Hot Target (25 page)

Either way, it was a direct hit. Jules closed his eyes briefly. “Yes, I know, Adam,” he said. When he opened them, he forced a smile at Robin, but it didn’t manage to hide his hurt. “And now Robin knows, too.”

“Why do you say shit like that?” Robin asked Adam. “All you’re doing is proving that you don’t deserve him.”

“
Deserve
him?” Adam laughed. “Like he’s some big prize? Let me warn you, friend, he’s possessive as hell—”

“Yeah.” Jules had obviously reached his limit. “I tend to get a little riled up when we go on vacation and you have sex with some stranger in the back room of a dance club, exactly like, oh, say, this one.”

Oh crap. Robin winced. So that was why Jules hadn’t been keen on coming to this particular club.

“And gee,
A.,
” Jules continued, leaning hard on the nickname, “who was it who paid for the airline tickets to Los Angeles, the hotel, and every meal we ever ate?”

“Gee, I guess that would be you, J., and you didn’t let me forget it for a single second, did you?”

“So let me get this straight,” Robin interrupted. He looked at Adam with disbelief. “You think Jules is possessive because he was upset when he found out you had sex with someone else?”

“So I got a little carried away,” Adam said. He mocked Robin. “I guess I had too much of a swerve on. ‘Sides, it was just sex.” He nudged Robin with his elbow. “You know how that is, don’t you, bro?”

“Well, on that lovely note,” Jules said. “I think it’s probably time to call it a night. I’m—”

“Touch me again, douche bag,” Robin said with his best Russell Crowe scowl, “and you’ll be sorry.”

“You mean like this?” Adam shoved him hard, and Robin’s drink sloshed down Jules’ T-shirt.

“Shit!”

Despite the dousing, Jules managed to catch Robin before he went off the barstool. And he grabbed his arm, too, keeping him from swinging at Adam.

“Don’t do this!” he warned Robin, then turned to the other man. “You want to fuck up your movie career? You want to spend the night in jail, in the drunk tank with the worst of the homophobic psychos from the entire L.A. area? Keep it up—you’re right on track. In fact, you might as well call Jane right now and tell her to replace you, because after the beating you’ll have no teeth and be blind in one eye. But hey, it’s okay. The dogs you take care of won’t mind the scars.”

Something shifted across Adam’s face, and Jules made a noise that he tried to turn into a laugh.

“Oh. Right. That was a lie, too, wasn’t it?” he continued. “That new day job that you love so much? Jesus Christ, Adam! And you wonder why I don’t even want to
look
at you, let alone
talk
to you? Fuck you and your fucking lies.” He turned to Robin. “And fuck you for using me in this stupid game you’re playing.”

“Jules—” Robin tried to grab him, but Jules shook himself free.

“J.!”

Adam started to go after him, but Robin blocked his route. “Haven’t you done enough damage?”

As he watched, Jules took the most direct path to the door—through the dance floor instead of around it.

“Haven’t
you
?” Adam countered. “He’s serious, you know. He’s not going to touch you. He’s a Boy Scout.” He stepped closer, too close. “I, however, will do whatever you want, whenever you want.”

Time seemed to hang as Robin stared into Adam’s eyes. The motherfucker was serious. It was more than a little scary. “In your dreams.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Adam murmured. “Can’t wait to shoot that love scene. When’s that scheduled for? Day after tomorrow?”

Robin didn’t hit him. It would have taken too much time. “Follow me and I’m quitting,” he warned Adam as he scooped his backpack off the floor. “If I quit, filming grinds to a stop, the movie doesn’t get made, and you’re back to being nobody.”

Plunging into the crowd, he followed Jules out the door.

Cosmo had just gotten out of the shower when his cell phone rang.

He could see from the caller’s number that it was Jane.

He dropped his towel and fumbled his phone open, praying that something else hadn’t gone wrong. “Richter. What’s happening?”

“You,” Jane said, “suck. That’s what’s happening.”

What? “Are you all right?” he asked, ready to . . . what? Charge out of his motel room to come to her rescue, naked?

“Where are you?” She spoke right over him as he dripped across the room, looking for his pants. “I was counting on you being here, and I could maybe understand if something had happened with your mother, but Murphy said he didn’t think so. Is she okay?”

He found his pants, but he stopped before he jammed his still-wet legs into them. “What?”

