Fall Apart (16 page)

“Gay drama!” Franco laughed pleasantly. “
Grama
.”

Mark kicked his shoes off in the entryway, but he didn’t call out Zane’s name as he usually did. A very expensive car that he’d never seen before was parked in their driveway and he didn’t know whom it belonged to. Zane made the kind of money where a car could magically appear in a driveway if he got the urge to buy one, but that wasn’t his style. He still drove his restored 1962 Chevy and showed no signs of getting something new. Shit, Mark was still driving his crappy Ford on principle. He wouldn’t let marriage to a mega-rich superstar turn him into a greedy queen.

At any rate, someone with cash to spare was visiting them and at the moment, a visitor sounded like zero fun. Mark had worked a full shift, and even though he was feeling better than he had over the weekend, he wasn’t at his best. Sinus pressure turned him into a temporary prick.

The kitchen was empty; Zane’s wallet, watch and keys were resting on the counter. The den was also empty and the same went for Zane’s office. As Mark coasted through the dining room, he heard laughter and backtracked to the doors leading to the backyard. Zane was sitting at one of the patio tables with papers strewn in front of him, and a dark-haired man was with him, his back to the door.

Mark kept quiet as he stepped outside, but the sound of the door brought both of their heads around.

“You’re home!” Zane greeted him, pushing to his feet and enveloping Mark in an embrace he hadn’t realized he’d needed so badly. “Missed you today.”

Mark hummed softly against him and let his eyes flutter closed. “It was a long one,” he murmured. “Everybody decided today was a good day to kill each other; there were so many calls.”

“You seem exhausted.” Zane rubbed his back gently. “You need anything? Something to eat?”

Mark shook his head and stepped back to see who was waiting for them. The sight of Max Hayama, approaching with an outstretched hand, improved his mood a tad. “Hi, Mark. Good to see you again.”

“Max!” Mark smiled. “I couldn’t tell it was you from behind.”

“I get that a lot.”

Zane ushered them all back to the table and pulled a chair up close to his own so Mark was within reach.

Max smiled and Mark had to blink at the exotic beauty of the other man’s features. He was half Japanese, hailing from Tokyo, and he had a deep, authoritative voice that people didn’t expect. When Mark had first met him, the other man had his hair bleached platinum blond, but now it was some sort of chocolaty brown. He looked pretty effing fantastic either way.

“Zane tells me that I owe you for making him take the part,” Max began.

Mark looked at Zane in surprise. “Don’t let him fool you. He wanted the part; he was just waiting for me to kick his ass to the phone.”

“I’m glad you did. This character—this story—needs Zane. He was my first and only choice.” Max’s smile was boyish and his hair was styled in an amazing way that Mark couldn’t figure out. It looked windblown and sexed-up at the same time. Max was probably surrounded by men and women doing double and triple-takes to figure out what was so alluring. Mark couldn’t put his finger on it.

“Why didn’t you just call Zane about the role instead of sending it through Jenny?”

Max held his hands up pleadingly. “I know, I know. Stupid mistake. I didn’t want to take advantage of a friendship, but I was prepared if I didn’t hear from him.”

Zane was quiet at Mark’s side, reaching up with one hand to casually knead at the muscles in Mark’s neck. Max didn’t seem uncomfortable with the display of affection, but Zane was of the mindset that in their home, he wouldn’t temper the way he treated his husband. It took all of Mark’s energy not to slump in his chair and drool in response.

“Max says the main locations have been scouted and he wants me to come and read with some people over the next couple of days. Shooting’s scheduled to start in about a month and I have to grow a goatee.”

Mark glanced back and forth between the two men. “Are you filming the ending scenes first again?”

Max nodded. “The rest of the movie he’ll have a shaved head and lots of fake tattoos.”

“I ain’t going to lie,” Mark said, “that’s going to be weird.” His eyes roved over Zane’s face and his beautiful hair. “I’m glad your hair grows fast.”

Zane winked at him and then patted his stomach. “Diet starts today, too.”

Mark’s eyes widened. Zane was in the best shape Mark had ever seen him—and he’d never once looked even slightly lumpy since they’d met. “I figured you’d lean out some, but how much are we talking about here?”

