Calm and Chaos: Acting Out

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Published by Musa Publishing, June 2012

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isbn: 978-1-61937-202-3

Published in the United States of America

Editor: Elizabeth Silver

Cover Design: Kelly Shorten

Interior Book Design: Coreen Montagna

This one is mostly dedicated to a few of the “guys.” To the Dear Husband for not
blinking an eye at anything I write — a dedication that could equally apply to my

father who quite enjoyed my first m/m romance before he died. To my best friend’s

husband for being good to her (and both of them for being good friends to us). To
Steven for originally setting up my website, and a few other “web” related things,

for sharing jokes and a few moans. To Zack for letting me pick his brain re: filming

(any errors I will be able to now pin on him regardless of where they originated).

And to Clayton for knowing and probably caring more about fashion than I do. And

I’d better not leave out Andy, for having faith in me and reminding me that I can

tackle most anything. Or that it’s at least worth giving it my best shot. (See, I’m not

always “cheeky.”)

Chapter One

“

r. Sandford?”

The breathy voice entered his ear, fluttering around, circling his eardrum

like a moth seeking out a flickering flame. Distracted, the words burned up

as effectively as an insect with a death wish. The wait was killing him. If hell

existed on earth, Nick stood right in the flames.

Then again, the stinging in his chest might simply be heartburn.

“Mr. Sandford? Nicholas?”

So distracted was he, the call almost escaped his notice a second time,

but the intimate use of his name drew his interest — that and a voice remind-

ing him of Marilyn Monroe. Something about the woman’s blonde curls

resembled the film star, too. Nick’s awareness of her penetrated his brain in

time to prevent him from appearing a fool. If not a fool, he’d have looked like

an arrogant bastard, though he doubted the young woman would have seen.

One glance revealed adoration in her eyes. The breathy voice didn’t occur

solely because she’d tried to whisper; she stared at him as if gazing upon a

succulent piece of candy.

As disagreeable as Nick invariably found this interest to be, at least she

appeared awestruck. Maybe he managed to appear calm.

Maybe he was a better actor than he thought.

The woman’s white blouse and black skirt denoted her uniform. Her

gaze tore away long enough to cast a wild scan over the room. One of the

staff — no doubt she knew she shouldn’t bother him — she checked whether

anyone was watching.

Sharon Maria Bidwell

“May I have your autograph?” She asked in such a way as to remind him of

lines spoken “aside” — actor’s lines supposedly not heard by others on stage,

intended only for the audience.

Despite his nerves, Nicholas almost grinned. She struck him as sweet and

amusing. What did she see when she looked at him? Did she notice anything

other than the blond hair and blue eyes?

Don’t forget the smile.
Projecting said beam, Nick produced a pen, and taking a napkin from the

table, scribbled on the folds. “Thank you for asking…” He paused, waiting

for realisation to dawn.

“Linda,” she said, eyes wide.

He added her name to his message and said, “Pleased to meet you, Linda.”

Keeping fans happy was the code, especially for an actor of his standing; he

needed all the fans he could get.

Nick left the napkin as he turned away, aware she would snatch up the

keepsake to tuck in the deepest recesses of her pockets. If she were afraid

someone might steal it, maybe she’d hide it in her knickers. Maybe she would

anyway.

He closed his eyes, but that did no good as his reason for being here sprang

to mind: a clearly defined image of Alex Lasseter’s face, Alex’s noticeable build.

Gritting his teeth, Nick begrudgingly admitted Alex had the physique

many actors — hell, men! — dreamed of. He had dark hair, dark eyes, and

muscle. Sometimes, life just wasn’t fair. He didn’t want the type of action roles

migrating in Alex’s direction, not regularly — occasionally, maybe, as long as

he didn’t always have to be the tall, gangly, geeky intellectual.

Nick glanced around. Right now, Alex was most noticeable by his absence.

Trust the man to keep him waiting.

The only good thing was their mutual agent, Alana Reynolds, wouldn’t

be here. She of the overlong and straight blonde hair hanging like a curtain,

swaying, seductive, invariably irritating Nick to hell.

Whenever she looked at Alex, gone was the unsettling stare Nick paid

her so well to use while representing him. Nick saw nothing hard, cold, or

business-like when she skimmed that large frame. He’d never known Alana

to gawk at anyone with a less than analytical eye, and the realisation that she

did otherwise left him torn between gratitude not to be the object of her

scrutiny and belligerence because she paid Alex such close attention. Around

Alex, her expression came close to an open display of desire. For some reason,

Nick didn’t like it.

Calm and Chaos: Acting Out

He didn’t want to know whether Alex had seduced Alana, or she him.

He was doubtful the two were having sex; still, he disliked the possibility. He

could imagine those perfect bodies locking together too easily, but he tried

not to. Imagining Alana naked was one thing, but considering what an attrac-

tive couple they made struck him as disturbing. Women could look at other

women to say they were appealing, even beautiful. Men didn’t do that. They

called each other “fit,” and it was too easy to gaze at Alex and see an extremely

fit man, indeed. He didn’t feel comfortable admiring Alex; he never had, even

though he had a case of justifiable envy. Those broad shoulders and muscular

build, the square jaw and disarming grin…

Nick swallowed, wanting an antacid. He touched his tie, fingered his lapel,

and looked around, wondering if they’d have such a thing on the premises.

Probably against Health and Safety. He should have been even more gracious

to the serving girl, who would have no doubt given him anything he wanted.

Alex nodded to the manager. The chap returned the nod, and with nothing

more than a tilt of his head, directed him to the back of the restaurant. He

didn’t have to. Alex knew where he was going. He loved to sit by the balcony,

and any table in the vicinity had a first-rate view of the river. On a good day,

glass doors concertinaed back, removing the entire wall. He was considering

having the same type of doors put in at home. Even on a day like today, with

drifting clouds dark with impending rain, it was worth coming here for the

view alone. The overhanging canopy and elegant planters offered protection

from the wind and privacy from prying eyes; sufficient space between the

tables defeated all but the most vigilant eavesdropper as well. He particularly

wanted privacy. Deliberately arriving ten minutes late, he was well aware

that Nick would already be here. Nick was never late and today had doubt-

less turned up early. Alex also anticipated his mood; Nick hated the journey,

couldn’t see why Alex didn’t want to live in town, and considering what they

were here to discuss, Alex had given Nick time to calm down.

Setting sight on his quarry, Alex took a deep breath. This meeting made

him feel as if he were the hunter and Nick the prey.

Straightening his expression so as not to reveal his anxiety, Alex made his

way through the winding placement of tables to the far, right-hand corner of

the room. Viewing the back of Nick’s head, he noted the line of tension in

the man’s shoulders, the glass of ice water in his hand. As Alex approached,

Nick looked up, eyes shining brightly with defensiveness. His usually relaxed

features changed the instant Nick set sight of him and now came across as

Sharon Maria Bidwell

rigid, stern, disgruntled. His tailored clothes were too severe for this type of

lunch and appeared as cutting as Nick’s gaze.

Alex sighed. Facing a rough argument, he slid into his seat. Nick set the

glass down with a decided clunk; odd — that sound — although obviously

caused by the weight of the water and ice as well as the heavy crystal glass.

Alex compared the noise to the dull, equally profound thud of his heart.

At once, a waiter appeared. Alex asked for the fish of the day and a pitcher

of ice water. Whatever the dish, it would be exquisite. Nick opted for the same.

He often did, making the easy choice, preferring to get down to business. Alex

nearly shook his head, struck with fond vexation.

Nick had tamed his unruly hair with some product as usual. Alas, Nick

lived his life in the same, regimented manner. He’d tried before to get Nick to

loosen up a bit. One thing Nick often referred to was how Alex enjoyed life,

which was why Nick trusted his taste in food among other things. If only he

could get Nick to trust him in this one other matter.

Glancing up from where he’d been gazing at the table, Alex blinked. Nick

was staring straight at him. Alex accepted that he might as well begin the

conversation. He would have to do one thing he hated to do, and that was to

talk — a lot — in order to bring Nick around to his way of thinking.

“It’s a good story.”
“No.” That was all Nick had to say? No argument? Just a definitive no?

Ignoring the urge to clear his throat, Alex tried again. “The film will have

amazing effects.”

“No.”
“Have you noted the director?”

Of course Nick had. Robert King was comparatively new, but he’d made

no fewer than five films, all of them attaining some form of prestige, more

than one of them touching on the issue of same-sex relationships. His latest

work seemed destined to take Cannes by storm. This director was the one that

every British actor suddenly wanted to work with. Nick’s distressed expres-

sion quickly dissolved, changed back to stern disinterest. Even Nick wanted

to work with King.

Attempting another tack, Alex said, “I hear Alana had trouble getting

hold of you yesterday.”

“So?”
“Anyone would think you were hiding from her. Like a little boy.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Calm and Chaos: Acting Out

Nick would never do any such thing, so Alex had expected his instant

comeback, but he hadn’t been able to resist pulling his leg. “You stop being

ridiculous and discuss this properly.”

“No.”
“This is a good opportunity. A great movie. An outstanding director. This

is the project we’ve been waiting for.”

“No, no, and no.”

To anyone else, Nick would have sounded petulant, but Alex was well

aware that Nick reacted this way only with him. His companion’s seeming

lack of professionalism was a result of friendship; Nick argued the same way

whenever Alex tried to get him to do something he didn’t immediately want

to do. His repetition was both a refusal and a plea, because both men knew

Alex always got his way. That left Alex feeling frustrated over an argument

that would actually be a waste of his time, although he more than understood

why Nick had to make a show of fighting him. He owed Nick a victory, or

several, but this time the argument was too serious.

They shared one-half of the circular table so they could both look out at

the scenery. Nick’s eyes blazed in irritation as he glared at Alex. A moment of

silence careened between them — a surge of undisguised mutual anger — as

the waiter set down fresh water. The waiter said nothing before moving

quickly off, but if he didn’t sense the atmosphere felt cold enough to freeze

the water in the pitcher, it was a miracle.

“Just like that? No?” Alex sat up straighter.
“You’ve said no often enough. I never got a choice.”

Nick referred to the numerous scripts Alex had rejected. Since their suc-

cess, everyone was clamouring for the two men to appear together again, and

they’d been inundated. However, he and Nick had reservations. Did they truly

want to fall into the trap of a partnership?

“So now it’s your turn?”

Alana had suggested they balance the work as individuals as well as part-

ners to show themselves as versatile. The risk was that critics and the public

wouldn’t view their acting as potent when they starred as individuals instead

of together. Alana said they should prove them wrong.

Easy for her to say. Sometimes, one had to give the audience what it

wanted. The trick was to try to get what one wanted into the bargain. For that,

they needed the perfect script. Alex had often given his decisive “no” before

Nick could even consider the role. Now, they’d finally found the right script,

and Nick was refusing.

Sharon Maria Bidwell

Alex stared out at the flowing water without focusing, trying to wend his

way through the conversation and the waves of belligerence he could sense

coming off Nick. Nick often accused him of being impenetrable. Maybe he was.

Alex knew why Nick didn’t want the part; sure he did. He couldn’t just

blurt out the truth because Nick would be up from his seat, scurrying out of

the restaurant as if Alex had suggested they enact one of the intimate scenes

from the film script right there and then. That would undoubtedly get their

names in the papers; the display might be worth it as promo.

Battling a smirk, Alex toyed with his glass of water, turning it, dipping a

finger into the icy liquid, stroking the rim of the crystal with a wet fingertip.

A moment later, he became aware of Nick watching his finger action.

Nick stared at Alex’s circling motion, only half his mind here. His thoughts

lingered two days past. His brain kept spinning over the hours of torment

spent in indecision since then. Stages of Play hardly sounded like a project

that would interest him or Alex. Alana’s subsequent call, the tone urgent, yet

filled with underlying hesitation, should have told him something was wrong,

but she’d used words such as fabulous story, amazing effects, and tempted him

with the genre he loved: fantasy. The film was…unusual, slipping from a

contemporary world into a dream or parallel one — the viewer would never

be quite sure which — but the genre was undoubtedly fantasy. Furthermore,

he didn’t have to play the tall, geeky bookworm discovering how to save the

universe or defeat the dragons in some long lost tome only he could translate.

His initial concern had been just that. When Alana had warned him not

to bite off her head, Nick had been certain his role was that of the scholar.

He’d even slapped a hand to his forehead and closed his eyes.

“Groundbreaking,” Alana said, before telling him to read the script with

an open mind.

No sooner had he hung up the telephone then it trilled again, Alex’s strong,

resonant voice booming down the line. Two calls within minutes about the

same thing? What was so special about this damn script? “It’s…different,” Alex

had said, a chuckle trickling out at the end. What was so bloody amusing?

Nick hadn’t wanted to read the screenplay and not just because Alana and

Alex had rattled his nerves. He’d planned a quiet night free from work, and

no matter how groundbreaking the story proved to be, reading a script was

part of his working life. He’d not had a day off in a month, and he’d wanted to

veg out as a spectator instead of a participant of the movie world. A takeaway,

Calm and Chaos: Acting Out

wine, feet up in front of the television; as mundane as all that sounded, he

was partied and socialised out.

Yet, all evening, the script called to him, his attention drifting over to the

corner of the coffee table where he’d thrown it. Reading, he’d immediately

suspected Alana and Alex had set up some sort of prank. It would be Alex’s

doing, naturally enough. Although Alana was unlikely to agree with such a

thing, owing to the many manuscripts through which they’d ploughed maybe

even she couldn’t resist having a laugh. Let’s tease Nick.

Even now, sitting at the table with Alex, Nick felt ashamed for letting old

insecurities resurface. He couldn’t help the challenge that rose to his lips. “I

fell for the joke for all of two minutes, you prick.”

“It’s no joke. The writing is of a high standard. Even you should have

noticed that.”

Too fraught to decipher whether that was an insult, Nick tried to keep

his mind on track. Oddly, he felt vulnerable, almost naked. He’d overdressed,

worn the suit as if the costume were armour. He looked at Alex, not know-

ing what to say.

“Ah,” was all Alex said, but the tiny syllable was quite enough, as if he saw

something in Nick’s expression that Nick didn’t want him to see.

The film was no joke, but it had to be.

Even on his way here, Nick had been hoping to reveal a hoax. Alex couldn’t

be serious. Alex was all male. His doing this just wasn’t possible.

In all the years that he’d known him, Nick had never envisioned Alex

making out with another man, kissing another man, groping.

That man could be you.

Inwardly, he winced even as he laughed. Pretence was his job. He was

an actor; this just a new kind of role. He had to find some way to deal with

the possibility, because if it weren’t for the fact that in this film, Alex would

play his love interest, he’d give his right arm and maybe even his left leg to

play the part.

Nick stared at the glass of water in front of him and considered that he

could do with something stronger. The other night, he’d opened a bottle of

scotch that happened to be a good age. He resisted looking for the waiter,

although tempted to order a stiff one, but he didn’t want Alex to know how

truly rattled he was. He cared what Alex thought…because he cared for Alex.

Alex’s opinion of him mattered, despite not liking that one bit.

Sharon Maria Bidwell

“Give me an intelligent reason why we can’t make this film.” Maybe that

was not the best gambit, but Alex had to fill the silence with something.

Nick took a moment to swim up from whatever depths his mind had sunk

and gave a little shake of his head, saying nothing. Alex had expected a lame

excuse. Nick took time but eventually found one.

“It’s not the role. It’s me. I’m just not suited to it. I’ll never pull it off.

Neither will you.”

“Yes, we will. You can argue all you want, but we both know we’re perfect

for this. Alana agrees.” He didn’t know whether he’d said the wrong thing

when Nick visibly shrank back into his seat, but he had to push him a little or

they’d get nowhere. “You’ve always trusted Alana’s judgement before, and

you’ve always trusted mine. Why not in this?”

Nick didn’t reply. He set his jaw, staring out at the view, unblinking. His

expression wasn’t entirely blank, but looked resolved, unreadable to most

people. Alex would have given anything to know precisely what was going on

in his friend’s mind, although he could take a wild and likely accurate guess.

Bullied at school — though not at drama school — and the way Nick often

referred to geeks and being nerdy; Alex had filled in the rest. He’d seen photos

of a much younger Nick, but even if he hadn’t, the man’s overall appearance

when they first met had told Alex enough.

Nicholas Sandford came from an average background, but something

about his demeanour suggested an Oxford or Cambridge education. Nick

didn’t have or need the education; he was that intelligent. He could have been

a solicitor or a banker, even an excellent con artist if he so desired. Something

about him, maybe his aura, gave Nick an instant and believable presence,

which was partly why he was such a fine actor. Unfortunately, those traits

probably hadn’t served a geeky school kid who struggled to find his place in

the world very well. Where adults responded to Nick favourably, children

perceived his cool intellect as unfriendly, even arrogant. That any bullying

Nick had suffered ceased immediately at drama school was down to the strict

code maintained by the establishment and owing to his and Alex’s friendship.

Alex wasn’t boasting; Nick wouldn’t acknowledge it, but being friends with

Alex had always been an instant barrier to ridicule. Back then, Alex was very

aware that Nick resented that simple fact more than a little. As an adult, Nick

should have grown out of such childish bitterness.

No one doubted Nick but Nick. There was a good chance Nick feared

taking the role because, although many straight actors took gay roles, there

was always the homophobe contingent to deal with. Nick had gone to school

with a fair few of them; Alex had heard the stories. Nick claimed he’d been

Calm and Chaos: Acting Out

bullied because he was thin, but Alex had considered there were other reasons,

although Nick’s nerd status was part of his insecurities.

The main trouble had been that Nick saw himself as geeky. What was the

old adage about loving oneself ? Alex had loved watching Nick’s confidence

grow along with his acting ability. Tall and thin as a teenager, he’d become

trim and lean as an adult. Maybe Nick didn’t see things that way. That would

be a pity. It would be even more of a pity if Nick denied himself this role

because he feared what others would think.

Truth was, Nick longed for success in a never-ending pursuit of needing

to prove himself. He struggled with finding acceptance, and even when he

did, he disbelieved it. If he ever won an Academy Award, the first words he’d

speak into the microphone would probably be, “Are you sure?”

The meal arrived, but the interruption did nothing to break the silence.

The waiter left discreetly, continuing to give no indication that he noticed

anything amiss. The atmosphere, chilly just a few moments ago, became

claustrophobic, the entire room stuffy and warm. Strange how silence could

be such a heated exchange. Alex stared at the little curls of butter presented

in a white porcelain serving dish, waiting to see whether the yellow-buttery

creaminess liquefied before his very eyes.

“We’ve gone over dozens of scripts,” Nick finally muttered.
“That’s the point.”

Nick shot him a look. “I mean we can go over dozens more.”

Alex sighed and picked up his fork. Neither had touched his meal. The

white fish lay in a glistening creamy sea of herbs, speckled with finely chopped

prawns, a decoration of pink freckles. He wasn’t about to let such a culinary

delight go to waste. “Fine. We’ll go over dozens more.”

The silence this time was short-lived and eloquently expressed Nick’s

surprise. “You…mean it?”

Alex shrugged, deliberately taking the time to chew, although the fish was

so succulent that it could have slipped down his throat, coating his tongue

with rich juices, flaking apart on the way. “If you refuse, there’s nothing I can

do to force you.”

“No. You can’t.” Nick didn’t sound at all certain.

Alex gestured with his fork to Nick’s plate.

“Eat your fish.”

Nick just sat there. Aware of Nick’s calculating stare, Alex bided his time

and ate. Nick would figure things out.

“Damn. You really wanted this part, didn’t you?”

Sharon Maria Bidwell

Alex ignored that Nick spoke using past tense, as if matters were all decided.

“I wasn’t going to say no.”

“Y-You were going to take it?”

Setting down his fork and reaching for his glass, Alex gritted his teeth. “Eat.”
Frowning, Nick reached for his cutlery. Alex remained silent, giving Nick a

chance to attack his food. He couldn’t help wondering whether Nick appreci-

ated the fine meal. Did he even taste the fish? Unfortunately, Nick’s mind no

doubt churned over so much, one could forgive him not relishing the flavour.

A couple of minutes later, Alex said, “Yes, I really want this part, and no, I

won’t

refuse it.” He deliberately stressed the applicable words. “The trouble is...

the studio wants both of us or neither. On top of that, I can’t imagine making

this film with anyone but you. I can’t see the story working with anyone else.

The film is perfect for us; we’re perfect for it. The studio is desperate to get

us, which means they’re willing to negotiate.”

“How can you know that? We’ve only just seen the script.”

Alex could hardly blame Nick for the suspicious look on his face. He had

one option left, and that was to tell him the truth. “Let’s finish the meal and

then take a walk.”

They finished eating in silence and then left.

Chapter Two

hey’d been walking awhile when Nick realised they were heading to

Alex’s place. Alex lived on a quiet stretch of the Thames outside London

in a single level building that looked like a cross between a bungalow and a

surfer’s shack. That was largely owing to the wooden conservatory on the back

leading down to the small dock. Alex didn’t own a boat, but he liked to live

by the water. Many people didn’t know how far the Thames stretched. The

river ran for over two hundred miles, but many only associated the Thames

with the comparatively small segment that ran through London.

Nick skirted the patch of muddy riverbank and eased past a large swan

eyeing him with menace. Those things were so graceful in the water yet

ungainly and downright scary on land. He failed to see the attraction of liv-

ing near water and said so, well aware this wasn’t the first time he’d made his

feelings known.

“It’s not the water itself,” Alex murmured. “I like the peace and quiet.”
“With kids screaming and boats tearing up and down?”
“It isn’t always like that. It seldom is. Besides, you know this was Moira’s

place.”

Yes, sweet Moira who was no longer with them. She had joked that Nick

and Alex — who oddly were both starring in different medical dramas at the

time — might do a better job and miraculously cure her inoperable brain

tumour if she took a role in one of their shows. At least the two of them

would make her laugh about her illness, she’d said — and make her laugh

about it they did. They went out of their way to make sure Moira went out

laughing and suffered as little as possible.

Sharon Maria Bidwell

“What will you do with the place when you’re truly rich and famous?”

Nick tried to joke.

Alex shot him a glance.

“Rich and famous,” he said, as if he’d never contemplated the possibility.

Well-respected, Alex enjoyed a quiet admiration initiated by those in the busi-

ness. More recently, they had both enjoyed the type of celebrity recognition

where television producers often called them in for auditions, yet they could

still walk down the street without more than one member of the public in

maybe five hundred recognising them. That might not be the case for much

longer, and if they did this film, the chances were they could kiss anonymity

goodbye. Anyone thinking that was what every actor dreamed of would be

wrong. Sometimes, creative people just wanted to create. The rest was just

part of the job description.

“Things are changing. A ridiculous level of fame suddenly seems possible.

I’m curious, is all. Do you really intend to keep living here?” He rather hoped

Alex would say yes; the house had become as much a part of Alex as his grin

or that twinkling gaze.

“I don’t know.” Unusually, Alex sounded meditative. “You have to under-

stand that when Moira died, she left me the perfect place to escape to while

I came to terms with her death. It’s not that this was her home. It’s peaceful

here, and the house was what I needed. I’m not staying out of any morose

need. I’ve stayed because I can see why she loved living here so. The house

needs a little work, and I like things like that. The house is comfortable, and

that makes it home.”

Only Alex could use a word such as morose in a normal conversation. Nick

understood what Alex was saying. Despite what he’d said, there were days

when Nick could picture himself living in that same house — not with Alex,

of course not, but with Alex’s stuff and comfortable sense of disorder.

Although the day grew increasingly overcast, there were enough spots of

brilliance breaking through to make the occasional flash of light sparkle off

the water. Alex hid his eyes behind dark shades. Blinking, Nick looked from

Alex’s face to stare back at the river. It took time to get to know Alex. Nick had

known him a long time, and even now, he didn’t always understand him. Some

parts of his life, Alex kept extremely private. Nothing wrong with that — Nick

wanted his privacy, too — but the lack of revelation irked sometimes. He

didn’t understand why. He hardly expected to find a pile of bones in Alex’s

backyard or for him to come out with some shocking revelation. You would

just think that, as a friend, he’d reveal something now and then. Alex was

still talking about living by the water, but that wasn’t personal enough. Nick

only refrained from asking more because he wasn’t in the mood to answer

Calm and Chaos: Acting Out

questions in turn. Not that he believed Alex would suddenly come out with a

litany of provocative questions, but he might, just to be awkward. “I’ll show

you mine if you’ll show me yours” sort of thing. Alex would get a kick out

of that kind of mentality.

“Boats go past and seasonal visitors come and go, but generally, my neigh-

bours are quiet.”

“I wouldn’t have considered you as one for wanting the quiet life.”
“I’m not. You know I’m not. I like to have fun.” Exposing those large white

teeth, Alex gave him the full Cheshire cat. His eyes, inscrutable behind the

glasses, would probably look as impenetrable without the shades. “But after

I’m through having fun, I like somewhere to get away from it all. I don’t like

taking work home.”

“Aren’t I work?” Nick enquired as they crossed the bridge that would lead

them down to the path and to Alex’s home.

“Last I heard, you were a friend.”

Nick couldn’t be sure whether there was a question in there somewhere.

They were still friends. At least, he hoped they were. Surely they weren’t

going to fall out because they didn’t want to do the same film. The other day,

he’d felt belligerent enough to forget that Alex was indeed a friend — his best

friend — and not just another actor, an irritation, or purely an inconvenience.

He shouldn’t forget their shared history. They needed to discuss this as friends,

not just business partners. He said so.

“I’m glad to hear it.”

They’d reached the front door, and Alex set the key in the lock. Nick

wasn’t sure one kick wouldn’t have done the trick. Then again, Alex owned

nothing worth stealing. One thing he could not call Alex was materialistic.

Once they were inside, Alex made them coffee. They sat in big chairs in the

conservatory, staring out at the fast-flowing river.

“Alana already expressed her doubts about the project,” Alex said, returning

to the main topic. “We took one look at the manuscript and knew you’d say no.”

“Then why all the pressure?”
“Why bother trying to talk you into it, you mean?”

Nick wouldn’t have quite put the situation that way, but fair enough. He

gave a curt nod.

“At my request, she told the studio we were considering the script, and

yesterday, they responded with a persuasive argument and a clear offer, one

too good to refuse.”

“How good?”

Sharon Maria Bidwell

Alex told him — and then had to get up and move across to slap Nick on

the back. When Nick got through spluttering and coughing and had cleared

his throat enough to gasp in air, he held up a hand. Alex was a big man. He

had large hands, and more than one slap on the back was a bit much for

anyone to take.

“You’re joking, right?”
“No. And both Alana and I are betting we might be able to list a few rea-

sonable stipulations.”

Alex’s hand now made lazy circles on Nick’s back. Maybe Alex thought

that any moment he would have to start slapping again. Finding the circular

motion strangely soothing, Nick said nothing, even if the touch felt…odd

and he a little ridiculous.

Nick could think of only one stipulation right now. “I don’t suppose they’d

consider rewriting any of the script?”

Alex grinned. “I doubt it. Not the way you mean. That’s partly why they’re

paying so much. We might get them to consider us having some artistic input.”

He’d like that. Unable to ignore the idea that Alex might be manipulating

him, Nick set the thought aside. “So this is all about money? I never thought

you’d be a person someone could buy.”

“Thanks,” Alex said, heavy on the sarcasm. “And no.” Alex rose from where

he’d been crouching, his gaze flicking to his moving hand before he did so.

Nick at once missed the heat of the big man’s touch — yet another surprise

to add to a growing list.

“The money is welcome. It would make us both comfortable. Money could

mean that in the future, we really would have a say in everything that we do.

Eventually, we could even produce our own work.”

Producing was something they’d discussed. They’d never envisioned

acting together; however, setting up a production company was a more wel-

come prospect. That was why this film appealed so much. This was a story

both men would have been interested in if they were in charge. If they were
in charge.

Hmm…

Nick mused over the idea that he wouldn’t have changed a thing, not with

two other actors cast in the roles. He would have loved to produce this thing;

he just wasn’t so sure he wanted to star in it. Maybe he’d feel differently if his

co-star was someone other than Alex. Unsure of what bothered him more — a

gay role or Alex being his love interest — yet painfully aware of how hypocriti-

cal that was, he couldn’t argue with Alex’s next statement.

Calm and Chaos: Acting Out

“I love this story. I want to make this film because the finished product

will be something I can be proud of — no gay pride pun intended. Everyone

will go see this, no matter their sexuality.”

Nick could see the elements in the script to which Alex referred. There

were enough twists and turns in the plot, enough suspense and losses to make

audiences cry out. Collective gasps would issue throughout darkened cinemas.

People would remember this film for the very reasons Alex said. They would

remember the movie for other things, as well.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Alex said.
“You do?”
“You think they’ll focus on the sex. On the manlove and the bromance.” Alex

put as much amusement into the words as they deserved as he returned to

his seat. “But you’re wrong.”

They’d finally crawled around to the crux of the matter. Nick didn’t want

Alex to know how unnerved he was. “I don’t think so,” was all he could man-

age. He’d have to argue his case as it pertained to the project because if he

let his mind wander for a moment, his thoughts went to places he dared not

contemplate. His mind went to the scene where Alex’s character caught up

with him in the hall, made his feelings known, leaned in, and kissed…

“It’s not as if this type of affection between two men hasn’t been portrayed

before,” Alex went on. “It’s everywhere. Fan fiction exists because of it. Star-

sky and Hutch. Brody and Doyle. Kirk and Spock. It’s always been there. It

always will be.”

“It’s one thing to have an underlying hint of that type of affection.” Nick

deliberately stressed the word. “Quite another to put the two men in bed.”

“Not these days.”

Nick squirmed, aware of films and television productions, even those

made by the BBC — something that would have shocked his grandparents in

their day — that Alex could easily cite to blow his argument out of the water.

“Maybe not.”

“You won’t have to flash much bare flesh.”
“Now you’re bullshitting.” Worse than the nudity was the high percentage

of closely shot kissing and the guttural bedroom noises on the soundtrack.

“What’s the matter?” Alex asked, grinning. “Not kept up with the gym

visits? Developing love handles?”

“Speak for yourself.”
“No,” Alex said. “I’ll speak for you. Because you and I both know that if the

love interest in this film were a girl, you’d be up” — he stressed the word — “for

Sharon Maria Bidwell

it in a blink. Admit it, Nick. The problem you have with this film is that you

don’t want to get it on with another man.”

Another man — or Alex?

Nick shook off the thought. “Can you blame me?”

Nick couldn’t believe they were even having this discussion. “What full-blooded

male wants to be up for it” — he played Alex at his own game — “with another

man? Are you some raging poofter or something?”

“I find your choice of words rather telling.”

Nick couldn’t blame Alex for that comment. What he’d said wasn’t a true

indication of his feelings. Nick had nothing against gay men, and he and Alex

had been friends long enough for Alex to know that. His choice of words

stemmed from annoyance, from Alex’s refusal to take no for an answer. He’d

agreed to discuss the matter because Alex wasn’t one to give in, and now Alex

had dropped the temptation of money on top of a truly great script. Damn!

Nick didn’t know what to think.

Alex stood up, carrying the empty cup. He looked down at the cup as if

surprised to find it in his hand, as if he didn’t quite know what to do with it.

Nick wouldn’t have been shocked to see the china shatter, crushed like a can.

Or the big man might choose to throw it, although Alex didn’t look angry.

At least, not angry in the way that Nick was feeling annoyed. Alex looked

irritated, and that was unusual. It wasn’t as if his friend didn’t get fractious.

He just seldom let his annoyance show like this. Nick suddenly hated himself

for making Alex feel that way, which only made Nick feel more frustrated.

Concentrating on Alex’s movements, he tried not to think that he should make

the film if only for Alex’s sake.

Alex set the mug down on a bookshelf and then ran the fingers of both

hands back through his hair, which was currently long enough to drape his

nape. The only time Alex got his hair trimmed was for a role. When he wasn’t

working, he let his hairstyle go wild. He wouldn’t have to change his hair for

this film, but Nick would. Oddly enough, except for that one small difference,

they both fitted the look of the characters, one man muscular and the other

lean. Neither would need to lose weight or put any on. As depressing as Nick

found the idea, they were exactly what the studio was looking for in body shape,

acting ability, and camaraderie. He was sure there’d be additional training, but

both of them had acquired many skills they’d need for the production already.

They had a long-standing friendship that came across on screen. It was as if

the universe had guided them to this.

Many moons ago, Alana had sent them both to the same audition, and

precisely owing to their obvious companionship, the studio had cast the two

friends in the roles of Colin Calm Cameron and Chandler Chaos Chance. As

crazy as the names were, everyone had taken to the combination of Scottish

Calm and Chaos: Acting Out

and English humour, and Alex’s attempt at a light Scottish burr had pleased

even the harshest linguistic critic. They played detectives, partners, with one

inevitably having to put his life on the line to save the other. Nick starred as the

tall, gangly, geeky intellectual, while Alex provided brutish force. The action-

packed, clichéd film had unusually large explosions for a small production, the

script proving to be hilarious to work with. Media hype had led to a larger than

anticipated release in cinemas. The picture gained status. A few had slighted

the predictability of the film, but their acting so far hadn’t received one bad

review. Nick said so now, again insisting they couldn’t afford to botch their

careers by making “a poor show,” not to mention any repercussions playing

gay might have on their friendship.

Alex grinned. “You’re breaking my heart already. Man, I can’t live without

you.” Those teeth positively flashed. Even in the midst of feeling terrified, Nick

wanted to laugh. Alex’s next words sobered him, the laughter bubbling away

to silence. “Trust me, playing gay with you won’t be a problem.”

Huh?

“I’m man enough,” Alex continued, “to feel secure in my sexuality.”

The cynicism and implied insult didn’t escape Nick, but for a moment, he

was floored. Maybe Alex had intended the earlier back rub to serve another

purpose: to show they could touch. “You can be rather childish.”

