Aced (4 page)

“Look, it’s not a thing—”

“I knew it. I fucking knew it—”

“You know shit,” I said, and then shrugged. “Just this guy I’ve seen before showed up at the read-through today, and I wasn’t…expecting it, is all.”

“Oh hell.” Kenny looked wary. “So he’s what, a producer? One of the writers?”

“Try model turned actor on his first fucking film.”

“Uh…” He stopped and put his hand on my arm. “You’re not thinking of getting involved with this guy, are you?”

That’s
all
my cock is thinking about.
“Maybe. Maybe not.”

“Look, you know I want you to be happy, and yeah, find someone, but… You know what they say about dating in the workplace, man.”

“Don’t come knockin’ when the trailer’s rockin’?”

Kenny gave me a nudge and nodded over at the bottom of the trail at the two men with long-lens cameras aimed our way. “Don’t fucking do it, is what they say.”

I sighed and rubbed the back of my neck. Considering I’d already said more than I should in front of both Dylan and Russ, I hadn’t exactly started things off in the most professional, platonic way. I wasn’t even sure I was capable of that with Dylan.
 

He made me feel reckless. He made me forget that I was in a room full of my peers, some of whom I didn’t know overly well. He made me forget my role, and all because he had a face that had literally stopped me in my tracks for weeks.
 

I didn’t know this guy any more than I knew a passing acquaintance, but the second I’d realized who he was, my brain had shut off and my dick had activated.

Like I said…he made me reckless.

* * *

WHEN I WALKED into my tiny studio apartment later that afternoon, I threw my backpack down on the floor and headed toward the bathroom. I’d just left J.T., the barber who cut my hair for the film, and I was freaking out a little.

I shoved open the bathroom door and stopped in front of the mirror. God, I didn’t think it would bother me so much, but I really hadn’t wanted to chop my hair off. I know it sounds vain, but I loved my hair. It had been just the right length, kinda long on the top and highlighted perfectly, and now… I pulled my baseball cap off and groaned.
Now
it was cut short, a.k.a. Maverick from
Top Gun
style, J.T. assured me. But all I saw was short hair and
no
highlights.

I looked like every other guy. Normal. Nothing about me stood out and screamed—unique. Which was what photographers and designers wanted in a model. I had every other guy’s run-of-the-mill, short brown hair. Awesome. My agent was going to freak.

Shoving the cap back on, I walked out through my apartment and headed to the fridge for a bottle of water. It was burning up in this little rat trap I lived in, and the AC wasn’t doing shit. I took a swig from the bottle and then thought fuck it, and peeled my shirt off over my head, throwing it on the back of the couch as I flopped down into it. The fan oscillating above me in a wonky fashion made me think I might die one of these days from it spinning clear off its joints.

What a day.

First day working on a multimillion-dollar Hollywood movie? Check.

Almost run over by hottest guy on the planet? Check.

Called jackass by hottest guy on the planet? Check.

Find out hottest guy on the planet has a hard-on for me? Check. And holy fucking shit. What was I supposed to do with that info?
Well,
I thought, as I pressed down on the erection straining against my jeans,
besides the obvious.

It was all starting to make more sense now. Okay, not the first run-in—that was just pure coincidence and the fact that I wasn’t paying attention. But the intense way Ace had been focused on me. The way he’d called me out, made sure he had my attention, like he wanted me to notice him. And now I knew why.
He
had noticed me first. And that fact was blowing my mind.

For years I’d been watching Ace’s movies with Derek, and admittedly fantasizing about the guy in a way that was probably unhealthy, and when I’d had the opportunity to work with him, I’d jumped on that in a quick second. Then today had happened. I guessed I could choose to look at it in two ways.
 

One, a highly embarrassing situation where the man of my dreams, and likely the dream of every other woman and gay man on the planet, almost killed me with his fancy-assed sports car.
Or
I could look at it as, I’d just landed on Ace fucking Locke’s radar and I had a feeling he’d have a hard time getting me off it…
 

Mhmm okay
, those words were doing all kinds of things to me, even if the guy had rubbed me the wrong way.
Oh Jesus, just give it up. The guy makes me hard even though he called my ass out
. And what the hell did that say about me?
 

