

That’s when he saw the outstretched hand waiting for him to grab hold. The gesture was so sudden, so unexpected that an actual cry rose in Mark’s throat. He thought of that bar in Bakersfield, of reaching back through the partying crowd and having Zane grab onto him. Reid had been singing
U2
.

The cry became a burgeoning pressure in Mark’s chest as the memory hit him and when his fingers closed around Zane’s he had to physically wrestle with his composure. Zane’s grip was sure and Arnie’s presence behind Mark was able and strong. They pushed through the lobby doors and the change in volume was instantaneous.

Still fighting not to lose it, Mark was led through the lobby to the bank of elevators, barely noticing when Zane dismissed Arnie and Ryan. He heard rather than saw the doors slide open before them and the next moment, they were alone inside. Zane pulled his hand away the instant the doors closed and punched the button for his floor.

That’s when Mark lost the battle and gave up. His shoulders caved and he dropped his face into his hands. That choking sound finally escaped and in seconds, his body was shaking with the pent-up emotion. There was no way he could convince Zane of the truth. Mark knew that now. God, how did he let things get so bad? He should have come to England the second he lost his job. None of this would’ve happened.

The harsh breaths continued to punch out of him and though he knew he was making a fool of himself, there was no stopping the flood of remorse. It was a nightmare. Losing his control in front of a man who didn’t care was ten times worse than Mark imagined it could be. He didn’t know how to get all the pieces of himself back together again, but that thought vanished from his mind as a pair of strong arms wrapped around him and pulled him close.

***

Zane shut his room door behind them with a gentle click and tossed his bag on the floor. He flipped a switch and a single lamp cast a dim wash of light in the suite. Mark was tucked against him and the sensation of that warm body next to his had his own eyes pricking with unshed tears. The earnestness he saw in Mark proved that at the least he regretted what had happened. Zane wanted to know the full story and at the same time, he was almost afraid to hear it. Why the four day silence? Why no call on Sunday night? Zane hadn’t let himself entertain the thought that Christian and Mark may have slept together
before
the paparazzi caught them kissing outside, but it was still there in the back of his mind, rising up at the worst times.