Selfie (10 page)

The rest of the morning was sort of a blur. Soundstages were the same—Vancouver, Hollywood, the Midwest, New York—they were big buildings full of pretend places and real light racks, where the center of the action was always surrounded by what felt to be a hundred people. We got shown around and told which sets were used for which locations on our schedule, where our trailers were, how to check out a golf cart, where the catering was—basic things. It was like learning the word for “bathroom” when you were visiting a new country: there were some things everybody needed to know.

As we were getting walked around by Simon, I realized that about three quarters of the people who had filled the small room had vamoosed, leaving me with two actresses and another actor, and
their
assorted entourages.

Simon was going on about how to get to the bathroom while sets four through eight were engaged, when I heard one of the actresses whisper, “Oh my God, I know—he’s even hotter in person!”

I looked over my shoulder, surprised, and they both saw me and squeaked. They were completely unfamiliar, both the tall brunette and the elfin blonde—they must be
brand
-new blood.

Suddenly I remembered
my
first gig, and how every name on the cast list was someone I recognized from another show, and how
exciting
that had been.

I smiled and edged away from Jilly and Noah’s protective looming and into their little gossip circle.

“Hiya,” I said, turning on the charm. God, there was so much crap in this business—and they were so young. I wanted to be the person who was nice to them when they were just starting out, because I remembered a couple of people who had been that for
me
, Vinnie among them. “So, are you going to be the new pack members?”

They both nodded, and the tiny blonde stuck out her hand. “Lissa Harvey—I’m actually going to be
your
pack member, Mr. Montgomery.”

“Connor.” I took her hand automatically. Strong grip—good girl. Smart blondes survived in this business.

“Nice to meet you,
Connor
.” Her eyes went to half-mast and she lingered on my name—and on her fingers as they fluttered by my wrist.

I quirked my mouth and quirked my eyebrows, making it clear I wasn’t in the market, and she blushed.

“Brenda Tracey,” said the taller woman, and we shook hands too—without the come-on chaser. “Obviously we’re both fans.”

“It’s nice to have a fan,” I said simply, aware I was quoting
Spider-Man
and unable to help myself. If I’d grown up watching plays, I’d be in New York.

They laughed like they were supposed to, and we chatted as our group moved on. I was just thinking about how to disengage from them when Noah appeared at my elbow again, swapping out one cup of coffee for another and doing that thing, that one with his shoulders and personal space, that pushed me back into his and Jilly’s orbit without it looking like I was being rude and trying to leave the conversation before it got awkward.

“Try to stay with the group,” he murmured primly, eyes narrowed and dancing over his own cup of coffee.

“Yes, sir,” I responded, just to see him smile.

He nodded sternly instead, and I had to swallow, hard. I was suddenly caught in the mock seriousness of his eyes and the way his brows drew together.

And an intensely private moment between Vinnie and me.

“Not yet, boy!”

“
No, sir!”

“
Who’s fucking you?”

“
You are, sir!”

“
Whose cock’s inside you?”

“
Yours, sir!”

Vinnie fucking me, stretching my asshole to the hilt of his outsized cock, one hand pushing between my shoulder blades, one hand issuing irregular, sharp cracks on my thighs and ass as his hips snapped forward at dizzying speed.

The smacks on my ass, the slaps of our bodies colliding, our harsh breaths rasping through the air, the squeaking of the bed, and the smell, sweat and sex and cum, because this was round two, and I was sore, tender, but jazzing on the pain.

We’d been together for four years, and this was the first time he’d ever gotten rough with me.

The “sir” had popped out of my mouth like it had been lying in wait. Every time he smacked my ass I had to pinch my cock to keep myself from coming.

“
I’m gonna come, sir!”

“
Not yet!”

“
Please, sir!”

“
Hold on!”

“
Vinnnnnieee . . .” My eyes closed, and my voice broke. I couldn’t hold it off anymore, and the game was almost not fun.

“
Oh! Sorry! Come, baby. Go ahead! Come!”

“
Yes, sir!”

My breathing quickened, and my face grew hot. Noah was regarding me intensely, mouth parted to reveal the pink of his lips. We were locked in that semiplayful look, but my body was responding, filling with blood and the pounding of my heart, as the pleasure nerve centers I’d thought had withered and died woke up, decided to boogie down my nipples, my abdomen, my cock, taint, and asshole.

It was like acknowledging the want acted as accelerant. Desire roared through me like an arson fire, and I gave a little whimper as my knees threatened to give way.

Oh God. Oh holy God. To have a man’s touch on my skin, the flat of a rough palm on the inside of my thigh, a mouth, hot and relentless, sucking to the point of pain . . .

I was hardening in my jeans, and Noah’s expression had changed, from desire to intensity bordering on anger.

That change let me yank my eyes away, and I took a few shaky steps forward. I stumbled, and only Noah’s firm hand helped me forward.

“Easy,
boy
,” he muttered for my ears only.

Oh. Oh hell. I couldn’t . . . Nobody was supposed to know, to guess . . . I couldn’t do this again.

“I’m nobody’s boy,” I said coolly, and tightened my proverbial sac, grabbed my figurative nuts in both hands, and strode away.

I tried to maintain my distance for the rest of the day. I even thought maybe we could resume the friendliness between us, which was something I’d really enjoyed.

I hadn’t counted on the read-through, though, for lowering my emotional barriers. I guess I could blame it on the caterer, right?

Because lunch was . . . damn. In-season fish, a sauce to die for, and rice that actually had flavor. I mean, there was a name for it, but my Hollywood sophistication had never extended to memorizing food names. I just sort of looked at the menu and said, “Yes! Chicken! With some buttermilk fried stuff on the outside! And gravy! Good!” But this was catered, and the fish made me want to lick my whiskers and purr.