“Your Mo-Ther,” Jane enunciated. “Is she all right? Did she fall down again? Is she sick? Did she—”

“She’s still in San Francisco. She’s fine—I just spoke to her on the phone. Jane, what—”

“Forgive me for disturbing you.”

“You weren’t disturbing me.”

Silence.

Cosmo looked at his phone. What the . . . ? She’d hung up on him.

He called her back. “You weren’t disturbing me,” he said as soon as she picked up.

“Look, I’m really sorry I bothered you,” she said. “I just thought . . . I was worried something bad had happened, and . . . Are
you
all right? Why aren’t you here?”

Interesting question. Cos let it sit for a minute as he finished drying himself off, unsure how to answer. Physically, he was fine. Emotionally . . .

Emotionally, he’d been steamrollered. “Today was a difficult day.”

“No kidding,” she said. “I was counting on tonight being a little less . . .” She stopped. Cleared her throat. Started over. “Cos, what’s going on? Aren’t we friends?”

Oh, Christ. He closed his eyes. Didn’t answer. Didn’t say,
No, Jane, no, we are not friends.

He also didn’t ask what the fuck she was doing on the phone with him. Hadn’t she brought Victor Strauss home with her? Was he already asleep, the insensitive shit?

She kept going, even though her voice wobbled. “Because I thought we were friends, and that you might be a little interested in knowing how I’m doing. At the very least, how many stitches I needed—”

“Six,” he said. He knew all about her stitches. He knew the size thread they’d used. Jesus, he knew the middle name of the doctor—Constanza Manuela Puente—who’d done the stitching.

There was silence then, he couldn’t even hear her breathing, and he checked the phone to make sure she was still there.

She was.

And then he heard it. The slightest catch of a breath.

Jane was crying. Softly, so he wouldn’t hear, but she was crying.

He had to sit down.

“I was so scared,” she said, but before he could sympathize—
Yes, that must have been awful, watching those lights topple, having to run to get out of the way, please, Janey, don’t cry . . .
—she added, “He was just lying there, on top of me.” She faked a laugh—it was really quite good. “I never really understood before what people meant when they said
dead weight,
but now I do. He was so heavy, so . . . limp. Then I saw all the blood, and, oh, Cos, I was sure he was dead—”

She was talking about Decker.

“. . . and I knew if he was, that it was my fault, and God, he’s such a better person than I am, and now you’re not here to tell me that it’s okay, it all worked out, because he’s not dead—”

“He’s not dead, Jane. It
is
okay.”

She laughed again, but this time she didn’t do such a good job of it. “I know. Thank God. Look, I’m sorry. I’m neurotic. You don’t need this on your night off. I’ll let you—”

“You want me to come over?” Cosmo asked, closing his eyes and cursing himself as soon as the words had left his lips.

“Could you?” she asked so quietly he almost didn’t hear her, so much hope loaded into two little words.

No way could he say no. “Yeah.” He stood up, pulled on his pants, slipped his feet into his boots, knowing full well that he was going to regret this. Going to? Shit, he already did. “Hang on.” He put down the phone, pulled on his T-shirt. “I’m back.”

“Where are you?” she asked.

“I got a motel room,” he admitted as he grabbed his keys from the top of the TV and let himself out into the parking lot. “It’s not too far from you. Maybe five minutes. I’m getting into my truck right now, okay?”

She was confused. “But all your stuff is . . . I thought . . . Aren’t you staying here?”

“Yeah . . .” He backed out of the parking space. “Well . . .” Christ, just say it. “I needed to not be over there tonight. I, um, needed some space.”

“Oh, God,” Jane said. “I’m sorry. I’ve been . . . I shouldn’t have asked you to read those pages of script—”

“No,” he said. “No, that’s not . . . That’s not why.”

He could practically hear her thinking, trying to figure out what she’d said or done or . . . She was so ready to take the blame for everything. So he told her. “I didn’t want to be there when you brought Victor home with you.”

“Victor Strauss?” she said. “I know a lot of people think he’s a little too abrasive, but . . . I didn’t realize you knew him.”

“I’ve never met the man,” he said. “I just . . .”

“What?” she said, frustration in her voice after the silence had stretched on for too long.

