Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Dawson snuck into the kitchen of the main ranch house about eleven o’clock at night, grateful it was time for them to have a couple days off.
He wanted a beer, and maybe something sweet or something crunchy or both to take to the hot tub with him.
And he didn’t have anything down at the bunkhouse, so he figured he could raid the kitchen.
There were no rules against that, and everybody knew it happened.
His leg was aching like crazy, and he wanted to soak it because that would keep him from getting a band saw or something and taking it right off. Or worse, digging the pin out with a pair of pliers.
Lord, he’d had to put that Seamus feller through his paces. He was learning, though, and while Dawson would never praise the man yet, he had to admit he gave the guy credit for not giving up.
The one he really didn’t care for was that Christopher feller, who always glared at him no matter what. Dawson had tried real hard to stop being so damn growly, but man, that Christopher, he had a chip on his shoulder.
Jessica was a sweet girl, and she liked to arrange nice things from the studio for all of them, like food they shouldn’t be eating and paying for a streaming service that they didn’t have so they could all watch some football.
And that Nick guy, he didn’t take over the kitchen and be an asshole.
He just had a little corner where he kept his organic Keto foods, his protein powders, and stuff.
Dawson opened the fridge and leaned in, looking for that beer, trying to decide whether he wanted to steal one of Nate’s Coronas or one of Coke’s Shiners.
He finally settled on a Shiner, and when he stood up and turned around, he almost jumped right out of his skin because Seamus was standing behind him, staring at him.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. If you were a bull, I’d be dead.” Dawson blinked at the guy, thinking he must be more tired than he’d imagined.
“Oh hey, sorry I didn’t mean to sneak up on you, I thought you heard me.”
Dawson held up the beer. “You want one?”
“I do. I think Nick said he got me some of that Michelob Ultra.” Seamus wrinkled his nose. “I’d rather have your Shiner, but Nick will know. So, if there’s an ultra-light, I’ll take it.”
“I think I saw one in there.” Dawes hadn’t even considered that, because why drink it. It was like water. It was kind of stupid.
Sure enough, there was a six-pack of bottles in the fridge, though, so he grabbed one out and handed it over to Seamus, nodding.
Then he started doing laps around the kitchen, looking to see what it was he wanted to put in his mouth.
And that sounded far more suggestive than he’d meant, but he supposed it was because Seamus was standing there in a tiny pair of workout shorts and nothing else.
Lord have mercy, that man was built like a brick shithouse, and Dawson could stare at him all day.
Seamus leaned against the counter, crossing his feet and propping his butt against the overhang. “So, what do you do on your day off, Dawson?”
“Depends, I guess. If I’m on the road, I mostly rest because after a week of being beat up, it’s good to have a couple days to just recover. And then there’s travel time put in, so we spend a lot of our time doing that.” See him have a conversation. He could do this.
“What about now when you’re here doing this?” Seamus watched him carefully, those pretty blue eyes sharp and assessing. He figured maybe the man was learning stuff for the character he was going to play, and Dawson wasn’t sure whether that was cool or weird.
“I reckon I sit on my ass and watch football and drink beer and get in the hot tub. I do my physical therapy. I like puzzle books.” His cheeks heated at that last one, and he didn’t know why he said it, but he did.
He liked to do crosswords and cryptos and stuff.
The harder the better. Dawson kept his body sharp by doing all sorts of things, but his mind? It wanted puzzles.
“That’s really cool. I do the New York Times crossword every day on my phone.”
He stopped the “looky there, we have something in common” that wanted to come out because the guy wasn’t really trying, and it was mean of him to be popping off with shit that didn’t have to spew forth from his lips.
“I like that one, but I have trouble doing it online. Something about doing a crossword electronically just doesn’t have the same…”
Seamus gave him a quiet smile. “I bet you do your crosswords in pen, don’t you?”
That had him chuckling. “I reckon I do. Are you trying to say I’m a type-A personality?”
“I think you totally could be. That’s okay. It takes all kinds.”
“Yeah, Nate is the laid-back one. Coke, he’s super intense; you just don’t see it so much on the surface. You want to talk about type-A? That’s Mr. Dillon. He is fierce.”
