With Brave Wings (23 page)

Chapter 20

"Cut!" Tennyson yelled, turning to Noah as he removed his headphones. "Do we have time for another?"

Filming in the middle of London wasn’t only expensive enough to ruin the budget, it came with schedules that were almost impossible to keep. They had an entire street sealed off for this shoot, and security was tapping their watches and looking generally impatient.

"We have until midnight." Noah inclined his head.

That gave them an hour.

"From the second line, people!" Tennyson jogged down the pavement to where Judah was waiting on his mark. "Better this time," he told the kid. Judah had really evolved during rehearsals, and they'd noticed the fewer lines he had, the creepier
and
more pitiful he came off. "Remember your tics, okay?"

"Got it." Judah nodded, and Tennyson returned to his monitor. The second AD followed soon, and the set cleared of people. "Did we get the rewrite approved yet?" he asked his script supervisor.

"Still waiting for the studio to call," she replied.

"All right." He adjusted his headphones and let Noah and the assistant with the clapper do their job. Then he yelled for action.

In some way, a big hurdle had been overcome simply by Judah's transformation in appearance. His short black-dyed hair was a stark contrast to his extremely pale skin, and his already sharp blue eyes had been intensified with contacts. Add his tall and lanky frame, the mind of a child, and desires that went beyond sinister… Even Tennyson was having difficulties deciding whether he liked Judah's character or wanted him dead.

He watched Judah walk slowly, close to the wall of a building, while staring at his object of infatuation, a blond girl this time. He scratched the side of his head, his gaze flicking back and forth hesitantly, and he chewed on the end of a drawstring of his hoodie.

The blond girl stopped outside a pub, waiting for a friend.

"Bring it in," Tennyson ordered quietly. "What's he doing—oh. That’s good. Fuck, it's perfect." He squinted at the monitor and noticed that Judah was mouthing words, as if having a conversation with himself. Or with his sister, with whom he was obsessed.

The camera zoomed in farther as the girl and her newly arrived friend entered the establishment. Judah stayed in place, and Tennyson waited for him to deliver his choice of weapon for this kill.

"Dagger, I think will suit her," Judah said softly. "The silver one."

He turned and walked away, dejected.

"Cut!" Tennyson faced Noah and nodded—definitely ready for print.

*

They had no scenes the next day because everything was being transported to Cardiff, where filming would resume the day after tomorrow. Tennyson was pleased with everything they'd accomplished in London in just under a month, and they had enough footage to never lose the London feel. Despite that they'd shoot the rest of the movie in Wales and, lastly, in a studio in LA.

His parents had arrived at Heathrow yesterday and, checking the time, he guessed they were at the wedding reception now. Mom had already asked if they could bring Kayden, but Sophie had him this week.

Final
week. She and Kayden would both join Tennyson in Wales in exactly six days.

It had been too long. Kayden had gotten to see Sophie a few times, but Tennyson had only managed to fly over to Munich once.

A knock on the door to his hotel room prevented him from moping, and he opened it to see a sulking Noah.

"Everything's shit," he said bluntly. "Emma and Brooklyn are having a girls' night, Josh is being a fucking prick, and I'm bored. Wanna head to a pub or something?"

Misery loved company, eh?

Tennyson nodded but had no time to respond verbally because his phone vibrated in his pocket. "Just a sec." He checked his messages and saw one from his mother.

Hello, dear. Since you're off today, would you mind coming over to say hi to Flynn? He feels terrible because he didn’t know you'd be in town. Margaret and Thomas would love for you to stop by, as well.

It had been a couple years since he'd seen his aunt and uncle, and he had to admit it was fun to watch his father and uncle get together. It reminded him of himself and Asher, only thirty years into the future.

Is it all right if I bring Noah?
Tennyson typed back.
His girlfriend has ditched him for the evening, and we were talking about going out for a drink.

"You have me on hold, boss," Noah sighed. "I may have PMS."

"You and Emma synchronized your periods already? That’s impressive."

"Fuck off."

Tennyson chuckled and looked down when his mother replied.

Thomas says the more, the merrier! Just come as you are.

The name and address to what appeared to be an American bar followed, and Tennyson grabbed his wallet before ushering Noah out the door. "Let's crash a wedding reception. Although, I suppose it's not much of a crashing considering we just got invited."

"Ah, your cousin or something—he was getting married, right?"

"Yeah, today." Given the location of the reception and Mom's unintentional, sort of quoting of Nirvana, Tennyson doubted they'd show up underdressed. Slacks and a fitted pullover had to be enough for a bar, and Noah was in a button-down. "I don’t see them very often, so only my folks were invited originally. Then they learned I was here, so…"

"Gotcha. Destination wedding?"

Tennyson shook his head and entered the elevator. "Flynn—that’s my uncle's grandson—he lives here. He was raised by my aunt and uncle back in Seattle, though."

He hoped he'd get an opportunity to speak to his parents about Sophie. Because as it was, only Asher and their friends knew Tennyson and Sophie were finally together.

"So what's got your panties in a twist today, kid?" he asked as they got in a taxi. He gave the address to the driver and got comfortable in his seat. "You mentioned something about Josh."

"He's moving out," Noah bitched. "I kinda saw it coming, but I was hoping it'd be another year or so, and then I wouldn’t have to find a new roommate."

"You don’t actually need one, you know." Tennyson frowned. "Surely you can afford that loft on your own now." And Noah already had two other roommates, though they were rarely home.

He shrugged. "I know, but it's easy. I like having roommates. But I suppose it doesn’t matter. I'm ready to get out of LA. Hopefully, Emma can be my roommate."

Tennyson remembered back in Vancouver, Noah had mentioned he'd wanted to move.