“And you can be unreasonable.”
“It is not unreasonable of me not to want to kiss another man.”
“Afraid you might like it?”

The question took Nick unawares. He stared at Alex. His lips tingled

strangely; his heart had started to pound. He so did not want Alex to kiss him.

What he felt was repugnance — had to be. It took him a moment to recognise

the amusement in those twinkling eyes. This was partly why they’d been

friends for so many years. They just couldn’t stay mad at each other.

“You wish,” Nick shot back, this time without animosity.

It took a moment while they stared at each other before both of them

laughed.

“How are we going to get past this?” Nick asked when their laughter died

down. “You want to do this film. I can see that you do. I can see that not doing

it will eat away at you, but I’m just not interested.”

Alex looked at him. “Well, we both know that’s a lie.”

Sharon Maria Bidwell

As grateful as he was that the animosity between them had ebbed, and

as aware as he was that Nick wouldn’t like what he was going to repeat, Alex

couldn’t help himself. He wanted this part; if he had to use emotional blackmail

to put that point across, so be it. He couldn’t quite believe he was willing to

force Nick into a proverbial corner, but wasn’t Nick doing the same to him?

He almost laughed. How did couples get over wanting something so much

that the other didn’t want at all? Mostly, he supposed people compromised.

This time, there was no concession. Either they did this thing, or they didn’t.

“You are interested. You just don’t like this one small — ”
“This isn’t a small thing for me.” Nick stood and then paced to the French

doors overlooking the back garden and an incline to the dock and the river.

“I hope not. If it were, I could understand why you’re disinclined to get

it out there.” Alex’s attempt to lighten the mood by making an indirect jest

at the size of Nick’s genitals died on a look from his friend. He joined Nick,

admiring the view, standing by his side. Occasionally, he glanced at Nick and

admired that view, too.

“Is the idea really that abhorrent to you?”
“Isn’t it to you?” Nick sounded genuinely perplexed.

Alex shrugged, not about to discuss his sex life. Not yet, anyway.

“This is a job. An acting job as any other.”
“Not to me. I’ve never done anything like this before.”
“A naked scene, you mean? Or with a man?”
“Both, idiot.”

Nick suddenly sounded much younger than his years, as well as uncertain.

Alex rolled his tongue in his mouth, gently biting while he considered how to

respond. He had Nick’s wavering confidence to deal with as well as the topic

of sexuality. He didn’t want to lie, but if he blurted out the fact that he had

all the experience Nick lacked, all that would achieve would be to have Nick

hightail out of there. He decided to avoid the issue, for now, although there

were some experiences he could discuss.

“I imagine most actors feel this way getting naked in front of cameras

for the first time.”

“I’ve never been naked outside of a bedroom or bathroom.”

Putting aside how pathetic that sounded, Alex said, “You’ve had your shirt

off. I’ve divested a fair amount of my kit.” Because of his physique, producers

and directors usually wanted him to strip. His reaction to his first moment of

semi-nudity on stage had surprised him: he hadn’t liked it. Now, such things

Calm and Chaos: Acting Out

were part of the job, and he had nothing to hide. At the time, he’d confessed

how awkward he found the experience. Nick had kidded him over it for weeks.

At least the mention of his getting naked had toned down the tension.

If they carried on like this for the rest of the afternoon, maybe he’d learn

what it felt like to be a ball or a yo-yo, knocked back and forth, going up and

down, round and round. One of them had to give. He clung to the idea that

it wouldn’t be him. Not yet, anyway. Not easily.

“What if ?”
“Pardon?”
“It’s a tool writers use. The what-if game. For most of us, it’s no game.

It’s just life. What if we walk down a certain road instead of another? Will a

car hit us, or will we never bump into our soul mate? What if we turn this

down and we don’t find another perfect script? What if this is our one chance

to make something worthy and have our future dreams realised? What if — ”

Alex turned to stare Nick in the eyes “ — we say no and the decision turns out

to be biggest mistake of our lives?”

Nick stared back. As close as they were, Alex could see the little speckles

of colour that made up the overall hue of Nick’s eyes. Those eyes were wide

and too close to his. Even Alex felt the awkwardness of that closeness, yet he
forced

himself to look. If he and Nick made this film, they were going to have

to get a whole lot closer than this.

“What if we do this and that turns out to be the mistake?”

Alex grinned. “Don’t they say it’s better to regret the things you’ve done

than those you haven’t?”

Nick groaned. “You’re not going to let up, are you?”

“Just read the script without focusing on the romance between the men.

The sex is mostly one scene.”

“So…what? You think the romance won’t be a problem? We just have to

contend with the sex?”

Biting his tongue harder this time, Alex fought to ease up as he tried to

get his point across. In truth, Nick’s tone contained enough humour that

Alex had no reason for resentment. Besides, Nick was right. The audience

would

remember the romance, but not because of the sex; they’d remember

the film owing to the sensuousness that Alex felt certain they could portray

stupendously. “I think doing this won’t be as difficult as…we imagine.”

He’d almost said you. He hadn’t given it much thought. Maybe he should

be bothered, but he just felt unbelievably calm. Granted, it helped that he’d

had a few encounters with men. He’d had sex with women, but in recent

years, he’d wavered between the sexes. Alex had always known he was at least

Sharon Maria Bidwell

bisexual, if not gay, but he remained undecided, confused by his indecision

until a gay acquaintance had confessed he’d had very satisfying sex with his

now ex-wife for several years, but there was always missing from his life. He’d

said he wasn’t the first gay man to marry his best friend. His ex-wife was still

his best friend, and he still loved her…just not in that way. Until then, Alex

had always believed being gay meant sex with women was difficult, if not

impossible. That conversation had opened Alex’s eyes and heart to the pos-

sibility that sexuality was better determined by whom one fell in love with…

at least for some individuals.

Sexuality wasn’t simple, and some people took years to realise the

truth — not to mention the complication of coming to terms with whom

they were. Unattached, Alex had decided to wait and see. In his job, he had

to be careful, but if a good-looking man showed an interest and the mood

and situation were right, sex with a man had never bothered him physically.

Emotionally, he’d yet to meet the right person. He left that open to destiny,

accepting any possibility. He felt calm, except for the idea that this role might

slip through his fingers.

“I think once we get on set and get into the whole boring routine of film-

ing then we’ll see it as we always have: as a job.”

“A job I usually love. I’m not sure I’ll love this. And you’re wrong, you

know,” Nick said in a lower tone. Alex shot him a glance, frowning. “I’m not

sure I’d be comfortable even if the love interest were a female. I’ve kissed a

few women on screen but not got this naked with them.”

“Got something you’re ashamed of ?”
“Stop being an arse. This is serious.”

Despite his words, Nick’s voice sounded gentle, even…obliging. Although

Alex couldn’t be certain on what level Nick had accepted the situation, he

could hope. His friend was no longer directing his misguided anger at him.

Or was it fear? “It’s only as serious as you make it.”

Tempted to put an arm around Nick’s shoulders, he would have done so

had he thought Nick would permit it. He wanted to tell Nick things would

be okay, wanted to show him, but it was too soon for that.

“Playing gay may be tolerated these days, but it won’t do much for our

street cred.”

“Street cred? What do you sound like?”
“You know what I’m trying to say,” Nick persisted.
“I do. Any other film, director, or time in history I’d agree, but no one

who matters or is a decent human being is going to care. Besides, think of the

Calm and Chaos: Acting Out

gay men who’ll flock to watch. That alone will fetch a few million at the box

office. Do you know who they’re considering if they can’t get us?”

When Nick shook his head, Alex told him. Nick gaped.

“You’ve got to be kidding. How do you know?”

Alex touched an index finger to the side of his nose. “I never question

Alana.”

“It’s not like her to divulge.”
“No. It’s not. She thought it might show us what an opportunity we’d be

turning down. And there’s something else.”

Now it was Nick’s turn to frown.

“I asked Alana to leave it to me to tell you there’s another very good reason

for us to do this. Not only is this the director to work with, this is the first

film Robert King is producing and financing. He chose us with good reason.”

If Nick’s eyes had widened before, now they positively bulged. If the film

were a success, it would do more than boost their careers. Alex didn’t need

to explain that to Nick.

Chapter Three

lex had taken the empty cups into the kitchen. If the intention were to give

Nick time to digest this new and startling information then he’d chosen

right. Nick didn’t know whether to laugh in delight over the thought of King

wanting them for his first major production or fall to his knees on the floor,

wail and beat his fists upon it. The too-good-to-miss opportunity was looking

better by the second. He just wished it wasn’t.

“Is Alana certain? About the other actors?”
“As certain as she can be.” Alex could have been replying to any of the dozen

questions circulating in Nick’s mind. Was Alana certain the studio wanted the

two of them so much they could negotiate? Was she certain King was moving

into producing? Did he have the finances? Rumours of that ilk over his last

film had turned out to be so much hot air. Alex seemed convinced. “You’ve

got to keep quiet about this.”

“Of course,” Nick replied absently.

The names Alex had mentioned were…impossible. No, surely they

wouldn’t consider the roles? One of them often played hard men, butch, Mafia

types. Nick couldn’t picture him taking Alex’s role. He tried to imagine another

actor in the role Nick wanted, and couldn’t envision that either. The hero was

troubled, imperfect. The physical and emotional pain that he had to overcome

were almost too much for any man to bear. He also fought selfish motivations.

In short, the lead was very human and everything that most decent people

saw as potentially great in the human race. In the end, his very human heart

carried him through. Even then, if it hadn’t been for his best friend…

Nick swallowed. There was no usual love interest, just these two men

and their friendship. Two men who had grown up together, seen each other

Calm and Chaos: Acting Out

through times of hardship, war, and bereavement. They were more than broth-

ers to each other and more than brothers in arms. These men understood

one another. They…loved each other. If that was all that the acting needed to

portray, he could have handled the scenes. Unfortunately, their love turned

physical — extremely physical. Casting the wrong actors in the roles would

make a mockery of the underlying meaning of the film.

He and Alex…Nick’s gaze shifted sideways as he let the idea of him and

Alex — and sex — seep into his mind. Apprehension knotted his stomach even

as exultation lit up his thoughts. Dare he even consider…?

As if he knew what Nick was thinking, Alex asked, “If you were casting

the roles, who would you choose?”

“Maybe…” Nick paused, dismissing the name that sprang to mind. “Damn!”

Nick shook his head while staring at the floor, aware of a little too much wild

movement in his denial.

“Now do you see? We’re perfect, and you know it.”

Nick lifted his head while trying to avoid Alex’s stare. He’d always known

that parts might come his way that he wouldn’t feel entirely comfortable with;

never had he considered turning them down for less than practical reasons.

Was he doing himself a disservice? He might be. He was definitely letting Alex

down, and he hated that. Setting his nerves aside, part of him underwent a

strange feeling of excitement and…daring he’d not experienced since he was

a teenager going places and getting in trouble with Alex. Here, Alex was put-

ting temptation in his path again. Not only that but bringing old emotions

into play. Years slipped away, and Nick, again a teenager, looked to Alex for

security — if they didn’t find the right project soon, their careers could slide

down the proverbial drain, or more aptly, be flushed down the provincial

toilet. At least he’d not suffer alone…not unless Alex moved on without him.

He hadn’t considered the possibility, couldn’t stomach the notion of Alex’s

career flourishing while his own died, Alex moving on, leaving him behind

until possibly even their friendship dwindled, maybe never seeing Alex again,

at least not spending so much time with him. Nick turned, paced.

“You want this as much as I do.”
“Okay, fine! You’re right. I do. I just…can’t.” He couldn’t. What if he did

this and it…changed things between him and Alex? If he had to be honest

about one thing, that was his greatest fear, although he wasn’t entirely sure

what kind of change he imagined.

“You only have to say yes.”

Nick set Alex in the spotlight of his glare, clinging to his second concern:

what would his family think? “It’s all very well for you. Your parents don’t hail

Sharon Maria Bidwell

from a tiny village that no one ever heard of because it takes two seconds

to pass through in a car. You have no brothers or sisters. I have one of each,

and…” He stopped. That was a stupid thing to say. “I’m sorry. I meant…”

Alex waved away his apology. “I know how you felt about Moira. I know

you weren’t trying to be thoughtless.”

Still, Alex had noticed anyway. Nick set his foolish slip aside. “I’ve got

siblings and a niece and a nephew. I have to think of them. Right now, I’m

the successful actor uncle. What are they going to do when it hits the news

that I’m playing a gay role? They’ll be teased at school. Not to mention I have

one surviving grandparent. Oh God, I forgot that. I’ll send my grandmother

to her grave.”

Alex just laughed.

“It’s not funny.”
“Yes, it is. Look, I don’t think our parents or grandparents need as much

protection as we often believe. They were young in their day, and maybe

some things weren’t discussed, but it doesn’t mean they didn’t happen. You

want my advice — ”

“Because I haven’t had enough of that already.”
“Talk to them. I’ll call Alana and tell her we’re considering the project.

You talk to your family this weekend. See what they think. If they’re horri-

fied then we’ll go from there, but if they’re not, please speak with me again

before you decide.”

Nick couldn’t see where talking the matter over with his folks would help,

but what did he have to lose? If they were on his side, maybe they would give

him some much-needed support when he finally made the right choice and

he faced up to Alex and Alana both. Right now, he was too tired to continue

the argument. He wanted this role as much as Alex did. He wanted to play

the role…with Alex. He just couldn’t accept wanting it.

After Nick left, Alex went back to lounging in the chair in front of the

French doors and the fine view of the river. Legs outstretched, crossed at the

ankles, Alex slumped down so far in the chair, he laid almost flat. He sat while

the world around him grew dark. A few times, he picked up the manuscript,

flipped through the pages.

He hadn’t lied when he said he couldn’t imagine making this film with

anyone else, and the reason wasn’t only owing to Nick’s physical attributes,

though they were part of it. That shouldn’t have had anything to do with

Calm and Chaos: Acting Out

his decision, but if he were going to do an on-screen gay scene, he wanted

someone who would make the picture look good, and he and Nick… Together,

they would look amazing.

Their skin tones, their hair and eye colouring, their contrasting build and

body shapes… Yes, these things an actor could change, but by a happy coinci-

dence, they wouldn’t need to. He’d not seen everything over the years. It hadn’t

crossed his mind to peer across to compare genital size any time he and Nick

shared adjoining urinals. He’d never thought of sex with his friend, because

Nick was his friend and you didn’t do that to someone so important to you.

That didn’t mean he was clueless as to Nick’s physical and emotional qualities.

Some people didn’t understand their friendship. Alex didn’t agree. They

had history. They shared a quiet grief of the sort that had ebbed enough so

you could live with the sorrow — a grief that would always be part of one’s

being but no longer made one resent the feeling. In business, Nick was one

way, in his personal life, another. Some people looked at Nick and their first

thought was that he was all surface, educated, but aloof. Within minutes,

they were attracted to him, to that aura Alex attributed so readily to Nick.

That wasn’t why Alex…loved Nick, though. Yes, he loved him; he could easily

admit that. Maybe not romantically, but he still loved Nick. He saw a side of

Nick’s personality that so many others never noticed. Even Nick’s often-erratic

behaviour was endearing being that his reaction arose from insecurity and fear.

Alex would never forget how Nick had been there for him when Moira

died, how Nick had been there for him and Moira before she died. Nick hadn’t

shied when things got messy. He’d backed away only when necessary to pre-

serve Moira’s dignity. He’d lost as much sleep, maybe more than Alex had.

Alex had never figured out whether Nick had loved Moira romantically, but

then likely, Nick hadn’t worked that out, either.

What stood out from that time was Nick’s being quietly there, no platitudes,

no perpetual questions whether Moira was fine, and afterwards, no asking

whether Alex was coping, whether he needed anything. Initially, Alex had put

Nick’s being quiet down to their shared grief, but he’d quickly realised that

Nick was trying to provide exactly what Alex needed: a friend, not a social

worker. Nick wasn’t trying to play psychologist and didn’t waste his breath

telling Alex things would be all right. Moira’s death wasn’t all right, and noth-

ing could make it so. That kind of loss was something one learned to live

with, incorporate into one’s being, but that didn’t make everything all right.

Out of all the arrangements that needed organising and all the people he’d

had to deal with, Nick was the only one never to make Alex angry during that

time. He’d even experienced anger towards his parents, having to contain his

heartache to help them through theirs and then suffering guilt owing to his

Sharon Maria Bidwell

resentment. The rest was just bullshit; the only real things had been Moira’s

death and Nick’s devotion. Nick’s almost invisible presence had been exactly

what Alex had needed, and Nick seemed, instinctively, to understand that. He so

often seemed to know just what Alex wanted, and not just in matters of grief.

Alex focused on the softer side of Nick’s nature, instead of his tendency to

react when threatened by the unknown. He focused on those quiet evenings

when sitting side-by-side commenting on a film or when out for a meal and

Nick’s face glowed animated with pleasure, his lips stretched in laughter.

Truth: Alex didn’t mind working with Nick or worry about it as much as

Nick did, although he appreciated his friend’s justified concerns. This project,

however…he wanted to do this with Nick.

By the time the major sex scene occurred, Alex’s character would be

aching with the need for this man. He’d have loved him in secret for so long,

watched him fawned over by women, put their friendship first, his feelings

second, never once overstepping the boundaries of that acquaintance. Not

until realising that the feeling was mutual and that he could have what he

wanted if only he could coax Nick’s character, help him overcome his fear. In

a way, art would imitate life; Alex would have to coax Nick into wanting this.

Maybe Nick’s problem was that Alex would have to play “dominant” in

the film. It couldn’t be any other way. No one would believe the relationship,

least of all Alex or Nick.

The actors would have enough modesty most of the time on set, but King

wanted to cut in a few poses to make some elements of their lovemaking

obvious. The scene would require time. Inauthentic sex wasn’t what the story

demanded. King would make this as close to reality as he could get away with.

Alex didn’t know when he’d closed his eyes, but he opened them to see

the room awash with grey shapes. He couldn’t estimate the time, but the

evening had edged into dusk. A stray cool breeze from an open window felt

much like a puff of breath against his neck.

For a moment, Alex forgot the script, wondering how Nick would react in

reality. Having considered that Nick might be gay — the minimum of female

company, the avoidance of certain questions, Nick’s sometimes extreme nega-

tive reactions — he couldn’t now help wondering how Nick would react to have

his best friend all over him. Would he feel disgusted? Or would the invasion

spin Nick out of control, jarring him to an orgasm that would change his life?

Would even the pretence do something similar?

If he were going to think that way, Alex had to consider how he would

feel about that if it did.

Calm and Chaos: Acting Out

Shivering a little, Alex made his way to his bedroom, stripped, and walked

naked to the bathroom. He took a hot shower before slipping between the

sheets on his bed, where, unreasonably, sleep eluded him.

Alex lay thinking of Nick sitting on the side of another bed, in another

place and time. Nick just quietly there while Alex fell asleep from exhaustion,

not just from Moira’s death but from all the months leading up to her death,

where he’d run around for her, looked after her, fought for the best care while

maintaining a happy face because that was what she needed to see. She’d seen

his tears, too, but she had needed his strength. She’d shown so much of her

own, he couldn’t do anything less.

Alex had been strong for Moira while Nick had been quietly strong for

him. He’d run errands when Alex was almost too shattered to stand. He’d

covered Alex with a blanket when he’d fallen asleep in a chair. He’d made

meals and set them in front of Alex, who otherwise wouldn’t have bothered

to eat. One night, he’d smoothed Alex’s hair back from his eyes, obviously

believing Alex was already asleep and wouldn’t know what he did; the touch

of Nick’s fingertips had given him peace. Nick might act crazed in the heat of

panic, but he could be strong when things mattered most, and that side of Nick,

many never saw. Alex felt very glad to know that aspect of his friend existed.

Had Nick meant anything other than friendship with that touch? If he

had, Alex didn’t think his friend had been aware of it; besides, Nick definitely

wouldn’t have considered such feelings while Alex subsisted in such a bad

place. Conversely, what feelings might emerge now, if they made this film,

could prove…interesting at the very least.

Alex fell asleep only vaguely aware of the smile on his face.

Chapter Four

ick thanked the driver and slid out of the too warm and suffocating

interior of the car, dismayed to find it no less claustrophobic outside.

He felt stifled, and the sensation had nothing to do with the heat. He watched

the vehicle move off, tempted to call the driver back.

Living in London, Nick didn’t see the need to own a car. If he needed to get

around, he used a car service, and some jobs had afforded him that privilege.

Alana had pointedly put across that if he and Alex took this “little job,” they

would henceforth acquire the type of roles that came with their own trailers,

hotel suites, and transportation. Today, Nick had called a cab company he

often used and paid an outrageous fee for the privilege.

The previous day, he’d called his mother to say he wanted a chat. She had

invited him to Sunday lunch at their home in Surrey. As the car drove away,

he stopped in the driveway to stare at the house. The building was definitely

a step up from where he and his folks had originated. Even with this house,

his parents had accepted a smaller home in favour of a larger garden. Still,

the building came with a garage as well as a driveway, and they’d bought at

the right time. His parents were sitting on a good investment, although to

them, the house was home, and one couldn’t measure the worth in coin.

They were right.

One part of him couldn’t believe he was technically a country boy. Nick

settled into a moment of nostalgia fuelled by memories of walking to school

along roads without pavements or streetlights, even cutting across fields. He

hadn’t hated the life — that life included his family — but he could never return

to it. Sometimes he even imagined that childhood belonged to someone else,

except for the continued loving support of his kin. How supportive would

they be about his latest hare-brained scheme?

Calm and Chaos: Acting Out

Two cars sat in the drive. Nick tilted his head to one side. Last time he’d

seen her, his sister Shelley had been driving a multi-coloured mini. While this

car was larger, it was a peculiar orangey metallic shade. There was no account-

ing for his sister’s tastes. The thought would have brought a smile to his face

if his mother hadn’t clearly turned this into a family gathering. The blue car

belonged to his brother, and that he wasn’t happy to see. Fuck!

Nick raised a hand to put his key in the lock. The door opened, tapping

the key back against his knuckles.

“Hold Suze,” his sister said, dumping a blotchy five-year-old into his arms.

The youngster had been crying or was about to start. Her face screwed up,

turning redder even as he watched. “She’s fallen over and grazed her knee.

Oh, mind you don’t get blood on your clothes.”

Nick looked down. “Damn it, Shell. I hope you’re running to get some-

thing to dress this.”

“Of course I am, silly. And don’t say damn in front of Susan. Now I know

where she picked it up from.”

Nick glanced at his niece. Her snivelling had calmed. “Is that true? Are

you picking up bad words from me?”

Susan grinned at him through her tears. He kissed her too-hot forehead.

“Danny pushed me,” Susan said as Nick stepped over the threshold car-

rying her.

“Did not! You tripped,” Daniel shouted from the other room. Daniel was

Nick’s nephew and two years older than Susan.

For a short while, Nick welcomed the childish banter that followed, Shel-

ley’s fussing over her daughter, and his own mother rushing around, mak-

ing sure everyone had everything they wanted. He even enjoyed his mother

reminding them to enquire how his father’s extended vegetable patch was

coming along, although to be truthful, his father had declared that corner of

the garden his and filled the space mostly with a deckchair next to the shed.

Nick suspected his father would get more snoozing in the sun and reading

done than actual gardening. Either that or he intended to be a living scarecrow

trying to frighten the birds away while the veggies grew.

Only when they sat down to eat did things go askew. Lunch was his

mother’s usual, which meant decent, home-cooked food. The meal wasn’t

up to the standards of some of the restaurants he frequented, but that made

the food better. He just wished his brother wasn’t here — a feeling that grew

worse when his grandmother wandered into the room. If he’d realised she’d

been napping upstairs, he might have tried to slip out when no one was

looking. He so didn’t want to discuss this deal with his grandmother present.

Sharon Maria Bidwell

Instantly flustered, he was glad of the comparatively casual attire he

wore. Alas, what was casual in his books was decidedly dressy compared to

his siblings and even his parents. His mother had taken to wearing tops and

skirts that didn’t match. Looking at her, he now realised that his grandmother

had been dressing that way for years. Was such odd behaviour something that

happened to women as they aged?

He only realised that he was letting his mind babble in order not to think

about the reason he’d come here when his mother asked, “Wasn’t there some-

thing you wanted to discuss?”

“It can wait,” he muttered, glancing at expectant faces. Now that his mother

had brought up the subject, those faces remained interested. This wasn’t a

family for quiet, non-communicative dinners. Nick jerked his head to the

children. “Later,” he insisted.

Enquiring, open expressions turned to puzzlement and frowns that spoke

of something more than curiosity. Oh great! He’d as good as declared, “Not

in front of the children.” His mother’s face — which had been the perfect pic-

ture of happiness to have her family gathered round the dinner table — now

looked far from joyful.

“Mary Carson’s lost over twenty pounds,” she remarked moments later.

Nick, preoccupied, had lost track of the conversation.

Was he sweating because of the heat in the room or the unavoidable topic?

Why was he reacting this way? The only way he managed to make himself eat

was by repeating the lie that he didn’t have to discuss business. Or he could

turn the details into a joke, a ludicrous offer. They could all have a good laugh.

That over with, he could lie to Alex; say he’d mentioned the matter to his fam-

ily, asked for their advice, and there was no question of him doing the film.

Unfortunately, Alex would not only know he lied, he’d probably bring up

the subject in conversation one day in front of the very people Nick currently

sat with. Then he’d have to contend with his family’s knowing expressions

and Alex’s contemptuous looks. Alex believed one’s family were there to be

understanding and help you. Try as he might, Nick had never quite managed

to get across to the big man that life wasn’t that simple.

In short, he couldn’t lie to Alex, and there was no point lying to himself;

he’d already made up his mind.

“I hate losing money,” Nick’s father Jonathan muttered, shovelling a mixture

of supermarket and home-grown vegetables into his mouth.

Nick’s mother, Alison, swivelled her head around to look at his father.

“She lost twenty pounds in weight, not money!”

Calm and Chaos: Acting Out

“Oh,” Jonathan Sandford muttered, rolling his eyes as if to say this was

women’s business.

“She looks so much better now.” Alison smiled pointedly at Nick.

Shelley stared at her plate, eyes wide. Her smirk no doubt made eating

impossible, so she pushed the food around instead.

Turning his head, Nick looked at his brother. Charles stared out the win-

dow, his wife distracted by carrots Danny had sent flying across the table.

Conversation had ceased. The only sounds were those of cutlery moving, and

in some instances, some rather vigorous chewing. Wondering if his mother

were trying indirectly to get him a date and lost how to break the silence dis-

creetly, Nick fell back on old habits. He asked for second helpings. Food was

the last thing on his mind, laying as a weight in his stomach, but his mother

was always happy when feeding her family. He finished his meal in silence,

thankful the rest of the diners covered for him. He sat enjoying their exchange

until, lunch over, his mother set her gaze on him again.

They were just clearing the table. His father was blinking drowsy eyelids,

well on his way to seeking out that deckchair. The kids had run out into

the garden, despite their parents’ shouting for them not to run around on

full stomachs. His sister-in-law had gone out after them to supervise. Nick’s

mother set the stack of dirty dishes back on the table when the door banged

shut after them.

Besides his parents, there sat his grandmother, Glenda, his last surviving

grandparent. Charles rested his hand on the back of the chair his wife had

vacated, while Shelley sat alone; her husband, Michael, worked shifts and

couldn’t be there. If there were anything Nick could be thankful for, it was

that small mercy. Michael could be a bit of a bigot, though not as much as

Charles could.

Meaning you’re not?

That was a fair point, even if he cursed his traitorous mind. He was

uncomfortable pretending to be gay even for an impressive amount of money,

wasn’t as confident as Alex that he could be convincing. He didn’t even like

show tunes.

You’re stereotyping.

Inwardly, Nick swore, hating feeling scared, aware he

always acted badly to the emotion, even quite out of character. Sometimes,

he could hear himself doing it and didn’t know how to stop. He hated quar-

relling with Alex.

Kiss and make up.
Laughter bubbled up inside. In his attempt to suppress the laugh, Nick

must have pulled a funny face.

Sharon Maria Bidwell

“What’s happened? What’s wrong?” His mother’s voice became a little shrill.
“Nothing’s wrong. I’m not in any trouble.” He couldn’t help it if his heart

raced, if he couldn’t get any breath, if his palms were clammy with sweat. No

matter how accepting the rest of the world was, none of that was a pinch on

discussing all things pertaining to sex with one’s family.

“Now see, why would a person say something like that unless there was

something wrong?”

Why indeed? Maybe because he felt as if he were standing before a jury,

and they were all judging him before hearing the facts. Nick fought to get a

grip. It struck him how much his family’s love and respect meant to him. Their

love and respect meant as much as Alex’s did.

“I swear there’s nothing wrong. I’ve been offered a part, and it could be a

great opportunity, but I need to run the film by you all first.”

His declaration seemed to make matters worse. His mother sat down as

though the strength seeped out of her legs.

Shelley voiced what his mother was undoubtedly thinking. “Since when

have you ever asked us for advice regarding your career?”

Never, because when he’d first decided he wanted to act, his relatives had

done what every loving family would probably do, and that was to try to talk

him out of choosing such a dubious career. He’d heard all the speeches telling

him to get a sensible job. Nick was well aware he was the strange one in the

family, the one who had “funny ideas.” He’d hated their reaction at first. Not

anymore. They’d reacted out of love. Would they do so now?

“It’s got to be something bad. He’s never asked before, so it has to be

something bad.” His mother looked around the table, as though seeking

confirmation from everyone except him. It was as if he weren’t even there.

His family’s quirks almost brought a smile to his face; his terror drove

the grin back.

“It’s not bad. Just…different.” He nearly winced.
“What’s different?” He’d rather his mother looked elsewhere. Her expres-

sion made him feel as if he were five years old. “What could be so different

that you suddenly need our advice?”

“It’s just a role.” Did people truly gnash their teeth in frustration? “You

know I’ve been reading scripts with Alex, and you know we have reservations

about working together — ”

“Oh, is that all!” His mother threw up her hands in a dismissive gesture

and then got up from the table, taking the stack of plates with her.

“What’s that mean?”

Calm and Chaos: Acting Out

“She means reservations don’t pay bills.” A contemptuous smirk settled

on his brother’s lips.

“I’m paying my bills just fine,” Nick said rather more defensively than he

intended. “I’m doing just fine.”

“Yes, but you could be doing great.” His mother returned for more crockery,

despite Shelley having removed most everything else. Nick stood up and began

to collect glasses just to keep his fingers busy. His mother snatched a glass

right out of his hand and waved the goblet under his nose as if the wineglass

were a weapon, forcing him to jerk back. “I don’t pretend to understand the

acting business. I don’t pretend to understand what made you want to do

this, but — ” she paused portentously “ — I have to admit you’ve done all right

for yourself.” A sniff followed. “Then finally, you and Alex have this success

together, and you seem rather less happy about your achievement than we

thought you might have been, that’s all.”

This subject was safer. “We just want to make sure we can get enough

work separately and not have to rely on being hired jointly.”

“I guess I understand that. So why are you both looking for a new manu-

script, then?”

Nick went on to explain.

“So what’s this script?” Shelley rejoined them as his mother sat back down.

The other members of his family hadn’t moved, so he had no choice but

to sit back down, too.

“It’s a great part. The story is intriguing as well as entertaining…and it’s

going to be directed and produced by Robert King.” He said that last in a

rush, wondering if anyone would make the connection. His sister did. She

interrupted his spiel with a squeal. His mother’s gaze shifted in her direction.

“What? What is it?” She sounded as if she expected the worst.
“Oh, Mum, he’s a great director. I didn’t know he was starting up his own

production company?” Shelley looked to Nick for confirmation, and he nod-

ded. “They’re calling him the king of the film industry. He’s the latest thing

since… Well, I guess the equivalent of Danny Boyle in the direction his career

is going.” His mother looked at his sister blankly. “You know. Trainspotting?”

“Why would anyone want to make a film about people who look at trains?”

For once, even Shelley seemed stumped by her mother’s response. Charles

closed his eyes. Their father smiled, his eyes twinkling with affection.

“The point is,” Shelley continued, “King likes to tell extreme stories, and

his work is…controversial to say the least.” She glanced at Nick with a ques-

tioning frown.

Sharon Maria Bidwell

His mother was clearly going to ask, but his grandmother got there

first. “Isn’t he the one who’s made them films with the shirt lifters and muff

munchers?”

“Grandma!” Shelley cried out.
“Mum!” Nick’s mother stared, as if she were looking at a stranger.
“What? What did I do?”
“Honestly, I don’t know how you can be my mother. I don’t know where

you come up with these expressions.”

His mother looked thoroughly embarrassed, his father thoroughly amused.

Much to his surprise, Nick was amused, too. If Alex were there, he would

have been laughing. The conversation and situation were comical if he took a

step back to consider them; only his personal involvement and worries took

the edge off the humour.

“From living a great deal longer than you have. Honestly, you’d think we’d

never heard of sex in our day, the way you act. Where do you think you came

from?” Nick’s grandmother turned her gaze from her daughter’s flushed face

to Nick. Those eagle eyes examined him, almost as if the old woman sized

him up for a tasty morsel. “So is that it? Are you taking a gay role?”

Nick could read their faces now. His father looked thoughtful. His sister

looked interested, while his mother still stared in disbelief. His brother…was

staring at him as if his gaze could bore a hole right through his head. Nick

had hoped to break things to his parents and then to Shelley and to have

them cushion his fall when Charles found out. He’d known how they would

react — his brother most of all.

Suddenly, Nick was angry. Angry in a way he hadn’t felt with Alex or…

anyone, not since he was a bullied school kid. He’d grown up sharing a room

for many of his younger years with Charles, and he’d been subjected to many

of his “boyish” antics. Hazing had taken on a new meaning — one Nick had

kept from his parents mainly owing to the embarrassment. Nick was younger,

had been smaller; Charles had at times questioned Nick’s sexuality in the most

spiteful of ways. Out of all the bullies in Nick’s life, Charles had probably

been the worst. Nick hated him at least as much as he loved him, though the

scales often swayed.