I knew Derek would get a total kick out of my shitastic first day, so as I turned the TV on, I reached inside the pocket of my jeans for my phone, and before I could hit call I happened to glance up and see
what
was flashing across my screen in high definition.

Ace Locke—shirtless.

It might’ve been slightly juvenile of me, but I’m not gonna lie, when Ace’s name flashed up on the screen the rush I usually got when anticipating one of his movies was amped up about a thousand times. I mean, Jesus, I’d just flirted with this guy. I mean…I told him what underwear I was wearing, for fuck’s sake. And the fact that he’d told me to my face he would like to see me in them and not a whole lot more had me unbuttoning the top button of my jeans, ready to
enjoy
the movie.

And then
there
he was. Ace Locke in soaking-wet board shorts that clung to every muscle of his thick thighs and…
Ahh yeah
, the impressive bulge between them. Best part of the damn movie. Okay, the plot was awesome too, but really, as if I was watching it for that while I was lying there shoving my hands down my pants.

The man walked in slow motion out of the crashing waves, like some fucking Titan god coming to grace mere mortals with his presence, and speaking as a lover of all things surf, sand, and sex, the casting agent of this particular movie had been spot on with Ace’s role. Both men and women alike still to this day talked about the opening credits, and from there on out the movie had had everyone’s attention.

Already scooting farther down the couch, I grazed my palm over my erection. It never failed that with one glance at Ace I wanted to come all over his washboard abs. I was ashamed to admit that I probably wasn’t going to get much farther than five minutes into this movie, but hell, it wasn’t like I didn’t know that it was going to end happily. Just like I was, only a couple of hours sooner.
 

I reached for the lube I kept under the couch, dead set on getting some relaxation underway, when my phone started to vibrate where I’d dropped it next to me.

Glancing back at the TV, I sat up to hit pause, not willing to miss a second of Ace’s naked torso on my screen, and wouldn’t you know it, that bastard’s entire abdomen was now taking up the entire screen.
Hey, not a bad place to push pause, all things considered.

I frowned at the caller ID, and then before I could think better of it I swiped my finger over answer and flopped back onto the couch.

“This better be an emergency, Ziggy.”

A lazy chuckle came through the phone before Dad replied, “Why, did I catch you spanking the monkey?”

I glanced at the lube and then shook my head. “Not yet, thanks to you.”

“Aww, and now you’re all frustrated,” he said. “I can hear your frown from here, young man. You better stop that, or it’ll give you wrinkles, which would greatly hinder your career.”

Despite myself, my lips twitched at Ziggy’s outrageousness. “Yeah? Well being interrupted at the beginning of what promised to be an epic handjob will give me blue balls to go with the grey hair. So you’re the one who is really jeopardizing my future.”
 

“You know, if you’re having trouble getting it up, might I suggest some horny goat weed?”

“Ziggy—”

“Now, now, just hear me out. Your mother and I have been trying it out for weeks now, and it works like a charm. Hell, I couldn’t get out of bed the other day for twelve hours—”

“I don’t think—”

“If you can’t get any out there just let me know, and I’ll have Dr. Faukstein prescribe you some. You don’t have to smoke it; you can take a pill and then up pops the cock—”

My parents. They’re good people, just a little…offbeat.

“Thanks, Zig, I’ll look into it,” I said. “Speaking of, how’s Sunshine? Recuperating from your drug-laced tour of the Kama Sutra?”

“Oh, your mom’s hotter than a griddle of chicken grease. Pops so good, too. Finger-lickin’—”

“Yeah, okay, that’s great to hear. So, is there something you needed?” I asked, trying to get the conversation back on track so it could end, and I could get back to my own damn orgasms.
 

“Matter of fact, there is. Lennon’s day of birth is coming up, you know, and he’s been quieter than a mouse pissing on cotton when it comes to gift ideas. Got any?”

“Is he still on that spiritual quest to find himself? Maybe you could give him a hand with that.”

“You shouldn’t poke fun at other people's journeys, Daydream.” My father’s voice turned stern. “A time may come when you too are searching for answers.”

