Chapter 17 #4
Brad leads me over to a few people, introducing me as his costar.
There’s a glimmer of familiarity in people’s eyes when they shake my hand.
I’m not much for small talk and quickly realize this was a bad idea.
I should really go home, and I should really avoid alcohol, but I find drinks inside.
It gives me a chance to look at Brad’s place.
It’s nice. Nicer than mine, which is understandable.
He’s been steadily working for the past few years.
There’s a baby grand piano positioned in front of one of the larger windows. I go over to it and poke at a couple of keys, the notes clinking out of tune against each other.
“I can play ‘Chopsticks.’”
I look and there’s Brad, leaning on the doorframe.
“It’s all I know.” He comes over and sets his drink on top of the piano. “I thought I might learn to play it for real. Teach myself.” He sits on the bench and puts his fingers on some keys and plays a playful tune. He turns to me. “See? That’s all I’ve learned.”
“I can’t play any instruments,” I say.
I think about Harvey and his guitar. His song. I never got to hear it. Is he still going to record it? There’s a pain in my chest.
Brad gestures for me to sit next to him, and I do.
“Just put your pointer fingers right there.” He points to two white keys together. “Then you just go out to the next keys.” He demonstrates. “Then the next ones.”
I imitate him, and play along with him, one octave higher, but I mess up and hit the wrong keys. We both snicker.
I shake my head, turning to look at him. “Guess I need more practice.”
Brad chooses that moment to lean in and kiss me.
It’s brief, a two-second peck on the lips.
Before I can react, someone calls for Brad outside.
He gets up to go over to them. I sit on the bench for a moment.
I reach for my drink and take a sip. He’s been drinking since I got here, and definitely before.
He’ll feel bad about this tomorrow, I’m sure. He’ll be apologetic.
Eventually, I wander outside where everyone else is.
“Austin,” Brad says, sitting at a patio table with a couple of women, gesturing for me to come over.
I hesitate a little before I do.
“Ladies,” Brad says. “I’d like you to meet somebody.”
They know who I am. I can tell by the way they’re looking at me.
“Austin Rivers. Or you might think of him as Todd Winfield.”
I give each of the girls a nod and say hello.
I find myself pulled into their little group, sitting next to one of the women, pretending not to care when she puts her hand on my thigh under the table and squeezes.
The conversation isn’t one I’m interested in or really paying attention to.
I glance over at Brad every once in a while, but he seems super into the woman he’s got his arm around.
He definitely seems a little drunk. He may not even remember much of this tomorrow.
After about an hour or so, I think I’m ready to leave.
Our little group broke up and Brad went off somewhere. I thought maybe he’d taken that woman he had his arm around inside. I step inside his house and look around. I don’t see him, and I decide I’ll just apologize in the morning when we both get to the set.
I’m part way to my car when I hear him call my name behind me. I turn around. “Hey, sorry. I’m gonna take off.” I wave. “Thanks for inviting me, though.”
He walks down the driveway to me. “You just got here.”
I huff out a laugh. “Everybody says that.”
“I want to show you something.” He nods toward the door.
I shake my head. “Sorry. I really gotta go.”
I take off back home, my empty home, where I pass out on the sofa again. When I wake up, there’s sunshine in my eyes and a soap opera playing on the TV. I sit up and remember what happened last night. Me and Brad at the piano.
He was drunk.
He probably woke up this morning and thought about how unprofessional it was.
When I get to the studio, I see he’s already beaten me here. He’s got to be hungover, but when he passes by my dressing room, he looks just fine.
“Good morning.” He smiles.
“Morning.” I smile back.
I get dressed and we go to the set to film some scenes.
At first, it feels awkward, but then it feels just like it normally does, and I slowly forget about last night.
When Brad and I both get a break, so they can film some other scenes, I go back to my dressing room.
I change out of my cop uniform, wrap a robe around me, and flip through what wardrobe left on the rack for the next scene.
I’m thinking about asking one of the PAs to get me something from the commissary when there’s a knock on my door.
I open it to find Brad, wearing his outfit for the next scene.
Sergeant Bailey is supposed to be a serious guy with a rough attitude, so they dress Brad in varying shades of gray, brown, and black.
He messes with the wide-collared shirt. “I don’t like these.”
“But Sergeant Bailey does.”
He shrugs.
“What’s up?” I ask him.
He comes all the way inside, shutting the door. This time, he puts his hands around my face when he kisses me, much deeper than last night. I hate that there’s a handful of seconds where I kiss him back, desperate for someone to touch me, but it’s not who I want.
I pull away from him. “This isn’t a good idea.”
One corner of his mouth turns up. “It’s just sex, Austin.”
He’s not wrong, and I think for a second, I might be able to pretend.
If I close my eyes, I can just pretend he’s Harvey.
But he doesn’t kiss like Harvey. He doesn’t smell like Harvey.
He doesn’t touch me like Harvey. No one’s ever going to come close.
I’m going to be like a fucking monk for the rest of my life.
“No, it’s not.” I step away from Brad. “Not for me. Not anymore.”
He’s looking at me in a way that suggests he’s not used to being rejected. I shouldn’t have gone out with him so much, or to his party last night. He’s gotten the wrong idea. But he should know, even if we did fuck each other, it’s the last thing you should do with your costar.
He’s quiet for a moment or two before he says, “You must have fallen hard.”
I look down at my bare feet. “Maybe I just need more time. But when I think about that time ending… it’s like someone dying.” When I look up at him, he’s gazing at me doubtfully. “I used to be able to do this. But I wasn’t in love with anybody.”
He raises a brow. “Love?”
I cross my arms. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know who to be.”
Brad puts his hands in his pockets, glancing away from me.
“And now things are going to be different between us,” I say.
Brad shakes his head. “They don’t have to be. I’m sorry.” He reaches out his hand for me to shake. “Friends?”
I shake his hand back. “Friends.”