Prince of the Playhouse (11 page)

“Okay.”

He looked at the big man who presumably would take a bullet for him—though he was more likely to be gang-kissed than assassinated. Still, Chris was a good man. One of many good people who worked for him. He had enough money to support his parents for their entire lives in style, but his staff? Like Benson adored pointing out, when Gray stopped working, they stopped eating. Hell, he was an industry. People his direct employees had never even met had a job because of the global corporation called Gray Anson. “And, Chris? Thanks.”

“My pleasure.”

Gray smiled, but day-by-day it felt less like a pleasure to him.

In the theater, he got serious. Ru believed in him. That meant a lot.
If I show him I value his help, maybe I’ll get more of it.
He ran through the scenes again and again, even after Artie seemed satisfied.

Finally Gray walked to the edge of the stage for a drink of water. Artie trotted down to him. “Hey, wild man, take a rest. You’ve earned it. Save some for the performance.”

He smiled. “Thanks. I will.”

“Dress tomorrow. I don’t usually bring in costumes this early, but the clothes are so important to this staging, we need to reblock where required to show them off to best advantage. We want to get the gasps. Plus we need to give Ru time to edit where needed.”

“Yeah, I’m looking forward to seeing the outfits.”

“He won’t have them all tomorrow, but probably most of yours.”

“Great.” Stupid how much he wanted to prance around in Ru’s clothes.

“Get some sleep.”

Gray grabbed his stuff and watched some of the other actors gathering for a social event—drinks, probably. He sighed.
Do you want to go?
Maybe not, but it kind of hurt that they didn’t ask. Big movie star. They figured he’d have other shit to do or wouldn’t want to join them. Story of his life these days. People stood in line to be with him because he was rich and famous, not because he was fun.

He started toward the door.

“Hey, Gray.”

He turned to see Merle waving. “I know you’re probably superbusy, but if you want a drink, we’re going to the Ocean Bar.”

“Thanks for asking. Maybe I’ll join you in a few.”

“Great.”

He walked out the front door of the theater, smiling. In the limo, Chris started toward the PCH and the hotel down in the southern part of town. Gray really wanted to see Ru—but he wasn’t invited.
Damn.
“Chris, would you take me to the Ocean Bar?”

“Uh, sure. If you’re sure.”

He chuckled. “I’m sure.” Well, not exactly, but for once he just wanted to do something normal.

Chris found a spot for the limo in a parking lot about half a block from the bar. Gray crawled out, and Chris fell into step beside him, walking toward the ocean.
Wish I could just go on my own.
Yeah, he was antsy, not crazy.

Inside the Ocean, people sat at the long bar, and only a few of the tables stood empty. A waitress hurried over with a plastered-on smile, her eyes anxiously scanning her customers. “Hi. Need a table? Take anything that’s empty.” She immediately walked toward a packed booth of men. Never even registered whom she’d just spoken to. That was a fun change.

Chris pointed to a barstool near the entrance. “I’ll hang there.”

Gray nodded and threaded through the tables to claim a curved booth that could seat at least six. That should do it. He sat facing the door. It didn’t take long. Phillip came through the entrance with Beverly, Tilda, and Merle following. Gray waved. Phillip looked surprised, then smiled and headed in his direction. “You beat us.”

“I had a ride. Sorry. I would have brought you, but I decided to come on the spur of the moment.”

“Hey, glad you did.”

Phillip took one of the two chairs, Beverly the other, and Merle slid into the booth next to Gray, with Tilda beside him.

Gray waggled a finger at the busy waitress. “I would have ordered, but I wasn’t sure what everyone wants.”

Merle grinned.
Really cute guy.
No wonder Ru liked him.
Shit, don’t think about that.
“I’ll take beer.”

Phillip agreed and so did Beverly. Only Tilda wanted white wine. The waitress arrived. Gray said, “Shall we get a pitcher?”

The waitress smiled. Her smile froze, and then she swallowed hard. “You’re, uh, you’re Gray Anson.”

“Yep.” He flashed the famous grin.

“I love you.” He laughed. Her eyes got wider. “Oh my God, you’re Merle Justice. I love you too.”

He gave her the boy-next-door smile. “That’s great. Double love.”

“Wow. I better get you beer, right, or I’m never going to get you to sign my boobs.” She laughed.

Gray covered his shudder. “No boobs, but I’m sure you can get us to sign napkins, notepaper, the palm of your hand—but we need beer first.”

“Oooh, right away!” She took off like a rabbit.

