Chapter 2
Slade
“Scout and I wanted to talk to you about how hard you push yourself. You’re always on the TV or in a movie.
We don’t know how you keep up. How many movies did you make last year?
” Wyatt asked from the back seat as he leaned over the console before I started the vehicle.
I didn’t suspect it to be the question he wanted an answer to.
I cocked a side glance at Scout, who had turned to face me.
They both cared about me, which added to the weight of their concern.
Two movies released over the last twelve months, three different motion pictures were on the way, a slew of international promotional gigs, and a twenty-two episode series was in fact quite a workload.
Add in my charity work and new organic-fare restaurant chain in California and my schedule was packed full.
But that information was known and not worthy of a response because I agreed with my buddies.
Instead of responding, I pulled my sunglasses from the visor and turned my cap around to keep it from flying off when I drove.
My focus dropped to my cell phone as I began mapping directions.
After starting the Jeep, the app appeared on the dashboard screen in the middle of the two front seats.
Based on the directions, they’d pass a municipal building, a clothing store, hardware store, and a grocery store, but the end point seemed to be really close to where they were currently parked.
“You aren’t listenin’,” Wyatt said, his hand reached around to pat Scout on the chest. “Tell him.”
The guys had never understood the work demands of my industry. My workload was dependent on the vibrant popularity of my career. Last year, I hit A-list status. The last contract I’d signed for Titan’s Fall tripled my income.
“I overwork, but you know I gotta strike while the iron’s hot. At any point, I could become irrelevant, and it’ll all be over.”
Which didn’t seem all that bad right now.
I shifted the gear to reverse from the parking spot. It barely came to a stop before I shifted again and pressed the gas petal. I kept my eyes peeled for the landmarks, trying to understand what I was missing in the directions.
“I think this iron’s smokin’ hot because you’ve been sayin’ those same words for the last three years and nothin’s cooled off. Besides, Linda came over to the house a few nights ago to see my mom. She wants me to tell you to answer the phone and slow down or she’s comin’ to New York.”
Linda. The poster woman for every stereotype given about Texas mothers.
When we all first met, she was our little league team mom, and my mom’s best friend since they were in grade school.
She’d taken me on as her own child after my mom lost her battle with breast cancer.
She made comfort food better than anyone else, all while raising a pack of children, maintaining a clean home, and staying current with all the gossip in her small town.
I had no doubt she’d fly across the world to be by my side if she felt something was off.
“Don’t ever let her get on a plane. She’d not be happy with what she found,” I said truthfully.
“Linda told me that you’re datin’ some famous model.
She showed me her picture. What I want to know is, does she have any hot siblin’s?
” Wyatt asked, changing the subject as quickly as his mind worked.
“Linda said she’s a Miss Universe turned influencer and walked the Victoria Secret stage.
Does she wear those white diamond wings anywhere else? ”
“You’re dumb,” Scout answered for me.
My laughter had to do with the entire exchange. In all honesty, I had no idea what online tabloid might have paired me with anyone. The entire acting community was way too ambitious. Leaks were given only for publicity, no truth needed, and monogamy was laughable.
In all these years, I had never officially come out.
Ten years ago, during my modeling career, I almost had.
I fancied myself in love with one of the other guys, but ultimately, public opinion swayed the decision more than living my authenticity.
Market research wasn’t needed to know my fans came from middle America, and they’d drop me like a rock if they knew the truth.
“Okay, that’s not the first time I’ve heard I’m dumb, so I’m guessin’ that might be true, but spill the deets.” Boy, Wyatt was something else. He never stopped. The guy had so much confidence that nothing slowed him down.
“Are we goin’ around in a circle?” Scout asked, looking over one shoulder then the other. “We are.”
“Yeah,” I said, bringing the Jeep to a slow stop in the middle of the quiet Main Street. “It says the liquor store’s around here somewhere, but I can’t find it.”
“Go again. I’ll watch too.”
Wyatt plopped back in the seat, disgruntled. “That diamond bra. I searched it on YouTube. It’s a game changer.”
“Is he serious?” I asked Scout. “He doesn’t remember I’m into ass? Seems something he should know by now.”