“That doesn’t surprise me.”
Dawson arched an eyebrow. “It doesn’t?”
Seamus shook his head. “No, he’s an entertainer. It’s not like you get this job by being a B-type personality.”
Dawson wasn’t sure this whole having a conversation thing was a good. “But you seem pretty easygoing.”
“I am. I also get what I want, and I work for it, so it’s the same thing. I get to be laid-back because I have what I want.”
“And what is that?”
Seamus shrugged. “Good life. Good roles, lots of fun. All in all, a great life.”
Dawson got a wink. He wasn’t sure why that irritated him so damn bad, but it did. “It must be nice.”
Seamus simply smiled and nodded. “It is. I think I just tried to say that.” He tipped back his beer, long throat working.
Damn, that was pretty, and he wasn’t supposed to be looking at it.
“So, have you learned enough about bullriding?”
“No, it’s only been a couple days. I really want to learn all the things.”
Good lord and butter. “What’s this movie about?”
Seamus moved to straddle a bar stool, the man looking just about comfortable.
“It’s about a bullrider, and his love interest. I’m the best friend.
It’s just a little role. I get gored or something at the end, apparently.
I don’t know. I do know that I have three days’ worth of shooting, and so whatever it is that I do, I have to be able to do in three days. ”
“So, wait, you’re going to spend six weeks learning how to do bull fighting for three days in the arena?”
“Oh no. I will probably spend about four hours in total in the arena. If I’m lucky, it’ll be eight hours because they’ll let me do my own stunts.
The rest of it will be in ambulances and lying really still in a hospital bed so everyone can cry.
” Seamus rolled those famous blue eyes and grinned at him.
“I might have to do a coffin scene too. At least then you get to sleep but you have to be careful and not drool. And it’s challenging not to move your eyes, trust me. ”
He didn’t believe these people. “It costs good money to come into one of these schools—” And this was private, no other bullfighters but him and Coke and Dillon and Nate. “—so I’m not sure I understand.”
“Understand what?”
Dawson blinked. “Why?”
“Oh. I like to know what I’m talking about; I like to have some validity. In my language, in my motion, it makes a performance believable.”
Like that made sense.
“Huh.” He figured that was the safest thing to say because, really, what else was he going to do? Tell the man he was an idiot? It would get him fired and probably get him fired again. And until he could be back in the arena doing his actual job, he needed this one.
Seamus grinned, even wider. “I can tell you think I’m an idiot, but acting is what it is.
It takes a lot to get into a role, and I am not a tremendously serious method actor.
You should see some of these guys and how they do five months of judo training or something for five minutes on screen.
I had a friend once who learned Russian, like, for real, conversational Russian, so he could do a bit part as a spy. ”
“No shit?” Dawson took a long pull on his beer to shut his mouth up.
“Yeah, no shit.” Seamus shook his head. “I can tell you don’t really like me, Dawson. I’m sorry that you got stuck with this gig.”
Dawson unbent enough to give Seamus a wry smile. “I don’t really like anybody right now. This pin in my leg thing is a pain in the ass, and I’m just grumpy. It has nothing to do with you, and I apologize if I’ve made you think so.”
“I bet Nick could give you a massage or something. He’s really good at it. It would help. I don’t know if you’re doing physical therapy or anything anymore.”
“No. No, I’m not.” He wasn’t going to scoff at that, but he sure wanted to. “The league paid for about a week of it after I got out of the hospital, just to make sure I knew what kind of exercises to do. But after that, I was on my own.”
“Well, that sucks.” Seamus tilted his head to one side. “I’m guessing you don’t have insurance.”
“We have insurance savings accounts through the league, and the relief fund paid most of my hospital bills, but that’s pretty much it.”
“Well damn, I can totally turn Nick on to helping you out though. I’m here for a while.”
It wasn’t Nick that Dawson was suddenly seeing, giving him a rubdown, though, was it? In his unruly brain. Lord help him. No, sir. It was Seamus. Big old hands and blue eyes and damn it, he didn’t need to get hard right now.