Merle shook his head, then put a warm palm on Gray’s arm. “Hey, man, I just want to tell you how great you are in the role. I wasn’t at the top of the believer’s chain on this enterprise, and you’ve made a jackass of me. I don’t know if showing the world is on your agenda, but you’re going to accomplish it.”

“Thanks. Really.” The only thing that would make him feel better was if Ru sat here to hear that.

The waitress brought not one but two pitchers of beer, which she assured them were compliments of the owner. She shoved the wine in front of Tilda, then produced a black marker and some large pieces of shiny cardboard. “Sign here, please. To Heather.” As Gray and Merle signed, she snapped about a million pictures with her phone, then shoved it at Phillip. “Will you take our picture, please?”

After about ten snaps, she finally left with her prizes, and they got down to serious beer drinking. Very serious. Two pitchers became four. Beverly clearly had an excessive affection for alcohol, but Merle and Gray chased her down and swamped her. Vision got blurry and speech nearly impossible. Gray giggled.
Oh man, I am so drunk.
Chris kept giving Gray the hairy eyeball.
Don’t care. Tired of being Mr. Sensible.

Merle leaned over heavily against Gray’s shoulders. “Did I tell you you’re sure great as Hamlet, buddy? I mean, shit, you should give up atshion movies and try Shakes—Spearehakes—Shakes all the time. Glad I get to play wif you.” He burst out laughing. “Play wif you. I’d sure like to play wif you.”

Gray rested his forehead against Merle’s. “You would. Thad be fun, buddy. Know who we need to play wif? Ru. Ru’s good player. We need Ru.”

“Yeah. Good idea. We should go ged ’im.”

“Shhh. Chris won’ led me, I bet. I mean, hell, I pay all these people, and they run everything an I just do all the shit they tell me, and he won’t led me ged Ru.”

“Shhh. Gez what? Back door. Gotta pee, right? I go. Then you. Go ged Ru.”

Gray giggled. “Yeah. You’re a planner, man. I like that.”

Merle squeezed out past Tilda, nearly landing in her lap, and headed for the men’s room. Gray stared after him. The edges of his vision swam, which made him queasy, and that made him giggle.
Go find Ru.
He looked around the table and pointed toward the bathroom hall. “Gotta go.”

Beverly laughed. “I’d give a lot to see that, baby.”

Gray stood and got his balance by grabbing the table. “Maybe another time, okay?” The hall looked far. He took a step.
Easy.
He had the best coordination—everybody said so. He glanced at Chris, which made him woozier. Chris got off his stool, and Gray shook his head. Making garden hose gestures, he pointed toward the back and mouthed, “Gotta pee.”

In the hall, Merle waited, back against the wall and one leg cocked. Cute. He looked up at Gray. “I know where Ru lives.”

Gray frowned. “Me too. Lez gedim.”

Merle led the way, Gray’s hand on his shoulder. They pushed out the back door, staggered across the parking lot, and started up the hill into the residential streets of Laguna. Twice they sat on the curb.

“Didee move, Merle? Seems far.”

“Nope. Gotta perser-purse—can’t quit now.” Merle hurled himself forward and upward, banging into a tree near the curb. He extended a hand to Gray. “Come on. Never give up.”

“Eashee for you to say.” He shook his head but managed to get to his feet. Merle took his hand, and they walked in the center of the road, which felt flatter and wider than all other options.

Merle pointed. “Gray, I think—land ho!”

“Essellent.” They started to trot, which made their linked hands swing. “Ring around a rosy.” They got to the broad front lawn of Ru’s cottage. Merle let go and started to spin.
Oh, bad idea.

“Pocket full of posies. Ashes, ashes, whoa—” He staggered backward several steps and fell like a chopped tree onto his butt.

“All fall down!” Gray laughed so hard he stumbled and headed for a similar fate. “Ow.”

“WHAT THE
hell?” The noise from outside sent Ru off the couch and grabbing for the knife he kept in the front hall cabinet drawer.
Shit, need a shirt.
He pulled on a jacket over his bare chest and opened the door slowly. Since his conversation with Bernardo, he’d been jumping at every damned shadow.

Wait. What?

Two bodies—male bodies—sat in the middle of his lawn.

One raised his head. “Ish Ru. Look, Merly, ish Ru. He’ll play. Ru, hi.”

“What in the bloody hell—” He took a step toward them. “Gray? Merle?”

Merle fell backward. “Heeeeeey, baby. We come ta getcha.”

