The Dark Horse - lanyon Josh. Страница 10

«Who cares if there's some kind of lunatic right-wing fundie boycott! All publicity is good publicity.»

«Tell it to Pee Wee Herman. You think I was anxious before, wait till I've been the victim of a blacklisting campaign.»

He laughed. «Hey, come on. You don't want Lenny Norman to hear you talking like that. He'll think you're not Proud and Out.»

Now that bothered me. «It's Out and Proud, and I don't have to prove anything to Lenny Norman. He should be casting roles based on talent and ability.»

«Yeah, well, it's not a perfect world,» Steve said with unexpected bitterness. «So are you willing to read for the StarCatz pilot?» «I'm not comfortable with it, Steve. I'll have to think about it.» Silence. At last he said, «Okay, dude, it's your life.»

I replaced the phone and went to join Dan, who had gone out on the deck. He lay on one of the wooden lounges, reading the paper, which he put aside as I hopped onto the

railing, staring up at the cloudless blue sky. It was a truly beautiful day. The most beautiful day I'd seen in a long time.

«You're sure old Steve doesn't still have a thing for you?» His smile was quizzical. «I'm sure. It's just business.» «What is?»

«The fact that he calls all the time. He's my manager. And, unofficially, my agent. We have to stay in touch.» «Out of curiosity, are you his only client?» «I'm his main client.» He nodded as though this confirmed something. «Do you not … like him?» «It doesn't matter what I think about Steve. I respect your relationship.»

I realized that was the truth. I didn't have to defend or explain – and the fact that Dan didn't demand it somehow made it easy to talk about it.

«The romantic thing only lasted about a year. We really didn't have a lot in common besides my career. I think I got on his nerves and –« «He got on yours?»

«Not exactly. His insecurity makes him unkind sometimes. His humor, I mean. He makes these little digs; they're supposed to be funny, but there's an edge. It was … tiring. Distancing.» «That is one hell of an observation, chief.»

I grinned at his obvious surprise. «Crazy like a fox,» I said, and tapped the side of my head. «But he's been a good friend and a great manager. He's gone to bat for me again and again. Personally and professionally. The fact that the other thing didn't work out … well, that was probably just as well.»

«I think so.» He held out an arm and I slid off the railing and went to join him on the lounge. «We survived our first argument.»

«You sound surprised. Did you think we wouldn't?» Dan speared one of the shrimps out of the salad I had made for his lunch, chewed, his blue eyes thoughtful on mine.

«It's still a milestone.» I selected a cherry tomato from his plate and popped it in my mouth. A little burst of sweet tangy juice on my tongue. «I guess it is.» «Have you ever done this before? Lived with someone?» «No.» «Why?» He lifted a shoulder. «Maybe I have a few trust issues of my own.» I frowned. «You think I have trust issues?»

His smile was quizzical; he didn't actually answer me. I remembered the subject was supposed to be him. «So what kind of trust issues do you have?»

«Maybe that's not the right term. It's probably a cop thing. People can get a little weird when they find out you're a cop.» «But it's probably a turn on for a lot of guys, right?»

He seemed to be looking inward at some unpleasant memory. «Sometimes. A lot of times, the opposite.» He impaled another shrimp, chewed, swallowed. «There's a reason cops have a high divorce rate. The hours are brutal, it's a high stress job, and you can't talk about it most of the time.»

I opened my mouth, and he said, «I mean it's the kind of stuff you don't want to bring into your own home, not that someone wouldn't be willing to listen.» There was something in his eyes that made me feel young and naive.

I said slowly, «And I guess it takes a toll being afraid the person won't come home.»

He didn't say anything, just looked at me. I felt my breathing go funny like I was about to have one of my famous panic attacks. He said, «I'm careful, Sean. There are no guarantees in life, but I'll do my best to come home to you.» I nodded.

He hadn't really explained the trust thing. Or had he? I guess he was saying that he needed to be trusted as much as he needed to be able to trust. Which was pretty much the same way I defined trust.

I opened my mouth to make another brilliant comment, but Mrs. Wilgi's four-footed feather duster came hurtling across the sands toward us, barking hysterically. «Jail break,» Dan remarked. «I keep hoping he's going to run away.» «He has. To you.» The dog planted itself at the foot of the stairs to the deck, yapping thinly. «I was hoping for something further from home. Like Mars.» «I told you not to feed him.» «What happens if you shoot him? You have to fill out a lot of paperwork?» «Yep.» «It's your lucky day,» I informed Binky. He barked all the harder.

It was my lucky day, too. Dan and I had survived our first real argument and somehow come out of it a little stronger than we had been. We walked on the beach and talked, cuddled on the couch and talked some more. Casual talk. Nothing life or death – no mention

of loony stalkers, dead or alive – no reflection on where we stood as a couple. Just … talk. Like real couples do.

Late in the afternoon Dan went out to rent a couple of DVDs and bring back my favorite guilty food pleasure – Taco Bell. I think my Friday night culinary binge had unnerved him. Or maybe he was just getting tired of my cooking. We settled on the sofa with bags of tacos and burritos to watch Cool Hand Luke, one of Dan's favorite flicks – and one I'd never seen.

We'd just got to the famous, «What we've got here is failure to communicate,» line when the phone rang. I stopped crunching. Dan sighed and hit the pause button. «It might not be Steve,» I pointed out. «I do know other people.» «None of them seem to have this number.»

«True.» The beach house was my get-away. I liked the fact that when I was there I was basically inaccessible – or had been before Paul Hammond had somehow found out about this place.

The phone rang the third time, the machine picked up, and Steve called, «Dude! Are you there?» «I'll make it quick,» I promised.

«I'm not going anywhere.» He smacked my butt as I crawled over him and off the couch. I picked the phone up in the middle of Steve's imperious, «Sean? Are you there?» «I'm here.» «Dick Dexa called again. Have you thought about the StarCatz role?»

«How is this going to work if I land The Charioteer? When would they need me in the studio?» An awkward pause.

«Look, Sean, Lenny Norman hasn't returned my calls. I don't think you're going to get The Charioteer.» My Taco Supremes began to churn. «Can I try calling him?» «No, you can't try calling him!» «I just mean –« «I know what you mean. Do you trust me to handle your career or not?» «Of course I trust you – barring the sudden passion for cartoon cats.» I was teasing, but he said shortly, «Do you want the part of Jason or not?» «Doesn't Dexa want me to read first?»

«Sean, it's a fucking cartoon, not Ibsen. Dexa wants you. Can I tell him you'll take the role?» My pulse sped up. I hated arguing, especially with Steve. I said haltingly, «No. I'm not comfortable with it.» «Okay! Shit. Was it that hard to give me a straight answer?» «No. I just know you think I should take the part.»

«Yes, I do. I think you need to start working pretty soon. I was right about Winchester 2010, wasn't I? But whatever. If you're not comfortable, that's cool. We'll find something else.»

I opened my mouth, but before I could speak, he added, «And, yes, I will try Lenny Norman one more time.» «Thanks, Steve.»

I hung up and returned to the couch, climbed back over Dan's legs. He caught my hand and pulled me down half on top of him scattering taco wrappers and shredded cheese and lettuce. «Everything okay?»