The shock of that — the realisation of how they had lapsed into silence as

adults as the only means to deal with their mutual dislike — hardened Nick’s

resolve. He returned his brother’s stare, hoping “Fuck you!” shone out of his

gaze, until Charles frowned, making an uncertain movement with his head.

Nick became aware his father was watching them. So was Shelley. His mother

was busy still telling her own mother off for her turn of phrase.

Calm and Chaos: Acting Out

Nick had never asked his family for advice regarding his career, not because

he didn’t trust them but simply because they knew nothing about that world.

They couldn’t make this decision for him; only he could do that. He didn’t need

permission; he wanted their support. One member of his family wouldn’t give

his backing, but deep down, he had known that all along. Maybe his brother’s

presence was fortuitous, had made up his mind for him.

“Yes,” he said. “Yes, I am.”

Charles continued to stare, his eyes hard, looking pissed off. Nick looked

away in what he hoped was a dismissive fashion. Fuck you, Charles. He should

have said it to him years ago. Despite the giddy thrill the thought brought,

Nick also felt ill.

“That is,” he went on when his family said nothing, “I love the script, and

Alex would love the part. I’m also taking it under advice from my agent…” His

voice trailed away. He’d been so busy staring at Charles, he only now noticed

his mother looked a little stunned. Surprisingly, his father appeared to be

contemplating the information, and Shelley looked pleased. Strange — now

that he’d confessed, he could breathe again. Even his heart rate decreased. Me
and Alex. Alex and me

“Well, it is only acting,” his grandmother said. She shrugged. “Do you

have to get naked?” She pronounced the word as nek-ked.

“Mum!” Another shot of disapproval exploded from Nick’s mother. Then

she frowned and looked at Nick. “Do you?”

Much to his discomfort, Shelley now looked as if she were trying not to

laugh.

“Some,” he replied. “I mean, it is all pretence.” Except for the kissing…and

the grasping…and a bit of rolling around.

“And we’ll be covered, wrapped in

sheets and things for some of it. It’s not…” He’d started to say the film wasn’t

explicit, but couldn’t lie. The only thing he wouldn’t be showing directly on

the screen was a hard dick. Skirting the issue, he said on a laugh, “I’m not

making a porn film.”

“I should hope not. I wouldn’t know what to tell the neighbours.” At least

his mother had her priorities.

“Anyone for coffee?”

Trust his father to know how to defuse things. Nick exchanged a look

with him, hoping gratitude shone out from his own eyes, as his mother said,

“I’ll get it,” and rose from the table. The way to distract his mother was to

give her something to do, and what she liked to do most was wait on others.

She hurried off to the kitchen. They could hear her opening cupboard doors.

Sharon Maria Bidwell

In the brief respite, Nick’s thoughts blossomed. He was going to make

this film, would have to kiss and cuddle up with…Alex. His heart started

pounding again, only this time, his head joined in. The pounding could be

trepidation or excitement.

“Is the part worth it?” Shelley asked. “Will it be good for your career?”
“Yes.” That question he could answer truthfully.

She shrugged. “Then go for it.”

“You’re kidding.” This came from his brother. Shelley shot him a look. “It

might have escaped your notice,” Charles pointed out, “but Nick is straight.

It’s not something a straight man can go for. He may want the part, but he’ll

likely sign a bloody god-awful binding contract and then find, on the day, the

thought makes him sick to his stomach. Then they’ll have him for breach of

contract and crush his balls. Excuse me,” he finished with a nod of apology

to their grandmother, no doubt for the mention of balls.

His grandmother waved the apology aside.

“I’m sure Nick has considered that,” Shelley responded. “He’s not an idiot.

At least Alex is nice.”

“What difference does that make? What? It should be easy for Nick to

make out with him just because he’s nice?”

“I’m just saying better that he’s a friend and…” Shelley shrugged. “I

wouldn’t say no to — ”

“That’s ‘cos you’re a woman!” Charles snapped. “Naturally, Alex would be

just great to make out with if you’re a woman. I’m more concerned with our

brother signing up for something and then not being able to follow through.

What crap will he be in then?”

“It’s not as if he has to get an erection. He doesn’t need to get hard!” Shel-

ley’s eyes widened as she seemed to remember her grandmother and father

still sat at the table. She reddened, slumping in her seat. “You don’t, do you?”

She spoke out the corner of her mouth.

“No,” Nick said quietly, wishing he were anywhere but here.

His father came to the rescue.

“What was your question? You said you came for advice, so what exactly

did you want to ask?”

“I just wanted to make sure you were all okay with this. I just wanted to

see whether you thought it a crazy idea to even consider taking on this role.”

A small fleeting thought begged someone to tell him he was crazy, but at the

same time, he prayed no one speak up.

Calm and Chaos: Acting Out

“It’s not just that,” Nick added. “This is going to change my status in the

film world. I won’t be able to walk down the street without being recognised.

I don’t want this to affect you all, but it could. The media may well want to

know who my family is and what you all think of me.”

“Dad, drag that video out of Nick picking his nose when he was a page

boy at Aunt Eileen’s wedding.” The comment should have been funny — a

joke made by his big brother — but it wasn’t. The tone was too hard.

“Can it, Charles,” Shelley said. “Nick was four years old. And Dad has

plenty of incriminating film and photos of us all.” She turned to Nick. “We

always knew fame was a possibility for you. We’ve always hoped for it, if that

was what you wanted. I’m fine with whatever it brings.”

Nick wanted to hug her. Instead, he looked at Charles.
Charles stared back before standing up. “I think…” His jaw worked against

words, probably things he couldn’t say in front of the family. “I’m gonna kick a

football around with Danny.” Beneath the declaration, Nick heard what Charles

didn’t have to say aloud. You’ll screw this up, and even if you don’t, it makes you
the fucking weirdo I always thought you were.

Nick could see the thought in his

brother’s eyes, having learned to read him by experience.

Shelley placed a hand over Nick’s wrist and squeezed as Charles went

out into the garden. So he wasn’t the only one to understand what Charles

hadn’t said.

“Just so they’re paying enough,” his grandmother told him.

Trust his grandmother to be practical. “Oh, they’re paying enough.”

“Then I’m going to snooze in front of the TV.” With her back bent, she

started shuffling into the other room, waving off offers of assistance.

“Are they paying that well?” Shelley asked.

Nick nodded.

“Then I see the attraction.”
“What attraction?” His mother walked back into the room carrying a tray

of cups encircling a cafetière.

“They’re paying Nick a shitload of money.”
“Shelley, your language.” His mother sat down. She pressed the plunger

on the coffee lid and then began to pour the first cup. “It’s a good figure?”

He told them. The cafetière slammed down onto the tray. His mother

put a hand over her mouth while his sister gaped.

“Shit,” Shelley muttered.

Sharon Maria Bidwell

“Shelley,” his mother said, but her mind wasn’t on the admonishment.

She was clearly thinking along the line of so many zeros. “I can see why you

want to do it,” she said.

“That’s not — ” Nick began and then caught a slight shake of his father’s

head. “It’s also a great script,” he finished rather lamely.

“Well, of course,” his mother said, but he could see that she didn’t care.

She was thinking one of her children could shortly be set for life. His finances

hinged on the success of this film, but this was the most he’d earned to date.

His family wouldn’t want anything from him, and they’d definitely never

ask, but he hoped in time he could give them all something they wanted.

Should his family ever need help, it would be a good thing to be able to offer.

He wanted not only security for himself but for the people most important

to him. That told him just how much he loved them. Wanting them to be

part of his success made the decision easier, but he was also doing it for him-

self — and Alex. He couldn’t let his friend down, walk away and know he’d

stopped Alex from taking a great role. He also couldn’t let himself down like

that; he’d be a fool.

“Don’t tell your grandmother that figure,” his mother piped up, breaking

into his thoughts. “You’ll give her a stroke.”

“You don’t just want this part for the money, do you?” His father’s com-

ment sounded more like a statement than a question. They were in the garden.

Most of the country was enjoying unusually warm weather for the time of

year. Jonathan Sandford was showing off his new shed. If anyone in the house

believed that was the reason the two men were out here, Nick would eat the

script that had spun him on his head.

“No.” He might as well be truthful. “It’s a brilliant script. The type of film

I’ve always wanted to make. It’s fantasy blended with contemporary issues,

and the effects will be — ” he laughed “ — fantastic. There’s much green screen

work and wire work and…” He hesitated.

“Lots of other things that would make your mother frown in puzzlement?”

Nick laughed with his father. None of his family were film buffs; probably

why it puzzled them so much that Nick was so keen. However, his father did

like special effects. They were like magic tricks. He liked to learn the secrets.

“I just wish…”
“That the story called for you to fall for some beautiful princess?”
“Yes.”

Calm and Chaos: Acting Out

His father leaned against the side of the shed. “Can you do this?”
Nick frowned.

“Forget everything else. Forget what other people may think. Consider

what your brother said. I don’t care if you play a gay role. Hell, I wouldn’t

care if any of my kids turned out to be gay.” That aged pale gaze flicked in

his direction before looking away. Even in that split second, his father looked

calculating. “Neither would your mother once she got over what to tell the

neighbours. She’d be a bit embarrassed because she doesn’t know how to deal

with hassle from other people until she has to. All it would take would be for

the wrong person to piss her off, and she’d get defensive. Once that happened,

she’d remember what was important, and that’s family.”

“I’m not gay, Dad.” Yeesh. That was all he needed his father to think.
“Doesn’t matter. We’re not the problem. None of us are.” Although his

father didn’t come out and say so, Nick had to wonder if that was a dig at

Charles. “You are.”

Nick shook his head, tired of feeling the way he did: confused, anxious,

and several other emotions he didn’t even know how to put a name to. He was

tired of the ensuing headache he suffered every time he swung from doing

the film to not doing the film. The other day, neither option had seemed to

bring him relief. Some of those emotions were tied up with Alex — he just

didn’t understand how or why.

Or maybe I just don’t want to.
Quashing the thought, he concentrated on what his father had to say. At

least now, he felt the relief of a decision well made.

“You came to judge our reactions but also to convince yourself to take

this role. I’m betting you wish Alex felt the same because then it would be

easy for you to walk away.”

“Dad, I may not be gay, but that doesn’t mean some people won’t react

badly to my doing this.” Almost mentioning Charles, he stopped, not wanting

to see the uneasy stability Charles sometimes engendered blow up in all their

faces. No. They just all pretended Charles didn’t feel the way he did. Wasn’t

homophobic, occasionally racist. That made everything all right. Sure it did.

“Homophobia still exists. Rumours about this have already leaked. My agent

has had calls from a couple of reporters wanting interviews, but only because

we’re bound to secrecy until contracts are agreed have we declined. For all I

know, the leaks have been engineered by King himself. I don’t want to drag

any of you into all this.”

“Reporters, blah, I can handle them. It’s as much our job to protect you,

and you have to do what you have to do. I’m only concerned with you making

Sharon Maria Bidwell

the right choice. Think on what Charlie said. Are you going to get in front

of a camera only to freeze?”

Preferring to think on how Charles would throw a fit to hear his father

call him Charlie, Nick did his best to concentrate on the question. Having

to consider that his father saw through him and knew him better than any

child wanted, he tried to focus on how best to answer. “I can’t afford to,” Nick

responded, which was no real reply at all. He definitely couldn’t tell his father

that now having declared his intention to make the film — even if only to his

family — he felt obligated.

“No, you can’t,” his father said pointedly. “But if you can work through

your nerves and everything else is telling you to take this role, then take it.

You have to weigh it all up, including how you’ll feel if you walk away from

what might be the opportunity of a lifetime. And it sounds as if this means

more to you than just financial gain. These things don’t come along that often

in life. Trust me.”

Something in his father’s voice caught Nick’s attention. “What opportu-

nity didn’t you take?”

His father hesitated. The pause lasted long enough for Nick to know he’d

guessed right.

“Never you mind. It was a business chance, but risky. Things might have

worked out well or might not have, but I’ll never know. I chose the safer option,

and I can’t say I regret my choice, exactly. I just have to accept I’ll always wonder.

The question is whether you’re prepared to be someone who always wonders.”

Nick couldn’t help hypothesising whether his father had chosen a safer

option because of his family. If anyone but Charles had been against the film,

Nick believed he would happily do the same; he was an adult, this was his

decision to make, but he hoped nothing in his life ever happened to cause his

family any pain — he loved them too much. Even the one person he hated

just a little bit.

His father was already wandering away to the house, and Nick sent him

silent thanks to his back. The quiet chat had reminded him that no matter

what, he was loved.

The phone was ringing even as he inserted the key into the lock of the

front door. “Yes, yes! Hold on. I’m coming.”

Calm and Chaos: Acting Out

Nick snatched the handset just as the answering machine kicked in. The

device made a sound, almost as if grumbling over the interruption, and then

reset, allowing him to take the call.

A man’s voice whispered down the line.

“Nicholas Sandford?”

At once, something about the sound of that voice made Nick frown. He

gave a wary, “Yes?”

The stranger laughed. “No need to sound so suspicious, Mr. Sandford. I — ”

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Nick resisted saying that he couldn’t help being

immediately suspicious of anyone who hadn’t introduced himself yet sounded

as if he were a best friend.

“I’m calling to make you a very beneficial offer.”
“Like double glazing?” Did he hear an actual tsk from the caller?
“Mr. Sandford, my name is Phillip Drake, and I’m sure I don’t have to tell

you what my name can do for your career.”

“Excuse me, who?”

There came a pause down the line, somehow weighty like a grey cloud

pregnant with rain.

“I truly don’t appreciate sarcasm, Sandford.”

Where had the Mister gone? “I’m not guilty of any such thing. Now

unless — ”

“I understand you’re considering a part, Sandford. One that is very hush-

hush, something that’s unlike the type of film you’ve considered before.”

Damn

. Well, he had said that the story had leaked. He took a guess. “You

want an interview?”

“Excellent!” The glee in the caller’s voice made Nick picture hands rubbing

together. “I can fit you into my calendar any time.”

“Mr.…Drake, is it? I’m sorry, but I have no idea what you’re talking about,

and — ”

“You are aware of my reputation? Of how Phillip Drake can be a good

friend?”

Was this man threatening him? Unable to believe he wasn’t dreaming,

Nick said, “This is a private number. I have no idea how you got it, but I’m

sure if you’re that resourceful, you have my agent’s details. Any requests for

interviews go through her. Good day.”

Nick hung up, putting down the receiver and then wiping his hand as if

he’d touched something unclean. His palms were strangely clammy. Who was

Chapter Five

odding was Alex’s way of pretending to listen to boring conversations.

He’d long practised the ability to pay just enough attention, making it

possible to chime in with a comment or two if necessary. Most of his interest

was on Nick, who was standing with Alana on the other side of the room. King

was eager to sign them, and although it would be a few months before they

began filming, King was a throwback to the ancient breed who made films such

as Gone With the Wind or The Wizard of Oz within a year. He worked fast, and

when Alex and Nick had said yes, King became determined to pin them down.

Alana looked elegant, Nick splendid in a midnight blue suit. Whatever

doubts assaulted Nick’s mind, it was too late for him to change his decision

now. He’d told Alex of the exchange with his family, and they’d spent a pleas-

ant evening laughing — an evening when conversation finally drifted to silence,

and Alex had looked over at Nick resting in a chair, his eyes closed, a glass of

brandy in his hand, and let his imagination run wild.

Maybe the longing was caused by the alcohol — having finished half a

bottle of brandy meant Alex couldn’t drive home and had spent a rough

night on Nick’s sofa — but he’d suddenly experienced an almost overwhelm-

ing desire to kiss Nick.

Owing to necessity, Alex tuned in the conversation, said something he

didn’t think was particularly funny but that made the other men laugh, and

then glanced across, watching as Nick carried on his discussion with Alana.

Their agent’s attention wasn’t on Nick’s face, but his. Alex smiled at her, but

he was watching Nick. What a peculiar triangle; the thought almost set him

laughing.

Sharon Maria Bidwell

They’d been friends for so many years, on occasion glimpsed each other

naked while changing together, but he’d never taken the opportunity to look.

Didn’t mean he hated what he’d seen. Growing hornier by the second that

boozy night, Alex had let his imagination fill in the rest. His thoughts wan-

dering unchecked, he’d eventually reached the point where he’d wondered

what it would feel like to give way to temptation, to walk across the room,

fall to his knees, free Nick’s penis, slide the organ past his lips, and swirl his

tongue over the head.

Even now, the thought made Alex shift uncomfortably. Although his

conscience prodded him, the images in his head affected his physical state.

He had to dismiss such ideas, needing the distraction and necessity of having

to hide an erection like a hole in the… Not his head. He could think of other

holes, such as Nick’s, the man in front of him, on his knees in presentation.

Alex sniggered; the men with him seemed to think he found their conversa-

tion amusing.

Business.
Needing to concentrate, the best Alex could do was to focus on what he

actually remembered of his fantasy without falling into a new and ripe rendi-

tion of the same vision.

He knew what it felt like to have a man’s cock in his mouth, to slide his

wet and warm lips up and down, feeling the contrasting soft and hard shaft

on his tongue; he’d never been cock-obsessed, but the other night, for some

reason, the notion had plagued him. Sex with Nick. Waste of thinking room,

would never happen.

But what if it could?

The thought was completely egotistical. If he ever got

Nick into bed, he would want to make the encounter the best sex his friend

ever had. If he ever got Nick into bed, he wanted Nick to remember every

moment and compare every lover to him for the rest of his life. How terribly

easy to consider such things when one knew wishes and desires could be

nothing but a daydream.

Alex swallowed, trying to remain outwardly calm, while in his imagina-

tion he had a hot dick in his mouth, his lips and hands working and bobbing

in unison, a perfect harmony of movement.

Trying to suppress any lingering doubts and not to dwell on possible

repercussions, Nick busied himself trying to judge Alex’s glances. His friend

seemed to be in a peculiar mood lately.

Calm and Chaos: Acting Out

“It’s a pity,” Alana mused, clearly distracted.

Nick stared at her pursed lips and then glanced to her eyes, noting she

looked across at Alex with a thoughtful expression. He waited. Exactly what

was a pity?

“It’s a pity you’re not gay. You could enjoy the role more.”

Gaping at her, Nick spoke without thinking. “That’s hardly a comment I

would expect from a professional.” Aware that Alex now stared at Alana, Nick

thrust aside the spark of animosity that flashed through him. The emotion

was a little too like jealousy.

“I’m speaking as a woman and as an agent who is worried.” Bright gaze

flashing in his direction, Alana assessed him. “You’re petrified, Nick. What we

don’t need is for it to show in this meeting. Get. It. Together.”

“I am not petrified.” Nervous maybe, but not petrified. In an odd way, he’d

begun to look forward to doing the film — and more specifically, a certain

scene, mostly because he happily considered how this would piss Charles

off; his brother remained convinced he’d chicken out. Worse than that, he’d

told Nick he’d look like a fucking idiot, be an embarrassment to his family.

“Then what is that look on your face? I hope you aren’t thinking of stalling

for financial gain, because the current offer is not only more than excellent,

to hold out for even an extra penny would do you more harm than good. It

would give you the wrong kind of reputation. I’m your agent for a reason.

Now is the time to sign.”

Alana couldn’t seriously think he would try last minute negotiations.

Incredulous, he swore under his breath.

Alana’s only response was to say, “That’s better. A little anger chases back

the fear. The real question is what are you afraid of ?”

That was when he swore at her. Alana only chuckled, although a brief

surprise touched her expression before changing to delight. Maybe he should

have sworn at her ages ago; his reaction seemed to earn her respect.

“I resent your thinking I would do anything so stupid or childish.” His fear

he could handle, and he would stand by his decision. Maybe it was time he

got himself another agent. He said so.

“If that’s how you feel, keep it in mind next time. But I’m signing this

one today, and I get my cut. We’ve known each other too long, Nick. We

understand each other. Maybe better than you think.” She cast a speculative

glance his way that he didn’t like, didn’t know how to interpret. “If nothing

is troubling you, why are you so damn edgy?”

That he could answer. “That Drake was hanging about on my doorstep

this morning.”

Sharon Maria Bidwell

Alana blinked at him, and then she said a very unladylike word — worse

than the one he’d used — but the curse fitted. He genuinely hadn’t heard of

Phillip Drake when he had introduced himself. Since then, he’d learned why

the reporter seemed to think Nick should have and why he had acted so all-

fired sure of himself, even insulted when he assumed Nick was pretending

otherwise.

The reporter had a column in a popular rag unaffectionately referred to

by many as the Nosey Parker, its owner being one Matthew Parker, namesake

of the sixteenth-century archbishop of Canterbury known for his thorough

inquisitions. Many thought it tasteless of Parker to play on his name and call

his paper the London Inquisitor, but Drake’s style was precisely the type of

dirty journalism that made the tabloid popular. Drake pushed legal limits, and

rumours of his potentially hosting a daytime chat show abounded.

“What did you do?”
“Shrugged him off and got into the car you sent.”
“Shrugged him off for real? Did he actually touch you? I could use that

as assault.”

“I…can’t remember.” He gave Alana an apologetic look.
“Don’t worry. If there’s a next time, try to recall everything that happens

and everything he says. Did you say anything?”

“No. But he seemed to know just where I was going and why.”
“You did the right thing. Just continue to ignore him.”
“The no-comment rule?” Doubt crept into his voice despite the lack of

argument.

“Right. And that goes for all reporters. Don’t let a lowlife like Drake scare

you away.”

“I’m not.”
“Good, because if you don’t sign today, this could be the end of your

partnership with Alex. Another script has landed on my desk. The part might

even do the impossible and separate his career from yours. But he wants this

film more. If not for this script and director, he wouldn’t be waiting for you. I

shouldn’t be telling you this, but out of respect and all the years we’ve known

each other…”

Another film? Just for Alex?

“Is there…” Nick hesitated. He wanted to ask whether anything good was

in the offing for him, but he already knew the answer: if there were a great

script out there for him, she would have said so. The sad truth was that Alex

had a better chance of launching a solo career than Nick. The one thing Alex

Calm and Chaos: Acting Out

wanted more was for them to produce films together. For that kind of future,

this film was the better choice.

“How do I know there’s another film?”

Alana tutted. “Thanks, Nick. I’ll remember your vote of confidence. Think

what you like. Turn this down. Pop along to my office. I’ll show you the

script and the contract Alex would have signed by then. You’ll have lost this

opportunity.”

It lay on the tip of his tongue to ask for forgiveness, but Nick refrained.

If Alana didn’t like his lack of an apology, that was just tough. She shouldn’t

have told him of Alex’s plans, and her reason for doing so was misguided,

although he couldn’t blame her for jumping to conclusions. If nothing else,

his sense of loyalty wouldn’t allow him to mess everyone about now. What

he couldn’t figure out was why Alex hadn’t put the other script under his nose

and tormented him with it.

Maybe because we’re friends.

Yeah, maybe. Most probably. Alana shouldn’t have told him, but Nick felt

grateful she had. He considered stepping down, forcing Alex to take the other

film. Maybe that would work out best for Alex. Nick couldn’t do it because

that would leave him alone in this limbo, and it was true what they said about

misery needing company. He couldn’t step down because he wanted to make

this film…and he wanted to star in it with Alex.

“I’m betting you were rather ruthless.” Alana followed up her statement

with a sip of wine.

Alex shrugged. He wouldn’t give her specifics or confirm he had anything

to do with Nick’s decision, so she was guessing. It annoyed him that she’d asked.

They’d gone for a drink in the bar of a local hotel, but one drink had

become many. He’d rather have gone with Nick, but considering the peculiar

mood Alex was in, he didn’t trust himself around Nick. The difference was

that Alex was better at controlling his emotions compared to Nick…at least

on the surface, even if he didn’t understand his extreme reaction.

“You’re a fine one to talk about ruthless.”
“I believe I’ve been positively pleasant to Nick in the circumstances.”
“Your definition of pleasant…” Alex waited a beat before adding, “Nick

has a problem with confidence. You hardly help him with that.”

“I’ve kissed his arse long enough.”

Sharon Maria Bidwell

“Again, your definition of arse-kissing…” Alex finished the sentence by

shaking his head. “I’ve been there, remember, every step. I’ve heard the things

you’ve said to him.”

Alana considered his words. “I’ve been…honest.”
Alex studied her face. Yes, Alana was honest. Honest with her clients as in

painfully truthful, which, for an actor could be as demoralising as it could be

enlightening. Alex knew why he had chosen her for his agent, but some days,

he wondered why Nick had — Alana had been Nick’s agent before signing

Alex, so Nick hadn’t followed his lead. Nick said some days that he wondered

the same thing himself, and then other times, he couldn’t imagine trusting his

livelihood, and ultimately his sanity, to anyone else. A person knew where they

stood with Alana. Nick said he hadn’t realised that early on, but he’d learned.

She said nothing out of spite, although she could sound caustic. Even so, in

those early days, Alana let loose with more than a few scathing remarks, to

which Nick had reacted professionally, but Alex knew how to read the subtle

nuances of his friend’s expression. Coaxing Nick wasn’t always easy, but you

needed to understand him to appreciate why to do so was sometimes neces-

sary. He said that last aloud.

“And you know him?”
“Better than you do.”
“Really? Did you notice he was nervous this morning?”
“Was he now?” Alex had expected that, although he was certain Nick was

finally convinced they were doing the right thing.

“I goaded him by asking whether he wanted more money. I pointed out

that we were signing at the right moment and for the right price. I…suggested

the studio would think he was just being greedy.”

“You restrained yourself ?”
“I…worded it better than that.”
“And his nerves would have nothing to do with that sodding reporter

hassling him.”

Alana pursed her lips and avoided looking at him. He’d won a point. Had

she really thought Nick wouldn’t have complained to him about Drake? The

bastard knew how to spot a weak link. An official press release wouldn’t be

good enough for Drake. He’d dig for dirt in the hope of turning grit into

gold. Drake and Alana had different agendas, but both manoeuvred people.

“You should have learned not to manipulate me by now.”
“I’m showing concern. Nick’s nervous, and we both know it. Maybe we

both suspect why. He’s your friend. You want to protect him. I get that. I’m

Calm and Chaos: Acting Out

protecting him my own way just as stringently.” She paused. “I do hope we’re
not

going to have a problem.”

“Meaning my ball, my court.”
“Something like that. We could have looked for another script…for Nick.”

She said the words, but only half-heartedly.

Alex grinned at her. “Isn’t it time you and I said goodnight?”

Speaking of controlling one’s emotions, the way Alana had been looking

at him for the last hour, Alex was inclined to believe she would tell him she

had a room upstairs. Her gaze flicked up and down appreciably.

“If you want sex with me, you could just ask.” She could ask, but that

didn’t mean he was necessarily interested.

Alana laughed. “You’re just saying that because you’re safe in the knowl-

edge I won’t.”

That was true. He had no room in his life for a scorned woman, let alone

one who was his agent. He inclined his head in agreement, while Alana circled

a strand of her hair around a finger. “Physically, I’d love to sleep with you. I

just couldn’t handle the aftermath.”

“I wouldn’t ask for anything else. Unless you’re implying that would be the

problem.” That could be the reason she swept hungry looks in his direction

but never acted on them. Maybe she wanted more than sex and knew he was

ill-prepared for that. He’d be surprised, but that could be the reason.

“No, that’s not the problem. The problem is you’d be insufferable.”
“I’m not indiscrete.” Oddly enough, he took her statement as too deep

an insult.

“I didn’t say you were indiscrete. I said you’d be insufferable.”

He considered her words and then shrugged. They both chuckled.

Alana rose, turning to him one last time. “Nick signed in a rush. I don’t

mean time. I mean for personal reasons, he rushed. He signed before…” She

searched for the right explanation and clearly failed. “I don’t know. Maybe he

thought to do otherwise would affect your friendship. Maybe we pressured

him too much. Maybe he thought he had no choice. Maybe…” She hesitated

and then blurted out, “He knows you were offered another script.”

Nick could have learned that from only one source. Alex could tell that

Alana hated betraying a confidence, but maybe she felt she’d had no choice.

Whom had Alana ultimately betrayed, though? Him? Nick? Both of them?

Why tell him now? Whatever her motivations, he was listening.

“Oh?”

Sharon Maria Bidwell

“I was afraid he would walk, Alex,” Alana said on a sigh. “This reporter busi-

ness couldn’t have happened at a worse time. Drake probably got his answers

just from the look on Nick’s face. Drake can make the most stalwart person

feel sick, and Nick is an all-you-can-eat buffet to him. He’s not just going to

go away, but I couldn’t tell Nick that, so I jostled him. I can hardly accuse you

of playing underhanded when I’ve done far worse. I told him about the film.”

Another script — a good one — had turned up, and it was just perfect for

Alex; he would have taken the role if Nick hadn’t signed the contract to work

with Robert King. He hadn’t realised Nick knew.

“I wanted to try to be honest, even though it’s a little late.”
“Why change now? You’re an agent. It’s not your job to be honest. Your

job is to get results, and you did that. But don’t make the mistake of believing

you understand Nick. He might have been nervous. That doesn’t mean it was

for any reason you surmise. You truly don’t know him.”

Alana stared at him for a few moments before nodding at whatever she

saw in his eyes. Alex fought to keep his expression decidedly blank. He didn’t

appreciate what Alana had done, but he had what he wanted; he was only

being honest saying that was her job. Now it came down to him to make sure

Nick didn’t freak out and ruin all their careers — not that Alex believed for a

minute that would happen. If anything like that occurred, it was more likely

to be his fault for doing something stupid. Several unwise thoughts flittered

through his mind even now. He would have to control such ideas and emo-

tions or he might louse up more than their working relationship, and Alex

couldn’t stand the thought of a future that didn’t include Nick’s friendship.

Alex gathered those stupid notions into one lascivious thought and buried

the impulse deep.

Chapter Six

is friend’s weight pinning him to the ground meant he could hardly

breathe and sure as hell couldn’t force the other man off. The only

thing he could hear was his friend’s breath, drawing softly in and out. The

only thing he could feel was weight and heat and strength. Other bodies lay

on top of them, surrounding them, but he was only vaguely aware, lost in

the sensation of the arms wrapped around him.

All that lifted away, leaving Nick to struggle to his knees, spitting blood

in the dirt. “You son of a…” He stopped. Stared around, gaped. Both men

crouched among too many prone bodies, the aftermath of a battle. He low-

ered his gaze, swallowed, took a breath. Gritted his teeth. “You had no right.”

“I had every right. I had my duty.” Alex pushed a corpse out of the way,

and the remains rolled, boneless.

“Don’t talk to me about duty. I know all about duty. It’s forced on me.”

Wincing, Nick pulled away from Alex, trying his best to indicate that if not

for the wound in his leg, he would have stood up and walked away.

“You can do this.”
“What if I don’t want to? You’re as bad as the rest. Dictating who I am,

what I should be. I didn’t ask for this.”

“We all do what we have to do.”
“You held me down, made me lie still while our men died around us, bury-

ing us alive in their stench.”

Alex sat back, studying him, putting so much emotion and speculation

into his gaze that the look stole Nick’s breath. How did Alex do that? That look

coupled with the words had a peculiar effect. It felt as if what was real and

what was not occupied the same space and time, overlapping. The world did

Sharon Maria Bidwell

a double twist — they would film another scene like this in a modern setting.

King planned to edit so that the film blurred in and out, leaving the audience

guessing as to which reality was factual. The feeling reflected the peculiar

surreal aspect of the film.

“Stench? The smell of spilt blood and sliced guts? They died to hide you.

You sound like a child. Your whining dishonours them. Are you simply willing

to walk away? Will you be able to live with yourself if you do?”

“Maybe there’s only one way to find out.” Nick put defiance into his voice.

He also projected his despair edged with a little self-pity. Yes, there was self-

pity, but he was trying to put across how this man had reached the end of his

tether and gone far beyond.

“You don’t mean that.”

Nick laughed. He knew he’d put just the right amount of madness into

the sound when Alex jerked back and widened his eyes more than they had

rehearsed. If the scene looked as good on camera…

Concentrate.

“You know me so well.” This time a little misery, almost a sob entered his

voice. His movements by comparison were full of frustration and anger, but

the meaning was clear: he wasn’t going anywhere.

“Better than you know yourself.”

The words sounded personal, and Nick believed them. Alex reached out,

and knowing what was coming, still those fingers skimming through his hair

startled him. Cool fingertips slid sensuously over his skin and then his scalp,

lingering. Even as Alex pulled his hand back, Nick endured the ghost of that

touch as if the caress had by-passed his mind and touched him deeper than

any hand had a right to penetrate. Had Alex intended that touch to feel like

that, or was it an accident? Did Alex always caress like that? Was that the way

he stroked women?

Horror dawned — he was staring overlong into Alex’s eyes. The moment

froze between them. He’d paused too long, swiftly considered pretending to

have messed up his lines, but no one yelled an instruction to cut. Experience

told him to continue.

“Ismael?” He breathed out the name of Alex’s character.
“Eliseo?” Alex replied, a small enticing and teasing smile playing over his

mouth.

Nick frowned just a little before he caught his reaction. He couldn’t help

looking down, taking in a brief glance of Alex’s full lips.

It’s this scene. I’m reacting to the scene. That’s all this is.

Calm and Chaos: Acting Out

They were playing a little outside their rehearsed moves and lines. This

wasn’t the first time it had happened, but the last had been an ad-lib on Alex’s

part and one that the director liked. Would they keep this — whatever was

happening between them — in, too? Part of him believed this scene looked

great on camera and hoped that the director would do just that. Another part

of him prayed that the director would scrap the sequence, call for them to

redo the scene, despite his hating the sweet taste of the fake blood and feeling

too happy to spit the red goo out each time. He should want the scene over,

done with, before… Before what? Before he had to taste that awful blood

again, or before something got out of hand between them? Just where in the

hell had that thought come and what did he mean? What could possibly get

out of hand?