Zane and Max silently deliberated with one another. “His character is very lean,” Max admitted and Zane nodded. “He won’t have to lose more than five pounds from where he is now, I bet, but I haven’t seen him with his shirt off.”

Mark appreciated that. It was nice to lie to himself and pretend that not everyone in the world had the opportunity to look at his husband’s body whenever they wanted. There were so many pictures of him plastered all over the internet. Mark was in a lot of them himself, but that didn’t make it any easier to accept that his husband’s body was a staple of fantasies the world over.

“I ate that bag of tortilla chips by myself yesterday,” Zane added. “I’m rocking a good bloat right now.”

Mark snorted and gave his husband’s tummy a pat. It was as well muscled as usual. “Be healthy,” he intoned. “No crash diets.”

Zane held up a hand. “On my honor. I’ve already updated Chad and we’re going to change things in the gym. Max is on board.”

“I’ll diet with you,” Mark offered.

“You don’t need to lose weight.”

Max interrupted. “Neither of you
need
to lose weight. We just want Zane to have an edgy, intense look. Get the muscles really cut.”

The two of them continued discussing what Max was looking for and what ideas Zane had for his character, and Mark let the conversation flow around him. He felt his eyes beginning to droop, but he was so comfortable and Zane’s hand was still gently massaging. He popped in and out of wakefulness, and during one of the semi-conscious moments, he heard mention of their Wednesday night dinner party.

“I have to be back here by two-thirty. We’re having some people over for dinner.” He looked at Mark like he was counting people off in his head. “There’ll be Alarik, his friend, Jenny… A few others might show up.”

“Alarik Elo?” Max sat up straighter and the way his usually open face became guarded instantly caught Mark’s attention.

Zane nodded. “Yeah. I thought you knew him.”

Max touched his lips thoughtfully. “I’ve met him a few times. He did a spread for the movie I did with Bill Austen—some article about the partnership between director and actor.”

“I remember it. The shots were great, but Alarik’s the best if you ask me.”

Max’s eyes hooded further. “He is.”

“You should come on Wednesday,” Mark invited, trying to gauge the man’s reaction. He didn’t think Max was gay—Zane had never mentioned it either way—but there was definitely
something
off about his reaction. Now, Mark was all curiosity. “It’s just going to be a casual thing. Zane’s grilling. There’ll be drinks.”

Max glanced at Zane who promptly offered the invite again. “I’m sure Alarik will be glad to see you.”

Only a few seconds passed before Max agreed to make an appearance, but Mark wasn’t able to read anything else from his expression. Once the man closed off the emotion, it was gone for good. Something strange had happened somewhere along the way between Alarik and him.

The minute that Max’s R8 purred from the driveway, Mark turned toward his husband with question marks for eyeballs.

“What was that?” he laughed. “Did you see?”

Zane grinned and pulled him into a one-armed hug. “Look at you. So curious about Max’s personal affairs. Should I be jealous?”

Mark pinched Zane’s side, but otherwise ignored the comment. “You saw his face right? All you had to say was Alarik’s name and he turned into a statue.”

“I don’t know anything about it…” Zane trailed off, popping the fridge to grab a bottled water.

“Is Max gay?”

“Who knows?”

Mark moaned impatiently and skipped around until he was directly in Zane’s path. “In all the years you’ve known him, has he ever had a girlfriend?”

Zane smiled and took a swig of water. “A girlfriend?”

“Zaaaaane…”

“He’s very private, all business,” Zane supplied. “I never paid attention.”

“He’s
that
good looking and you never wondered?”

“Can’t say that I did.”

“Liar,” Mark laughed and pointed at his husband accusingly. “You’re such a liar.”

Zane pulled Mark by both hands until they were holding one another and looking directly into each other’s eyes. “I swear I never wondered or asked. He doesn’t broadcast his personal business either way. Gay or straight.”

“But what do you
think
? I mean, you saw his face!”

“I did,” Zane agreed.

“And?”

“Gay? Maybe. Alarik’s kind of a force of nature and if Max
is
gay, I think he’d go for that personality. But, we could be reading into all of this. Maybe Alarik owes him money.”

Mark snorted. “An expression like Max was wearing isn’t about money. No, no, no.”

“Money for…sex?” Zane winked.