"Do yourself a favor and don’t phrase it like that when you ask." He laughed and looked out the window. "It'd be like getting down on one knee and handing her a small jewelry box with chewing gum in it."

He had a certain jewelry box himself, but there wasn’t gum inside it.

That thought had him smiling to himself.

"I know that expression." Noah narrowed his eyes, and then scoffed. "Look at us. One getting ready to move in with his girlfriend, one about to pop the big question. What happened?"

"How is any of this weird?" Tennyson chuckled incredulously. "It's not like we're in high school anymore. I'm forty-one and you're…what, thirty-five, thirty-six?"

"It's not that." He folded his arms over his chest, resembling a damn child all of a sudden. "I've made fun of friends who've settled down. I never thought being pussy-whipped was even a possibility for me."

"Jesus, kid, you really are on the rag." Tennyson smirked and shook his head. "Are you sure there's nothing else bothering you?"

"No. Well, yes." Noah's jaw clenched. "I'm loyal like a fucking dog, and I'm no sellout. Yet, he accuses me of being some Hollywood pretty boy now—a shitty friend and untrustworthy."

"You lost me, man."

"Josh," he went on with a nod. "That motherfucker. I honestly don’t know what his problem is with me, but he called me every name in the book. I'm guessing he was drunk—I don’t know. He called me up and was all pissed." He blew out a breath, his knee bouncing. "Damn, I need a drink."

That was when the taxi pulled over, so Tennyson paid the fare and got out, promising he'd keep 'em coming for Noah until he was sufficiently plastered. By wedding standards, anyway.

Ignoring the "Closed" sign, he opened the door and entered the bar.
Pub
felt more correct, despite some American flags and memorabilia on the walls.

"Fuck me twice." Noah seemed to like the place. "The bride must be one cool chick to let your cousin have the reception in a bar."

"Not bride. Groom," Tennyson corrected, offering a two-finger wave to his parents as they spotted him. "Flynn's gay. Come on." He pushed up the sleeves of his pullover and walked farther in. The place wasn’t big, and the wedding party was even smaller. Some fifteen people were gathered around four round tables, and there were snacks and drinks everywhere.

"Look what the cat dragged in!" Thomas Wright, only cheery as hell when he'd had a few. If Tennyson's father was rough around the edges, this old man was granite. Good man, though. "Where's your brother?"

Tennyson grinned and shook his hand. "He's in San Diego with his girlfriend's daughter, trying his best to be a stepdad. How are ya, old man?"

Uncle Thomas chattered about this and that, Dad chiming in here and there, and Tennyson took the opportunity to greet Aunt Margaret.

"It's so good to see you, sweetheart," she said as he kissed her cheek. "I feel foolish—Flynn's only request was to keep it small, and we had no idea you would be in London. I'm sorry—"

"It's more than all right," he assured her. "Let me congratulate the grooms, and then we can catch up."

She nodded and patted his hand. "Hurry back. I want pictures of your Kayden."

Didn’t all old people want that? "I've got you covered." He winked then continued to the table in the corner.

Flynn had been socially awkward and shy as a kid, and that hadn't really changed.

His mother, Tennyson's cousin, had passed away years ago. But despite Flynn's age—he was still young, in his early twenties—and the small size of his family, he'd done well for himself. He was ridiculously smart. Genius level smart—and business savvy.

Once they'd greeted each other, Flynn began fidgeting and apologizing for being rude and not extending an invitation sooner, but Tennyson squeezed his shoulder gently and waved it off.

"Don’t worry about it, Flynn. I understand." He smiled. "Introduce your husband instead."

"Oh, of course—yes, right away." He adjusted his tie as the man next to him stood up. "This is Cory. Cory, Tennyson—my grandfather's brother's son."

"Nice to meet you, Cory." Tennyson shook the man's hand firmly.

He smiled politely and nodded. "You too. I've seen some of your films.
Unrecovered
was cool, but I really loved
Fallen
."

One of Tennyson's earlier films—and his one and only contribution to a historical era. "Thank you." He inclined his head. Not wanting to intrude on their evening, he congratulated them on their marriage and then returned to his parents' table where Noah was trying to catch up with the beer drinking.

With him seated between Dad and Uncle Thomas, it left one chair available between Mom and Aunt Margaret. Tennyson would've rather switched places, but he did have an agenda, so he might as well get that over with. He only hoped his mother had wised up.

"I didn’t know Noah was in a serious relationship," Mom told him. "Why didn’t you tell me? This is wonderful news."

"I didn’t know you were my priest." Tennyson grinned wryly and reached for a beer. "By the way, before I forget, could you point me in the right direction so I can send Flynn and Cory a gift?"

"Of course, dear." Mom patted his arm. "I'll find something as soon as we get home. I'm glad you came, though it's unfortunate Kayden couldn’t be here."

"He is where he's supposed to be, Mom. Sophie's barely seen him these past few months. She's a wreck."

"Poor girl." For the first time, Mom seemed sincerely distraught over something that concerned Sophie. She turned to Margaret. "She works way too much, that one. It hasn’t been easy for her, building up a whole new life."

He was surprised to see her being supportive of Sophie, if that was what it was. "She'll be taking a break soon," he said. "As soon as she's done in Germany, she'll have three weeks of filming with me, and then she's off until press begins." He paused to take a swig of his beer. "I believe her agent wants her to book a couple new projects, but nothing that will start until late next year."

They'd discussed it briefly during his twenty-four hours in Munich, and he was relieved they wanted the same thing. When he worked, she was off. When she worked, he was off. They'd take turns and only commit to one project each about every eighteen months or so.

"That’s good." Margaret nodded. "You kids these days, all career this and career that. You forget to live."

Tennyson chuckled. It'd been a while since he'd been called a kid.

Mom pursed her lips, studying him. "You have something to tell me."