Instinct told Nick the scene looked far from wooden, which was how he

had feared the act would come across. This take flowed; something was work-

ing between them. They were lost in their roles, yet Nick felt painfully aware

that he was both his character, while inwardly, he argued, feeling schizophrenic.

Surely madness shone out of his eyes. He sensed that was what the director

wanted, but it didn’t exactly require acting on Nick’s part.

“It’s one thing to lie to yourself,” Alex said, “but not to me. You don’t suf-

fer this out of duty. You do this because of the type of man you are. You just

hate anyone acknowledging the fact. Even me.”

The bloody backdrop made the scene poignant. So did their responses. The

intensity of this scene had little to do with what they said but with what the

two characters avoided saying. Suddenly, Nick understood what King intended.

He’d stolen from literature, shouted out that it took two to defy the world.

King understood exactly what he was doing with this film in every regard.

As with most filming, they’d run through rehearsals and planned to do more

than a single take for most scenes, but King was unlike many other directors,

instantly choosing a shot, knowing whether they needed to do a retake or

not. He always told them exactly what he wanted to change and in terms

an actor could easily understand. To Nick, it felt as if he weren’t following

any direction from anyone other than Alex. This scene had taken on its own

momentum. Sometimes, a perfect scene just happened. Sometimes, you could

take twenty or a hundred shots and never get the perfect one, not the way

this one was working. Fortunately, the lines still belonged to his fellow actor.

He wasn’t sure he could speak, let alone sound coherent, needing a moment

to work through his emotions.

“Two hundred men died here today so you could live and save thousands.

I know you hate that. You’re hardly likely to accept good men dying for you

when you can barely stomach your subjects bowing and scraping. A good

Sharon Maria Bidwell

thing I’m not one for that.” Alex grinned, revealing a wall of alarming teeth.

“If it takes me calling you a donkey’s dick to bring you back to earth, so be it.”

Nick rose, remembering to favour his supposedly uninjured leg, raising a

hand and forestalling Alex’s aid as the script demanded, while Alex’s character

made no move to help. Nick looked up with a suitably surprised expression.

“Oh…so now you want my help,” Alex scolded.

Changing expression to one of annoyance, Nick leaned against Alex. He

withstood that line of heat as a devastating presence. His anxiety rose imme-

diately, escalating with the concern that someone might notice. Ridiculous!

It wasn’t as if they’d never touched before now. When injured for real, he’d

readily accepted his friend’s help. Who wouldn’t? Alex had the kind of emo-

tional and physical strength that a person could rely on. Although, before now,

they’d not had several pairs of eyes on them; nor had they been leading up to

more intimate fiction. This felt too much like foreplay.

Or was that stage play?
Nick almost giggled, swallowing the hysteria down. They had a scene

to play out here. The sobering thought forced Nick to focus. The directions

called for them to move out of shot, leaving the dead behind.

“You know where the term donkey dick comes from,” Nick remarked

as Alex helped him hobble out of frame. Nick had no choice but to lean on

him: two, together, against the world. Otherwise, the shot wouldn’t look

real. Between sentences, he continued to clench his teeth, hoping his grimace

looked authentic on film. He gritted his teeth so hard, the tension made his

jaw ache. The audience would think his character in pain from his wounded

leg; he experienced a far more emotional reason for his grimace.

Again, Alex flashed his grin. “I guess we’ll have to change that moniker,

then. Or is there something you’re not telling me?”

The teasing was also reflective of their past banter. Two straight men

would have laughed off the chiding. Nick was supposed to avoid Alex’s eyes.

Instead, he glanced at him as heat rose to his face. The next thing he knew,

the director yelled cut.

“Print Take Three!” King ordered.

They were into the third week of shooting, and this had been their last

scene of the day. One of their fellow actors walked by, remarking, “Good

one.” They received a couple of thumbs up from others, including one who

looked remarkably corpselike. Several other cadavers were getting up, rolling

Calm and Chaos: Acting Out

the kinks out of their shoulders, happy to move again. Of the dead that didn’t

move, they would shortly be dragged off and stored in some warehouse with

other creepy mannequins.

Alex turned to the director as he came over to them; King was kind of

jittery, not how Alex had imagined him at all. He looked too young to be a

director and spoke and moved the same way, as if he constantly imbibed too

much caffeine.

“Bloody brilliant. How did you manage that blush?” King asked Nick.
“I…oh…er…just thought of something,” Nick said rather dismissively.
“Well, keep it up. We’ll have to be careful during edits, but those slightly

longer pauses, the way you two looked at each other, that was just perfect,

just what the scene needed. I was concerned at the start, but no longer.” King

moved as he spoke, jerking like an uncertain spider.

“You were concerned?” Nick sounded worried.
“Oh, nothing major. I just thought the first few days lacked intensity, and

I had to guide you a bit more than I expected, but you’ve picked up the pace

perfectly. If you can bring that intensity to the modern scenes and especially

the romance between these men, then this is going to be great, even if I have

to add ten minutes to the run time.” He scuttled away, chuckling.

“What is that man taking?” Alex remarked.

Nick looked a little pale and distracted.

“Are you all right?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I don’t know.” Alex hesitated. “You seemed a little freaked out in that last

scene.” Alex could put other words to the emotions he sensed coming from

Nick, but it would be too easy to rib him with them.

“Just tired.”
“Didn’t seem that way to me.”

Nick shot him a look, his gaze burning, almost a glare. Nick never realised

how much he gave away in his stare. Nick was clearly trying to access how

much Alex knew. The problem…

No. Alex pushed the thought aside. He didn’t want to follow that specu-

lation to any wrong conclusion. It didn’t matter what he thought he knew.

The last few months had flashed by, filled with quiet rehearsal, learning lines,

time where Nick had displayed nothing but professionalism, concentrating

on work. Alex’s mind went back to the first read-through, the cast and pro-

duction crew, including the writers all sitting around a table, and how Nick

had even managed to appear relaxed when they got to the part where Alex’s

Sharon Maria Bidwell

character chased Nick down the corridor and they first kissed. There’d been

a little laughter, but Nick had taken the amusement in stride. Alex had only

seen signs of his anxiety resurfacing once they got on set, and even that had

largely disappeared.

During all that time, he and Nick had focused on work. They had to.

King’s timetable was tight. Counting from pre- to post-production, some

films took years, but shooting was possible within three to six months, and

as the film called for few set pieces and half the costumes such a production

usually used, King planned to round this up within six months, with approxi-

mately the same again for editing. Alex and King had settled into a peculiar

relationship, one almost of friendship, and King had been quite open with

him regarding the entire film. To say King was producing the film on a budget

and being frugal was putting things mildly. Despite what he’d paid for their

salaries, King planned to bring the rest of the production in more in line with

a costly television series, yet Alex had complete faith in King’s ability to make

this production look twice more expensive than the film would turn out to be.

Strange to think the script had landed in their laps just under a year

ago — King practically ready to begin, held up only by a failure to find two

perfect lead actors, a fact that made Alex grin. The film wouldn’t appear for

several months after post-production, which seemed like a long time, but it

would fly by.

Alex would have to continue to ignore his own urges — fledgling, perfectly

natural urges that he’d disregarded during rehearsal and training. Life had

returned to normal for him and Nick — as normal as any actor’s life could be

with a crazy schedule. Their relationship fell back into familiar patterns, and

lost in the arms of other lovers, Alex had managed to forget his earlier feel-

ings. Lately… Lately, being close to Nick had brought some of those dormant

emotions vibrantly alive.

The last few days had given him much to ponder, but not for the first time;

he’d often wondered about Nick’s sexuality. Alex didn’t want to be the one

to drag Nick kicking and screaming out of the closet…or so he would have

said. Even now, he had his reservations. Nick acted like a frightened rabbit,

except now, the way Nick looked at him when they touched…that wasn’t

fear. It could just be that Nick was a great actor, but although Alex believed

in his friend’s acting ability, some emotions just radiated when a person felt

them that intensely.

Although mostly speculation, Alex felt certain that fear was too strong a

word for what Nick was feeling, though it would have been impossible for Nick

not to experience some negative emotions. There had to be moments when

he doubted what they were doing, particularly the way the scenes played with

Calm and Chaos: Acting Out

their mood. Pity for Nick that his anxiety made the scenes so more intriguing

and so good for the film. The question was how to help Nick maintain that level

of anxiety without driving his best friend crazy into the bargain. Alex ticked

internally. His friend wasn’t the only one struggling, just in a completely dif-

ferent way. Nick was the one who remained unaware of their shared turmoil.

As for physical attraction, the joke was Nick didn’t even realise he was

just that good-looking, unlike Alex, who recognised his own attractiveness

every time he saw his reflection. He wasn’t boastful. Alex was self-assured,

seldom caring what others thought. Nick had every reason to feel the same

way but tore himself apart with self-doubt. At least that doubt didn’t extend

to self-loathing.

“What are you looking at?” Nick asked, interrupting Alex’s thoughts.
“You in that get-up,” Alex replied, although that was a lie.
“You can talk.” Nick’s voice sounded soft, gently mocking.

As he started walking, Alex fell into step at his side. They had to get out of

their make-up and costumes, and then they could leave for the day — evening,

in reality. Today had been one of five eleven-hour days, and that was only

because this was their last day at this location. Most days consisted of fourteen-

or sixteen-hour shoots. In a few weeks, they would have the occasion to work

through the night. Not quite the way Alex would prefer to spend the night

together. Alex fought a grin. His mischievousness always got the better of him.

He liked Nick. He always had. Alex just hadn’t thought of Nick in a sexual

context prior to receiving the manuscript because the friendship meant more

to him, and any suggestion that Nick might be gay would only upset him.

Alex could well imagine a show of indignation on Nick’s part, much huffing

and a slammed door somewhere. Now, the idea that this role might be toying

with Nick’s emotions and making him feel things he’d hereto avoided facing

could well change things. Alex could only hope that if Nick were gay and ever

realised, he’d be able to accept the truth.

Alex risked much if he pushed this, if Nick came to believe that he wanted

something more from him than to get through the next few weeks. Did Alex

want to take that risk?

When he looked at that blond hair and those baby blues, Nick’s face

expressive, his countenance moody but kind and gentle, he did. Even if Nick

were boiling under the surface, outwardly he’d be polite and obliging to oth-

ers. The very qualities that some people took advantage of made Alex want

to love and protect Nick.

He’d stared too long because Nick snapped out a defensive, “What?”

“Nothing. You prepared for tomorrow?”

Sharon Maria Bidwell

Nick stumbled as he missed a step. “What do you mean?”

“The fight scene in the hall. What did you think I meant?”

Unbelievably, a light flush drifted over Nick’s face.

Alex chuckled. “We’re not there yet, champ. You can hide that amazing

body from me for a few days yet.”

“Arsehole,” Nick muttered, increasing his pace.

Alex let him go on ahead.

“Clean, pink, tender,” Alex murmured. He didn’t know why, but that was

how he thought of Nick’s arse. It was how he imagined the curve of his cheeks

and even that most secret rosette. Untouched, virginal, and apprehensive. If

he turned Nick over, that so intimate entryway would be irresistible. Alex

didn’t try to stop the grin that pulled his mouth to one side. If Nick were

privy to his thoughts, he’d feel petrified. For some peculiar reason, the idea

amused, pleased, even aroused him. Alex stopped walking. He pursed his lips

in thought, although his mind worked through a series of images, all of them

involving Nick, all of them explicit.

Shaking his head, he resumed walking. Best he not think such things. Best

he not go there. It would be utterly foolish for him to try to seduce Nick while

they worked on this film. Even if the seduction didn’t affect their careers, what

would sex do to their friendship? Alex enjoyed sex with men, most definitely,

but he didn’t believe the thrill of taking Nick’s virginity in that fashion would

be worth their friendship. That was such a damn pity. He silently cursed his

ethics and his logic.

Making excuses that he had somewhere to be, Nick was off the set almost

before the make-up department had removed the last hair extension, although

no way could he leave before they removed the glued-in pigtails by both of

his ears. If he could have altered anything about his character’s image, he’d

change those damn plaits. Alex’s character had longer hair pulled back at the

nape. The style made Alex look even more masculine in an odd way, or maybe

he just wore the fashion well. On the contrary, Nick looked…innocent. The

damn hairstyle made his face appear fresher, younger, added to the mystique

that here was a person out of his depth, trying to save the lives of thousands.

No pressure, then. No pressure in the film and none in his personal life. If he

thought so enough times, maybe the lie would ring true.

He’d slept the last few nights in a hotel room, but he could spend tonight

in his own bed at home. They were filming at Pinewood in the morning. At

Calm and Chaos: Acting Out

least that meant he didn’t have a four a.m. start in the middle of a cold, damp

field. On the journey home, he tried to set his mind on the task of refreshing

his memory of the script for the following day, but almost immediately, the

lines began to blur and dance before his eyes. At least the driver assigned to

him was monosyllabic to the point of grunting.

Once home, so intent was he on getting inside that he walked right by

Phillip Drake, before doing what had to look like a comic double take as he

turned to face the journalist. Even worse, the photographer at Drake’s side

took his picture.

Drake spoke.
Blinded by the flash and feeling stunned, Nick was only vaguely aware

that the tone of Drake’s voice indicated a question, the content escaping him.

He mumbled, “No comment,” and hurried away up the steps, tripping on the

top one and then fumbling his keys into the lock, aware of Drake shouting

questions and more flashes going off.

No sooner had Nick stepped over the threshold and slammed the front

door behind him then he threw the script as far away as possible. The docu-

ment smacked against the far wall and fell to the floor in a rustle and rip of

paper. He closed the curtains before putting on a light.

Something of what Drake had said came back to him. To what had he

replied, “No comment”? Something to do with his feelings and Alex? Was

“No comment” the right reply to a question like that?

While pacing, Nick combed his fingers through his hair with…frustration?

Impatience? Annoyance? Maybe a few other things thrown in just to spice

up his inner turbulence. He no longer panicked, just carried some peculiar

weight around inside him. Some days, he felt as if he were on some strange

train journey, heading he knew not where with no idea how to change track.

Nick couldn’t even feel certain whether he wished to continue, to see where

the trail led. Being over the worst of his concerns about making the film, it

now seemed he had an entirely different crisis looming, and he didn’t even

know what the problem was.

His concern had to do with Alex. Something in the way Alex looked at him

sometimes, baited him; however, he was used to Alex’s teasing, even enjoyed

the banter. So why did things feel different? Drake couldn’t have seen any of

the footage of them on set, but had he picked up something new between

them because of the performances the film demanded they give? In an odd

way, if that were the case, it was a good thing…for the film.

Turning off the overhead light, Nick looked through a gap in the cur-

tains. The photographer paced, clearly bored, puffing a cigarette. Drake said

something to him, backside on the bonnet of his car. Finishing his smoke,

Sharon Maria Bidwell

the photographer cast the cancer stick down, glancing at and gesturing at the

window behind which Nick stood. He almost flinched back, certain that the

two men knew he was there, although they shouldn’t have been able to see

him. He resisted only because any movement of the curtain was certain to give

him away. He stood watching as the two men got into the car and drove off.

Didn’t they say there was no such thing as bad publicity? Write what you

like, you prick!

Despite his bravado, the flat was too silent, made him feel too alone, and

gave him too much opportunity to think. Without considering the time, Nick

turned on a lamp and then phoned his sister.

“Nick?” She sounded more puzzled than happy to hear from him. “Do

you know what time it is?”

A glance at the clock revealed it was a little later than he’d realised but

not what he’d call too late. Did anyone go to bed this early? Was he the only

one used to getting just a few hours of sleep?

“Nick.” His sister sounded tired “I just put Suze to bed for the third time.

She’s having trouble sleeping, and Michael’s now in the shower. He just got

in from a double shift. I’m having one of those nights.”

Oh, yes, the price of being a mother. He’d not thought of that. He apolo-

gised, but Shelley spoke right over the apology before he was half-finished.

“Anyway, you never ring me. You e-mail.”

Nick winced, glad she couldn’t see him.

“Is this about the film?”
“What makes you think that?”
“Because you’re working, and you’re especially uncommunicative when

you’re working. If you’re ringing now, there has to be a reason. Are you hav-

ing trouble? Was Charlie right?”

Damn having an intuitive family — although it wasn’t the film that troubled

him. Nick shook his head, even though she couldn’t see. “It’s…fine. It’s a tough

schedule. It’s been hard today, a rough scene. I’m a little stressed, but nothing

out of the ordinary. Some scenes just…get to you.”

He babbled, making no sense, hoping Shelley took it that he was talking

about things she knew nothing about. He should let her go, but he needed to

hear her voice. Talking to Shelley always…comforted him. Why he needed

that comfort sparked his anxiety. His grip on the phone’s receiver tightened.

He thought of mentioning Drake but didn’t want to put her through that.

Alana had already spoken with his family, providing instructions on how to

deal with reporters should they come calling.

Calm and Chaos: Acting Out

“This is just unlike anything I’ve ever done before. You think they put all

the special effects on afterwards, but there’s so much more to it. I’ve never

had to act with things that aren’t actually there.” He forced laughter into his

voice. Shelley joined in. He was clearly a good actor because his merriment

was pretence while hers seemed genuine.

“Just called to let off steam, huh?”
“Something like that.” Surprisingly, although part of him accepted he

wasn’t being honest with her, he did find the conversation relaxing. He felt an

influx of love for his sister. “So, your turn. What kind of day have you had?”

When she told him, Nick truly listened. Settling back into his chair, aware

from Shelley’s tone that she didn’t have long to talk to him, he was undeniably

happy to have a few moments of normality.

“I’d best let you get on, then,” Nick said when she finished.
“I almost wish I didn’t have to agree with you,” Shelley chuckled. She

paused. “Nicholas?”

Nick sat up fast. He didn’t think Shelley realised, but the only time she

called him Nicholas was to emphasise a point. Either she had something to

tell him or she was about to ask an awkward question.

“Are you seeing anybody?”

The question floored him. Was his sister going to start playing matchmaker

now? He asked her that very question, making a joke.

“God forbid. No, that’s Mum’s job. I just… You’re not one to talk about

your girlfriends much.”

What was this? Nick shrugged into the darkness. “There’s not much to

tell. I’m concentrating on my career. Many of the wrong sort show an inter-

est when you’re an actor. That’s likely to get more difficult with continued

success, not easier.”

“I guess. It’s just you’ve never said what you want from life, whether you

want to get married, have children.”

“Was I supposed to?”
“Nick.” She sounded disapproving, as if she thought he was being face-

tious. He wasn’t, feeling genuinely puzzled, but didn’t get a chance to say

so before his sister started speaking again. “I always wondered if Moira had

lived…” Her voice trailed away. “I was glad you didn’t get too involved with

her. I wanted you spared that heartache, but during that time, didn’t you ever

think about her that way?”

When Alex once asked Nick if he fancied his sister and whether he would

have one day got around to asking her out, Nick hadn’t known what to say.

Sharon Maria Bidwell

Besides, she was too sick, and her life was over too quick for any kind of

relationship, even if he’d been willing to have his heart broken that way. He

wasn’t; he was too young for that kind of heartache. Losing Moira as a friend

was bad enough. Losing her as a lover would have been insufferable. He hadn’t

been sure how he felt about her at the time, and after her death, he’d chosen

not to examine his feelings too closely. To do so would have been pointless.

“I wasn’t in love with Moira. I was her friend.”
“That’s what I said.” Shelley took a deep breath. “This reporter called…”
“Drake,” Nick said, his heart plummeting.
“Yes, I believe that was his name.”
“Shell, you weren’t meant to say anything.”
“I didn’t. I mean, nothing much. He just caught me off-guard, and it was

the strangest thing. He wanted to know about your old girlfriends. He even

had a couple of names, including Moira. I didn’t want Alex seeing Moira’s

name in the paper that way, so I told him he had things all wrong. When he

carried on talking, I did just as you said. Quoted no comment and told him

to contact your agent. It was just…after…”

“What?”
“He got me thinking.” Shelley sounded surprised and more than a little

chastised. “I have to admit there were times I wondered. I apologise for the

mistake. It’s just the way you took such good care of her…not many would

do that just for a friend. You really went above and beyond, and I was so

proud of you.” She sounded as if she’d tried to throw a compliment in there

somewhere. “Nick, if not Moira, hasn’t there been any woman who’s made

you think you might want to settle down one day, raise a family?”

“I’ve not given it much thought.” That was surprisingly honest.

Again, his sister hesitated.

“Don’t you find that a little…peculiar?”
“What?” What was his sister saying? Asking? A horrible thought entered

his mind. Nick opened his mouth in disbelief. “Oh great!” he spoke, instantly

aware he should put the brakes on his runaway mouth. “This is exactly what I

didn’t want happening. I take a gay role, and this is what I have to put up with.

One call from a nosey reporter, and you’re all set to believe what he says.” He

stood, paced. Then he realised he paced, tried to control his agitation, and

failed. He paced more wildly.

“It’s not that.”
“Then what is it? Come on and tell me. What is it?”
“I just wondered…”

Calm and Chaos: Acting Out

“Ha! See. I knew people would speculate. I just didn’t think my own sister

would — ”

“This has nothing to do with the role or any reporter. I’ve always…won-

dered. That is, I mean…I’ve always been there for you.”

Nick gaped. He could hear the frustration in his sister’s voice but was only

half-aware. She had always wondered. Always wondered what? If he were gay?

He expected that kind of crap from Charles, but not Shelley.

“Why?” he asked, immediately wishing he hadn’t.
“Just… Oh, I don’t know. A hundred reasons.”

A hundred?

“You don’t show much interest in family.”
“I do. I love my family. I love Danny and Suze.”
“Yeah, but they’re not your kids. You don’t show an interest in kids.”
“That doesn’t make a person gay. Many gay couples want children, and

even if they don’t, not everyone is paternal.”

“I know that. My best mate doesn’t want children, and being a woman,

she especially gets grief for it. It’s just that and…other things.”

“What other things?”
“I don’t know, exactly.”
“You don’t know?”
“Nick, please, it’s not easy to explain.”
“Oh well, God forbid you call your brother gay and then get asked to

explain your reasoning!”

“Well, sometimes you strike me as a little homophobic, and sometimes

men can react that way because of latent tendencies.”

“What, are you reading off a pamphlet or something?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Well it sounds like it!”
“Why are you so angry?”
“I’m not.”
“You sound it.” On the other end of the line, Shelley took an audible breath.

“Look, I just wanted to say that gay or not, I’m here for you. If you’re wigging

out because…” Her voice trailed off.

“Because what?”
“It just occurred to me that maybe this film would stir up certain…emo-

tions. Things you may not have faced or dealt with.”

Sharon Maria Bidwell

“Like being gay?” He did sound angry. He most definitely sounded angry,

and he couldn’t help his reaction. He was entitled to feel and sound angry,

wasn’t he? However, he didn’t want to feel angry with Shelley. Nick desperately

tried to tamp down his reaction.

“Nick?” Her voice turned pleading.
“I’m not angry you might think I’m gay.” I’m not, am I? “I’m angry that

you would assume without asking me.”

“Are you?”
“What?” Nick stood, blinking. He hadn’t expected her to ask.
“Are you gay?”

Nick froze in place.

“Nick?”

He stood there.

“Nick?”
“Hmm?”
“Are you gay?”
“I…”
“It’s an easy question.”
“One you have no right asking.”
“You just said — ”
“That wasn’t an invitation. What kind of question is that to ask your

brother?”

“One I — ”
“You know what? I’m too tired for this. Hi to Michael, love to Suze. We’ll

catch up another day.”

Nick hung up. If Shelley rang back, he’d let the machine pick up the call,

but he doubted she’d ring. Seconds ticked by, confirming. She didn’t call. Just

as well. He had nothing to say to her. Even worse, he felt afraid of what he

might say. He didn’t want to hurt her, didn’t like ending the day with such

bad feeling between them.

Was he gay?
The idea was ridiculous. All the we’re-there-for-you-if-you-are was very

sweet, but tell someone who needed the support. He wasn’t gay. He was just

having a hard time…being near Alex.

Sitting down, Nick clawed his fingers into his scalp. He needed to get a

grip, to think logically about this. Naturally, he was having a hard time being

near Alex. Being this close to Alex wasn’t something he was used to. The

Calm and Chaos: Acting Out

situation probably terrified Alex as much if not more. He’d always believed

Alex’s confidence was half bravado. Had to be. No one was that confident.

Then why wasn’t Drake hounding Alex? Why didn’t Alex have to deal with

the speculation? Drake’s angle was now obvious. The truth had finally filtered

through to Nick’s brain. Drake had enquired if the film had changed his feel-

ings for Alex, and he’d approached Shelley enquiring about old girlfriends.

Alex was the one with all the girlfriends; Drake should pester him. Alex might

even get a perverse thrill out of the attention.

He wouldn’t let Drake get the better of him. If Alex could do this, so

could he, damn it! Drake was just fuelling heightened emotions.

It won’t be as bad as I fear.

Alas, he couldn’t know that, couldn’t know whether he’d truly find the

more intimate scenes difficult, not until the day, and there were quite a few

days of shooting to get through before then.

Nick stood up, sat down, and then stood again. He needed a drink, and

then he needed to think. Drink first.

Moving to the cabinet, he extracted the Highland Park, pulled off the

cap, and drank a slug from the bottle. Only as the rich smoky flavour of the

whisky burned its slow, mellow way down into his gut did he return to his

senses. He was overreacting.

Reaching for a glass, he took it and the bottle to the sofa, collapsing on

the black leather, sighing along with the cushions as he kicked off his shoes.

After pouring a good measure of alcohol, he then set the bottle down on the

floor. Lifting his feet onto a footstool, he slid down in the seat and let his head

fall back, closing his eyes.

The scene had been intense. That was good. There was no need to read

something into the situation that didn’t exist. He almost laughed. He should

have realised there’d be moments like this during this film. An actor couldn’t

help it. One drew on emotions. It was easy to pretend an attraction existed

between him and Alex. They had known each other for so many years. Besides,

it was easy to feel attracted to Alex. He was just that kind of man. They were

actors; their job was to pretend they felt more than they did. It didn’t matter

if things…got out of hand a little now and then.

As for his sister, she meant well, but the notion of her brother up there

on the big screen in this type of role probably freaked her out. Maybe for her,

the circumstances would be easier if she could say he was gay than trying to

explain he was only pretending. It must seem peculiar to many that straight

men took gay roles. Despite what they said, maybe this was more difficult for

his family than he had thought. Shelley obviously wasn’t as happy about him

making this film as she had pretended to be. He’d overreacted to her insecurities

Sharon Maria Bidwell

and in anger because Drake had approached her, but that wasn’t Shelley’s fault.

They’d talk. He’d deal with the problem, and in time, so would she.

Nick opened his eyes, lifted his head, and took a sip of whisky. Now, feel-

ing comfortable, beginning to relax, he could see how foolish he’d been to

let the scene affect him. So the act had felt almost real for a short while there.

So what? Although frustrated by feelings made worse because he couldn’t

strangle one annoying reporter, he shouldn’t have taken that out on Shelley.

Now he hated himself for hanging up on her. He’d never done that before,

and he owed her the biggest bouquet in apology.

He owed himself…the truth.

Why so angry?
What Shelley had said was true. Some of the worst homophobes were

those who…

Refusing to complete the thought, Nick stared across the room, seeing

nothing, ignoring the stinging sensation at the back of his eyes, and lifted the

glass to his lips. Taking more of a gulp than a sip caused Nick to cough. He

set the glass down on the table, his eyes watering. He shouldn’t be drinking.

He’d not eaten a proper meal since lunch. No matter what he thought he

was feeling, now was not the time to consider his emotions, not when he was

half-cut. The gradual sinking warmth spreading out from his stomach into his

limbs seduced. Settling back, he closed his eyes, aware if he didn’t move soon,

he would fall asleep. A nap would be good. He could nap and stop thinking.

It didn’t matter what he thought. Nothing was going to come of it. That was

his…safety blanket?

Where had that idea come from? Nick stirred a little, but he was already

dozing. Had he snored? He really should move, go to bed. He had work tomor…

Chapter Seven

“

lad that’s over with?”

“No shit.” As replies went, his wasn’t the most elegant or eloquent.

The man unfastening the harness just laughed. Alex stood in front of a

green screen on top of a platform with thick pads in the same green-coloured

fabric laid out below, hoping never to do wire work again. Technically, the

most difficult thing was to land without losing balance, to make the action

look like natural movement. Physically, Alex hated being hoisted in the damn

thing. He’d hated it from day one of training and hated using the harness

on set. He didn’t care how many times the effects staff told him the straps

were state of the art equipment. Alex knew how heavy he was, and now, after

four months of instruction and subsequently another four weeks of strenu-

ous fight sequences, his testicles knew it. What he hadn’t expected was the

pain in his inner thigh. As if having the circulation to his nuts cut off wasn’t

enough, they’d had problems stopping the contraption from chafing. Either

Nick didn’t suffer the same problems or he was man enough to grin and put

up with the discomfort.

The technician, or whatever this man’s job title was, had a deep, throaty

chuckle that helped distract Alex from the pain. He also had warm brown eyes,

sandy-blond hair, and a chin coated in designer stubble. Definitely straight,

though. Not that Alex made a habit of having sex with someone from work.

If he were to start something, it would be with King’s executive assistant, or

so her name tag proclaimed. His feelings had nothing to do with desire and

were the opposite of love. Alex couldn’t explain why, but for some reason,

sex with her crossed his mind because she irritated him. He did not intend to

follow through, not proud of the impulse; nevertheless, he was only human,

and everyone had an ungracious thought now and then.

Sharon Maria Bidwell

Everyone doted on King, but the way she gawked at the director spoke

volumes. Love for someone’s talent wasn’t a new concept, and Alex definitely

saw more than lust in her eyes; he saw hero-worship. She loved King’s creativity,

and part of her scrutiny spoke of how she felt shocked to wake up each day

realising that she worked for him. Alex knew this as fact because he’d man-

aged to draw her into conversation. She was too sycophantic for his liking,

although he understood; some days, he woke up and could hardly believe he

was working for the increasingly famous Robert King, either. Just as some

days, he couldn’t believe he’d agreed to strap his genitals into a torture device.

“Care to rub some circulation back down there?” He couldn’t help himself.

He just couldn’t.

The man laughed again, easing the harness off. Alex sighed. So the man

wouldn’t rub his nuts, but at least the warm sensation gradually flowing into

his testicles denoted that they still had a blood supply. The moment he thought

of his nuts, blood started to flow elsewhere. In these robes, no one would know,

but he couldn’t help grinning. The meat and two veg still worked.

Glancing across the room, he met Nick’s gaze. Feeling mischievous, he

sauntered over. His cock led the way, jutting and pushing against the stretchy

boxers that definitely weren’t part of a medieval costume, but he wore them

concealed by layers of fabrics that decidedly were of another time in history.

“We’ve tomorrow off,” Alex said.
“I know.” Nick didn’t sound surly…exactly, just less than enamoured with

the idea.

Alex knew why, but he was in the mood to do anything but pacify. The

day after tomorrow, they had an intimate scene. They didn’t get naked, but

they were going to have to kiss. They’d paced out the sequence and rehearsed,

but there had been no reason for the actual kiss — King had said the smooch

might look better if they did it fresh.

Nick looked at anything other than Alex’s face, ignoring him. Alex tilted

his head, trying to gain his attention. Was Nick getting cold feet — or should

one say cold lips? More likely, Nick was aware that Alex would usually rag on

him, milk every last drop of Nick’s sweat out of the situation. Alex compressed

his own lips; otherwise, he’d grin. On this occasion, he wouldn’t tease Nick;

he risked making him edgy. To date, it hadn’t mattered because the character,

Eliseo, had every reason to feel edgy and nervous. The next block of filming

required very different emotions.

“I think we need to go over the lines,” Alex said.

Nick’s head jerked up. He inspected Alex’s face, searching; the resulting

confusion killed Alex’s fun. He’d presumed Nick was panicking over the

Calm and Chaos: Acting Out

upcoming intimate scenes, but he couldn’t describe what he saw in Nick’s face.

It appeared as if Nick was studying him, before something like sadness wiped

the look away. Alex knew how to recognise sorrow on Nick’s face; they’d seen

so much anguish in each other’s eyes after Moira’s death.

“Don’t you have something more important to worry about, like your balls?”
“Thank you for showing my balls some concern,” Alex replied, although

Nick’s reference hadn’t been at all friendly.

Nick just stared at him. He shrugged before turning on his heel and

striding off.

That remark did it, along with the animosity behind it. So he’d heard

Alex joking about his testicles; that didn’t give Nick an excuse to poke fun at

his physical discomfort. Emotional jokes, Alex could give out and take, but

physical ones, no. He didn’t know why; maybe his attitude was a throwback

to having watched someone truly suffer and die.

Nick might insist everything was fine, but that was far from true. Some-

thing had changed. Nick even seemed angry with him some days, particularly

after a friendly scene. Alex had expected a degree of awkwardness…but anger?

Alex slowly followed Nick. Maybe the time had come to test a theory of

his. If the situation backfired, in the circumstances, he could just laugh off his

behaviour, pretend he was just being Alex, playing a joke because the circum-

stances allowed. An opportunity such as this would likely never present itself

again. What he had in mind would piss Nick off either way, but one reaction

would fade while the other might well change their relationship. Right now,

Alex leaned towards one result over the other. If that proved the case, he hoped

he wasn’t just being the playboy he usually was.

Unfortunately, he was no more certain of his own feelings than of Nick’s.

The only thing he could feel sure of was that he’d made a decision he meant

to keep. He very much wanted to find out how Nick felt about him and he

about Nick.