“Instead of gifts, why don’t you just go with him to one of those sweat lodges you guys like? Clean out the evil toxins and whatnot. Plus it’s quality family time, right?”

“Brilliant,” he said, and then added, “You want to come? When are you coming home?”

Good question. When I’d first come out here, it had been for a weekend job shooting the Calvin Klein ad that Ace was so…fond of. But then my agent booked me another job…and then another…and the work had been so steady that I left the hotel I’d been crashing at and decided to rent an apartment near the studio on a month-to-month basis. As it stood now with the shoot, my schedule had me here for at least another twelve weeks. I wasn’t complaining—I loved the West Coast.

“I’d love to, Zig, but I’m not sure when I’ll be heading back. We’ll be filming for a few weeks.”

“My boy. A bigshot in Hollywood. Have you met anyone famous? Willie Nelson? Carly Simon?”

My eyes trailed over the ripped abs of Ace on the screen. Oh, I’d met someone famous, all right. And it was more than just a passing acquaintance…

“Nah,” I said. “Just a bunch of photographers you wouldn’t know. And I’ve gone out surfing a bit with some of the other guys in the agency.”

“Anyone caught your eye?”

“You know my type isn’t the pretty boy.”

“That’s because
you’re
the pretty one. But I get it. Maybe try a yoga class.”

I rolled my eyes but chuckled. “You got it. Give Sunshine my love.”

“Oh, I plan to give her—”

“Okay, good talkin’ to you, Ziggy. Chat later.” And with a quick press of the end button, I threw the phone down on the couch.

Sometimes I wondered how the hell I ended up somewhat normal with parents I called by their first names. Well, what’s normal, anyway? After the shit I’d been through as a kid, any parents were an upgrade. Even those that still believed in free love and singing “Kumbaya” by the fire after dinner.
 

Glancing at the TV, I wondered if it was worth it to try again, but after the TMI from Ziggy, I felt pretty scarred for the rest of the evening. At least my dick was.
 

Didn’t mean I couldn’t lie here and replay my run-in with Ace. Or wonder if, wherever he was now, he was doing the same.
 

3

BLOW TO THE HEAD

“GOOD, DYLAN, NOW try the punch again, but this time a bit faster. On three. One…two…”

On three, I swung my fist toward Angelo, the stunt coordinator, aiming for just under his chin instead of making contact.

“Beautiful,” Angelo said, nodding at me in approval. “Partner up with Russ and work on the combinations again.”

As he moved on to the next pair, I cracked my knuckles and stepped in front of Russ. It was our first day of rehearsal, and we’d been working on punches and kicks for the better part of the morning. I’d never had to do stunt work of any kind before—hell, I hadn’t acted before, unless you counted high school theatre—but I
was
in pretty kickass shape, courtesy of Derek. He’d made sure I worked every square inch of the gym he owned back in Sunset Cove. Rooming together had always been a pain in the ass, too, at least when it came to food. Always having to sneak my damn potato chips.

“All right, tough guy. Come at me,” I said to Russ, and moved into position. Then I mimicked a move straight out of
The Matrix
and beckoned him to come forward.
 

Russ launched a kick to my leg, which I blocked, and then threw out a couple of punches. When I retaliated, I kicked a little too high on his upper thigh, and Russ’s hands shot down to cover his groin.

“Two inches higher and you would’ve had me down for the count.”
 

I couldn’t help it—my eyes shot down to where he was still holding himself. “Only two inches, huh? Impressive.”

There was a sparkle in Russ’s eyes as he grinned. “So I’ve been told.”

“Ohh, so the girls are lined up outside the studio for you.”

“Hopefully not the girls.”

Ah, now that makes sense.
The way he’d freaked after Ace and I checked out his ass yesterday had me thinking he was a scared straight guy, but now I realized it probably had more to do with Ace Locke sizing up his…
ass
ets.
 

Russ ran a hand over his newly buzzed hair to the back of his neck, and as he squeezed it he shrugged and asked, “That okay with you?”

“Hey, man, I’m hoping some of those guys out there are lined up for me too.” I winked at him, and when he laughed, I noticed he sounded somewhat relieved.

“Uhh…I had a feeling,” he said, moving back into position, visibly more relaxed.