They offered a full bar, but I abstained, figuring Jilly and I had another couple of bottles to split before she went home. Instead, I nursed my flavored water and lingered over the miniature mousse cakes for dessert, and enjoyed talking to Levi and Carter, who were so hopelessly in love I couldn’t even hold it against them.

“Yeah, it was funny,” Carter was saying, that all-American face lighting up when he talked about craft. “Anna talked about bringing you on, and the first thing Levi said was, ‘So, blond Carter and blond Connor—
I
might get them mixed up!’”

I laughed—and winced—because yeah, I’d noticed the similarities myself.

“But then Anna pointed out that it would work out
great
,” Levi said, picking up the thread. “You’d be like this dark, shadowy
echo
of Gabriel, and so when you did like, morally questionable things, the audience could ask themselves, ‘Hey, isn’t Gabriel close to being that much of an asshole?’ And I thought that was
genius
!”

I smiled—and pretended any of that had actually crossed my mind when Jilly flashed me the offer two weeks ago. I
did
remember something she’d said later that afternoon, though.

“I’m just glad you guys held on to the part,” I said earnestly. “I can’t believe you hadn’t cast it yet.”

“Yeah, well,” Carter looked over his shoulders, “honestly, Anna didn’t want to film these episodes if she couldn’t have you. You know that nice, neat, highlighted stack of papers we just got? I think there’s a whole other set for what we’d be filming if she hadn’t gotten your name on the contract before this round of filming.”

“Me?” I said blankly. I
was
a name on the big screen—but I was still a B-list name. I’d read my press: by all counts, “amiable beefcake” was infinitely replaceable.

Carter and Levi laughed like I was making a joke. “It’s like he doesn’t even know!” Carter crowed.

“Know what?” God, I was starting to feel dumb. I mean, yeah—I
played
dumb, but usually that was just what it sounded like. An act.

“You’re like a big fucking deal around here!” Carter said, and while he wasn’t that much younger than me, I heard the same tone of voice that
I’d
used when I’d gotten to work with Gary Oldman in
Pirating Stars
. It was, uhm, odd to hear it turned toward me. “And man, Hunter Easton was
pissed
, too. Because he’s usually totally ‘Keep your grubby mitts off my plotline!’ and that goes for casting too.”

I blinked, wanting to be surprised, but the fact was I’d heard that. When Jilly and I had shotgunned the series, I realized that Mr. Easton had become, like,
legendary
for being one of the few writers who actually had a say. “So, he
didn’t
want me?”

“Oh no,” Levi said. “At first, he was doing his usual diva, but Anna apparently saw the rushes on
Jupiter Seven—
she must know someone there. Anyway, I heard that fight from outside the trailer. And then today, you totally sucked up to her without knowing it. Genius!”

“No, no,” I said, a teeny bit panicked. It never paid to have people expect too much from you. “I’m an action figure.” I winked, trying to dial it down. I hadn’t reckoned on this. I’d wanted to come play with my fellow actors—this sort of thing from . . . from
Carter Samuels
and
Levi Pritchard
was really uncomfortable.

“Whatever,” Levi muttered, rolling his eyes and looking away.

“Oh, not you too!” I protested, about done. “You’re a
legend
.” And he could
act
. I’d been a fan of Pritchard’s before he’d disappeared from Hollywood ten years before—now that he was back and gay and rising again? Well, the Levi Pritchards of this world gave the Connor Montgomerys faith.

“Yeah, yeah,” Carter finished amiably. “You just keep playing it modest, Mr. Nice Guy—we’ll pull that shit out at the next con, trust me.
Especially
because your role here is going to sort of dick with that whole image.”

I blinked, and suddenly realized what a big leap I’d made without looking. I’d signed on to be Slade Lupin—one of three surviving members of what used to be a rival pack to the one in Wolf’s Landing. I’d read the extract for the character, and words like “morally ambiguous” had been thrown around—but I really
had
been ready to throw my career in the crapper, because until right now I hadn’t stopped to consider what that would mean.

“Well,” I said, swallowing and remembering that talk I’d had with Jilly about being okay with selling the beach house, “a new character is always a risk.”

“Right on!” Carter agreed, and he was so young and so happy and so
hopeful
I refused to fuck with that and tell him that I hadn’t risked myself for a character
ever
. Jilly and I had
always
gone for “amiable beefcake” because we’d
always
known that until I made the A list, one bad role, one series flop, one tanked picture meant obscurity.

Carter and Levi wandered off to talk to their costar, and I was stuck, nursing my flavored water and thinking that two weeks ago, obscurity hadn’t sounded that bad.

Which was maybe a good thing, if my blind leap was going to help me tank a good show!

“What’d they say?” Jilly asked at my elbow, and I turned and smiled weakly.

“They said I signed up to play a challenge,” I said, trying not to make a big deal out of it.

Jilly frowned. “That’s a problem?”

“Jilly . . .” I didn’t want to whine. “You had to haul me out of bed this morning.”

Literally. By the feet, covers over my head as I practically begged her not to make me go.

She shrugged and waved me away. “Forget about it. You’ll be fine. You’ve been
dying
for a challenge. Did you think you were going to grow old running away from a green screen?”

“Would you like me to name all the actors who did?”

“I’ve banged some of the actors who did,” she said, making me curious. She and Bruce Willis would be
dynamite
together. “But that’s the thing—they’re all better than people gave them credit for. Smarter. More able to craft. It might not be this role, kid—but it might be. You’ve got nothing to lose right now. Not a damned thing. Be reckless and brave—at least professionally. See what it can get you.”