Chapter One
Andreas
“So you’ll write to me when I get to Canada?”
Jeremy rolled his eyes. “Canada is not the end of the earth, Andreas. Hell, we’re even in the same time zone.”
Wally was still a little tubby, but apparently well down from his top weight.
Phillip was still a little overweight as well, but losing thanks to lifestyle changes and Jeremy’s encouragement. I hadn’t gotten the entire backstory, but apparently Phillip hadn’t had a happy life before meeting Jeremy.
I was happy for them.
Truly.
Even as I continued to watch my own life spiral out of control.
“You have everything you need?” Jeremy surveyed my ten-year-old Toyota, packed quite full. “And you’ve got the requisite paperwork? You don’t want the Canadian border agents thinking you’re immigrating.”
“It’s all stuff I need.” I put my hands on my hips.
Jeremy rolled his eyes. He did that a lot.
But only with me.
With Shayna? My brilliant agent? He wouldn’t dare. Nor with Valentino Langston, the studio executive producing my next film, or Norah O’Shay, my costar. “Norah said she arrived yesterday and that Vancouver’s great.”
Again, Jeremy eyed my vehicle. “You look like you’ve got all your belongings in there. Shooting is supposed to last six weeks.”
Finally, I met his gaze. His dark-brown eyes were, as always, incisive. They matched his dark-brown hair and beard with little flecks of gray. He appeared distinguished. And with his shit together.
I was neither of those things.
I broke eye contact first. “The lease on my apartment was up, and the landlord wouldn’t renew it. Something about paparazzi hanging out and ruining their bushes.”
“Ah. And your furniture?”
“The place came with it. Nothing to get rid of except my television.”
“You kept your gaming console?”
This time, I rolled my eyes.
He sighed. “So everything you own is in your car. You know, I have a basement. If you want, we can put the stuff in my SUV. I can store it until you’re back in—”
“I’m not coming back to LA.” I jutted my chin.
Jeremy’s jaw dropped. “What do you mean, you’re not coming back to LA?” He shook his head, as if trying to dislodge a thought. “This is still the epicenter of the movie business, Andreas. You might go elsewhere to shoot a movie, but you need to have a foot in LA.”
“Because I’m not big enough to land a gig if I live somewhere else.”
He winced. “Well, when you put it like that…? No, you can’t live in Buttfuck backwater wherever and land plum roles.”
“Buttfuck Backwater Nebraska.”
“Hey, I’d never—”
“Well, I know my small town, so I can say it.” I swept my hair off my face, even as the breeze off the ocean tickled my cheeks. I’ll miss this.
“Why are you going back to Nebraska?”
I shrugged. “I’m not saying I am.”
“Andreas.” He said my name slowly.
“What?”
“You told me your family shunned you. That you were turned out.”
“I was headed to Stanford anyway, on a football scholarship. If I’d made it to the NFL, they suddenly wouldn’t have cared I was gay.
That’s how capricious they are. You know this, Jeremy.
A bad play, a bum knee, no more scholarship, and my life going down the crapper.
Then I was scouted by a modeling agency, and I haven’t looked back. ”
“So why are you now? Why the talk about going back to Nebraska?”
“Because I have nowhere else to go. LA isn’t my home—”
“Move into my basement, Andreas. Phillip and I would love to have you stay. Wally will be beside himself—another human being to manipulate. You can take him for long walks along the boardwalk. You can—”
“You and your fiancé don’t need company.
It’s a generous offer, and I expect you to send me Wally pictures with his progress, but I’m not coming back to SoCal just to live in your basement.
Hell, I probably won’t go back to Nebraska.
I might crash in Seattle or head to, I dunno, some other blue state.
Or New York. I always wanted to be a Broadway star. ”
“Really?” He scrunched his nose. Then nodded. “Okay, well, there’s theater in LA. Does Shayna know you’re considering New York?”
Shayna was my brilliant agent.
Jeremy continued. “Her talent agency has a branch out on the east coast. I’m certain they could hook you—”
“I need a break.”
Slowly, he nodded. “You’ve had a rough month.”
I forced out a laugh. “The master of understatement. Jeremy, it’s been a shitshow—and you know it. I’ve been unceremoniously outed by my ex-boyfriend. The one who’d sworn he’d left his wife. When I discovered he hadn’t, I dumped his ass—”
“And had a fight in that bar washroom.”
“Well, yeah. That.” I winced. Not one of my better moments.
“Then he put those videos up of me…” Including the one with my wearing women’s underwear, trussed up, and handcuffed to a bed.
Or the one with my entire ass on display.
Yeah, again, not one of my better moments.
“Look. Rearview mirror. You and Shayna said that. Norah’s waiting for me to be the best costar ever.
It’s a tough movie, Jeremy, but nothing I can’t handle.
I just don’t know if I’ll ever want to do this again.
I’ll honor my commitment. I’ll give it a hundred percent.
Hell, a hundred-and-ten. But then I’m out. ” I held out my hand.
He pulled me into a hug.
Which was kind of cute since, at six-five, I sort of had him beat in the height department.
Hell, I towered over Norah. A foot taller than her.
I worried about how the camera would capture us, but our screen tests looked amazing.
She with the long, flowing, flaming red hair and stunning emerald-green eyes.
Me with the light-blue eyes, and dark-brown hair.
“I’ll handle things down here.” Jeremy pulled back and tapped my chest. “Just stay out of trouble, okay?”
I rolled my eyes. “I always stay out of trouble.”
He, in turn, rolled his eyes.
A lot of eye rolling this morning.
On that note, I hopped into my car, pointed it north, and prepared for the drive to Canada. I did worry about the border guards. But I had a legitimate work visa and could easily promise to leave Canada the day filming was over.
Feeling both optimistic and queasy, I drove away from one of my closest friends. Hell, one of my very few friends.
Little did I know how much chaos was to come.