“I remember,” Scout murmured, pointing toward the left hand turn I had made the first time around.
“Doesn’t mean you don’t have a beard. And honestly, that self-lubricatin’ thing females do is handy,” Wyatt said, lifting up in the seat again to make sure they heard.
“Well, here’s the truth. I think the woman Linda might’ve shown you struggles to keep her clothes on. Google that shit then tell me if you think she wears those damn wings.”
“Hey. You missed the turn.” Scout pointed to one of two left-hand entrances. “I don’t think it’s tellin’ you to go down the street. I think it’s tellin’ us to take the alley.”
I came to a stop again, glancing between the side-by-side openings.
The alley led directly to the rear of the strip of leased spaces on Main Street, but the other road was the entrance to a small housing addition.
They’d just traveled on that side of the street to make a full circle in front of the saloon.
“Back up. Maybe there’s somethin’ down there,” Wyatt piped in, standing, holding on to the roll bar as if he’d see the area better. I did as instructed, reversing to take the first turn. The road was barely put together, causing them to slowly bump and bounce as they went.
“This can’t be right. I’ll call Tommy,” I said.
“I have to work entirely too hard to get anyone’s clothes off,” Wyatt added, sounding forlorn, lost. The dejection was real.
“Yeah. That’s one thing I can’t say. There isn’t a shortage of tail in the movie business,” I explained, doing my best to hold in laughter as I poured salt in the open wound of Wyatt’s life.
“Huh,” Scout murmured.
He was the one that I regretted bragging in front of the most. Scout could be banging it every night for all I knew. He excelled in the military, spending most of his time around the world in covert operations in the whatever country was the hotbed at the moment.
“I haven’t seen new tail since we started high school,” Wyatt muttered.
The depth of sad emotion Wyatt used broke all the tension. I rolled to a stop again, both me and Scout glanced back at Wyatt who dropped down in the seat to pout openly.
“That’s because you never leave that town we grew up in,” Scout said.
“And when I do, it’s to come here. To the fuckin’ wilderness with a bunch of fuckin’ dudes I’d never fuck if my life depended on it.
” Wyatt straightened in the back seat, pushing his brim down low over his forehead, tucking his arms tightly across his chest. Not much quieted the overly animated Wyatt Willis.
Scout reached over to knock me in the arm.
Clearly nonplused by Wyatt’s confession or mood.
“The map says we’re four hundred feet from the store,” Scout instructed.
I still didn’t see it, but guessed they’d find out soon enough.
=?=
Mace
Bells. I swore I heard them in my sleep.
Every door in the saloon had a set of them, and each time they clanked together set my shoulders tighter with tension.
My daily hell, and I was currently living in hell on earth.
Right then, I made the decision to remove all the bells during operating hours, screw everyone else who believed they should stay in place.
Surely, with as handyman as I’d become, I could install some sort of doorbell or buzzer, especially in the back entrance to alert the bar of deliveries or customers.
I’d call Bobby at the hardware store and have him pull whatever parts I needed.
My mood lifted at the same moment my arm did, swiping a bead of sweat from my temple with the shirt sleeve of my T-shirt.
Technically, my family operated two businesses in this one establishment.
Keeping the bar running as a profitable business while complying with the Texas Historical Commission’s rules on what could and couldn’t happen with the property was a trick.
In the front, we served meals and alcohol.
In the rear of the building, we had an operational liquor store.
The truth of the story was that the invisible division between the front and the back happened during the Prohibition era of the 1920s.
An imaginary line had separated the two companies with the hope of retaining the actual bar that then served tea and supper if the other was ever found out by the wrong people.
Since all the residents of this community, including law enforcement, knew the secret, apparently they were never in any real danger.
That was then and this was now. We had a historical commission to contend with, and they didn’t allow changes within or to the structure.
That’s why a refrigerator/freezer the size of Texas itself sat fifteen feet from the back door.
Which was fine enough, except the tremendous heat of July in Texas started early in the day.
I reached for the wet hand towel draped over one shoulder and removed my sunglasses to scrub the cloth over my sweaty face.
Normally, I let the sweat happen, supposedly cleaning out all the toxins from the greasy foods and beer I consumed.