Apparently, he had to spell it out for her. “I didn’t want to have to sit in the kitchen while you were . . . upstairs . . .” No, be more exact. “In your bedroom. With him.
With
him, you know? With. Him.”

Was that clear enough? Or did he have to be even more specific?

Jane said it for him, wonder in her voice. Wonder that rapidly morphed into gleeful amusement. “You switched shifts with Murphy because you thought I was going to run through the second floor of the house with Victor, shrieking, ‘Do me, big daddy, ‘til the cows come home’?”

Cosmo closed his eyes as he sat at a red light, listening to Jane laughing and laughing on the other end of the phone.

“Oh, my God,” she said. “Oh, my
God.
I thought you weren’t here tonight because you didn’t like me. But . . .” The wonder was back in her voice. “You’re not here because you
do.
And you must’ve seen . . . You saw that picture in the
Voice.
Cos, you gigantic idiot, I planted that. What are you doing, believing something you saw in a tabloid? Haven’t you learned anything this past week? Victor Strauss is a friend of mine. He agreed to pose as my latest fling to take the heat off of you.”

Well, didn’t he feel stupid. Stupid and . . .

“Cosmo, where are you?” Jane asked.

Relieved. He was incredibly relieved. The lead weight he’d been carrying in his stomach since this afternoon was gone, leaving behind this rapidly expanding sense of . . .

“I’m having an emergency,” Jane said. “You have to get over here right away. Do you hear me?”

Hope.

“Cos, are you still there?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said, signaling for the turnoff that would take him up through the winding hills to her house. “I’ll be walking in the door in about three minutes.” Fewer, if he floored it.

“That’s good,” she said, her voice warm in his ear. “That’s really good. Because I can’t kiss you through the phone.” She laughed. “At least not the way I want to.”

She cut the connection.

And Cosmo floored it.

“Jules! Wait!”

Jules didn’t stop walking. Shit, he’d left his umbrella in the club, at the coat check. But no way was he going back for it now. The rain was lightening up anyway.

Besides, his T-shirt couldn’t get much wetter.

“Jules!” It was Robin who was following him, so he stopped. Turned. Waited impatiently, arranging his face into an expression he hoped was neither hostile nor disappointed. He was going for polite yet not particularly friendly, but alcohol tended to affect his ability to be subtle.

He shouldn’t have had one martini, let alone two.

“Sorry about your shirt.” Robin was out of breath from running after him. “And I’m so,
so
sorry about . . . I should have called you when I realized it was raining, because of course that meant Adam would show up.”

“It’s not your fault.” Jules started walking again.

“No, but I should’ve anticipated it, and it
is
my fault that . . . Well, you were right,” Robin admitted, trailing along beside him. “I was having a little too much fun, trying to make Adam squirm. Can we please get out of this rain? You want to maybe go get something to eat?”

“No. I’m tired. I’m going back to my hotel.” He wanted to find a cab, but every one that went past was taken. God damn rain.

Robin didn’t give up. “If you really want to go, you should, but if . . . Well, I was hoping we’d have a chance to . . . I really wanted to . . . See, here’s the thing. I have this scene coming up that I’m a little anxious about, and Adam’s not giving me any help at all. Or maybe he’s giving me too much help—I’m not sure—but . . . I’m just trying to get a feel for this role I’m playing—you know, Hal Lord.”

Jules stopped dead and turned to look at Robin. Unbelievable. “You want me to give you insight into playing a man who was so deeply in the closet, he even lied about who he was to himself? I can’t help you there. I was out at seventeen. I was the president of my high school gay-straight alliance. Try looking into your bathroom mirror, Robbie. You might find something mighty interesting there.”

Someday he’d have a good laugh about this. He just knew it.

“I know you think that I’m . . . And I know I’ve been adding to the whole charade by . . . But it’s all just an act, Jules.”

“Yeah, lots of straight guys lick my ear. It happens to me all the time. Men falling at my feet . . . Yeah, right.” He rolled his eyes.

Robin met his gaze and held it. “I was paying attention in there. I don’t think you realize this, but you could have anyone in that club.
Any
one. So what are you doing, carrying a torch for that asshole?”

Jules started walking again. “You haven’t exactly seen him at his best.”

“On the contrary. I’ve seen him act. He’s amazing,” Robin said. “But he really seems to get off on hurting you, which makes him an asshole in my book.”