When the doorbell chimed, Nick knew very well who stood on the stoop.

He stopped in mid-motion with a hand stretched out. He’d just set a book

back in its rightful place on a shelf and had intended to make some lunch.

The bell chimed again. Alex had said he would drop by and was on time. He

didn’t believe for one minute that Alex thought they needed to study their

lines. Clearly, Alex didn’t believe he’d cope on the day.

Sharon Maria Bidwell

A third chime pealed and then rolled into yet another rendition of the

famous Westminster bells.

“All right. Give a man a chance!” Nick snapped as he jerked open the front

door.

He cast a quick glance up and down the street as he did, but there was no

sign of Drake. The photo the bastard had plastered beside his column captured

Nick in a frozen moment. The comical, surprised look on his face with the

heading of Goosed had generated more posts on Facebook and Twitter than

he cared to contemplate. Thank goodness he didn’t use the social network-

ing sites. He knew it was petty of him to care — and there was worse gossip

going on out there from better reporters than Drake — but for some reason,

that photo seemed to have driven Charles over some personal precipice. He’d

taken a very angry phone call from Charles not two hours ago, and right now,

Nick just wanted to strangle someone.

He was already turning away as Alex finally took his finger off the doorbell.

The irritating chimes fell away to silence.

“Get lost on the way to the front door?”
“Not everyone jumps at your beckoning.”

Nick marched into the kitchen. Unfair of him to aim his animosity at Alex,

but he was angry, upset, and thoroughly confused. He opened the fridge and

poked his head inside, checking left and right, although in truth, he wasn’t

concentrating on the contents. Holding the door open, he used the barricade

as a shield, gaining a moment of privacy. His nerves still thrummed from the

earlier call. His brother had already told him he would never forgive him for

making this film. Now he was hinting at how Nick was a corrupting influ-

ence and how he might have to stop him from seeing his nephew — or at least

restricting access to family gatherings that Charles couldn’t avoid. What could

Nick do about that? Tell their parents? He didn’t want to put them through

the pain he was feeling right now.

“What’s up with you?”

Nick couldn’t blame Alex for the question. Alex had noticed his behaviour,

both on set, and here, now; his friend knew him well.

Maybe too well.
Creeping dread made Nick close his eyes. Had he been blind to what so

many others clearly had seen? If this were how his brother was acting right now,

what would he do if he knew how Nick really felt? He didn’t know whether

he was gay, but he had feelings for Alex — had for a long time. Maybe always.

Shelley was right; he did act homophobic, and his feelings for Alex were why.

Did Alex have a clue? He couldn’t imagine so.

Calm and Chaos: Acting Out

“What’s wrong, Nick?”

Nick couldn’t tell him. Even if he accepted his feelings — and that was

difficult enough — he couldn’t stand Alex’s teasing, and that was the best he

could hope for…wasn’t it? Alex’s playful banter, turning the tease into a joke

so they could brush Nick’s feelings aside. That was how macho men reacted,

wasn’t it? If they were cool about another man’s feelings enough not to pound

one into the floor? He couldn’t imagine Alex doing anything other than let-

ting him save face. Even then, to admit his feelings to Alex would change

their relationship.

Maybe he was wrong and projecting his own fears into imagined scenarios.

Why tell Alex how he felt when there was no point? Useless to feel emotions

that had no outlet. Even if there were the remotest possibility Alex could return

his feelings, what could come of it? A house with a white picket fence? Unlikely.

“Nothing with cheese or garlic,” Alex said into his ear.

Nick jumped. To say he let go of the fridge door would be an understate-

ment. He shoved the barrier away, bottles and jars rattling inside as it banged

against the wall. How the hell had Alex snuck up on him like that without him

noticing? Alex took up half the room. The stylish flat contained an elegant

but small kitchen, a room that now felt miniscule. He couldn’t breathe. Lean-

ing against the tall door of the larder next to the fridge, Nick pressed hard

against the unyielding surface, as though he might be able to pass through

a solid object with the right amount of prayer. He was torn between asking

Alex to back up and what he meant by his remark. All he could do was frown.

Alex closed the refrigerator door, one large hand curling over the edge,

the other reaching back to rest lightly on the narrow but long work surface

that spanned the other side of the room.

“You don’t want cheese or garlic if you’re lining up for a kiss.”

Blinking, Nick tried to rein in his galloping thoughts. It took a while for

his brain to catch up with his ears. He shook his head, even as his mind tried

to form some coherent response.

“I should not have challenged you openly,” Alex said.

Nick’s frown tightened in confusion. Hands behind him, the smooth flat

surface of the door pressed into his palms prevented him from curling his

hands into fists.

“What’s your line?” Alex asked. “I should not have challenged you openly.”

He waited.

Lines

. Alex recited lines from the script. Nick tried to focus. “So you think

it’s perfectly fine to commit treason in private?” The words choked out. He

knew what came next.

Sharon Maria Bidwell

“I think whatever happens…” Alex began.

Nick barely heard the rest of the paragraph. This wasn’t, couldn’t be

happening, yet Alex’s warm voice soothed his panic, even if Nick failed to

concentrate on the words.

“The warm winds, the dry air, our swim. Then later…”

Nick lost the rest, distracted by the feel of Alex’s fingers threading into

his hair. He lost the struggle. This was only the script. He had to kiss Alex

tomorrow in front of the director and crew. Surely he could manage to do

the kiss this once, in private. In that moment, Nick wanted to. He wanted

to kiss while no one else watched. The performance wasn’t real. It was just

pretence. He could do this. He could have this. The thought pierced his brain,

bringing with it an instant pain more disabling than any migraine. No. This

was too cruel.

Nick made the mistake of looking up.
He’d never seen such a look in Alex’s eyes before, but he feared he wore

the same look in his own right now. Awareness, a secret knowledge that he

couldn’t name but felt.

The very idea scared him to hell, but not for the reasons he’d expected.

Alex was about to dive in when the little sod ducked under his arm. If Alex

hadn’t had his eyes open, a split-second later, he would have been kissing his

own misty reflection in the glossy white cupboard door. Nick presented the

back of his head as he made his escape, the blond hair unusually mussed and

seductive because of the untidiness. As he looked from the back of Nick’s head

to those tight buns atop those scissoring legs, Alex reached back and pulled

the clip from his own mane of wavy dark locks. Then he went in pursuit.

Chapter Eight

“

ou can’t run from this.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do.” Alex jogged down the hall to catch up. “You have to do

this kiss.”

The director had blocked the scene, gone through the rehearsal, and

checked the lighting. They hadn’t rehearsed the kiss.

“Tomorrow,” Nick barked out. “We have to do the kiss tomorrow.”
“When it will be ten times worse.”
“No, it won’t. King said to do it fresh, and he’s right.” Nick sounded des-

perate. “Trust me, Alex. Now is not the time.”

Nick sounded so certain, Alex experience a moment of doubt, but he was

already arguing. “I know you. I know you’re freaking out.”

“What I don’t get is why it doesn’t appear to bother you.” By the time the

sentence was out, Nick had spun on his heel and stood glaring back at Alex,

one hand on the edge of the door leading into the bathroom.

“It doesn’t bother me because I’ve done this before.”

The resulting surprise that washed over Nick’s face would swiftly develop

into questions. Once Nick adjusted and digested the information, the ques-

tions would come thick and fast. Alex hadn’t planned the confession because

he’d come here thinking that he should be careful, allow himself a way out,

to turn his admission into a joke, but he knew what he’d seen in Nick’s eyes;

Nick was interested.

“I don’t…” Nick shook his head, probably denying what he’d heard. “I

don’t recall anything you’ve starred in — ”

Sharon Maria Bidwell

“I didn’t say I’d done it for film or stage. Don’t tell me you’ve never had a

man make advances.”

More shaking of the head. “Not that I’ve noticed.”

Alex almost laughed. That would be likelier.

“No.” Nick shook his head wildly. “You’ve a reputation. You’re a womaniser.

How can you get that kind of reputation if y-you…?”

The confusion seemed genuine, and no one could blame him. Alex was

an expert on how appearances could deceive.

“I didn’t say I never slept with women, but it’s not as many as my reputa-

tion would have you believe.”

“That makes no sense.”

Alex understood why Nick felt that way. The women he dated were invari-

ably coy when journalists asked questions. “How would you feel if you were

a woman, believed you were on a date with someone known for playing the

field, and he didn’t want sex with you? You’d think it was just you, and you

wouldn’t want others to know you’d been refused. You’d just say nothing.”

Nick clearly struggled to find his way through this revelation. “I’ve known

you for so much of my life.” His tone said the rest for him. How could he not

have known? “When? How…How many?”

Was he asking how many times? Or how many men? “A handful,” Alex

said, meaning just that. They’d been less than his fingers on one hand, and

quite a handful to boot in the sack.

Nick moved to slam the bathroom door. Anticipating, Alex easily knocked

the door out of Nick’s grip, followed his scurrying friend into the room.

“Get out. Can’t a man piss in private?”

How entertaining. Such language! Practically rubbing his hands with glee,

Alex advanced.

“Stop crowding me!” Nick backed away.
“Is that what I’m doing?” Alex pressed on. If there’d been furniture within

reach, he could imagine Nick snatching at items, pushing chairs between them.

For such a small flat, it had a decent-sized bathroom. The decor was all

black, white, and beige — very austere and manly. A large white spa bath

occupied one corner of the room. A glass wall separated the walk-in shower.

A sudden flash, a mental image of Nick naked behind that wall, standing

under the shower, the water cascading down, his hands pressed to the tile,

told Alex all he needed to know. Friendship be damned! If he could take this

to its conclusion, he would do so. He’d worry about the consequences later.

Some small part of his brain told him he’d be sorry; his cock knew otherwise.

Calm and Chaos: Acting Out

Part of his decision was owing to desire, plain and simple. He was in lust. Part

of this was the chase. Nick’s protests were counterproductive. He couldn’t

know that, and Alex wasn’t about to tell him. Those protests were part of

what turned him on.

Nick ran out of space, hip striking the edge of the sink. As Alex drew

close, Nick managed to slip to the side, but that was all. He’d backed into a

corner, put out a hand like some Victorian heroine. Instead of slapping the

hand aside, Alex took hold. Mixed emotions ran like some silent play over

Nick’s face. Nick’s hands were cold. Alex’s hands were warm. They were

always warm. Nick had to feel that heat, and not only that heat. Other, more

fiery heat generated here, too.

“Nick, it’s just a rehearsal,” Alex said. Suspicion narrowed his friend’s gaze.

Alex controlled his smirk. Oh, he lied all right; Nick probably even knew, but

for now, the lie served its purpose for both men.

“Rehearsal?”
“Of course.”

Did the Devil beguile half so well? Alex would have to ask him if they

ever met one day. He’d long accepted he might well go to Hell if such a place

existed, but the idea had nothing to do with his sex life. Deviousness came too

naturally to him when it came to getting what he wanted. Nick had simply

never been on the receiving end before.

He edged closer. Tension still radiated from Nick. His friend held his arms

up in front of his chest, one hand fisted and the other still in Alex’s grip. Alex

let go to ease Nick around. When his hands closed over Nick’s hips, a small

gasp escaped his friend’s lips. Although the sound made Alex want to moan,

he fought the temptation. His control, his claim that this was just a rehearsal

was all pretence, but he needed to put on an Oscar-winning performance for

Nick’s sake. Nick was skittish in his arms. The wrong move, the wrong glance,

and Nick would be fighting him. Alex wanted the kiss; he just didn’t want it

by force. Persuasion was one thing; force was quite another, and he drew the

line there. Alex leaned in, slowly tilting his head.

Alex drew closer. Nick blinked. He knew that face. He had seen Alex several

days a week, those weeks drifting into months and then into years for many

years of his life. As well as he knew that face, he knew this man. Alex with a

man? What man wouldn’t like that, if he were that way inclined?

Sharon Maria Bidwell

Nick…it didn’t matter if he currently felt more than inclined. He and

Alex were friends. That’s all they were. Could friends do this? Wasn’t that just

a little too friendly? Had Alex really had sex with other men? Nick was still

struggling with his emotions. He had so many questions with no immediate

answers. This was too much too soon.

Alex was a line of heat against him, but he was more than that. Alex was

hot

in every sense. Even a full-blooded male would have to acknowledge that,

be a fool not to. Just because one noticed such a thing didn’t mean one felt

an attraction. Alex gave off heat of another kind, though, particularly in this

instance — a strange kind of warmth Nick hadn’t noticed before but was very

sensitive to now.

He tried to draw in a breath and couldn’t. All he sucked in was heat,

oppressive heat like high summer, suffocating. In another few moments, he

was sure to break out in a sweat. One of Alex’s hands moved up from Nick’s

hip in a slow glide up his side. Even through his clothes, that hand left a burn-

ing imprint of its passage. His breath hitched. Energised, terrified, someone

could pepper him with chillies and roll him on a grill; he could have sworn

he sizzled, though he knew not why.

Right away, Nick instinctively knew Alex’s touch wasn’t anything compared

to the burn of his lips.

As Alex’s face loomed, Nick automatically closed his eyes. A fraction of

a second later, Alex’s mouth pressed against his, and without any conscious

thought, Nick parted his lips. Those lips were a vibrant presence against his,

and Nick had just begun to think this wasn’t so bad when Alex’s tongue drove in.

Stupid!

The thought took a moment to burst in his brain before it blazed. He’d

been stupid to sign up for this film, stupid to open the front door when Alex

arrived, stupid to let Alex back him into a corner…and stupid for opening his

mouth. All that would come of this was heartache. As much as that thought

flamed in his mind, what came out of his mouth to be swallowed down by

Alex’s insistence was a moan.

Someone had stoked the embers; he melted. Nick’s focus settled on the

warm writhing presence in his mouth, the firm pressure keeping his lips

parted, demanding access, but even so, the sensation spread. Intense arousal

gave his heart a kick, cramped his stomach, weakened his bowels, tightened

his testicles, and stole the strength in his legs. Then sped back to do the same

devastating things to him on the reverse. When his focus yet again centred on

where they joined at the mouth, Nick was a wreck. He trembled, clinging to

Alex simply because he didn’t have the strength to remain on his feet without

a prop. Alex steadied him, for which Nick experienced an instance of gratitude,

Calm and Chaos: Acting Out

before Alex took control. Those large hands struck, pulling Nick close, taking

possession. To Nick’s horror, even as his mind fought back, his body failed

to respond. No longer energised, he felt as if Alex stole his physical strength

through the kiss, as if he were a vampire.

Fear was the only thing that made Nick resist, and while he wished to

reject the notion, he clung to it. Fear was the only thing that helped him retali-

ate. The dread simply came from other emotions, from different places deep

inside him. This wouldn’t end well. Nick didn’t believe that for a minute. Alex

was a joker more often than not. Alex liked fun. He wouldn’t understand how

serious this was for Nick. This…taste of something Nick couldn’t have was…

too cruel. Stumbling a little, Nick stood up straight, pushing and shoving at

Alex even as he recoiled.

Nick pulled away, smacking the back of his head against the wall in doing

so, but the move gave him enough space to turn his head. “Get the fuck off

me,” he managed to rasp out. He looked away, but he caught sight of Alex’s

expression as he’d pulled back. He found that expression strangely unread-

able…or maybe too readable; too many emotions.

“It’s just…”
“If you say it’s just a rehearsal, so help me, I’ll fucking…” Nick didn’t fin-

ish the sentence. He didn’t know what he’d do. “I don’t know what you’re

fucking playing at.” When had his language grown so vulgar? He had a right

to swear, didn’t he, considering…everything? “But I’m not playing with you.”

Nick shoved, and praise be, Alex let go.

To his dismay, Nick staggered, had to reach for the marble surround of

the sink. He ran a hand over his face, through his hair to the back of his neck,

only to find he was sweaty. His heart still raced, tripping in his chest. His body

trembled; his mind vibrated. He didn’t know what to think, couldn’t think. He

needed to get away from Alex. Needed distance. Only then could he… Could

he what? Damn, he couldn’t even think clearly enough to consider what he

needed to think about, what to do.

“Leave.” Even that isolated word came as a struggle.
“Nick — ”
“Just…leave. Please.” Nick held out a hand in a forestalling gesture. He

looked at the limb, surprised to see that his hand failed to shake.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Nick hesitated. “Fine.” He walked out of the bathroom, trying to appear

natural. No sooner was he out of Alex’s sight then he picked up the pace. The

bedroom led directly into the hall. There on the hall table lay his keys. He

picked them up and was out the door and into the street before his intention

Sharon Maria Bidwell

to flee even registered. Out on the street, Nick broke into a run, darting

down the first offshoot. From there, he sprinted, seemingly random, but he

knew where he was going. He was running away from Alex, from his chaotic

thoughts, from having to make any kind of decision, fearing, ultimately, the

joke would be on him. He just wished he could keep running…forever, for

however long it took to rid himself of his thoughts and unwelcome desires.

Nick wasn’t the only one who needed a breather. Alex took the advantage

of a few moments just to gather his wits. Still, he felt no wiser regarding what

to say to Nick once he left the sanctuary of the bathroom and walked into the

bedroom. It didn’t matter what he intended to say; Nick wasn’t there.

The front door slammed. Darting out of the room into the hall, Alex

pounded after him. Leaving Nick’s front door ajar, he took the steps leading

down to the pavement two at a time. Hitting ground level, he turned his head

left and then right; Nick had vanished. Alex cursed, looking alternately in

both directions. The street remained quiet with only a couple of passers-by.

He could give chase, but he didn’t relish pounding the pavements. No doubt,

Nick would return later, when he felt ready, definitely by the evening; other-

wise, where would he sleep?

Retracing his steps, Alex let himself back into the flat, and shut the door.

Whatever happened, Nick would need time to cool down. Alex had patience.

He intended to be there when Nick returned. He prepared to settle in for a

long wait.

Chapter Nine

“

’you have a wife?”

Although he’d heard the question, Nick took a while to swim back to

the surface. “Hmm?” He turned his head to the old man who sat alongside

him, sharing the park bench.

“A wife?”
“Oh…”

Nick turned his gaze back to the white terrier snuffling in the grass in

front of them. He and the old man had been sitting quietly, watching the

man’s dog. Something would distract the terrier, and the dog would lift its

head, prick up its ears, and gaze around, expectant, hopeful. Nick had been

watching the animal just so he didn’t have to think. What would it feel like to

be a dog? So simple a life: sleep, eat, walk, have someone scratch him behind

the ears, or tickle his tummy now and then, lick his balls whenever he felt like

it…he could handle that.

The old man sighed, and Nick glanced at him from the corner of his eye.

The face sagged gently with age in a way Nick admired. That mien said this

man had been somebody, had a life, a family, worked, laughed, played, made

love, cried. The eyes said they had seen death, and Nick knew what the man

was going to say before he said it.

“Me and Mazie, we were married fifty-two years. Would have been fifty-

four come next August.”

Fifty-two years. In a world where many relationships were lucky to survive

fifty-two minutes, that was something to admire.

“Blue here, he was hers. Now I take care of ‘im.”

Sharon Maria Bidwell

Nick spent a few seconds wondering why someone had called a little

white dog Blue.

“You got anyone in your life?”
“No,” Nick answered. Why was that? Why had he answered so quickly,

so honestly, so precisely to this stranger’s question? Why approaching thirty

didn’t he have anyone? Why hadn’t he at least had someone? He’d never had

a long-term relationship; mostly celibate, he’d never lived with someone since

leaving home.

“No one?” The old man’s eyebrows rose.

Afraid of what conclusions he might jump to, Nick shrugged.

“No significant other,” he said, trying to make himself sound as if he were

a man about town, a different girl on his arm every night of the week.

“A what?”
“Signif…” The phrase was lost on the old man. “No full-time girlfriend,”

Nick corrected. “Just many part-time ones.” He grinned to back up the

suggestion.

To his surprise, his comment didn’t go down well.

“You young’uns these days.” The old man shook his head, his face displaying

sadness. “You don’t know what you’re missing. Always afraid of commitment,

and what do you get? You get lonely.

“Oh, I’m lonely now,” the old man added, “but all those years… We had

a coupla kids, but they’re making their own way in the world now. I see ‘em

at Christmas and a few times throughout the year. They ring once a fortnight.

They’re good kids.”

The man’s expression took on a dreamy look of pleasure. “I’m glad they

are out there having lives. I don’t want them hanging around with me and

Blue. I always thought Blue was a cantankerous sod as far as dogs go, but now

that my Maze has gone, I see what good company he was for her. I’m retired,

you see, but had a little job. Blue was there for Maze when I couldn’t be. The

job was only a couple of days a week but meant I could take Maze away on

a little holiday once a year; maybe even a couple of other breaks. I used to

call her my Maze, as in amazing, you know.” The old man’s smile was both

happy and sad, and it astounded Nick that such an expression was possible. “I

gave it up, the job, when she went. Don’t need that extra bit of income now.”

Nick’s unknown companion sat nodding his head. Both men were silent

for a time.

What would it be like to feel that way for someone? To feel so much love?
Are you sure you’re not feeling love now?

Calm and Chaos: Acting Out

He supposed he was, but he’d never experienced affection as strong as

this enough to know. He’d even considered that maybe he was one of those

people destined to go through life alone — more comfortable with being alone,

even incapable of loving someone. Even if none of that were true, what was

the use? If he…loved Alex, if Alex had been with other men, how had he

never known? If his feelings were genuine, why had nothing ever happened

between them? Even if he’d known Alex liked men, he would have assumed

he and Alex were just friends, especially the way Alex behaved around him,

showing no interest until now. Had he truly buried his emotions so deep, Alex

had never caught on? That was entirely possible; he’d buried them so deeply,

he hadn’t even faced them himself. He’d had to, for he’d believed Alex liked

women, so there had been no point. If Alex liked men, did that change things?

He didn’t know. Not many men came to terms with their sexuality and found

true love overnight. Why did the surprises all have to happen now, like this,

in a rush? Was that why they called them revelations? Why did so many have

to come at once?

Then again, feelings buried weren’t exactly revelations. He’d always known.

He’d loved Moira and would have done all those things exactly the same way

for her, but as dishonest as it seemed, his main concern had always been Alex.

Not that he’d ever believed anything was possible. He hadn’t even known

exactly what he wanted, still didn’t. Nick hadn’t taken care of Alex in the hope

of some return; he had just always hated seeing Alex hurt.

Nick had always known he loved Alex; he just hadn’t wanted to accept

why and how. Unrequited love was a bitch, and he didn’t see how that had

changed. He could see Alex wanting sex, but love?

He was so lost in thought that he almost missed the stranger talking.

“I’ll stick around for Blue,” the old man said. “Yeah. For Blue.” He reached

down and gave Blue a stroke. “He’s not a young’un, either.”

Had Nick heard right, or had he simply misinterpreted the words? Was

that what true love got you? One partner gone, the other sitting around, wait-

ing to die?

Even as Nick sat there, horrified, the panic eased. Would that be so bad?

Was love worth the heartache? The old man gave him the answer as if Nick

had asked outright.

“You young people,” he said again. “You don’t know what you’re missing.

Life with someone who can finish your sentences, can convey a whole sen-

tence or meaning in a look. We had our hard times, me and my Maze, but I

miss her each day, and each day, I wake up wondering why I’m cursed to draw

breath.” The old man turned his head to look at Nick then, and despite the

deep-seated sorrow in his eyes, he smiled and winked. “I wouldn’t change a

Sharon Maria Bidwell

thing, though. I’d do it all again.” Something in his tone sounded smug and

satisfied, if a little wistful.

Nick swallowed and blinked.

“You young people.” The old man shook his head. He gave Nick a specula-

tive look. “You sure there’s no one?”

Nick shook his head in reply.

“Who do you spend most of your time with?”

Alex. He wouldn’t say that. “No one in particular.”
The stranger gave a soft laugh. “So you say. Who have you just had an

argument with?”

Nick stared in reply. “I haven’t…” Again, words failed him. Those rheumy

eyes appeared to contain a lifetime of knowledge.

“What else you doing sitting out here on a park bench, nothing but keys

in your hand?”

“I was just out for a walk.”

The man nodded, patting Blue again. The dog, used to his master’s hand,

turned his attention to Nick. Blue stared at him, head cocked a little to one

side in question. Who are you? Are you interesting? Will you make a fuss of me? Is
there anything edible in your pocket?

Nick didn’t have any food. He reached down, and Blue accepted his offer

of a stroke, taking the couple of steps closer a little stiff in the legs. The old

man hadn’t exaggerated. Blue was getting on in years.

“Him and me understand rheumatism. We compare aches and pains.”

Nick tried not to laugh, but a smile broke out on his face anyway. The

grin stretched his lips. The sensation of his mouth pulling tightly made him

think of what he’d been doing with his lips earlier that day. He rejected the

invasive image to protect his heart.

“Seems cruel dragging him to the park, but we both need the exercise, and

he’s the lucky little bugger gets picked up and carried home.”

Clearly, the old man and his dog just wanted company. Surprisingly, Nick

was happy to linger. He didn’t usually speak with strangers. Not that talking

to a good friend had done much for him. As for his family…that thought was

even more painful. Right now, talking to a stranger felt safer.

“I’d accept you were just out walking if it weren’t for the look on your face.”

Nick almost smiled again, at the old man gently pushing the track of the

conversation. “What look?” Prudence told him not to enquire, but curiosity

won out.

Calm and Chaos: Acting Out

“You been sitting here with a sore expression, worried-like. Frowning as if

you’re trying to figure something out. Course, could be you’re in debt or you

hate your job, or are about to lose it or something, but the look on your face,

whatever’s troubling you seems more personal even than that.”

If only you knew.

Nick resisted the urge to blurt out the truth.

“So either you have a girl and it’s more serious than you think, or you don’t

have a girl but know which one you want to go after.”

Nick laughed, but almost winced when the sound emerged sounding hol-

low. “What if someone likes you and you’re not interested?” What if you’re
interested and know the relationship would only mean fun to the other person?

“I take it you wanna let her down easy?”

Nick cleared his throat. “She won’t accept no for an answer.”
Maybe he’d read the situation wrong, but if he hadn’t then Alex wouldn’t

accept his refusal at all, not if he thought Nick was at all interested. Nick had

to make Alex understand he just didn’t feel that way, that he’d found the kiss…

abhorrent. Yes, abhorrent was good, if he could make Alex believe his feelings.

Truth was, he’d give anything to have Alex kiss him again, and owing to the

film, he couldn’t avoid intimacy entirely, but his fragile emotions could only

take so much. Alex kissing him in private was…too cruel. He kept returning

to that phrase, could easily have fallen to chanting the idiom, it felt so apt.

“Ah…” A chuckle followed on the end of that noncommittal sound. “If

you got a stalker, I figure only the police can help you.”

“Not a stalker. A friend. All I want is friendship.” Nick had coped with

friendship for so many years, he’d fooled himself into believing that was all

he wanted…until the kiss.

“Difficult. Difficult.” The stranger contemplated the dilemma. “I’d talk

to this friend. Either way, I’d spend time with someone who does interest

you. Get a life. Enjoy it with someone. That’s the best I can advise. The rest,

it’s all bullshit. We live, we die…but I can see I’m boring you. I just think the

best a man can do is look back and have few regrets, and I’m happy to say I

don’t regret a thing.”

Much of the conversation struck Nick as surreal. Even more extraordi-

nary, the tête-à-tête had given him time to calm down. Alex was probably

long-gone, but he couldn’t avoid him forever, didn’t even want to do so. Alex

must be exasperated with him, and Nick couldn’t blame him. He was none

too happy with himself.

“Well...”

The stranger stretched, stood up, reaching down for Blue, who shuffled

over. Nick expected to hear bones creak, though he doubted he’d be able to

Sharon Maria Bidwell

tell whether the sound came from the man or the animal. The old man picked

up the dog. Nick heard nothing.

The stranger paused, looking down at him. “Hey, do I know you?”

“No.” The question had taken the elderly gent longer than usual. Most

people didn’t recognise him at all. Those who did said so within the first few

minutes. Seldom did anyone take so long to exclaim they’d seen him on the

“telly.”

“I can’t put my finger on it, but I swear I’ve seen you somewhere. Oh well.”

The man tucked the dog under his arm. “It’ll come to me.”

They said their farewells, and then Nick sat, watching the stranger amble

off until he turned the corner.

The door whispered open so quietly, Alex almost fooled himself into

believing the noise was his imagination. He took a second to steel himself

for whatever expression he might see on Nick’s face and then turned his head.

He’d lost track of the time, but he’d worried as the sky had grown dark. He’d

tried to read, watched a little TV without seeing any of programming, made

a few phone calls, a couple of them to places that Nick might be. No luck.

Left with no choice, Alex had settled in to wait.

How could looking dishevelled make a man appear so utterly adorable?

Alex glanced away, taking a moment to think. What had he started here?

Where would things end? Wasn’t it a little late to be asking those questions?

Fine time to grow a conscience, but he didn’t want to hurt Nick.

He looked to Nick again just in time to see him raise his gaze from the

floor. His clothes looked rumpled, his hair untidy, but his eyes caught Alex’s

attention. They shone with a strange combination of desperation and pleading.

“I thought you’d be long gone,” Nick said.

Was that the truth, or just an expression of hope?

“You know me better than that,” Alex replied. “We need to talk.” He

expected Nick to argue. That was why he felt so surprised when his friend

agreed.

“You’re right,” Nick said, “we do. I also need to do some serious think-

ing, but right now…” Nick looked beseechingly at him. “Right now, it’s too

much too soon.”

Alex frowned, uncertain whether he understood what Nick meant by that.

He wanted to know what Nick was feeling, but they were men, and not for the

Calm and Chaos: Acting Out

first time, Alex got a sense of why women sometimes felt frustrated — some

men just didn’t talk unless forced to. Well, either Nick would work out his

feelings or they’d discuss things when Nick was ready.

“I need you to get me through tomorrow’s shoot,” Nick continued. “I

wish you hadn’t done what you’ve done, Alex. Not now. Your timing couldn’t

be more wrong when we’re working. I need you to help me get through

tomorrow.”

“How?” Even as he asked, Alex was wondering what Nick failed to say.

He was no idiot — something had upset Nick today even before Alex’s arrival.

He was also thinking of the script and of how he might do what Nick asked.

Clearly, Nick didn’t have the answer, so he needed to come up with one. Alex

nodded. “Fine. I’ll do what I can.” He stood up. “Tonight?”

“Tonight…” Nick’s gaze wandered around his living room, as though he

might find the answer there. “I need time, Alex. I need to think. Don’t even

pretend you don’t know what I have to think about. I need you to do what

you do best, and that’s keep quiet. Be around, but be quiet. Can you do that

for me? Can you just get me through tonight and tomorrow?”

Tempted to say that keeping quiet wasn’t the thing he did best, Alex

thought better of saying so, even underwent an uncharacteristic flash of

repugnance for his obnoxious thoughts. He was self-aware enough to know

that he was trying to play down his own concerns. He wanted to ask Nick,

if he got him through tomorrow, what about the following day, and the day

after, but they had a film to make and personal matters to discuss. For now,

he did what Nick needed him to do. Alex remained silent.

Chapter Ten

oncentrating on the wondrous facade of a make-believe palace helped

Nick not to think. The set designers had done such a fabulous job that

he had to reach out and touch the walls to accept they weren’t stone.

Someone called his name, and he responded, moving forwards as if this

was any normal day on set. In his mind, he went over his lines, refusing to

follow them through to their conclusion where…

No. He better not let his thoughts go there. Not yet.
He was aware of Alex glancing at him, but he avoided looking back, breath-

ing a sigh of relief when Alex turned away, keeping a respectful distance. In

his head, he went over Alex’s instructions.

“I know you, Nick. You’ll be fine if you just fall into the role. Remember your lines.

Forget everything else. Just start, roll with it. Play it as if it’s just another scene. Don’t

think about what’s coming at the end. Let me worry about that.”

Presumably, Alex was just that — worried — but he didn’t look anxious.

He behaved a little more attentive and rather less jovial than on an average

day, but no one appeared to notice, so maybe that was Nick’s imagination.

No one else seemed perturbed.

King wanted them to pace out the scene a couple of more times before

they took a shot, so Nick fell into the routine of that. He and Alex had walked

this corridor so often that they knew how many paces it took to reach the

end. Today, on the first try, they reached the end before finishing their lines,

but they mumbled their way through them and then gave the run through

another try with the director marking where each sentence began until King

seemed satisfied.

Calm and Chaos: Acting Out

“I’d like to get this in one long shot.” No surprise there — such shots were

King’s trademark. He had cameras set up at several angles for precisely that

reason.

Alex turned to him, flashing that blinding grin of his. “No problem.”

King glanced between the two of them and then nodded before walking

off. The two actors and the director appeared to have mutual respect. King had

already said that he trusted their instincts. He had taken to letting them play

out a scene, tweaking if necessary instead of discussing specifics. That didn’t

mean they skipped the usual meetings, failed to examine storyboards, didn’t

listen to him, or ignored where and when they were supposed to enter or exit.

King’s attitude did mean their input and what their personalities brought to

the performance had as much to do with the development as King’s direction.

How his personality would affect this scene, Nick didn’t know. He’d never

kissed a man before, aside from Alex the previous day, although it would be

more accurate to say Alex had kissed him, and that was how the scene would

have to play out today. Alex had told him he would take care of it, and he’d

have to while Nick stood there, petrified — ironically, not of kissing Alex but

of how kissing Alex would affect his emotions. According to Alex, that would

do just fine. He would take the lead. He would…

Damn, if he weren’t thinking about the one thing that he shouldn’t! He

wasn’t to think about the kiss. Alex had specifically told him not to think about

the kiss. He wasn’t to…

“Places!”

Already? It felt as if he’d received his fifteen-minute warning only two

minutes ago.

