6
Khalil
A cruise. That would be new. An image came to me of Trevor standing by the railing of a ship, the wind blowing through his blond hair, his face lifted to the sun. Movement around us brought my attention back to the present moment. I didn’t have any more time to think about that because the house manager was announcing the end of the VIP meet-and-greet. Theater staff members were setting up three microphones in front of a mural depicting a scene from the musical. That meant the press conference would be starting soon.
The house manager asked Trevor to do a sound check on the mics just as Tony came over with Rory and Hunter in tow. “Hey, boss,” I said.
He glanced over at Trevor and said quietly, “Simon Davies and Oliver Robertson are out there with the rest of the reporters and photographers.”
“I figured they’d be here. We’re ready for them.“
Both Rory and Hunter nodded.
Tony clapped me on the shoulder. “I leave it in your capable hands.“
He turned to Hunter. “We’re going to take Charlie home.”
Hunter nodded. “He told me. Thank you. I feel better that he’s not taking the subway this late at night.“
He went over to give his boyfriend a kiss goodnight.
Once Hunter returned, I gestured toward the trio of microphones. “I’m going to take position behind Trevor and just far enough to his left to be out of the range of photos. Hunter, you take the outside edge to his right, and Rory, you take the same position on the left.”
“Roger that,“
they said in unison.
Trevor was joined by Neal Price and Sophia Langston at the microphones. I took my position behind them while Rory and Hunter went to either side. They would adjust their positions depending on the size of the crowd.
The house manager opened the doors to the reporters and photographers. About twenty people hurried into the lobby, including our two “friends“
from London. For the most part, they were an orderly group. I liked to think our presence had something to do with it.
After introductions were made, the reporters fired off questions to the three of them. To be fair, Trevor got the most questions. He was charming and witty as he spoke to the reporters, aptly dodging intensely personal questions with jokes or a raised brow.
To my surprise, Simon and Oliver were fairly subdued. I wondered if they were surprised that Trevor had bodyguards here. I should have known better.
The reporter stepped forward and said, “Trevor, Oliver Robertson from Daily Mail. I know it must be exciting to be asked to star in a movie, but do you think you have the qualifications to be a film actor?”
There were murmurs among the other reporters, and Neal Price looked like he wanted to spit nails. Trevor huffed a light laugh. “Darling, I’m far more qualified to be a movie actor than you are to be a reporter for Daily Mail.”
Snickers and stifled laughter greeted Trevor’s retort. Oliver’s face turned crimson with anger. He looked like he was going to say more, his body poised to move forward. But then he clocked me looking at him and backed down. His expression of impotent rage was a thing of beauty.
Neal took charge of the situation, asking if there were any more questions. After those were done, the house manager asked the reporters to step back so the photographers could get pictures. I tapped my earpiece. “Get ready.”
“Roger that.”
Unsurprisingly, Simon Davies pushed his way to the front, causing a few curse words to fly. They started out taking pictures of all three people, but eventually it was just Trevor in the spotlight. I moved forward, keeping my eyes on the photographer. While the others kept a respectful distance, Simon kept creeping closer and closer.
When he got about three feet away from Trevor, I’d had enough. I slid between Trevor and Simon and said with an insincere smile. “Show’s over. It’s time to go.”
“Now see here,“
Simon objected. “I have a right to take pictures.”
“This is a private business, not a public space,“
I reminded him. “The only rights you have are those given to you by the staff.”
Incredibly, he looked like he was about to continue arguing until Rory and Hunter moved to either side of me.
“Time to go, Simon,“
I said cheerily.
Theater security entered the room, telling the press it was time to clear out. There was a light tapping on my shoulder. I turned to see Trevor smiling at me. “Thank you.”
I returned his smile, willing myself not to take him in my arms and kiss those full lips. “You’re welcome.”
How the hell was I going to make it through three months?