Prince of the Playhouse (21 page)

“La la la. Not helping.” He put his fingers in his ears. If he walked away, Gray might notice.
No. Need to give him support. Need to keep him safe.
He locked his eyes on the car where Gray was being strapped in. He wasn’t driving. A guy outside the car on a kind of running board contraption actually piloted it, which left Gray free to emote.

Ru’s stomach turned. He’d seen a lot of violence. Why did this shake him? Only one answer.
Gray.

The car’s engine revved. Ru held his breath.
Wham.
The brakes released and the vehicle leaped forward, tearing down a mock street lined with mock buildings, another car chasing it with guns firing. A camera on a mobile slide followed all the action.

Gray’s tires hit the crooked ramp Jerry had showed him earlier. The car took off into space, began to roll in midair, and slammed down on its hood. One second later it burst into flames.

Ru leaped to his feet, pressing his hand over his mouth.

The director screamed, “Cut.”

People ran toward the car with flame retardant while others pulled Gray’s body from the wreckage. Ru just stared.
Move. Don’t be hurt. Please, don’t be hurt.

For a moment Gray just lay there, and Ru saw the director’s back tense.

No. No. No.

Then in one leap Gray bounded to his feet, tore his fire suit hood off his head, and waved.

Ru wanted to kill him, right after he kissed him to death. Instead he walked slowly to the edge of the bench where they were seated and threw up.

When he stood up and wiped his mouth, he found Jerry beside him. “Hey, man, I didn’t know you were that upset.” The look in his eyes said he guessed too much.

Ru waved a hand. “Don’t tell Gray. He’s pretty okay with having a business partner who’s gay, but I don’t like to push my queenliness in his face.”

Jerry smiled. “Got it. Some of the makeup artists are friends of mine, but I will admit, you guys can get a little over the top.”

Ru nodded. “I know. Drama, drama, drama.”

Jerry laughed. “Right.”

Crisis averted.

He watched Gray peel out of his gear. Then Gray looked up like a deer smelling the wind, saw Ru, and started running toward him.
Shoot.
Ru glanced at Jerry. “Don’t tell him. Okay?”

He walked to meet Gray. As they got close, Ru held up a hand and slightly shook his head. Gray seemed to realize what he must look like—a puppy running to get praise from its master—and slowed. When they met, Ru stuck out his hand, Gray took it, and they did the one-armed guy hug. Ru whispered, “I got pretty upset when you were blown up. Jerry noticed. If you ever make me do that again, I’ll kill you.”

Gray stepped back. “Shit. I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

“We’ll talk about it later.” Ru turned and started walking back toward Jerry. Gray fell in beside him.

Jerry stood. “Good job, man. But you really had Ru going.”

Ru put hands on hips. “You said you wouldn’t tell.”

“No, I said I wouldn’t give him details.” He laughed.

“Were you being a drama queen again?” Gray gave him a sideways look.

Perfect.
Ru grinned. “Maybe just a little.”

Jerry cocked his head at Ru. “I thought I read that you and Gray stopped some robber with a gun.”

Gray wrapped an arm around Ru’s neck and noogied his scalp. Jesus, wasn’t that taking the guy thing a little far? “He’s actually a tiger under all those feathers.” Gray laughed.

Ru adjusted his hair. “Are we done, or do I have to endure more explosions and gunfire?” His stomach still cramped, and he felt like he needed three more meals so he could throw them all up.

“No. That’s all they’re shooting today. I need to get back for the final run-through of
Hamlet
.”

“You really doin’ that shit, Gray?” Jerry shook his head. “Man, that shit’d scare me worse than a good explosion.”

“Tell me about it. I was so terrified the first time I walked on the stage, I thought I’d barf. But Ru helped me, and I think I’m gonna make it okay. Want to come? It’s sold out, but I bet I could wangle a seat somewhere.”

Jerry held up two hands and backed up. “No, man, I ain’t that brave. I’ll read about it in the trades.”

Gray laughed. “Thanks so much for taking Ru under your wing.” He shook hands with Jerry.

“My pleasure.” He grinned wickedly. “You might want to buy him dinner. I doubt he’s got much in his stomach.” Laughing, he walked over toward the other stunt men.

Ru glanced at Gray and walked quickly toward where Chris sat reading in the limo. Chris saw them coming and hopped out his side, but Ru held up a hand. “Thanks, Chris. I got it.” He crawled into the backseat and shoved his head between his knees.
Jesus, may never breathe again.