Ru crossed his arms. “We? As in you and Gray.”

“Yeah. Good, huh? Didn’t wanna sign girls’ boobs, but could sign yours.” He kicked his feet in the air.

Ru took one more step closer. “How in hell did you two get so drunk?”

Gray giggled. “Wash easy.”

“Have you had anything to eat?”

Merle shook his head. “Dos Equis don’ make food.”

He should close the damned door and let them sleep on the lawn, except they might both get molested by Mrs. O. Plus, they were so damned cute. “Get the hell in here. You’re way too big to carry.”

Gray nodded. “Okay.” He made a random effort to rise and fell hard on his butt. “How?”

“Help each other. That’s how I imagine you got here in the first place, correct?” He turned his back and went inside but left the door ajar. Chances of them making it in? The square root of zero. He went to his bedroom, changed into a long-sleeved T-shirt, grabbed seltzer and aspirin from the bathroom, and returned to the living room by way of the kitchen, stopping to pick up two water glasses. Son of a bitch, they’d almost made it. Gray hung on the doorframe and Merle hung on Gray.
When did these two become blood brothers?

Ru stomped his foot. “Get in here and I’ll give you something to stave off the headaches and hangover.”

Arms around each other’s waists, they staggered into the entry, then past Ru to the living room. Gray plopped Merle in a chair. “Can’t put ya over there, buddy. Don’t want ya to barf on my favorite couch.” At which point he staggered two steps and crashed on said couch full-length.

Ru shook his head. “There will be no barfing of any kind. Not in my house.” He handed Merle two aspirin and a fizzy glass of seltzer water. “Drink.”

“God any beer?”

“No beer. Drink.”

He grinned. “I likes when you’re all demanding and shit.”

“Drink!” Ru glanced at Gray, who stared at Merle and frowned. Ru upended another Alka-Seltzer packet in the second glass of water and carried it to Gray. “You too.”

“Is he your boyfriend?” God, his eyebrows almost covered his eyes, he was frowning so hard. Plus, he sounded damned sober.

Merle hiccupped and set down the glass. “Yeah, Gray, don’t you fink Ru should be my boyfriend? Tell him I’m a good guy who got you over here in one piece, okay?”

“Fuck no!”

“Aw, why, buddy? He says he’s got hots for some other dude who doesn’t wuv him, but I could be good for him. Tell ’im. Come on.” Merle staggered to his feet and lurched toward Ru. “Look at that kisser. Sooooo purrrty. I wanna kiss the kisser.”

Gray leaped off the couch like a sober tiger and grabbed Merle by the collar. “Don’t touch him.”

Ru froze. Gray’s face radiated the kind of command and danger that made him the king of action heroes. Merle got it too. He stared up at Gray with wide eyes. “Don’ mean nothing. Won’t hurt him. Just want to kiss him a liddle.”

“No. Keep your hands off. Lips too.”

Merle cocked his head and looked up at Gray through his lashes. “You wanna kiss him instead, buddy?”

“Fuck you.”

“Awww, din’t mean nuthin. He’s just so kissable, don’ ya think? Look at those lips.”

Gray did just that. He turned his head like a big lion and stared right at Ru’s mouth, the deep eyes flashing like lightning through bloodshot storm clouds.

Merle hiccupped. “See what I mean? You ever seen a kisser like that? Lips like berries. Lots of vitamin C.” He snorted. “No, we can call it vitamin Ru.” He laughed, and amazingly, Gray joined in.

“Yeah, vitamin R. You had your vitamin R today?”

Merle stepped even closer. “I could die from vitamin R defish-defi—”

“Defertian-fritian—”

This conversation is not happening.

They both gave up and gazed at his lips. Gray stared with a weird expression—like maybe Ru really did provide nutrition. Merle nudged him. “Hey, man, you gotta keep up your strength. You need him most. Go on, eat.”

Merle laughed, but Gray didn’t. His head lowered toward Ru, lips parting.
Holy shit, he might do it.
Ru’s belly flipped and his cock rose like sunrise.

Merle gave a long, slow moan. “Oh man, I wanna see this. Gotta watch. Holy shit, sexy as hell. Look at those lips. Go on, suck him up.”

Shut up, Merle. Shut up.
But Merle’s encouragement seemed to be working. Gray’s breath whispered against Ru’s lips.
Oh my God. Oh my God.
Ru’s eyes closed. The smell of beer and some sweet Gray Anson citrus floated through Ru’s brain.
Cock dancing to some inner music.
The softest touch, like satin—