Nonessential personnel moved out of the way. Nick hadn’t known what

to expect. He’d hoped for a closed set, a smaller than average audience. No

producer would do that just for a kiss. The set had a normal number of

employees today, the same assemblage as he’d seen every day.

He glanced around and then wished he hadn’t when he noticed King’s

assistant looking at him. She smiled, looked down, her expression coy, before

whispering to the female technician at her side, who was crouching down

and fiddling with a cable. Nick casually sidled over to Alex even as he moved

into position.

“What’s going on over there?” Even as Nick asked, the second woman

stood up and said something, which caused King’s assistant to flinch.

Alex looked over and then away.

“Take no notice of the apple-shiner,” Alex murmured.

Nick was so surprised by the slang he felt a jolt of genuine humour.

Sharon Maria Bidwell

Alex’s dark gaze darted in his direction and then away again. “Some of the

women…want to watch,” Alex said. “Most of them are too professional to let

it show. King’s toady is far too young to know better, and I think she just got

a serving. Either she’ll learn or King will end up replacing her.”

It took a while for Nick to decipher Alex’s meaning. The women wanted

to watch him and Alex kissing? He didn’t know how to feel about that, defi-

nitely couldn’t find a comeback.

“Be attentive to the first part of the scene, fleeing down the hall,” Alex told

him, again the epitome of professionalism, maintaining that quiet presence

that made Nick feel safe. Maybe Alex knew Nick was aware his friend was

handling him carefully, maybe he wasn’t; either way, Nick was grateful. “I’ll

take care of the rest.”

He’d take care of the rest? Well, someone had to. Someone pointed out

a couple of last minute concerns and then called for quiet. The cameras were

about to start rolling.

“Cue Nick and Alex!”

Nick and Alex moved into position. A few of the supporting cast already

waited, but they had only to stand around looking disgruntled for a few

moments.

King cast a glance at the group, a fleeting look that Nick couldn’t interpret.

The director seemed to be thinking.

“We’ll go straight for a take,” he announced.

Is that owing to my nerves?

Could the director sense Nick was nervous? He

didn’t have time to ask and hardly needed to draw any more attention.

“Lights! Camera! Sound!” As the assistant director called out the list, each

crew affirmed their readiness.

“Mark it!” King ordered.

The clapper-loader snapped the wings of the board together.

“Shot twenty. Take one.”
“Action!”

“Eliseo, wait!”

Nick turned, glaring. Both Alex and the men surrounding him lowered

their heads respectfully under his sweeping gaze. Nick needed to feel angry

for this scene, and for that, he was grateful. Nick called on that anger, drew

the emotion around him like a comforting blanket. Darker feelings blocked

Calm and Chaos: Acting Out

out what lay ahead. He stared in anger at the men who made up the govern-

ment and leaders of his army.

“My narmac,” he said, referring to the title of Alex’s character as personal

adviser and first warrior, “has been treated the same way as have you all. With

my understanding, my patience, and my kindness. Maybe it is time I learned

that such benevolent attributes do not win all wars. Maybe it is time you saw

a side of me you never knew existed.”

Like my gay side?

The thought came unbidden, caught Nick unawares. What was his next

line?

Alex saved him, bowing his head and muttering his apology. Others in the

group did likewise, slowly departing after inclining their heads. Nick turned to

Alex. Line, line, line…what was the damn line? The line was his. He knew it was.

He had seconds in which to remember the words. King had a strong liking

for long moving sequences without breaks. An actor working for him had to

be able to remember whole paragraphs lasting several minutes.

His character felt angry because… Because his personal adviser and sup-

posed friend had tried to correct him in front of the other members of his

parliament. Nick took an appropriately defensive stance and snapped out the

line. “You ever correct me like that in front of my government again and I

will have you publicly flogged.”

He heard the next cue, though he didn’t need to, turned on his heel, and

stalked along the corridor, refusing to let his legs falter. At the corner, there

came a turn, and once he reached the far end, there, Alex would…

Oh God, how am I supposed to go through with this? How am I supposed to kiss

Alex and pretend it means nothing once the cameras stop?

Alex chased after him, keeping his tone low but carrying on the argument.

“Why not just execute me?”

Nick’s step faltered as directed, although the move took little acting on

his part, grateful as he was for the pause in forwards motion. The one thing

he did not want to do now was move ahead, but he had to, in words if not

action. What did Alex see in his eyes? Did he see just the mixed emotions of

his character or his terror owing to his longing, his desire?

“Don’t say such things.” Somehow, he managed to project the right amount

of warning and distaste.

“It’s within your right.”

Nick lowered his head, his shoulders tight and his whole aspect trembling.

How ironic that his reactions masked his actual feelings yet reflected them.

“You know I could never do that.”

Sharon Maria Bidwell

Relief washed over him when Alex finally spoke the next line except for

the loving tone that entered his voice.

“I know.”

That line was so short and so simple, yet carried so much of a hidden

message. Tone perfect, the statement meant, “I know how much you love me.”

“It was foolish of me,” Alex continued, speaking as Ismael. “I should not

have challenged you openly.”

Nick snorted. The sound emerged far harsher than planned, but even he

could tell that his reaction suited the moment. Direction didn’t call for him

to clench his hands, but clench them he did. With his hands fisted at his sides,

he turned stiffly and began walking. He didn’t want to. His heart — which

had beaten erratically all the way through the scene — now galloped. Light-

headed, mouth dry. Was a dry mouth better for the kissing scene, or worse?

Stop it. Stop thinking!
He turned the corner, aware that he had to speak, yet his mouth still

parched, made speech almost impossible. As much as he dreaded to hear

Alex’s reply, he forced out the next line. “So you think it’s perfectly fine to

commit treason in private?”

“I think whatever happens between us in private is perfect and has nothing

to do with treason.” Alex’s stare flicked down to Nick’s lips. “Do you remem-

ber? The warm winds, the dry air, our swim. Then later, the silk sheets, our

slipping and sliding…”

Despite knowing what was coming, a small sound escaped Nick’s mouth

as one of Alex’s large hands descended, clasping his forearm and spinning him.

He slammed into the wall with enough force to make him huff out his breath.

Where many walls were plywood, they had reinforced this one piece of set

for this scene. Alex had to knock Nick against the wall and then lean into him.

Nick felt sure his eyes were widening as Alex leaned in. Had an expectant

hush fallen over the gathering, or was that only happening in his head? Or

had he shut out everything but the thought of Alex? Alex was going to kiss

him — again — and Nick had never wanted anything more in his life.

The expression on Nick’s face almost undid him. So far, Alex had just

been grateful that Nick had kept moving. Now all Nick had to do was leave

this last bit up to him. However, Nick’s expression was something he hadn’t

anticipated. His eyes gleamed with a strange combination of fear and desire.

Alex had sometimes wondered how it would feel to kiss a man, freely, in public.

Calm and Chaos: Acting Out

Since he’d agreed to the film, he’d wondered what it would feel like to kiss

Nick in front of an audience, even more so now, knowing that the moment

he did, Nick would be into it.

Feeling Nick tense, Alex fastened his grip. He dipped his head, pressing

Nick firmly against the wall. Nick resisted. That wasn’t in the script, but if the

struggle were noticeable on camera, it probably wouldn’t matter. Resistance

would surely spice up the scene.

Alex tried not to think of Nick’s body, but the man’s pulse raced under his

hands, from the grip on one wrist to where they pressed chest to chest. Nick

needed to calm his breathing. Alex wished he had time and opportunity to

tell him, but he couldn’t. Their gazes locked. Nick looked just a little afraid,

but mostly questioning with a hint of a plea. Although mere seconds ticked

by, time seemed indeed relative. They stood in a bubble of intimacy quite

apart from their surroundings. Their audience no longer mattered to Alex, if

the spectators ever had. He wasn’t sure they mattered as much as they once

had to Nick.

I’m going to kiss you.
Maybe with the thought, Alex had given something away in his expression.

The dart of Nick’s eyes told him that his friend understood, and not because

the kiss was part of the script. They both knew the moment had arrived.

The harder Alex squeezed, the more Nick melted against him. The harder

Alex pressed tightly into him, the more Nick’s anxiety appeared to seep away.

Alex leaned in until their breath played over each other’s lips. Still, he main-

tained that minute distance. He made both Nick and the audience wait — not

for long, but just long enough. He had enough time to consider what effect this

would have in the cinema. Some would squirm, experience a peculiar type of

embarrassment as if they were the ones up there on the screen about to kiss

someone of their own sex. Others would stare wide-eyed with bated breath.

Some would fidget because this would be hottest scene they had ever watched,

and in public at that. The scene would be hot. He knew that. He didn’t have to

see the rushes. Alex could tell by the expectation and anticipation dancing in

the small space between them. He could tell by the energy they generated. The

right vital moment happened on set sometimes, the same way it occurred in

a cinema, or when one read a book; there came a moment where one’s pulse

sped up, where restlessness took over. One’s body, the world, felt too small to

contain such strong feelings, as if one’s spirit might burst out, an exploding star,

into the universe. He didn’t know about that, but he was sure of one thing.

When their lips touched, there would be electricity between them.

Sharon Maria Bidwell

What was Alex waiting for? Even as the thought sped through his head,

Nick knew. Alex had excellent timing. He deliberately spun this out. He made

Nick wait as much as he made those on set wait — as much as the eventual

audience would wait. Nick couldn’t help his response; he’d fought his feelings

for so long, but no matter what the future held, he could have this very public

moment with Alex, and he wanted it. Wriggling a hand loose, he snagged his

fingers into Alex’s clothing and twisted the cloth in his hand, holding on, yet

simultaneously pulling Alex to him. Maybe Alex decided the moment was

right, or maybe that was the signal he needed, but either way, suddenly a pair

of lips sealed tight to Nick’s. He couldn’t breathe, and not just because of

another mouth against his. This was Alex’s mouth, Alex’s lips. Oh God! Alex

was kissing him! Everyone was watching Alex kiss him!

Those lips pushed insistently against his. Teeth scraped against his, per-

sistent, making way for the tongue that followed. Another thought seared

through Nick’s brain. Alex hadn’t said anything about tongues! What shook him

to his core was the responding coil of desire low in his body. A kiss had never

felt like this. Was this how a kiss affected women?

I’m no woman.

He wasn’t, but desire took possession of him just as devas-

tatingly. Maybe he’d just never kissed the right person before.

One hand twisted in the fabric of Alex’s garments. His other hand had

somehow found its way into Alex’s fast grip. Nick tightened his grasp, and

Alex gave his hand an answering squeeze. The thought of Alex squeezing

his cock tore a small sound from Nick’s mouth, one that Alex managed to

swallow down. If anyone heard, maybe they’d just take the utterance for a

normal sound, a need to breathe, for Nick definitely needed to breathe. Alex

hadn’t let up yet.

Only then did Nick notice just how much noise they were making. They

couldn’t help the sound — or so he tried to tell himself — for no matter how

quiet they were, their mouths moved wetly together, and they pulled in air

through their noses when they could. Nick needed a deeper breath than that,

but Alex had him shoved so hard against the wall that despite the reinforced

structure, Nick believed they might well topple the thing. He definitely couldn’t

fight his way free. Stuck between the wall and the solid mass of Alex, Nick

was against the rock and a very hard place indeed. Even this fact turned him

on, Alex holding him in check as tantalising as the kiss.

Tantalising? Yes, definitely that, and as the thought seduced him, Nick’s

tongue wrapped around Alex’s, snaking, twirling. The ardour between them

Calm and Chaos: Acting Out

intensified. Nick’s brain went to places he would never have thought his imagi-

nation could go. Was this just a kiss? Would Alex do more? Was he willing?

Interested? Would Alex do any of the numerous things assaulting Nick’s mind

and nerve-endings?

Bed

. They needed a bed.

Nick tightened his grip, pushed instinctively with his hips, a moan begin-

ning in the tips of his toes travelling up to…

The kiss ended, as it had to end, but Nick was so lost in the moment, he

experienced the suctioning release of Alex’s lips before the fact that the kiss

finished caught up with his brain. Opening his eyes, he stared at Alex, dazed

and blinking, aware he must look as stunned as he felt. Bright lights blinded

him. People stood on the other side of those lights. He was on set, and he’d

completely forgotten.

“Print take one!” King almost screamed. He sounded afraid he might lose

the footage.

There came a split second of stunned silence, and then, much to Nick’s

chagrin, the set erupted with applause.

Chapter Eleven

lex drove. That was hardly surprising, since Nick only got behind the

wheel of a car for a role. What did surprise Alex was Nick accepting

with just a nod. He’d been extremely quiet since the kiss. The silence in the

car on the way home felt eerie.

“I’d ask your place or mine, but that might sound strange in the circum-

stances.” Alex tried to make a joke. He glanced at Nick long enough to see

him turn his head. The light from on-coming cars made Nick’s eyes appear

glassy — or maybe he was genuinely dazed. Alex needed to know where they

were going. “I said — ”

“I heard.”

At least Nick was speaking, but he still sounded dreamy.
Alex kept his attention on the road, gave Nick time. “I’m going to have to

know soon.” He would need to pull off or keep driving, and he didn’t fancy

making the choice.

Nick’s hand went to his brow, rubbing, as if even this decision was too

much for him. The situation troubled Alex as well, although for what he sur-

mised were quite different reasons. He had a responsibility here. He needed

to decide if he were seriously going to pursue something with his best friend,

and if so, what that something was. That depended on what Nick wanted, but

Alex could almost taste the other man’s response. He could sense the calcula-

tion going on in Nick’s mind.

“Let me take a wild guess,” Alex said, opting to play devil’s advocate. “You’re

trying to assess which destination would be the less damaging. You know the

evening isn’t over, and we need to talk, but you’re trying to decide if it would

Calm and Chaos: Acting Out

be worse to have me chase you into your bedroom or have me lead you into

mine back at my place.”

“I think I’m going to be sick.”
“Not quite the romantic response I was hoping for.”
“Stop being an arsehole.”
“I’m not…trying to be.” Alex slowed the car. “I really do need to know

which way to turn.” He meant the car, but he could be talking about their

situation. Nick looked to the left leading to his home, and then he glanced

right. Fortunately, the hour was late and traffic light. There was no one behind

them. Nick took his time.

“Your place,” Nick finally said.

Nodding, Alex signalled out of habit and steered the car in that direction

before Nick could change his mind. The choice was encouraging. Although

they could have sex anywhere, his place was definitely the less safe option.

Nick would have felt more in control at home. The fact that he’d chosen to

go with Alex said that he was open to possibilities — and Alex could think of

a thousand of those.

Nick stared at the steering wheel, which looked small in Alex’s hands.

Strange how such large hands could carry a sense of strength and promise.

A contradiction seemed to exist in those hands, conveying both threat and

safety. Nick didn’t want to think about that, but the more he tried not to, the

more his thoughts returned to those hands on him, holding him tight. Trying

to pretend that the kiss had been out of his control, had nothing to do with

him wouldn’t cut it, not when he’d so blatantly enjoyed the smooch. Almost

as if he’d known the danger of things escalating, Alex had pulled back. Only

then had Nick remembered they were on the set. They’d stared at each other,

the director had called for a print, and the set had erupted. King had immedi-

ately hurried to check the rushes before filming three more scenes and then

wrapping up for the day.

They’d had no time to discuss things afterwards, hadn’t referred to the

scene since. Now, sitting in the dark interior of the car with Alex, there were

no distractions to prevent Nick’s mind from wandering.

How could he feel so many conflicting emotions right now? The longer

the drive lasted, the more Nick’s attention settled on Alex’s face. He shouldn’t

have found that square jaw so attractive, but he always had. Alex concentrated

Sharon Maria Bidwell

on driving, but a couple of glances told Nick that Alex was very aware of him

watching.

Nick was angry. The realisation came, sudden and unexpected. He looked

at that familiar face, trying to recall his feelings for this man just a couple of

weeks ago, but the emotions kept slipping away. Something had changed,

and he wasn’t even sure when precisely. He couldn’t deny this attraction had

always been there, so did that make their friendship a lie? Could make-believe

be a catalyst for something like this?

This being my homosexuality.

Nick hated the word. He hadn’t before, but now he did. The expression

sounded so cold, so impersonal. A word like that had nothing to do with any

part of his life.

Alex. Everything came back to Alex. If not for him, Nick would have

refused this film. He wouldn’t have agreed to kiss another man. He’d never

have experienced such a kiss, and he’d never have had the chance to enjoy it. He

was angry all right. Angry that Alex had made him feel such things, made him

want to feel even more, and not because Nick feared being gay, but because

he couldn’t see a future where he could have Alex, not the way he wanted.

“Do you think you’ll be through glaring when we get to my place in, oh — ”

Alex glanced at his watch “ — in another fifteen minutes?”

Jumping a little with guilt, Nick shifted in his seat. He hadn’t even known

he’d been glaring.

“Life throws you lemons,” Alex chided.

Nick’s anger hadn’t gone away. The emotion simmered. He hated the way

Alex always seemed able to read him. “I hate fucking lemonade.”

“Are you aware you always revert to swearing when you’re freaking out?”
“I’m not freaking. I’m… Never mind what I’m feeling. Are you aware what

a fucking moron you can be?”

They glanced at each other before laughing. Nick let his head roll against

the back of the seat. He’d slumped, legs and arms crossed. He didn’t think

he could move. When they reached Alex’s place, his friend might have to roll

him out of the car — even carry him.

Nick struggled to sit up, tried to take control of his body even if he was

unable to control his thoughts. He wouldn’t have Alex carry him. Over the

threshold, into the bedroom… Nick suppressed a shudder. He didn’t know

what was worse: the idea, or the image popping so readily into his mind.

He was still visualising when Alex stopped the car. Nick hadn’t been aware

the gentle purr of the engine afforded him comfort until the vehicle fell silent.

Calm and Chaos: Acting Out

Silence and darkness; somehow, the quiet attacked him, an onslaught to his

senses.

Alex sat in the driver’s seat, waiting. Although tempted to ask what he

waited for, Nick already knew. Alex waited for him to get out of the car. Or

rather, he waited for Nick to decide to get out of the car. Alex might carry him

into the house if he asked for the help, but Alex wouldn’t force him.

He shot a glance in Alex’s direction, full of uncertainty. No doubt waiting

for Nick to move, and therefore aware when he did, Alex turned his head to

meet that gaze. Despite looking away immediately, he saw enough of Alex’s

expression to witness the gentle patience and understanding there.

Taking a deep breath, Nick fumbled for the handle of the door. He stepped

out into the night, grateful for the cooler air, would have gulped the breeze

down like water if he could. Alex’s car door slammed shut in the way one

couldn’t avoid even when trying to do so quietly out of respect for the neigh-

bours. Nick closed his door straight after. He tried to tell himself his intention

was to create less of a disturbance, but he was lying. He closed the door in a

hurry before he could change his mind. If he asked Alex to drive him home,

would he?

He looked across the roof of the car at his friend and decided that, no,

Alex wouldn’t. Maybe before they had both exited, but not now. Getting out

of the car signified a line drawn, one he’d just crossed.

There was parking out front for two cars, and from there, the path led

to the front of the house. Alex let Nick walk ahead and slightly to one side.

He didn’t think Nick would bolt, but the image of him dashing off into the

darkness crossed Alex’s mind. He wouldn’t have been surprised to sense waves

of tension coming off Nick, but his friend appeared more stunned than tense.

Unlocking the door, Alex stood to the side. Nick stepped over the thresh-

old like a man facing a death sentence. He grew paler even as Alex watched.

That could be a trick of the moonlight, but Alex didn’t think so. Nick peered

about, seemed to scan the silent street; as the door opened, Nick hurried

inside. No sooner had Alex closed the front door than Nick turned to him,

his movements jerky, stumbling.

“Alex…” Nick said his name, running out of words.

The sound of his voice said everything. Nick no doubt felt lost, looking

for an anchor in a turbulent sea. Alex reached out, cradling one side of Nick’s

Sharon Maria Bidwell

jaw and neck. Light stubble scraped his palm. He might have expected Nick to

recoil, but he didn’t. Nick leaned into that touch, swaying a little on his feet.

Although Alex had known as soon as they’d kissed on set that they’d end

up together tonight, he hadn’t quite planned how that would happen. He

guessed that Nick would want endless rounds of talking, and that, eventually,

he’d have to silence those lips with an even hungrier and as devouring a kiss

as they’d exchanged for the camera. He just hadn’t expected that moment to

come so soon.

No. Not yet.

The thought flittered through Alex’s mind even before he acknowledged

the reasons behind his thinking, rather as if his brain processed the answer

before receiving the question. He wanted to jerk Nick into his arms, be as

rough as his instinct dictated, but he dared not. Nick tilted his head, his eyes

growing heavy, forming half-lidded slits full of question. Nick needed guidance

in this, and for that, Alex needed to defeat his instinct. He liked to fuck hard,

harder than many women, and even some men, liked. He had to treat Nick

gently for now, and while that wasn’t something that came naturally to him,

he experienced a surprising pleasure at touching Nick so gently. Alex took just

a moment to set in his mind the vision of that face, pale lashes fluttering, lips

beginning to part, before he closed his own eyes and pressed their lips together.

That decision was the right one. Nick didn’t relax, exactly, but he didn’t

panic. Alex kept up the gentle pressure of his lips as, with a quick peek from

one eye, he reached out to set his keys down on the sideboard in the hall.

He did so quietly, afraid that even small, everyday sounds would bring Nick

around; he knew Nick, understood his reactions, and knew how to handle

him. He wanted to cocoon Nick in the moment, not let him think until too

late. Maybe that sounded degenerate, but what was the alternative? To let

Nick lose his nerve? To storm out? To live in denial all his life?

Alex intensified the kiss by degrees. He liked kissing, and Nick seemed to

enjoy the exchange. In encounters with men and with women, seduction for

Alex always began at the mouth. Even so, the kiss was indubitably a prelude

of better pleasure. In some ways, Alex could be an impatient lover, and he

curbed his desire to get on with things, to strip them both naked and get to an

expanse of overheated flesh. A kiss was an intimate introduction, and if there

was one thing Nick needed, it was a slow preface.

Alex increased the pressure of his lips, pushing against Nick’s mouth

until Nick opened just a fraction to him. Even then, he allowed a few more

seconds to pass before he introduced his tongue. Nick gasped, and along with

drawing in air that played coolly over their lips, he drew in Alex’s tongue more

deeply. In response, Nick’s tongue moved in tentative circles. Alex allowed Nick

Calm and Chaos: Acting Out

to progress with the kiss, only meeting what the other gave. Their mutual

exploration was gentle, inquisitive. Alex enjoyed the investigation more than

he’d expected, but despite his firm level of control, he could enjoy the lead

up only so long. He wanted to intensify the kiss, but the hallway by the front

door was not the place. He had to secure Nick, make his prospect for escape

more difficult.

Pulling back from the focus of their lips, Alex made sure that his touch

remained just the right side of possessive without edging over into intimida-

tion. His stepping back was a gradual release that maintained their physical

connection for as long as was feasible. Covertly, he watched Nick’s face for

signs of agitation. He saw what he had hoped to see. Uncertainty tightened

Nick’s expression, but he also stared rather longingly. Even when Nick’s gaze

wandered, his eyes moved in response to their separation.

Alex gripped Nick lightly about one wrist. “Come with me,” he told him,

keeping his voice hushed, his tone hovering somewhere close to seduction,

non-threatening. When he tugged, Nick followed, and although Alex wasn’t

entirely happy with the dazed look to Nick’s eyes, he directed him to the

bedroom.

A small strip of garden on either side of the house met in front of the

small dock that in turn led down to the water; the property’s surrounding

fence guaranteed privacy, so Alex seldom drew the blinds in any room. Nick

might feel uneasy with the bedroom window uncovered, but the soft white

light of the moon was the perfect illumination. He didn’t have to strip Nick

naked to know how he would glow in that radiance. He’d seen Nick enough

times in various modes of dress — and undress — to know.

As he drew Nick forwards, his friend cast one glance at the window and

then acquiesced, allowing Alex to lead. When Alex shrugged off his jacket

and kicked off his shoes, Nick did the same. Really, he should have removed

these items in the hall, but he had wanted to get Nick into the bedroom. Alex

closed the door firmly behind them.

Once they were shoeless, Alex moved in before Nick’s ambivalence got

the better of him. Knowing how drawing his fingers through Nick’s hair had

affected him, Alex did that now, though to a lesser degree than he had done

on set. Catching his friend’s gaze with his own, Alex held him imprisoned

with his stare as he deftly moved on, unfastening buttons, revealing Nick’s

taut nipples, the hard line of his stomach. He enjoyed tugging Nick’s shirt

free from his trousers. The action caused Nick’s eyes to widen a little, his

breath to quicken. Alex traced with his fingertips the line of muscle the open

shirt revealed, deftly mapping the lower curve of his ribs, delighting in his

Sharon Maria Bidwell

100

friend’s leanness. A good thing his fingertips were warm — Nick’s expression

conveyed enough shock.

Pausing just long enough to remove his own top, Alex tossed the garment

over the back of a chair. The expression on Nick’s face when Alex turned back

sent a strange thrill through him. He didn’t care how much Nick protested;

the look in his eyes said that he liked what he saw. Alex knew desire when he

saw it, and he enjoyed others looking at him with longing. Nick’s lust was a

pleasure in itself.

Taking possession with his hands on Nick’s hips, Alex pulled Nick against

him. Although Nick came to him, he also arched back so that there was a

gap, a separation between them other than where he held on tight. Nick did

nothing to resist Alex’s kiss; when Alex delved into the warm cavern of Nick’s

mouth, he swallowed down Nick’s answering moan. He escalated the kiss, and

the more hungrily he worked Nick with his mouth, the more Nick stopped

pulling away and leaned in to him.

Nick couldn’t believe this was happening. He couldn’t believe he was letting

this happen. Even more so, he couldn’t believe he was enjoying the experi-

ence so much. He’d always thought Alex handsome, beautiful even, in some

undeniably masculine way. Now that he’d accepted he wanted Alex, like this,

in just this way, he couldn’t remember a time he hadn’t felt that way. Nick had

long accepted he could only have Alex’s friendship, and if that had remained

true, he’d have happily carried on. Friendship with Alex was better than not

having Alex in his life at all, but so much remained a mystery to him. Did he

like men or just Alex? If he liked men, why hadn’t he come to terms with his

feelings before now? At least realised? Why hadn’t he looked at other men?

Nick couldn’t find the answers to all those questions now, not in one night or

even a few, and not while Alex had his hands on him.

He wouldn’t have thought a man touching another man could be so mas-

culine, but Alex was definitely male. Alex could be gentle when he wanted to

be — as he had demonstrated in his initial kisses — but beneath the tenderness,

Alex had a spontaneous edge to him. That rough intensity was what made Alex

believable in action roles. If Alex grabbed your head in both hands and kissed

you on the mouth, you heard strains of the Godfather tune and believed your

life in danger. The only thing Nick knew was definitely in danger was his…

could one call it virginity? As lost as he was in the moment and the kiss, in

the feel of Alex’s warmth seeping into his skin, ultimately, intimately deeper,

reality threatened to tear a scream from his throat because this would change

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101

things, and once changed, Nick didn’t know whether he could ever accept their

relationship as it used to be. The sensible decision was not to do this, but Nick

felt too lost in his need to stop now.

As if he knew, Alex pulled Nick against him, pressed their bodies together

so even through their trousers, two blossoming erections rubbed against one

another. Nick gasped, and in answer, Alex’s hands cupped his buttocks, pull-

ing their groins together tighter, rubbing and pressing. His tongue snaked as

far as possible into Nick’s mouth, the deep nature of the exploration — Nick

couldn’t call the exchange a kiss any longer — sealing their lips, stealing his

breath. Nick was slightly shorter than Alex, so his head tilted back, while their

nipples brushed against the hard plains of each other’s chests. Nick could do

little other than cling.

He clung, wishing he had the strength to pull away. He clung, letting Alex

devour him, gasping for air when Alex finally allowed him to breathe. He clung

when Alex tried to separate them enough for things to continue.

No.

This was fine. This he could tolerate. He couldn’t let this go further.
Tears stung his eyes, irritating and frustrating, anger growing at the emo-

tions. Alex wouldn’t want a lover who burst into tears. He especially wouldn’t

want a male lover who acted like some crinoline-clad lady from a Victorian

melodrama. Nick pressed his lips to Alex’s neck, seeking a moment of respite.

He hadn’t changed his mind — far from it. He just needed time, a few breaths.

A chance for his heart to stop clamouring in his chest. The light taste of salt

on Alex’s skin had the opposite effect. Nick had rocked his hips, thrust once,
twice

, up, into, and against Alex before he realised. Alex’s hands caught and

held him still even as Nick groaned and shook in that embrace.

“Shh. Hush,” Alex whispered, even the huff of his breath against Nick’s

ear causing unspeakable desires to uncurl within his body, mind, and heart.

“Just let it happen.”

That last part emerged quieter still, but Alex might as well have shouted.

Just let it happen.

Some part of Nick very much wanted to do so. Some part

of him was terrified. He didn’t need anyone to tell him this would change

his life forever. He already knew that. He just didn’t want to acknowledge

the fact because he couldn’t see how his existence would ultimately change

for the better.

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102

Alex loved Nick’s response, enjoyed the exchange, examined the moment

through Nick’s reactions. Every nuance of feeling surged back and forth

through Nick, conveying itself as twists and turns, little jerks of Nick’s body,

the relaxing and tightening of his muscles. He wanted to get Nick on the

bed, but he hadn’t been sure the moment was right until Nick thrust against

him. Alex very much wanted to explore his own pleasure by seeking out what

delights he could find in Nick’s trembling form.

Alex gave Nick another devastating kiss and then pushed him back, throw-

ing him down on the bed. Nick fell back onto the mattress, bouncing, his eyes

wide. Nick watched as Alex unfastened his belt and pulled the strip of leather

free, folded it, and then tossed the strap aside.

“Undo your belt, Nick,” Alex instructed, wanting to see whether Nick

would do as he told him, and with shaking hands and faltering movements,

sure enough, Nick fumbled the buckle open.

Placing one knee on the bed, Alex leaned over him, deftly unfastening

and spreading the fly of Nick’s trousers. Capturing Nick’s gaze with his own,

he leaned down, only looking away as he swirled his tongue in Nick’s navel.

Nick reacted the way Alex hoped he would. He gasped, lifting his hips, and

Alex had his trousers and underwear down before Nick could blink — which

he did in apparent surprise. Wriggling out of the last of his own clothes, Alex

joined Nick on the bed, restraining him with an arm across his chest even as

Nick’s muscles bunched. One glance from Nick’s cool blue eyes confirmed

what he suspected. Nick had been about to roll off the bed.

“Coward.”

An actual flush flashed through Nick’s skin. Alex fingered Nick’s hair, judg-

ing that Nick would find the petting action soothing. Nick’s gaze still looked

questioning, still as uncertain as when they’d begun. Despite wanting to move

beyond foreplay, Alex leaned in to kiss Nick again. His reward was Nick lifting

his head to meet that kiss. This time, Nick’s mouth was open, eager to receive.

Nick’s tongue writhed with his, the kiss mutual.

While they kissed, Alex’s hands walked over Nick’s torso. It was so odd

to touch sculptured lines that he knew so well on sight. His couplings with

men had always been abrupt, unplanned, brief, and definitely unemotional.

Even the men he’d enjoyed sex with more than once, their connection had

been purely a physical release. He and Nick had history, and whatever this was,

even if he chose to call this “just sex,” would change their future relationship.

He didn’t know why, but Alex enjoyed this on a level he’d never experienced.

Maybe he felt that way because this was Nick, a man he shared an emotional

attachment to, or maybe it was his own perverseness.

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103

When Nick’s hand rose to flutter uncertainly against Alex’s skin, latching

onto his side, it was all Alex could do to swallow down a groan. The idea that

Nick’s reaction to him could affect him so deeply caused him concern, but

his response was as natural to him as breathing. He increased the strength

of his grip, altered his kiss to one of devouring hunger, rolled with Nick, and

pressed him back into the bed.

The very feeling of imprisonment, at Alex’s disposal, apparently redirected

what little blood still managed to feed Nick’s brain. Last fleeting thoughts went

through his mind, questioning what he did, his feelings, whether he’d have

regrets…concerns swiftly lost to him. His focus narrowed to groping hands

and an increasingly hurried application of body contact. There came the

brush of flesh and unyielding press of bone, strength, and hard, fast grasping

of hands. Then…then he felt the harsh brush of stubble and the delightfully

rough contrast of hair rubbing him where he would have expected to feel

smooth skin. The sensation confused him for a moment, allowing reality to

sink in. He was with a man. He was having sex with a man.

The heat of Alex’s crotch sinking between his thighs, two hard erections

bumping, silenced any possible protest. Nick had opened his legs, accepting

Alex’s body duelling with his without conscious thought, but now, even as he

revelled in the closeness, small sibilant voices began to sneak in.

Oh God! He wanted this. He did, but he was so afraid of what Alex wanted

and wasn’t sure he felt ready for…the ultimate sacrifice. He could mentally hear

Alex laughing at the use of such words, but he couldn’t bring himself to put

the thought into plain language, not even in his head. He wanted this — Alex’s

touch and strength, and hands, and gasps, grasping and rolling, rocking heat,

hard kisses, and less than tender bites. He just wasn’t sure he wanted more

than this. Yet he did. Even as he rejected the idea, part of him wished for Alex

to hear his silent challenge. If only Alex would force him, not because of some

fantasy but to drive him past his fear — fear of this first experience, fear of the

unknown and their unknowable future.

Yet again, as if he understood, Alex ground his groin into him. That rigid

cock and its surrounding shelter of hair created a hard and rough friction that

made Nick’s cock weep with joy. He might be on the verge of weeping himself.

Eyes tightly closed, his lips compressed, an intense look of concentration

tightened Alex’s face. Nick watched and savoured that expression for a few

moments before Alex looked at him.