Gray got in beside him, slammed the door, closing them into their tinted-window cocoon, and slid over beside Ru. “Ru, are you okay? What’s wrong?”

Ru reared back and slammed a hand against Gray’s chest. He pulled the force at the last minute or he would have hurt him. “Do you know what it’s like to watch the man you love get set on fucking fire? You’re lucky I didn’t run across the field screaming. Shit, Gray, I could have blown your whole cover forever.”

Silence.

Ru looked up at Gray, who stared at him like a giant deer facing a mountain lion. Ru frowned. “What? Aren’t you even going to say you’re sorry for putting me through this?” The window between them and Chris quietly slid up. Ru glanced around. “What?”

“What you said.”

“That you should apologize?”

“That you—”

Ru replayed the words in his mind.
Do you know what it’s like to
—well, shit. He dropped his head back between his knees. “Think of it as a figure of speech.” He looked up at Gray with his head still resting against his knees. “Okay?”

“D-do you?”

He sat up and sighed. “Forget I said it. If there’s one thing this fucking relationship doesn’t need, it’s any more complications.” He leaned back and closed his eyes, noticing the car was moving.
Good. Can’t get me home fast enough. Just rest.
He closed his eyes against the still-present nausea.

Maybe he dozed, because he suddenly realized Gray’s arm was around him and his head was resting against a solid shoulder. All those good cinnamonny Gray smells surrounded him. Best cure for a sick stomach ever. He snuggled closer. The limo was stopping and starting, so probably getting close to home.

“Ru?”

“Umm-hmmm?”

“About the opening tomorrow night.”

“Yes?”

“You’re having the reception after, right?”

He looked up at Gray. “Yes. You’re coming, aren’t you?”

Gray looked out the opposite window. Fucking bad sign. “Yes.”

“Good. A lot of press will be there to see a preview of my new collection. Since you’re my investment partner, I think people expect to see you.”

“Yeah. I imagine so.”

Gray was acting weird, like some stranger.
Crap, why didn’t I keep my mouth shut?
“About what I said earlier. I was just upset. You know I’ve loved you forever, right? Since the first time I saw you in the movies. So don’t make a big thing of it. We’re having fun—”

“Ru?”

“Yes.”

“I have to bring Ursula to the premiere and the party tomorrow.”

“Who’s Ursula?”

“The Russian model I took to that charity event when I went back east.”

Ru’s mouth opened, then closed.
Try again.
“The gorgeous one.”

“I guess.”

“I see.”

“They’re telling me now that I’m single I’m more open to gossip. I have to be seen with women.”

“Sure. I understand.”

“You do?”

“Of course. We talked about it, right?”

Chris spoke through the intercom. “We’re here.”

Ru pulled himself away from Gray and slid to the side of the seat by the door. “Okay, well, I’ll see you tomorrow, I guess. Have a great rehearsal. And break a leg.”

“I won’t see you tonight?”

I’m being stupid.
But he felt his head shaking. “Uh, no, I have so much to do for the event tomorrow, I’m not sure when I’ll get home. I’ll see you at the theater.”

“Ru—”

“Bye. Tell Chris I said thanks a bunch.” He opened the door straight into two reporters.
Shit!

“Mr. Maitland, can I talk to you?”

“Hey, Ru! Wow, is that Gray Anson?”

While the reporters were distracted by Gray, Ru pushed against the man with the mic, ran for the door, and practically fell inside.
Shit, shit!
He locked the door, ran for the bathroom, and barfed up the miniscule remaining contents of his stomach.

A LITTLE
stitch here. A little stitch there. A little stitch here….
The sun shone in the window of the sewing room at Shazam—more correctly at Ru Maitland Designs—but it didn’t interfere with the fog in his brain.

“Ru, you don’ gotta be doing that. Let me do it.” One of his seamstresses acquired with the Gray Anson trust fund stood staring down at him, hands on her sturdy hips.

Ru shook his head and bent over the hem he was securing. Damned actresses couldn’t keep their heels out of their hems. “Thanks, Rosa. I got it.”
Just sew and don’t think. Simple formula.

Don’t be a baby. You knew the score.

He sighed
. Doesn’t mean I have to play the game.

Yeah, good luck with that.