“Seriously, I think that Nick could really help you out. He’s got his physical therapy license; that’s what his degree is in.”
Dawes tilted his head, curious, maybe a little jealous. “Did you meet him in college?”
“No, I met him in the hospital. He was so good at what he did that I stole him away and I hired him to be my personal guy-slash-trainer-slash-massage therapist-slash nutritionist. He helps me be able to get my broke ass up in the morning.” Seamus chuckled, the sound fond and warm.
“There are days that I am sure that he regrets deeply how he gave in when I said please come and work with me, but I needed him, you know? I mean, I really did. I needed him to help take care of things.”
How many things could this man possibly have to take care of?
“And you know once I’m long in the tooth, and I’m not doing superhero stuff anymore, and I’m doing serious roles, then if he wants to go back and become a physical therapist, he can. And hopefully, he’ll have enough money saved at that point that he can have his very own practice.”
Dawes tried not to roll his eyes. “Do you have everyone’s lives planned out like that?”
Seamus nodded, grin going wider. “Every single person I know. I love to help arrange people’s dreams. I didn’t grow up needing anything.
I’m so lucky—I have famous parents, and I had everything I ever wanted.
So, I like to help the people who don’t as best I can, because it’s not like I can go ‘I worked so hard for what I have’.
I mean, I worked hard for my reputation, but I’m absolutely, one hundred percent a nepo baby.
My dad and my mom have the contacts. I got the training, I inherited the talent, and I had all the benefits in the world.
So I figure the one thing I can do is help other people around me and share the wealth.
Spread it around a little bit. Don’t you think? ”
Dawes didn’t know what to say. Was this something Seamus practiced for interviews or something real? It felt totally possible. This was another act, another bullshit performance Seamus Givens gave people so they’d adore him and deliver what he wanted.
“Are you for real?” The words popped out of his mouth without him even really thinking about it.
Seamus’s face fell, that smile disappearing as if a mask had fallen over it, leaving it almost doll-like in its perfection.
“Yeah, sort of, but only sometimes. Most of the time, not even a little bit. I’m sorry, mate.
I have to go. It’s late. Christopher can’t get to bed until I’m settled.
Talk at you tomorrow, man, or whenever. We’ve got days off coming. Enjoy your beer.”
Oh, damn it. He’d fucked this up. “Wait a second. I didn’t mean—”
Seamus held up one hand, stopped him cold.
“Hey, it’s cool. You did too, and I guess if I had to listen to me, I’d wonder the same thing.
The great bit is? It doesn’t matter. You don’t have to be my friend, and I don’t have to be yours.
You can think that I’m a solid-gold asshole, and that’s okay.
Have a good night, sir. I’ll see you on my next morning at work. ”
Seamus grabbed his phone out of his shorts pocket as he headed out the door. “Christopher, can you get me a hotel somewhere? Maybe in Santa Fe for my two days off. I don’t care. Just not here. Anywhere but here. When? Now. I’ll meet you and Nick in the car.”
The door shut firmly behind one of the most famous asses in Hollywood.
Oh man, he’d screwed this up. He’d screwed this shit up bad.
The worst part was, he hadn’t even meant to. He was going to have to apologize to the bosses in the morning.
“So that was intense.” Coke’s voice was even, steady, but Dawes knew he was fucked.
He turned around to face his mentor’s hero. Sterling would kick his fucking ass. “Boss, I’m—”
“Hey. You weren’t kind, but you weren’t evil.
I didn’t catch everything, just the last bit.
He’s got two or three days off, so do you.
Everybody can chill out, get their shit back together.
” Coke held his gaze, the gray eyes kind, but judging him, just the same.
“Just remember, huh? Not everyone is an asshole, not everyone deserves to be treated like one, and no one deserves it until they’ve given you a reason. ”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Coke. I’ll keep that in mind.” Dawson figured there wasn’t anything else he could say to that, because Coke was right and he felt like a bastard. He’d wait ‘til Seamus came back, though, because he didn’t want to mess with the guy’s time off.
That and he had to figure out what he was gonna say.