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104

He’d been sure that if Alex caught him looking, he’d turn away in embar-

rassment. That was crazy to think it was okay to do this as long as they didn’t

see the acknowledgement in each other’s eyes. Nick didn’t look away. He

snaked his arms around Alex’s sides, holding on tight. His legs hooked around

Alex’s thighs. He met Alex’s force with equal speed and thrust.

He’d never last. The reality of being naked with this man, of having that

glorious body rub against his was too much, and yet he wasn’t quite there.

Already, overstrained muscles protested; his thrusts waned. As delightful as

the connection felt, he found the position difficult to maintain. Maybe if he

hadn’t done a long hard day’s work already, he wouldn’t feel the strain. Part

of him wanted to laugh. Part of him wanted to cry.

“Come on, Nick,” Alex urged, rolling them so that Nick lay on top.

The gruffness in Alex’s voice backed up an order Nick couldn’t deny. The

new angle gave his hips freedom. Even as Alex gripped him, controlled him,

rocked their surging cocks together, Nick answered the demand. He snagged

his fingers into Alex’s hair, grateful he had so much of it to ensnare, held Alex’s

head where he wanted, and crushed his lover’s lips with his. Not so much a

kiss as a clash of teeth — a snarl of pent-up desire released on their mingling

breath. An insane thought backed up the force of his kiss: maybe he could

make Alex love him. The cry that tore out of Nick’s mouth came simultane-

ously with his release. He couldn’t be sure what filtered through to him first:

the sweet pulsing, or the flood of wetness that naturally lubricated their thrusts.

More experienced in this than Nick, clearly this wasn’t enough to send

Alex over the edge. Nick hadn’t even started to calm down when Alex took

hold of Nick’s hand to place those fingers around his erection, the hot satin

sensation at once familiar and new; Alex enclosed that hand in his fist.

That Nick had lost himself in the moment, Alex never doubted. Those

wide, alarmed eyes told Alex what was happening, the fact that Nick had his

hand around another man’s erection, burned its way into Nick’s brain. The

parted lips and the heavy breathing that went with those eyes also said that

Nick was turned on by the idea. Alex used Nick’s hand, moving the limb as he

wanted to jerk himself off, sometimes with the push and pull of Nick’s fingers,

sometimes with a thrust of his hips. As he felt the inevitable tide coming closer,

Alex looked down. As he hoped, Nick looked down also. They both watched

as he sprayed thick and strikingly white against Nick’s tanned stomach. Their

fluids mingled as they writhed.

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105

Nick fell back, clearly stunned. Alex would have preferred to bask in the

moment, but Nick would already be examining what they had done.

Their hands glistening with mutual pleasure, Alex took Nick’s hand, trap-

ping the limb between his thighs, testicles pressing and pushing against Nick’s

fingers. The position also held Nick trapped, kept him close. Alex lifted his

own hand, using a finger to tilt Nick’s chin upwards. He leaned in, watching

even as Nick closed his eyes.

Kissing his lips at the side, Alex whispered, “I’m not through with you yet.”
He backed up that promise by sweeping a wet thumb, gleaming with

semen, across Nick’s closed lips. His friend’s eyes shot open the widest yet

before narrowing. Alex met little resistance when he pressed his thumb insis-

tently against Nick’s mouth. Nick parted lips swollen from kissing, and Alex

sank his thumb past the barrier of teeth, pressing and stroking Nick’s tongue,

coating it in Nick’s own release.

The war waged in those blue eyes, but Alex had set out to conquer his

friend’s fear. Even as he withdrew his thumb, he leaned in for yet another kiss.

They shared breath, spit, and the tang of reciprocal pleasure.

Alex pulled back just enough to look into Nick’s eyes even as he gathered

him in his arms. “Get some sleep.”

It took seconds for the command to take hold, for Nick’s eyelids to look

heavy, flutter closed. For a time, they could drift and not think about what

any of this meant.

Too bad for Alex, he lay staring into the night and found he wasn’t very

good at taking his own advice.

Chapter Twelve

ick awoke to a nasal assault at once appealing and disagreeable. Sweat.

The light in the room had grown a little paler, an indication of dawn. A

confirmation of birdsong battered his ears. Over-stimulated senses protested.

The early grey light illuminated the sharp angle of Alex’s nose, outlined the

strength of his chin. The light played over the bow of his lips, drawing Nick’s

attention to Alex’s mouth. Nick had been aware of the smell of sweat because

he lay curled against Alex, his face practically buried in his friend’s armpit. With

his head lifted, the smell wasn’t so bad. In a way, the scent wasn’t bad at all,

induced by their recent exertions. Beneath, he could smell other things — the

musk of Alex’s skin and the distinctive odour of sex.

What have I done?
As far as questions went, the thought was hardly original, though apt. He

couldn’t deny what he’d done.

Am I gay?

That question was more lucid, but the only answer he had was confusing.

It would have been simple to say yes, but he’d had sex — very good sex — with

women. Fine, maybe not for a while, but he’d had sex with females. His attrac-

tion to men consisted of Alex. Was he gay or just obsessed? As to feelings, he

experienced only a strange kind of blankness or numbness. A lack of thought

or feeling held him in a cool, unforgiving grip. He should be able to wallow

in the moment. If one night was all he could have with Alex, he should have

been able to treasure the time spent together.

Alex had taken things easy on him. That was the one certain aspect in

all this. A mutual jerk-off hadn’t been what Alex wanted, and yet he’d been…

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kind

. Torn between relief and dismay, Nick swallowed, blinking against the

burning sensation at the back of his eyes.

Alex took in a sudden, deeper breath that Nick could hear as well as see

by the rise of that exquisite chest. Then Alex opened his eyes and blinked.

His face tightening, Nick was aware that he frowned. He just wasn’t

sure why. Alex had been sleeping with his arms thrown back over his head.

Now he lifted one arm and brought his hand down to brush through Nick’s

hair. When Alex moved his hand and swept a thumb across Nick’s lips, Nick

opened his mouth. They stared at one another, searching each other’s gaze.

Now wasn’t the time for talking, so the room remained silent except for the

backdrop of birdsong. Even their breathing was something Nick felt more

than heard. He did nothing to stop Alex’s thumb from entering his mouth.

That thumb stroked over the pad of his tongue. Nick closed his lips around

the digit, never once looking from Alex’s stare as Alex’s gaze lowered. Alex

watched Nick’s lips purse around his thumb. Almost as if something he’d been

born to do, Nick sucked.

The skin around Alex’s eyes tightened. He hissed. When Alex’s other hand

settled on Nick’s shoulder and then applied pressure, Nick resisted only for an

instant. He relinquished his hold on Alex’s thumb, the digit coming away wetly

with a small sucking sound. Sliding down the bed and Alex’s length until his

mouth drew waist level, once there, Nick bestowed kisses along the hard line

of hipbone, short coarse hair tickling his chin and aggravating the outline of

his lips. A hand at the back of his neck encouraged without quite forcing him.

That was good. He needed something just a little more than encouragement.

Nick looked at Alex’s evident interest, let the bulbous head nudge his chin

before seeking that small opening with the tip of his tongue. He delighted

in Alex’s grip tightening, in another hiss escaping his lover’s lips as a result.

He hesitated, unsure if he should be doing this — and not because he

didn’t want to. “Is this safe?” Nick asked, feeling stupid even as the question

broke the quiet intimacy.

Alex blinked at the unbearable innocence in Nick’s voice. It took him a

moment to realise what Nick meant, and as his mind caught up, even in the

soft morning light, he could see Nick flushed with embarrassment.

“I’m clean,” Alex said.

He was, but he shouldn’t expect Nick to accept his word. Nick did, though;

even as Alex opened his mouth to tell Nick to stop, Nick at once fastened his

lips, not at the tip of Alex’s cock but taking the organ in deeper so that his

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108

lips formed a seal around the ridge. A busy tongue made Alex see stars, arch,

and move to push Nick away, only to grasp at him instead. He managed to

say, “Nick,” and then his arguments fell away on a bright burst of pleasure.

Nick surely performed on instinct, because no one would believe he hadn’t

done this before, not unless they knew better.

When Alex could focus, he looked down, longing to see the sight of

Nick’s mouth full, his lips stretched. That was exactly what he saw, and his

heart tripped in his chest. This was Nick. Strait-laced, neat freak that he was,

Alex had always cared for him, loved him in a way. The emotions that burned

through his chest now were something altogether different. The vision of

Nick, eyes closed, expression rapt, lips wrapped around a hot, hard cock was

something Alex had never expected to see. To call the sight erotic fell far

short of reality. Alex’s testicles and stomach tightened, and he had to think

of dirty laundry and shopping lists before this ended too soon. He wasn’t

ready to come, and Nick wasn’t ready to let up. Those strong, suctioning lips

descended until Nick’s gag reflex kicked in. Nick’s throat tried to expel the

intrusion; Nick fought and lost, yet didn’t just pull off; he eased up, leaving a

trail of saliva bathing the rigid flesh.

Alex groaned, not caring if Nick heard. He struggled against the pull

of desire that demanded he grab Nick at the back of the head to force him

down. He didn’t need to. Without any instruction, Nick gripped him with his

mouth, keeping his teeth out of the way, and began an up and down action

that settled the outcome for them both.

The force of Alex’s orgasm took Nick by surprise. So did Alex pushing him

back at the last moment. Nick caught a taste before a warm splash struck his

chin and neck. What little he could see blurred in the dim light and his lack

of focus. It took him moments to recognise the plane of Alex’s stomach, the

muscles flexing in a hard rise and fall as Alex shuddered in undisguised pleasure.

He had brought Alex to this, changed him into a juddering wreck of a

man. Nick half-smiled, amazed to find he wasn’t devastated. He raised a hand

to wipe at his chin, noticed he had semen on his skin, and…embarrassed

by his actions and his reaction — not disgust, but quite the opposite — Nick

turned his face away.

He wished he had more experience. Wished he’d taken more time kissing

Alex’s stomach and thighs. He wished he had delved into other areas. What

would it feel like to press his tongue against the soft sac containing a heavy

pair of testicles? He didn’t even know whether he’d have a chance to find out.

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Was Alex going to dismiss what had happened between them? Was he going to

laugh at Nick’s ineptitude? At the back of all that lay the underlining thought

that he shouldn’t be doing this because no good could come of it.

A warm, heavy arm pulled him close. Reaching down, Alex tugged the

cover over them both. This time, he didn’t tell Nick to sleep. This time, Alex

fell asleep first. Nick didn’t know whether Alex purposely failed to reciprocate,

ignoring that Nick hadn’t had a chance to reach his own climax. Maybe Alex

just wasn’t thinking that clearly, relaxing as his breathing eased into the regular

pattern of sleep. Nick’s cock wilted as a smile spread over his lips — lips that

a moment later, he licked. Alex’s taste filled his mouth. Alex’s smell encom-

passed his senses. At last, Nick had a moment with Alex he could cherish

long after this was over between them. Nick fell asleep at some point as he

watched Alex sleep.

“About last night.” Alex crunched into a slice of toast. The look Nick cast

his way appeared at once shy and expectant. “That is, I mean this morning.

I’m sorry I fell asleep. I wasn’t thinking.”

The hour was still early, and he’d only slept a short while. Neither of them

had managed much sleep, and they needed to dash out to work. Alex glanced

at the clock, aware they should have left five minutes ago, but he’d be damned

if he’d rush Nick out the door. They needed to talk.

Nick shrugged. “It’s not as if…” He stopped.

“What?”

Why wouldn’t Nick speak his mind? Surely Nick knew he’d never let up

until he got the details out of him. Apparently, Nick did know. A tentative

smile hovered over his lips.

“It’s not as if I didn’t enjoy myself,” Nick whispered.

Alex munched on more toast. He could tell by Nick’s manner that little

confession had cost him. “Are you okay?”

“Fine.” Nick gave the pat answer.
“I mean about being gay.”

He waited, but all Nick did was blink.

Alex stood, pushing back from the breakfast bar where they sat in the

kitchen. There was enough room for two to share a meal, if the two people in

question were happy to sit close. “I’m not one for talking or very good at the

touchy feely stuff, but it occurs to me that you might need some help with this.”

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“And you’d be that person?” Nick sounded understandably sceptic.
“Only because there’s no one else.”
“Thanks.” Now Nick’s tone conveyed sarcasm.
“I didn’t mean to imply… Hell!” Alex moved away, pacing. He ran a hand

over his head to the back of his neck, leaving the hand there when he turned

and looked at Nick from under his brow. He needed the comfort of his own

touch. The Lord only knew what Nick thought. “I’m crap at this. I wasn’t

trying to say thanks for the memory, let’s forget it ever happened.”

“Weren’t you?” Nick sounded sullen.
“Is that what you want?”

Nick shrugged.
So they were going to dance around each other. Well, that was just great!

Put two men together and what did one get? One got two uncommunicative

males. He didn’t know where he’d read that, but the statement rang true. One

surely didn’t get one dominant male — well, not always — and a substitute

female. At least, it didn’t look as if that would be the case in this relationship.

Relationship?

Alex shook his head, lowering his hand as he did, refusing to let his mind

wander in that direction. Still, he needed to do better than this.

“Are…you…” Nick paused, gaze shifting in Alex’s direction and then dart-

ing away so quickly he looked like a trapped animal hoping a larger, hungrier

creature wouldn’t notice him. “Do you feel gay?”

Given the circumstances, Alex could understand the reason for the ques-

tion, although the phrasing struck him as a little odd. “No.”

Nick blinked, probably surprised he’d answered right away. Moving back

to the counter, Alex folded his arms, leaned on it.

“Okay, we’ll get my part in this out of the way. I’ve been living a bisexual

life, in that to date, I’ve enjoyed sex with women and on occasion with men.

Not that I’ve had many men in my life.” He watched Nick’s eyes widen and

then relax as he digested this information.

“As to what makes a person gay or straight, I can’t say. I believe people

are inherently born with their sexuality, but it can take time to figure out. I

guess finding someone you can fall in love with sometimes dictates. I’ve yet

to find that person, so I’ve remained undecided, although I think at heart I’m

gay, or at least I’m leaning that way. As for feeling gay, I don’t think there’s any

such thing. People are who they are, and it’s taken me time to realise that I’m

most comfortable, intimately, with men. Sex is just sex to me. The lack of

emotional input has probably contributed to my own lack of realisation. In

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your case — ” Alex stood up, aware of how Nick would take his next statement

“ — I’ve suspected for a long time that you’re gay.”

Nick jerked in his seat. “Why?”

“Think about it. You don’t show much of an interest in women, in going

on dates. You’ve slept with…how many women is it? None in the last year,

anyway.”

“How would you know?”
“Because many men boast when they’ve had a piece of ass.” Alex deliber-

ately phrased the word the American way. Ass, arse, fanny, snatch; all meant

the same to him, but Nick wouldn’t appreciate hearing that. The American

use of the word fanny amused Alex as falling a few inches short of the mark.

“I wouldn’t,” Nick protested.
“No, you wouldn’t.” Alex smiled. Nick was nothing less than a gentleman.

“But you’ve nothing to boast of. I know you. Maybe better than you know

yourself. Or so last night suggests.”

Nick opened his mouth, his expression argumentative, but said nothing.

Alex noticed that Nick saw the moment he looked down to Nick’s mouth and

back up again. He couldn’t help wondering if both of them were remember-

ing what Nick had done with that mouth a short while ago.

“You’re gay, Nick.” Alex pressed the point home as gently as he could. “It

doesn’t matter what I am or what I want in life. It doesn’t matter what comes

after last night between you and me. It does matter that you think things over.

It’s going to affect the rest of your life. It’s going to affect your chance at hap-

piness. That’s all you need worry about.”

“Will you help me…find out?”
“You know I will.” Alex meant it; he just squirmed a little as Nick’s face

underwent an intense look of relief and…happiness.

At the door, Nick used the peephole to look out. Alex almost asked what

he was playing at, and then he guessed. Nick had looked around the street

last night, too. “Expecting someone?”

Nick swallowed. “Drake.”
Not surprised but concerned, Alex asked, “He still bothering you? Because

you know...there’s freedom of the press, but there’s also such a thing as stalking.”

“I said something like that to him last time I saw him. He gave me this

speech about the road and pavement being public domain. Then he asked

whether I had anything to hide. Seems he was right.”

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112

“I hope you don’t mean that in the biblical sense.” Alex hooked a finger

under Nick’s jaw, rubbing across morning stubble with his thumb. “There’s

nothing wrong with being gay.”

“I know that. I just want my private life. Besides, this is precisely the angle

Drake’s been edging. I don’t want to confirm things for him, not like this.”

“Don’t let Drake get to you. Even if he does find out, hold your head up.”
“I’ve been trying. He just makes me sick. Have you looked in that man’s

eyes?”

“You mean snake eyes?”

Nick shot him a look of surprise. “Worse than that.”

“If there’s muck to rake, call Phillip Drake.”

Nick laughed. The sound made Alex want to shiver with pleasure. There

was a flash of the man he knew and…loved. The question was, just what did

that love signify?

Chapter Thirteen

he blade came from the side. Nick turned but wasn’t able to block in

time. In a flash, Alex was there, the silvery gleam of his sword catching

the light and sending a white arc as he deflected the strike. A quick plunge

and Nick’s attacker lay dead. They had time to glance at one another, a quick

nod of thanks, before they were back in the action.

Thwack.

“Ow!” Nick cursed, his blade spiralling from his hand.

King yelled, “Cut,” and someone rushed in to check the hand Nick cradled

to his chest.

“I’m okay. It’s fine. Just numb.” Nick shook his hand, encouraging the

blood flow to return, grinning sheepishly. “Some macho swordsman I make.”

Laughter drifted throughout the set. The director called a break while

Nick had his hand checked and worked to get his fingers fully functioning.

The weapons were far from sharp, but they were weighty. Apparently, they

weighed substantially less than they would if they were real and not a specially-

created prop. They weighed more than Nick liked, but that was necessary to

make them appear authentic.

The worst part was that if he hadn’t been distracted by the sparkling

warmth in Alex’s eyes, maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t have been slow on

that last swing, and he wouldn’t have got his hand whacked. Although the

limb felt just as he’d said — a little numb — he couldn’t afford a broken bone.

The studio couldn’t afford him to have a broken bone. Stuntmen would fill in

for most of the skirmishes, but he and Alex had talked their way into doing

anything they possibly could. They hadn’t undergone four months of fight

school for nothing. Nick needed to concentrate, but Alex’s stare had taken

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114

him so unawares. That bright, questioning look carried a world of knowledge,

or maybe that was just a manifestation of Nick’s longing. He owed the studio

not to let his personal life interfere with his work. He owed Alex and himself.

He also owed it to himself to… What? Be honest? What about? Oddly

enough, Nick had never examined his sexuality. Both Alex and Shelley were

right: Nick had never considered his future aside from work. Being married,

settling down, the wife and two-point-four children had never entered his head.

He’d always put his lack of interest down to being involved with his career. In

essence, he’d lied to himself, made half-hearted attempts to form relationships

with several attractive women, and worked himself to exhaustion whenever

he’d felt melancholy around Alex.

“You okay?” Alex’s deep voice shattered his thoughts.

Nick nodded.

“Nick?” Alex’s tone dropped an octave.
“The hand’s fine.” Nick flexed his fingers.
“I wasn’t asking about the hand.”

The grin blossomed over Nick’s face before he could stop. “Yeah,” he said.

“I’m doing fine.” He risked a glance at Alex, immensely pleased by the concern.

The happy, hopeful look on Nick’s face was almost too much to bear.

Alex tried to scowl at him, but his expression only made Nick laugh. They

moved back into position. The scene was too complicated and precarious to

do numerous takes. King told them from where he wanted them to pick up

and said the last sequence looked so good, he would edit accordingly, just to

keep the take in. Alex was betting part of the reason the last sequence looked

so good was owing to the way he and Nick had stared at each other. Trust

King to know he’d never capture that look again.

He couldn’t deny that something about Nick’s performance had changed.

Alex had noticed, and King had, too; he’d be damned if the entire production

crew hadn’t noticed. Probably the only one who hadn’t was Nick.

King confirmed his thoughts when he said, “He’s picked up the pace

perfectly.”

The director looked across to where Nick stood with the stunt co-ordinator,

listening intently to his instructions. If only King knew why Nick had picked

up the pace just right. Talk about art reflecting life.

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115

In the film, Eliseo and Ismael had become lovers. In a sense…well, Alex

wasn’t sure if one night of sex indicated they were lovers, but apparently,

that one night had done something for Nick’s tension. Ironically, they hadn’t

yet filmed the major love scene, the one that led to this very battle — the last

action sequence of the film — and the last to be recorded. At the end of that

scene, outside forces threatened their lives because of their love, the antagonist

using their relationship as the excuse to initiate a war just so he could rule.

The idea wasn’t exactly new. Bigots had used such excuses to reign as tyrants

in every generation throughout history. What would be unique about this

film was their interaction, the way it would blend with the gang war in the

modern scenes, and the method used in both realities to defeat the bad guy.

This section of filming reflected a happy interlude in their lives, despite the

on-going war. Nick looked happy.

Which left the question, what did he do about Nick? For that matter,

how did he feel about Nick? Alex could see the expectation in those blue eyes.

Fortunately, that reflected in the storyline. Nick was giving a wonderful per-

formance because his feelings were on such a high. Even now, Nick turned

to him and grinned.

Mentally shaking his head, Alex went back to work.

“Your room or mine?” Nick whispered.
“Nick.” Alex tried to interject enough warning in his tone.

Nick just laughed. “Relax. No one’s listening.”

“In our line of work, you have to assume someone is always listening. Just

because someone like Drake can’t get past security doesn’t mean no one here

will talk to him.”

At least Nick had the humility to pull a face.

“But that’s not the point.” They’d just finished having their make-up

removed. Alex wanted nothing more than a shower. If he let Nick into his

dressing room, he had the sense to know that Nick might be sharing the shower

before many minutes went by. “Have you given any thought to what I said?”

“Hmm?”
“About your life. Nick…” Alex gave up.

They rounded the corner, entering a deserted corridor, and the next

thing Alex knew, Nick was pressing him against the wall, forcing their mouths

together. Much emotion existed in that kiss — too much. Alex resisted. Nick

pulled back, puzzled.

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116

Shaking him off, Alex walked on. It felt rather as if he was fleeing, but

that was fine with him. He would shower at home.

When Nick rang the doorbell, Alex was expecting him.

“Do you know how much it costs to get out here this time of night?” Nick

brought a whirlwind of complaint and cold air over the threshold.

Alex stepped aside; he wouldn’t have left Nick standing out there on the

doorstep even if he’d been furious with him. He wasn’t furious, although his

feelings were definitely disagreeable.

The same expectation he’d seen earlier still shone in Nick’s eyes when he

turned. A hand reached out, hovering uncertainly. Alex moved away. Nick let

the hand drop.

“So it was just the one night.” Nick made a statement. “Despite what you

said.”

“That’s not…” Alex ran out of words, paced, and ran a hand through his

hair.

“No,” Nick said, as though he used the word instead of saying everything

was fine. “I’m just trying to understand. I want to be clear.”

“Nick.” Alex didn’t know why, but he reached for him.

Nick pulled away and moved into the living room, probably because the

hall gave them no option but to stand close.

“I get the message. Stand up to people like Drake. Be gay and proud. Just

don’t do so around you.”

“Of course I want you around.”
“Around, but not want.”
“I…want.”
“Then what?” Nick rounded on him. “Do you want to make love or not?”
“That’s just it.” Strangely, Nick had just said the very thing that enabled

Alex to express what he was thinking. “To you, this is making love. To me,

it’s — ” He stopped, silenced by the fire in Nick’s gaze.

“Sex,” Nick said. “Fine.” He carefully enunciated the words. “Do you

want to have sex?”

Suppressing a sigh, Alex tried again. “Did nothing I say sink in? To make

love, there have to be feelings other than just physical ones involved.”

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117

“You don’t care who you sleep with because you don’t have an emotional

investment. I get it.”

“That’s not…” Frustration made him stop. He did have emotions where

Nick was concerned, but there was no point examining his feelings while Nick

had so many things to work though. “I told you to sort yourself out. I said I’d

help you do that. I didn’t mean…” What had he meant? He wasn’t explaining

this very well. “I’m the first — no, only — man you’ve been with. I just don’t

want you to…” He stopped again. This felt like too much of a girly moment

for him. He didn’t want Nick to imprint on him, but how could he say so? “I

just think you need to consider whether — ”

“You keep telling me I’m gay,” Nick interrupted. “You told me you’ve

always suspected.”

“True.”

The left side of Nick’s mouth pulled tightly in a twisted sort of smile.

“How can I ever know for sure…if I don’t give it a try?”

Give it a try? Alex caught himself grinning. His brain told him not to take

advantage. His anatomy perked right up with a distinctly different inclination.

Setting his misgivings aside, he asked, “What did you have in mind?” Even

as he asked, he considered whether that question was a mistake. Definitely

seemed to be, for Nick winced.

“I…” The teasing humour faded; the certainty died.

Alex moved closer, deliberately invading Nick’s space. When Nick made

a move that suggested he might slip to one side, Alex blocked him. Instead of

aiming for a lip lock, Alex tugged Nick’s collar aside. He almost smiled as Nick

blinked in apparent surprise. Alex lowered his head, brushing Nick’s collarbone

with his lips. Again, he’d chosen the right move. Nick relaxed, allowing Alex

to slip one arm around his waist. Alex concentrated on tasting Nick’s skin for

a few moments before drawing back enough so he could talk. Even then he

kept his head dipped, talking to Nick’s shoulder. To meet his friend’s gaze

would disrupt the quiet intimacy between them. This wasn’t sex, not yet. This

was a friendly moment — one he hadn’t expected, but welcomed. Nick was

surprisingly comfortable in his arms.

“Say what you were going to say,” Alex whispered.
“I…” Nick swallowed, maybe gathering his courage. “I want to know

what it’s like.”

“It?” Alex failed to understand; under his fingertips, Nick tensed.
“You know. It.”
“Ah.” Finally, Alex’s brain kicked into gear. “You mean anal sex.”

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118

He couldn’t help it; he just couldn’t. Even as Nick went rigid in his arms,

Alex’s face split with an ear-to-ear grin. Struggling not to laugh, he wrapped

Nick up in his arms. In the tussle, Nick managed to pull back enough that

Alex had to look at him or make a great show of fighting. He failed to school

his expression in time.

“You really are a fuck, you know? Only you could find this funny.”
“It’s not funny.” What could he say? He was a fuck, and a good one, but that

wasn’t what Nick meant. Lost for eloquence, he stroked Nick’s face with one

hand, all the while keeping a grip on him with the other. “Are you sure you want

that with me?” He very much wanted to screw Nick. He very much wanted

to be Nick’s first, but he should ask if only to give Nick time to reconsider.

Confusion softened the look on Nick’s face. “Who else?”

An unexpected spike of displeasure made Alex step away. They stood

close, but no longer touched. He almost said, “Thanks,” with a heavy lacing

of sarcasm. What did he expect? For Nick to declare undying lust if not love?

Wasn’t that precisely what he’d been trying to talk Nick out of doing? Regard-

less, how could Nick not know the remark was so insulting? Even as Alex tried

to tell himself he was bigger than that, in no way needy enough to have to

hear Nick verbalise his feelings, his jaw started to tighten. He was pissed off.

“If…” Nick began, stressing the word. “If I decide this is what I want… I

mean…” Colour rushed into Nick’s face. “If I am gay…” He stopped speak-

ing and shrugged. “Even if I’m not...” He stared down at the floor, seeming

to study his toes before glancing up almost shyly. “If I’m going to do this, I

want it to be with you.”

Nick’s colour deepened even more while Alex stood there, suitably cha-

grined. Nick hadn’t meant that Alex would do because there was no one else;

he’d meant he wanted Alex to be his first. He should be the one blushing, and

if he were the sort to do so, no doubt he would have. Alex could no more

blush than refuse such a sweet revelation by a good friend.

Chapter Fourteen

ick’s impatient hands almost rent his clothes, would have if not for Alex

taking hold of his wrists, slowing everything down.

“Patience,” he whispered.

Knowing that they were definitely going to do this, Alex now wanted

nothing more than to plough into that untried and tight orifice, even though

he wouldn’t. Pain was the last thing Nick needed. Despite his eagerness, he

clearly felt edgy. Those emotions registered in Nick’s expression and his body

language. Nick probably didn’t even know he’d licked his lips and curled

over his lower lip, catching the skin briefly with his teeth. He probably didn’t

realise that his eyes darted this way and that, as if he didn’t know where to

look. Even when Alex peeled off his shirt and Nick looked at his chest, his

eyes turning bright with interest and then his gaze darted away as if he were

a naughty boy caught staring.

Alex took hold of Nick’s hands, drawing them to his chest. Considering last

night, they should have been over this part, but this was a whole other night for

Nick. He was doubtlessly considering how to lie back and think of England.

“You can touch me, you know,” Alex rebuked mildly, spreading Nick’s

fingers over his chest.

Nick’s eyes widened as he did as Alex instructed and then narrowed in

concentration. Somehow, Alex knew the way to start with Nick would be with

kisses. He knew the way always to begin with Nick would be with kisses, but

he took a moment to watch Nick looking at him, gaze travelling, making the

same journey as his fingertips. Then Alex leaned in, slanting his head as Nick

tilted his head in turn. The kiss felt like nothing: gentle, mild, an introduction...a

way of saying hello to each other, to reconnect. The quiet moment was what

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they needed while Alex slowly stripped Nick, eventually to lay him back naked.

There Nick lay, nude and silent, expectant and questioning, a little scared. Alex

shook his head, a universal gesture of Never mind, it’s nothing, and then leaned

over to feast on Nick’s lips.

From a drawer, Alex took hold of the things they needed before he slipped

onto the bed. Although Nick clearly wanted this, the amount of eye contact

they exchanged surprised Alex. His part in this — the responsibility — hit Alex

then. He would change the way this man thought of himself, his outlook on

life, maybe even his future. That didn’t mean the future was the two of them

together, but if Nick decided he preferred men — and Alex remained convinced

that Nick was gay and just hadn’t accepted the fact, had subconsciously driven

the desire back — then this could prove to be the turning point. Nick might

well have married, possibly even fooled himself into believing that he was

happy, had kids, gone through life, always feeling that something was missing

and not realising or accepting what that something was.

Or he might have spent the rest of his life alone.

Alex could very well change Nick’s life tonight, but that didn’t mean to

do so would be a bad thing. He could well change Nick’s life for the better.

To do that, Alex had to make this a thing of beauty, of lovemaking, not rut-

ting — not tonight. Lovers rutted at times, but Nick wasn’t at that stage yet.

Nick’s gaze fell to the items Alex set aside on the bed. He swallowed, the

lump in his throat bobbing nervously. Noticing Alex looking at him, Nick tried

to joke. “If that’s a condom in your pocket, I guess you’re happy to see me.”

Alex ignored the poor humour. He understood the reason. Lube and

condoms were all he’d laid on the bed, but the items sent a very definite

signal. They both knew what was about to happen. Alex set the pace with

more kisses and caresses. He let Nick grow used to his touch and his presence,

their bodies brushing against one another, skin making soft whispers in the

otherwise quiet room. Finally, the moment came when their lovemaking had

to progress. A certain part of Nick’s anatomy had already progressed nicely.

As Alex pulled back, ready to take his mouth and tongue to other places,

to perform an investigation that would leave his friend gasping, Nick tensed,

hands clawing Alex’s arms and sides.

“How… How do we…” He didn’t have to finish.
“Leave this to me,” Alex whispered, trailing his fingers over Nick’s brow,

down his face, to his chin, brushing, sweeping over his skin gently to soothe

him. Even as he gentled Nick, Alex’s innate mischievousness got the better of

him so that he spoke with a grin. “But I want you facing me.”

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The slight widening, brightly flashing realisation of what he meant shining

out from Nick’s eyes was reward enough. Alex gave Nick no time to object.

He moved, paving his way with his lips and tongue, painting a haphazard

trail, little marks of saliva like tribal tattoos over Nick’s torso. To his surprise,

although he’d intended to keep this slow, Nick picked up the pace, squirming

under him, begging for more. Whether Nick was aware, Alex didn’t know.

Nick’s mind wasn’t exactly the most intelligent part of him right now; in all

likelihood, little blood remained in the man’s brain.

He nibbled at certain parts of Nick’s flesh to gauge his reaction and grinned

in triumph when he discovered Nick was particularly sensitive at the hips. He

bestowed a lingering kiss on Nick’s cock, ignoring his own desire to devote

more time and attention to it. He didn’t want Nick going off too soon, and

this was still such a new experience for Nick. His friend’s writhing and the

little gasps and moans that escaped him said as much. His hands grazed the

bed covers, desperate snags of the fabric displaying a need that tested Alex’s

own level of control.

Only when Alex lifted Nick’s legs did the tension return. Alex could almost

feel Nick’s burning gaze, but he avoided looking up. Instead, he set to the

task of kissing Nick’s thighs, sweeping in, lightly tonguing the heavy weight

that hung between Nick’s legs. Slowly, distracting him, Alex managed to ease

Nick’s knees back to his chest.

He looked down, and there was the point of entry he’d been looking for,

just as tight, tender, and pink as he’d imagined. Tonight would be a first for

him, too, for he had it in mind to do something he’d never done before. He’d

had it done to him, and he knew how it felt. It would drive Nick wild.

Fucking H Christ!

Stars spiralling in his head, Nick jerked and might have bounded off the

bed in sheer pleasure if Alex hadn’t had hold of him. When he worked out

what that wiggling, tickling sensation was and opened his mouth to object,

Alex had already pulled back. Nick heard a vague snap, and by the time he

remembered the lube bottle, Alex had already used the lubricant to ease the

way for the passage of his fingers. He’d already used his tongue to open Nick

up a little and was now using his fingers. Two by the feel. Alex wasn’t fooling

or waiting around. The sensation didn’t…hurt exactly. The intrusion was

strange and somewhat uncomfortable. If two fingers felt like that, then no

way could something larger force its way inside.