“Naaaahhhh.”

***

Wednesday afternoon came slowly. Alarik hadn’t been able to see Damon at all on Tuesday because he was taking extra shifts to accommodate the time off on Wednesday and Saturday. They’d parted on interesting terms after the spectacle in the restaurant. His reaction to Todd had been foolish and Alarik was unimpressed with himself. The irrational indignation that roared through his body at the sight of Todd pressing his lips to Damon’s had robbed him of his usual sense. He’d turned into a vengeful teenager.

For his own part, Damon had been very quiet about it all, revealing nothing. Todd left without saying much and Franco ate, smiling broadly at them like he’d caught them jerking off in the bushes together. Damon didn’t seem uncomfortable, but his reserve had returned. His walls went up so Alarik felt unsteady, which only pissed him off more because all of the good they’d accomplished on that cliff top was overshadowed by a testosterone surge.

Todd wasn’t even gay! He was a pisser. He was testing Alarik and he’d won the first round. Thinking of it made Alarik’s muscles clench. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

He’d spoken with Damon only once on Tuesday, and that was after the other man had closed the store and gone to the gym with Todd. God only knew what the two of them had to say about this situation. Alarik was preparing himself for rejection in one form or another. A man listened to friends that were as close as Todd, Luke and Franco were to Damon. If they thought Alarik should piss off and die, his trusting companion would probably end up agreeing.

Alarik was picking Damon up for the drive to L.A. and he still hadn’t mentioned that it was Zane Whitlow and his spotlight-shy husband awaiting them. He didn’t want to make things more awkward. If Damon had decided not to go along for the ride, Alarik really didn’t want to make him feel obligated,
and
he didn’t want to feel like the invitation was only being accepted because an honest-to-goodness movie star was involved.

Even though he correctly entered the address into his phone and into the car’s navigation system, he got lost twice on the way to the house—fucking Hall Street and Hall Lane! Why such similar names so close together?

When he pulled up in front of the bungalow, he wasn’t really surprised by what he saw.

The house was small, old, and in need of a new coat of paint, but the lawn was pristine with not a weed to be seen. Damon’s truck was parked in the drive and there was a beautiful birdhouse hanging from a tree in the middle of the yard. A small bricked area with two chairs and a table looked incredibly inviting.

It was humble. Sweet. It seemed welcoming and yet, masculine. It reminded him of Damon.

As though the thought made him appear, his auburn-haired man stepped outside. As Alarik had advised, he’d brought along an overnight bag. The strap crossing his chest subtly highlighted the beautiful curvature of muscles and Alarik once again pictured him on the day of their hike. Bare, muscled arms wrapped around him.

Fuck all…
Something had to be done about this.

Alarik kept the engine running, but stepped out of the driver’s side to watch as Damon approached. He hadn’t expected to be invited inside, but oh how he wished they had the privacy just then. He also wished he could get away with crawling over the car like a sex kitten and purring his way into Damon’s pants.

Damon gave half a wave and sank into the passenger seat at the same time that Alarik got behind the wheel. About to say hello and ease into the unknown waters created by his
Who’s Got A Bigger Dick
contest with Todd, Alarik forgot everything when Damon leaned in and kissed him. Their mouths slid brilliantly against one another and Alarik parted his lips eagerly. Seconds later he was pushing off the steering wheel with an arm, slamming the fucking gear shift into his hip, and grunting as he snogged the hell out of his date.

Damon’s mouth pushed hard against his and their tongues began a heady dance that made his cock flex until it got pinched against the center console. Alarik used the leverage from his grip on Damon’s shoulders to shift up and over so that one of his knees landed squarely between the other man’s legs and the pain transformed to angsty, wild pleasure. He lost track of where they were and what they were supposed to be doing when Damon reached up beneath his coat to run his hands along Alarik’s sides.

“
Jesus…”
Alarik gasped against Damon’s lips, dropping his head lower to taste the skin beneath his ear and across his throat.

Damon moaned in pleasure and the next instant, the sound of creaking plastic filled the car as the passenger seat collapsed into its fully-reclined position. Alarik, already in a physical predicament, didn’t fare well and ended up with a mouthful of rental car upholstery and a sharp pain near his right temple.