The tap on the doorjamb made him look up. Merle grinned at him from the doorway. “Hey. I heard a guy could get a costume alteration here, but I didn’t know it would be by the celebrity designer himself. Damn, man, I’ve been trying to figure out a way to get you on your knees for weeks.”

Rosa snorted and took off out the door—probably to tell her friends about the crazy gringo TV star.

Okay, maybe Merle’s cute face deserved a smile. He mustered one up.

He got a frown back. “Hey, you okay?” Merle stepped closer and bent down to look at Ru.

“Sure.” Ru rose and brushed off the knees of his slim black trousers. “Just stressed by all we have to do before the play and the party tomorrow night.”

“Yeah. It’s insanity on a stick out there.” He pointed toward the lobby and entrance to Shazam.

Ru collapsed into a chair at his collaboration table. “It’s a big day for all of us. Huge for me.”

Merle sat opposite him—collaborating. “Man, who knew when the Grayster and I staggered onto your lawn that you’d end up in business with him?”

“Certainly not me.” Ru inspected his manicure.

“So I guess you’ll be hanging out with your business partner tomorrow night, right?”

Ru swallowed hard. “Oh, he’ll be here, of course.”

“But—” He made a circular motion with his finger.

“But he’ll be very busy with his beautiful model who is flying in for the premiere, so beyond a few interviews, I don’t imagine he’ll be all that involved.” Wow. How had he managed to get all those words out at once?

“Oh.” For an instant pure pity shone in his eyes.
Damn.
Then Merle smiled. “Well, hell, that’s the best news I’ve heard. So you can be my date, right? I mean, I know I’m just a TV actor, but my agent says we’ve got big movie plans in the offing, so how about hanging on the arm of Mr. Up-and-Comer?” He grinned that boyish-wonder smile. “Unless you’ve made other plans.”

Can I run out of here screaming and crying? Not an option.
Ru smiled. “I’ve hardly had a chance to make any plans at all, so Mr. Up-and-Comer, I’d say you’ve got yourself a date.”

“That’s really great.”

“Do you really have a costume alteration to do?”

“Nah. I just wanted an excuse to ask you out.”

Ru gazed at him. “That’s really nice of you, Merle.”

“I’m a nice guy, and don’t you forget it.”

Hey, that smile is almost as pretty as Gray’s.

Merle hung on the doorjamb. “So I’ll see you tomorrow at the Playhouse and we’ll wow them together, then we’ll party like all our dreams have come true.”

Ru nodded.
Words not possible at this time.

Merle waved and left. Ru gave him a ten-beat count and then ran to his office and closed the door.
Breathe. Keep breathing.

He kept a soft Persian rug in the middle of his office for just such emergencies. Kicking off his shoes, he slowly sank down on the hand-knotted pile, dropped to his side, and curled into a fetal position.
Drama, drama, drama.
Jesus, if Bernardo could see him now. But then Bernardo had made it possible for this moment to exist. Otherwise the only fetal position he’d see was in his grave.

He flipped on his back and stared at the glowing pendant light suspended over his conference table.
You’re an ungrateful idiot. You had no reason or right to suspect that Gray Anson was gay. Even less to imagine he’d be remotely interested in you. He’s given you a pile of money for your collection and let you fuck his ass—twice. Why the hell do you think you deserve one iota more, pendejo? Get up off the fucking floor and show some gratitude.

Like a man who’d just kicked his own ass, Ru sat up, rose to his feet, and went to work.

“SO TELL
him, with the occurrents, more and less, which have solicited. The rest is silence.”

As Hamlet’s head drooped into Horatio’s arms, Ru wiped the tears flowing down his cheeks. All he could think of was Gray’s body lying on the ground, still as death, after they pulled him out of that burning car.

Horatio spoke from the stage. “Now cracks a noble heart. Good night sweet prince. And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.”

Ru pressed a hand against his mouth to muffle his sob and burrowed farther behind the flat standing against the backstage wall. The same place Gray had kissed him.

Vaguely he heard Fortinbras and Horatio speaking to the end of the play and watched the soldiers carrying off the pile of corpses all clothed in Ru’s fabulous costumes. Dear God, old Will sure did know how to stack up the body count. The Michael Jackson pop anthem, “Bad,” which Artie had chosen as a theme song for their version of
Hamlet
, started playing at dirge cadence with a military drum
rat-tatting
behind it as they slowly carried Prince Hamlet above their heads off the stage.