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Nick lifted his head to say he couldn’t take the stretch, the discomfort

was too much, and then Alex touched something that made Nick fall back

into the pillows. He whimpered. Good God, he’d truly whimpered! Trying

for eloquence, he moaned instead. Gasping, huffing for breath, he finally

managed, “Fuck!”

Alex replied with a resounding chuckle. Nick shook his head even as Alex’s

fingers scissored open inside him. Now that was decidedly uncomfortable.

“No. I…can’t. It…”
“I know,” Alex told him. “This gets easier.”
“When?”
“When you’ve been screwed a couple of times.”
“A couple of…” Nick stared at the ceiling. He would have to put up with

the discomfort for a couple of times?

“Even the first time won’t be without pleasure,” Alex assured him. Then

he set out to prove he was right.

There came another moment just as Alex nudged into him when Nick

protested. Ignoring the complaint, Alex rocked his hips, applying pressure,

gentle nudges that Nick’s mind and body would find harder to withstand. Even

so, Nick’s hands caught at him, trying to push him aside, and Alex grabbed

those appendages, pushing them out of the way.

“Nick. Nick.” When he finally had Nick’s attention, he asked, “Do you

really want me to stop?”

He watched, searching for any signs of regret or true fear, but that wasn’t

what he saw. His friend considered the question well enough, but Alex also

saw acceptance and resignation wash in. Nick shook his head. Whether the

move was intentional or not, his legs opened, the way their bodies linked

became more accommodating.

“This will work,” Alex assured him. He didn’t blame Nick for his reticence.

He was tight and having a hard time, despite Alex trying to ease his way in.

They continued, rocking together, Alex reaching over and stroking Nick’s

face. He watched as Nick’s face tightened here, displayed a tic there, and winced,

showing signs of discomfort and flashes of pain. He also listened to Nick’s

tight breathing, heard when his inhalations changed. Each gulp of air became

harsher, rasping through his chest. Nick’s hands stopped pressing against him

in protest and turned into claws of need. His expression altered; the distress

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123

was still there but changing into the type Alex recognised as arousal. Nick

stopped trying to push him away and instead tried to pull him in. The only

reason Alex held back was that if things turned too rough, Nick would regret

it. Alex would save that for another time.

Although Alex remained as much aware of what was happening to his

own body, he felt distanced. He was, no doubt, just as flushed, breathing just

as harshly, and he could hardly ignore the fact that his cock lay buried some-

where tight and hot; however, the expression on Nick’s face captivated him too

much. He was the cause of this man’s pleasure, and on some level he hadn’t

wanted to acknowledge before now, Alex believed this wasn’t just a physical

thing. He and Nick had always felt comfortable in each other’s presence. They

had been more than comfortable, if he were honest. Alex cared about Nick

just as surely as he knew Nick cared about him.

Was that love? If anything happened to Nick, the loss would break some-

thing inside him. Alex would miss him. He would cry over him. He would

probably crawl into a bottle for a few weeks, if not months, so maybe that was

love. What he gained from watching Nick’s expression as his gaze pleaded was

far from simple. He was the cause of Nick’s agonised pleasure. He received

pleasure from Nick’s enjoyment as much as his own.

“I…I can’t,” Nick rasped out on a gasp.

Alex wasn’t sure what he was saying. Whether Nick declared that he

couldn’t last or he couldn’t stand another minute, neither mattered. Alex

encircled Nick’s cock with his grasp and lost himself to the roll of his hips

in rhythm with his grip. Even then, at the peak when he just knew he would

fill the condom in another couple of thrusts and he felt the warm splash of

Nick’s release, he stared at Nick’s face. Alex savoured the twisted torment he

found there until the sweet pulsing of his own orgasm forced his eyes shut.

There came a brief moment upon waking when Nick forgot who, and

where, he was. The amnesia lingered for only an instant. With clarity came

the wish that forgetfulness would return. Nick possessed no desire to remem-

ber that he lay in his friend’s bed, that he was more than a little sore, slightly

bruised and abused. In truth, he didn’t mind the soreness, or the bruising, or

even the abuse, but his lover’s absence made him pull the sheet up over his

head, digging down under the pillows. He knew how he had acted last night.

He didn’t need telling. How could he face Alex? How could he face the ridicule

that Alex was certain to aim in his direction? What did Alex think of such a

wanton display?

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“Wake up, sleepyhead.”

Nick wasn’t sure what surprised him more: that the bed dipped with

Alex’s weight, proving that he had returned, the gentle words Alex used, or

the affectionate tone. Well, naturally they had affection for one another, but in

truth, that tone conveyed more. Far more…unless that was just his imagination.

“Hey.”
“Hmm?” Nick tried his best to rouse himself.
“Early start, remember?”
“Oh. Yeah.”

Nick moved to roll out of bed, moving gingerly, checking his body. He

supposed he’d have to check some functions when he reached the bathroom,

but…things returned to normal, didn’t they? Having no experience, how could

he know? Had Alex ever been penetrated? He couldn’t imagine so. Neither

could he imagine asking that question any more than he could ask whether

overstretched muscles would tighten up. He would have to make do with

hoping so and finding out in time. If one tightened up too much…

“You’re thinking too hard.” Alex always seemed to know when his mind

was preoccupied.

“I just… It’s rather new to me.” The meagre explanation would have to

suffice.

Alex stood and leaned forwards, one hand reaching out. Not that Nick was

inclined to pull away, but Alex’s hand slipping around his neck and tugging

him closer surprised him. So did the kiss — a non-intrusive good morning that

set Nick’s lips tingling and his blood on fire despite the gentleness.

When Alex pulled back, Nick couldn’t decipher the look in his eyes. Alex

seemed to inspect his face, but what he looked for, Nick couldn’t begin to guess.

“What?” he asked.
“Nothing.”

That was an evasion, not a lie, but the idea that Alex had avoided the

question speared Nick. It occurred to him to wonder if last night were the

night, meaning the only night, and not just for the first time. Despite the pain,

he already wanted Alex inside him again. He just didn’t want to think why.

He guessed Alex was right and he was gay, but he’d never done anything like

last night. Yet, why else would having Alex so close make his cock tingle, the

delight making him put off the urgent need of a trip to the bathroom?

Without thinking, Nick leaned in. Alex’s arm, which had settled at his waist,

slipped down to a buttock. Nick curled the fingers of one hand around Alex’s

sleeping cock. Even while flaccid, Alex’s penis filled his palm in a satisfying

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125

way, warming quickly, maybe even swelling a little. He’d not had much time

to play with this body. There was lots they could still do, wasn’t there?

As he touched Alex, so Alex touched him, a hand slipping lower and

inwards. Fingers sought out that small, but not quite so tight circle, traced a

teasing ring around it that made Nick jerk and caused Alex to chuckle. The tip

of a finger pressed, freezing him to the spot. His paralysis didn’t come from

fear, but expectation. Alex leaned in to kiss his brow. As Alex pulled back, he

also took his finger away, leaving Nick feeling the withdrawal as something

he’d lost.

“Work,” Alex reminded him.

Did he sound regretful? Nick felt certain he did, although his eyes sparkled

in that teasing way. Trying not to hope for anything he probably wouldn’t

receive and shouldn’t even contemplate, Nick struggled not to bite his lip

when his heart leaped for joy in his chest. Did Alex feel more than he’d admit?

“It’s going to look great when I turn up for work in the same clothes, again,”

Nick stated moments later when he emerged from the bathroom.

He’d done that yesterday when he’d spent the night with Alex, too. No

one seemed to notice, but someone might if he made a habit of doing so, par-

ticularly if he made a habit every time he turned up with Alex. Should he leave

some things here? Was that…like having a bottom drawer? Wasn’t that a little
too

advanced for what had happened so far? Would he even get to stay again?

“I don’t think my clothes will fit, but you’re welcome to try.”

Nick hesitated, his casual clothes bundled in his hands. Even the informal

garments had brand names that cost a small fortune. Wear something from

Alex’s wardrobe? Even if something fitted, the lack of a brand would make

it obvious he’d borrowed them. If Alex knew what he was thinking, he’d be

pulling a face. “It’s fine,” Nick said. “I wasn’t hinting.”

He spoke the truth and wasn’t being a snob. As much as he cared for Alex,

he could definitely imagine the rumours starting if he turned up in clothes

from whatever high street supermarket Alex currently shopped. What could

he bet that Phillip Drake’s eagle eyes would notice? Yes. Eagle eyes, not snake.

He’d blissfully forgotten about the reporter until now, managed to set aside

even more pressing problems than Drake. Problems regarding his family.

Alex didn’t answer. He just drew back the sliding door of the wall fit-

ment. Nick gaped. Forgetting all about Drake, forgetting all about Charles,

Nick stepped forwards, clothes falling from his hands as if his garments were

yesterday’s rags. Feeling as if he’d stepped into a dream, he fingered the garb

hanging in regimented fashion amidst dark panelling — so different from the

tumble of casual clothes he usually saw in the freestanding wardrobe on the

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126

other side of the room. Ignoring Alex’s chuckle, it took several moments of

staring and touching to realise he could see the clean cut of the suits owing

to concealed lighting. Did the lighting come on just by opening the door? He

rather believed so. There hung Armani, but he also recognised Prada; however,

what shocked him the most were the three Christian Lacroix suits.

“I’m not a complete philistine,” Alex murmured. Despite his mocking

tone, he sounded amused.

“I thought you didn’t care about clothes. I thought you didn’t approve

of…” Waving a hand at the collection of fine suits only led Nick to spy another

designer label.

He glanced at Alex long enough to see him roll his eyes while muttering

something about children starving in the world. He had a point, but Nick knew

what he liked. He liked these suits, longed to see Alex wearing one.

“The clothes themselves do nothing to interest me. It doesn’t mean there

isn’t a time and a place for them, and unfortunately, some of those times and

places are upon me. Here. These might do.” Alex handed over a top, some-

thing casual but well cut. “If you at least change your top, maybe no one will

notice you’re wearing the same trousers.”

Nick dressed, still staring at the wardrobe, still distracted by the thought

of Alex in one of those suits, of slowly stripping him out of the garment.

Maybe the fantasy seemed peculiar while they were dressing, but he couldn’t

help where his imagination led.

“You don’t know everything about me,” Alex said.

The remark finally made Nick tear his gaze away from the wardrobe. Did

he look that shocked? Shame made Nick frown, but didn’t Alex understand

that what he wore had never bothered Nick? Such things had no bearing on

their friendship, nothing but the most superficial bearing on his thoughts

right now. They were views he didn’t know how to share without sounding

insulting, so Alex would have to think whatever was going through his mind

right now. How did one man tell another how he felt about him? Stripping

Alex out of a suit didn’t seem to be the answer.

“Last year, I didn’t know you had sex with men. I guess one revelation is

more than I can take in one lifetime.”

“Oh, I think you’ve had a few revelations yourself this week,” Alex replied

with a grin.

Chapter Fifteen

“

ake a twenty-minute break. Set up the next part of the shot.”
People scurried to obey King’s instructions. That meant a twenty-minute

break for everyone, but a longer one for the actors. The next part of the shoot

was quite complicated, requiring moving a piece of track and two new camera

positions to shoot two angles simultaneously, to be intercut in the editing.

Many of the crew hurried over to the catering wagon. Nick sauntered

along. Alex hadn’t been in the last shot, so he’d gone for a break earlier. Nick

met up with him as he was leaving the food wagon. He carried two lidded

containers filled with coffee, if the smell was anything to go by. Bags that had

turned a little transparent with grease gave off an aroma of bacon that made

Nick’s nose twitch appreciably. He didn’t know whether the bacon perked up

his senses and made him follow or his cock led the way.

They were on location yet again, somewhere Nick couldn’t pronounce.

He’d fallen asleep on the way and woken in the middle of the night in Wales.

Not that he had anything against Wales. He’d found some wonderful beaches

in Wales, but why couldn’t they film somewhere such as New Zealand? Oh

well, maybe for the next film. At least they had actual caravans — or should

he call them trailers? — for the two-night stopover. Most of that time, they’d

be filming, but they were down to the last shots. They had four weeks left,

maybe two or three if King’s luck held. Even though today had been one of

those to try the most patient temperament, the production remained within

budget and slightly ahead of schedule.

Nick almost stopped in his tracks at the thought of their time ending, but

Alex struggled with the items in his hand, so Nick rushed to open the door

of the trailer they shared. He didn’t know whether down to budget or fate

Sharon Maria Bidwell

128

laughing in their faces, but someone had decided they could share the same

space. They would be alone tonight, although most of the crew planned to

make use of a local inn for a late dinner.

The crew had arranged enough meals, which no doubt would include a

few rounds of drinks, to the delight of the owner. Even so, taking over the inn

had made for some rather-disgruntled residents. They weren’t impressed with

the film crew. Only a couple of young women in the village seemed to know

who they were. When Nick and Alex had heard the squeals, they’d gone out

of their way to sign things for the girls, to hand over any publicity material

they could rustle up. The two delighted fans had quickly told their families and

friends they had celebrities in their small neighbourhood, and schoolgirls had

come out in droves. The teens were suitably impressed. The puzzled looks of

some of the older generations hadn’t escaped anyone’s notice. Clearly, their

celebrity status didn’t yet extend to anyone much over the age of thirty, but

Nick, Alex, and a few other members of the group had smiled, scribbled their

names on odd pieces of paper, shaken hands, kissed cheeks, put arms around

shoulders, and posed for cameras with unhappy security guards looking on.

At least most of the residents had stopped frowning at them after that,

and a few even lingered at the edge of the boundary watching — funny how

everyone often seemed less impressed when they learned that the film pro-

cess was all less magical than they’d anticipated. Today mostly consisted of

standing around in drizzle — perfect for the shot but playing havoc with the

equipment and temperaments — just to take a few minutes of film. With

only one scene gone to the rushes and only time for a second, if they were

lucky, this wasn’t a good day. King had shot more retakes today than at any

other time and even snapped when Nick got a line wrong, making Nick fear

whether he was concentrating enough.

Hearing his name, Nick turned, waving to one of the onlookers before

stepping into the van. “Is this what my career comes down to? Jumping to

attention because a schoolgirl screams my name?”

“Would you prefer a schoolboy?”

Nick shot Alex a look. “I was commenting on fame not…”
He shook his head. Alex was teasing. He shouldn’t have taken the com-

ment any other way. Catching one of the bags Alex tossed his way, Nick’s

disposition improved. Sure enough, the wrapper contained a bacon roll. Both

men set to their food in silence.

“The rain’s making your hair curl.”

Nick frowned, pulling a strand round so he could see. Damn if Alex weren’t

right. He’d have the make-up department spritzing him and using those damn

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straighteners on him again. At least they were filming the modern scenes now

and he no longer had those damn plaits.

“It makes you look…” Alex began, but then stopped.
“If you say cute or adorable, I’m going to hit you.”

Alex grinned, shoving the last of his roll into his mouth as he reached for

his coffee. Nick did the same, sinking into the rich aroma and finding a few

moments of peace.

He lost the sense of peace when Alex invaded his space and took the cup

from his hand. A minute or two later, Alex pulled back for air.

“Hmm,” he said. “Coffee and bacon. Such a great combination.”

Coffee- and bacon-flavoured kisses, Nick assumed, for that’s what they’d

been doing the last few minutes. He wouldn’t have thought Alex was one for

kissing, but he seemed to want to kiss more and more. Not that Nick objected…

exactly. As delightful as the kisses were, that wasn’t what he wanted to think

about right now.

“We’re nearly finished,” he said, and he couldn’t be certain whether he

meant making the film or the two of them.

He looked to Alex’s face for reassurance, although he didn’t even know

what kind of assurance he longed for. He didn’t know what he wanted from

Alex. Since that night when Alex had fucked him — he didn’t know why, but

he found the vulgarity easier to use than to mention love — they’d kissed,

mutually jerked off, even had a few quick shags, but to date, they’d not had

the opportunity for another long tumble in bed. They’d done it in this very

trailer, hard, hot, fast, between takes. They’d had sex in the bathroom of a

hotel room, Alex leaving Nick hiding behind the door when interrupted, hop-

ing that no one asked to use Alex’s toilet before they went down for dinner.

He’d had to bite on his hand to stifle a giggle when one of the visitors asked

whether Alex had seen Nick. Alex’s calm denial had spoken to something deep

inside Nick, making him semi-hysterical.

Tonight would be the first night in a long while that they’d have some

time together, and even that might not be much. They would also need sleep.

They had another long day in a muddy field before wending their long way

home tomorrow evening. At least he’d be able to sleep on the way back the

same as on the way here.

“It’s not you,” Alex said.
“What?”
“It’s not you. That’s not why the scene took so long. It’s the weather.”
“I hate how you seem to know what I’m thinking.”

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130

Alex laughed. “I’m amazed you don’t seem to know my thoughts.”

“I dare say I have a good idea.”

They laughed together, but the joke felt strained. Did Alex really think

about sex as often as Nick imagined? Nick felt certain he thought about sex

more than Alex ever did. Much of his thinking involved simple lust. Some,

love. Sometimes, he was uneasy, even a little scared. No longer afraid of

making the film or of being gay, he had good reason to question that discon-

tent. His nervousness over touching another man was long gone. He’d been

disconcerted by the idea of being penetrated. Done that a few times now,

so no fear left there. Was he still afraid of people finding out? Yeah. He was

petrified of that idea, but he had enough sense to know why he was afraid.

Once the world knew, there was no going back, but even that was only part

of what filled him with despair in those quiet solitary moments when he had

too much time to think.

Nick knew what he wanted — believed he had always known — and he

couldn’t have what he wanted, not long-term. Hope had dwindled with the

passing weeks. Sex wasn’t love, and he wasn’t ready to put his sexuality out

there for the world to comment on while he had so many things to work

through. He anticipated grief in his future: grief and loss, and his needing

time to heal before he could even consider a relationship with someone else.

He didn’t want to share his pain with the world.

“It’s not difficult to read you.” Alex had moved away, finished his coffee.

“And stop fidgeting in those jeans.”

Modern scenes called for casual clothes, but Nick wasn’t used to wearing

jeans. He pulled a face. “I guess I could get used to them.”

“Good. Because I want to see you in them occasionally.”
“Why?”
“Because you look fucking hot, you idiot.”

Alex would have sounded frustrated even without the uncommon use

of a swear word. Nick blinked at him. Alex looked over and then turned his

gaze away, appeared thoughtful, and then looked over again.

A peculiar moment stretched out between them in which Alex stared at

Nick and Nick stared back. Predictably, Alex grinned. That look was a little

self-deprecating, a little rueful, but Nick wasn’t fooled. He’d caught a glimpse

of Alex’s emotional state. He just didn’t understand what he’d seen and didn’t

dare let himself hope again.

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131

It was incredible that Nick had no idea how adorable he looked when he

was perplexed. Alex often loved to do or say something bewildering just for

the hell of it. This time, his slip had been just that: a lapse on his part. His

emotions didn’t bother Alex, although he wasn’t ready to dissect them yet; he

simply wasn’t very comfortable with declaring his feelings. He wasn’t one for

telling men or women that he found them attractive, beautiful, or…whatever.

Surely they knew that, or he wouldn’t be with them. Stood to reason. So why

did women need the verbal confirmation? Why did Nick? Yet he’d experienced

a moment of frustration there over Nick’s lack of awareness, both of his own

qualities and how Alex felt. What was Nick waiting for? For Alex to tell him

he loved him? That sure as hellfire wasn’t going to happen even if in time it

proved true. Such declarations were unnecessary. Right now, they were enjoy-

ing the sex; why complicate things?

“Work,” Alex reminded Nick, demolishing the staring, starry-eyed look

on his friend’s face. If he stood there much longer, he knew exactly what he

would do with Nick — to Nick — and they didn’t have time. That didn’t mean

he had to stop thinking about sex.

Alex thought about sex all the way through filming, managing to fluff

his lines.

He was still thinking about sex when he and Nick finally got out of cos-

tume and headed down to the local inn for dinner. He was thinking about sex

as he ate dinner, when he downed a couple of pints while Nick drank wine,

and when signing a couple more autographs. He was rehearsing the scene

even as they said goodnight to the rest of the cast and crew and trudged to

their trailer.

No sooner were they inside when he dragged Nick against him. He fas-

tened his mouth to Nick’s to cut off his protests. He had the condom ready

and the lube lined up a few seconds after he’d dragged off Nick’s top and then

his own shirt. Then he was back to Nick’s lips, to fumbling with the fastening

of his fly, battling with his own trousers, getting them down, kicking them off.

Nick moved to one of the beds, and Alex grabbed him, lifted, pushed, dumping

him, forcing him to sit on the workspace in front of the mirrors. The mirrors

spiked other ideas, particularly the one where they stared at each other in their

reflection. How would Nick react if he spun him around, made him stare in

the mirror as they had sex? He could almost feel his fingers tangling in Nick’s

hair, demanding he watch, but he had no time for that, his need too urgent.

An application of cool lube made Nick pleasantly slippery. Looping Nick’s

legs over his shoulders, Alex glanced down to watch his fingers sinking in,

opening Nick for his use. He couldn’t tell whether Nick clung to him and the

counter out of terror that the surface wasn’t strong enough or because of what

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was to happen. As wonderful as it was to have Nick in such a compromising

position, the angle was wrong and wouldn’t work.

Alex pulled back, catching Nick’s legs, wrapping them around his hips.

He rolled the condom into place and then surged in, giving Nick no letup

and little time to adjust. Nick’s gasp might have been one of pain, and maybe

there was a little discomfort in his expression, but the look quickly changed.

Nick bit his lip so hard, Alex considered telling him to ease up, dismissing the

notion as fast as the thought came. Let make-up cover the blemish if Nick

marked his lip. If Nick made his lip bleed, Alex entertained the crazy idea that

he would lick up the blood.

Terrible temptation, stupid. Nick had already asked if condoms were nec-

essary. Alex was clean, and he would bet his life that Nick was, too, but unless

he was in a serious relationship with someone — serious enough for them to

both have tests and then rely on trust — he wouldn’t compound one foolish

act with another. He’d put Nick at risk letting him use his mouth just that

once. He’d pulled him off at the last moment but he wouldn’t do something

so thoughtless again, even if it were a bit like the horse galloping after the

cart, even if free from disease. He didn’t want Nick to get into the routine of

trusting someone. He didn’t know whom Nick might have sex with…in the

future. Wouldn’t teach him bad habits.

The thought of Nick having sex with someone else made Alex’s rhythm

falter. Nick looked up. Agony of passion not pain painted his expression with

that beauty Alex loved so well. When Nick’s expression turned pleading, Alex

settled in for long, deep strokes. When Nick’s hand reached for his own cock in

desperation, Alex grabbed both of Nick’s hands and held them down, pressed

between flesh and countertop. Alex held Nick open to him for his use, and

he could tell from the familiar sounds falling from Nick’s lips, the whipping

back and forth of his head, that Nick loved every moment.

Nick wanted more, but he didn’t know how to ask, especially when unsure

what that something more was. If he didn’t come soon, something inside him

might quite possibly die. Why was the prelude to release such agony? Why was

this journey such an uphill trek? Sex could be a fast jaunt to the beach, but Alex

turned sex into a pilgrimage. As for…this…what Alex was doing to him, Nick

didn’t have the words, couldn’t express it. He couldn’t understand why having

Alex furrow into him made him feel complete. Even as he struggled to the

peak, only a few strokes of his hand away — bastard for holding his hands — Nick

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133

dreaded the coming down. It was never enough. The moment they finished,

he would be wishing their bodies could fuse.

He fought to free a hand, but Alex restrained him. Alex had him spread.

He had Nick at his mercy, and praise be, Alex didn’t know the meaning of

the word.

Nick wanted more; he just didn’t know how to ask or what he wanted or

needed, but his body did, responding to Alex’s expertise so Nick felt it coming

even before he realised what it was. His pleasure was a pressure, a building,

a force outside his beckoning. It was all those things and none at all. It was a

wave, and it was devastating. His eyes closed. His head slammed back against

the mirror so hard, he wondered if he’d cracked the glass or his skull. His

body tightened and then released so he floundered and jerked, might have

jolted right off the counter if he’d not been trapped by Alex’s body. Still, Alex

kept thrusting into him so that the flashing thought sending rainbow-coloured

sparks off behind his eyes, I’ve come without being touched, went on as long as

the orgasm itself.

Chapter Sixteen

lana’s voice murmured along rapidly as a soothing drone rather like a

bee buzzing on the other side of the glass unable to sting. Unfortunately,

unlike a bee, Alana could sting more than once. She could be the equivalent

of a moody wasp.

“Are you hearing any of this?”
“Yes.” Forcing his attention to her face, Nick waited for her to tell him

to repeat her words, knowing he’d be unable to. She just sighed, closed the

folder, and waved the file in his face. “Manuscript,” she said. “Go. Read. You

know, it’s a pity you don’t share Alex’s attention span. How you learn your

lines is beyond me.”

Would another agent dare speak to him like this? Not that he blamed her.

He was preoccupied. He had no proof that Alex was having sex with anyone

else, but even if he weren’t, Alex could surely take sex as unbelievably casual.

Did Alex even consider sex more intimate than brushing one’s teeth? They’d

not had sex since that final night in the trailer, and Nick couldn’t decide whether

owing to lack of opportunity or —

“Nick!”
“What? Yes!”

Alana scolded him with her glare. “It’s a good job I wasn’t asking you to

agree to something. You would have said yes to anything just then. What is

wrong with you? If it’s exhaustion, you should — ”

“It’s not,” he piped in. “I am tired, but nothing a long weekend and some

sleep won’t fix.”

“Good, because the film isn’t out until next spring. But when the news

gets out — ”

Calm and Chaos: Acting Out

135

“News?”

His agent rolled her eyes. “So you weren’t listening.” She tapped the manu-

script. “King knows the moment Stages of Play hits the cinema, you’ll be

household names. He intends to snag you two if he can. He wants you for

future projects.” Alana beamed.

“Look — ” Nick rubbed his brow “ — this brings us back to the problem

we had in the first place. We didn’t want to be seen as a…partnership.” He

dithered over the word, annoyed with the hesitation. “Do we want to be

associated with only one director?”

“When the director is Robert King of Kingdom Enterprises, we do.” Alex’s

rich voice boomed in his ear, causing Nick to jump, not having heard him enter.

His friend was just there, leaning in, standing over him, gaze intent on the

paperwork lying open on the desk. The pose wasn’t exactly intimate, but he

stood close enough to make every breath carry a hint of his aftershave. Saliva

flooded Nick’s mouth in response. Why did Alex’s smell make Nick want to

run his tongue over him, tasting his skin?

“The money you’ll both make from these films will enable you to set up

your own production without risking every penny you have in the bank.” Alana

knew they had discussed the prospect. This could turn dreaming into reality.

Alex grinned across the table at her, and Nick wanted to reach up, snag

Alex’s collar, and drag those lips down to his. Owing to separate commitments,

he’d not seen Alex for a few weeks. Not even any phone sex for them. Besides,

Nick had tried to view the time apart as an opportunity to wean himself off

Alex. His longed-for hope that out of sight, out of mind would win out over

absence making his heart grow fonder

hadn’t exactly failed or succeeded. He’d…

coped. Until now. Seeing Alex again, his heart rate increased, his breath grew

short, and his body tingled. His eyes stung, his nose blocked up; he couldn’t

breathe. Even his brain turned foggy.

In contrast, Alex hadn’t so much as looked at him. How unfair was Alex,

making him feel things he didn’t want to and then plainly not missing him

one bit? Nick wanted to scream. No. He yearned to stand and punch Alex on

the nose. That was good. That was a masculine solution at least.

Was love supposed to feel so utterly shitty? He loved Alex and he’d missed

him, but Alex wasn’t even sparing him a look. Working commitments had

kept them apart the last few weeks; now work would bring them together

again, but work was all they could share.

Excusing himself from the discussion as soon as viable, Nick feigned a

headache, hurried out of the meeting, and sped home. An hour after leaving

Alana’s office, he stood looking at a suitcase, wondering whether to class the

Sharon Maria Bidwell

136

case as half-empty or half-full, clear the rest of it out, or throw more clothes

in. Would it look like cowardice if he just took himself out of the country for

a month? He didn’t get the chance to decide before the doorbell rang.

From his bedroom to the front door, Nick waged a short internal war:

open the door versus don’t open the door. Nick opened the door, telling

himself that the intimate side to their relationship was over. To an extent, so

was their working one.

“Feeling better?” Alex asked.

No, worse

, but Nick nodded. “Just a sinus headache.”

“They can be bad.”

Nick nodded again, stepping aside to let Alex in. “Glad you dropped by.”

He tried to keep his tone casual and his step light as he walked into the living

room. “I’m not sure that my own production company is the way I want to go.”

Alex’s tone took on a wary questioning falsetto. “No?”

“No. The way I see things, working with King again is only going to

exacerbate the problem of why we had to work with King in the first place.”

Alex laughed. “No one has to work with King. They’re lining up.”

“There is that. I meant — ”
“I know what you meant.”

Nick bristled. Alex didn’t know; he assumed and was doing what he usually

did — taking charge. Also pacing towards him. Nick took an involuntary step

back. The move was so deliberate on both their parts that they couldn’t help

freezing and looking at each other. Nick could read a world of knowledge in

Alex’s glower. He could only speculate what Alex read in his face. Did Alex

know Nick’s mouth had gone dry? Did he know he could barely breathe? Did

Alex know that his mind instantly flooded with thoughts, memories, images

of Alex leaning over him, laughing? He recalled those large hands wandering

over his skin, taking a tight hold, pinning him. He didn’t know what to say

and was sure Alex would have interrupted him anyway.

Alex took another stride.

Nick’s legs backed up against a coffee table. He had nowhere to flee.

“I know what your real concern is.”
“You do?” Maybe Alex should tell him, then. Nick could do with

enlightenment.

When he’d opened the door, Nick had planned to stress the importance

of working individually. That wouldn’t matter so much if what they truly

wanted was to move into production as they’d always planned, so he needed

to explain that he was having second thoughts on that, too.

Calm and Chaos: Acting Out

137

Are you really going to damage your career because…

Because what? Because

he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants? He’d never had trouble before. Hadn’t

worried about sex at all, ever, until…with a man…until…Alex. When he tried

to think of sex with other men, Nick couldn’t. He had only to close his eyes to

envision the width of Alex’s shoulders looming over him. The strength of his

hands, warmth of his eyes, and laughter in his voice — he loved all those things

about Alex, except he wanted more than that. What Nick wanted, he couldn’t

have, because Alex didn’t feel those things for him. Alex might be happy to

fuck around for the rest of his life, but that wasn’t the same as commitment.

This situation was new enough, diverting enough, for Alex not to feel bored.

Nick recognised the predatory look in Alex’s gaze and opened his mouth

to say no. Alex dived in before he could get the word out. He couldn’t speak

because Alex’s tongue filled his mouth, plundering. The aggression was more

than he’d experienced to date. Even when Alex picked him up, Nick failed to

do more than groan in complaint. The shock…and pleasure, of being swept

into Alex’s arms and kissed, punctured his resolved. His hands refused to

respond, and they were already crossing the threshold of his bedroom before

his fingertips fluttered around, pushing ineffectually against Alex’s chest. Mad-

deningly, feeling Alex’s muscles under that finely cut suit proved no help at

all. Too soon, Nick was clasping instead of pushing away. Then he was falling,

thrown down on the bed. They both stripped; Alex followed him down.

Surrendering to the kiss that followed, Nick gave in to the possibility of

smothering. Stubble rasped, scraped, burned across his skin. The pain spiked

his pleasure. The kiss felt new and different, hard. Alex’s aggression began at

Nick’s mouth, where he forced Nick’s jaws apart as if he intended to devour

him from the inside out, and then spread into every part where they touched,

where their hands grasped. When Alex released Nick’s aching member, the

hard, tingling flesh meeting a cool caress of air, Nick would have gasped had

not his mouth been sealed against Alex’s lips. When Alex moved, he tipped

Nick over, rolling him onto his chest, pushing him down, face pressing into

the pillows.

Again, every touch, even the act of flipping him, was all aggression — deli-

cious to Nick. The mattress compressed and released, making him bounce.

From the sounds and the way the bed shifted, Alex had to be reaching for his

clothes and plucking a condom from his pocket. Nick tensed. He didn’t have

lube. He didn’t have condoms, didn’t want to use one. If he were going to break

his vow and have sex again, couldn’t he just once have Alex come inside him?

One too many lectures forced him to keep his mouth shut; he was in no mood

to hear the same sermon again. If Alex said he was clean, Nick trusted him.

He was sure he’d guessed the real reason Alex insisted on the condom, and the

thought made his eyes sting with a mixture of fury, frustration, and misery.

Sharon Maria Bidwell

138

Without lube, Alex used spit, applying the saliva with his fingers first and

then — oh, sweet mother of — with his tongue. This one embarrassment Nick

had failed to conquer. He’d not done this to Alex because he was too shy to try,

and Alex wasn’t the sort to insist. Besides, Alex wouldn’t let him. There was

a risk of disease in this as with any sexual act — a small danger, but a threat

nonetheless. Alex having joked about Nick’s celibate years and how Nick’s

wanting so much sex was to make up for lost time indicated he believed there

was no threat. Still, although Alex had as good as said they were both clean,

he wouldn’t allow Nick to gamble. This simple fact annoyed Nick instead of

pleasing him. Part of him felt like denying Alex out of spite. He didn’t know

how to tell Alex no, though, not with sparks igniting in his nerve endings. If

Alex wanted to open him up, this was definitely the way. When Nick experi-

enced the first nudge, he felt sure that he was open and gaping down there,

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