Chapter Eight

Rowes

 

He couldn’t do this. On set with cameras and people everywhere, he’d never been so exposed, like they could see straight through his clothes to the vulnerable skin underneath. He might as well have had a sign on his forehead.

Submissive.

The word was like nothing he’d ever said out loud. It was a world unto itself, and a role unlike anything he’d done before. He could slip on a face and make an audience believe whatever he wanted them to believe—but being real had never been so intimidating.

“You’re going to be my submissive.”

Those words rolled in his mind over and over, corrupting his thoughts and slaking his strength. He’d been right from the very beginning. There was no going back from this.

But then he glanced over his shoulder and caught sight of Izzy and everything was…fine. He was whole, completely and utterly, when he looked to his best friend, the cameras and watchful eyes disappearing into nothing.

“You seem a little bit out of it today, Rowes. Everything okay?”

Skidding to a halt, Rowes turned to Lorena, her watchful eyes scraping him up and down and leaving him raw. She was amazing at her job, but that also meant she was the most observant person he knew.

“Did you check yourself for a fever?” she asked when he didn’t respond, placing the back of her hand against his forehead.

Rowes couldn’t help but glance toward Izzy, who was watching them with a concerned look. Was it okay that she was touching him? They hadn’t spent much time at the club after Izzy’s declaration, and they hadn’t had much time to set down rules. But he knew Izzy was possessive of his things.

I suppose I’m one of those things now.

He wasn’t sure what it was supposed to feel like to be wanted, but it sure as hell wasn’t bad. He just hoped that their friendship wouldn’t crash and burn like every one of his other relationships.

Not that they were in a relationship. Like Malone had said, they didn’t need to fuck to be play partners. And getting hard had been a totally normal reaction. Rowes had woken up with Izzy’s morning wood poking him somewhere more times than he could count. Usually they just made a joke and let it slide, Rowes covering his own erection as he hobbled to the bathroom.

“You don’t have a fever,” said Lorena. Rowes blinked. He had honestly forgotten she was there, even with her hands on him.

“I’m okay. Just tired.” He eased away, clasping his hands behind him. She gave him a pointed look before glancing toward Izzy.

“Didn’t get much sleep?” she asked, her voice calm, but her eyes fierce. “I hear you two are sleeping together again.”

His hackles rose and he bit back his first response, which probably would have gotten him slapped. “We share a room. Is that a problem?”

He shouldn’t have asked. With the way she narrowed her eyes and put her hands on her hips, it obviously was.

“As long as you aren’t breaching any part of your contract,” she said, her glare going soft. “You know why we had you sign that, Rowes. This show exists because of the fans, particularly our female fan base. Every woman in the world imagines themselves with one of you two. If you were together, where does that leave them?”

With that same imagination, probably picturing a threesome.

“We aren’t having sex, Lorena. Please believe me,” said Rowes, lowering his voice as a distraught-looking intern rushed by. “Izzy is my best friend, and I won’t ruin his career or mine for three minutes of grinding.”

A smile flickered over her lips. “Three minutes? That’s it?”

Rowes snorted, covering his face with his hand. “That’s what you heard out of all that? Man, you are worse than some of the fans.” He touched her shoulder before giving into his need for contact and wrapping his arm around her. It wasn’t nearly as nice as getting hugged, but contact always grounded him, especially when he was upset.

“Have some faith in me.” First, he needed faith in himself. The line between sex and not was pretty thin, but the contract was fairly clear. As long as he didn’t engage in intimate sexual relations, then he was fine. He’d just have to look up exactly what that meant.

Probably not a kiss, but maybe a blow job. Why am I thinking about blow jobs? He was not blowing Izzy anytime soon. Unless he asks me to.

“I do, Rowes,” she said, squeezing him back. Her perfume was light and floral, teasing his senses. “As long as you have the same for me. And don’t shoot the messenger. When I found out about the contract, I opposed it at first, but the producers made it very clear it was their way or the highway.”

Well, that was news to him. He’d honestly thought that it had been Lorena’s idea, because she had been the one to deliver it to him.

“Now, if you aren’t okay, you can head back to your trailer for a bit,” she said, referring to one of the spots on site for the actors. It was a good place to take a quiet moment or grab a drink or snack between scenes. “Today is gonna be chaos, and I doubt we’ll get much actual shooting done.”

The first day back on set was always hectic. Somebody would want to arrange the scene differently or change the script. Someone always managed to have a breakdown, although that was usually when they reached the ten-hour mark or so.

Rowes liked to be around, just in case Izzy needed him for prep or to get into character. He was a great stand-in for getting fake slapped, yelled at or hugged as Izzy practiced a scene before going in front of the camera.

“Well, here’s a juice box. Let me know if you need anything else.” Lorena grabbed the box from her purse, putting the straw into it for him before giving him one final pat and bustling away.

Izzy descended as if he’d been waiting for Lorena to leave a kill so the scavengers could move in. His gaze went from the juice box to Rowes’ lips, anything but subtle in the crowded room.

“What was that about?”

He could not deal with two people in one day questioning his actions, especially if one was Izzy. Besides, it was a juice box—something that Lorena gave him on a sometimes-daily basis.

“She thinks I’m going into a diabetic coma or something,” said Rowes, sipping at the juice. It was apple, which was his favorite, but unfortunately it was warm from being in Lorena’s purse, which didn’t bode well for the chocolate bar that was no doubt in there, too.

“You do get cranky when you’re hungry,” said Izzy, playing with the sleeve of Rowes’ shirt. “I’m glad, though. I was starting to think you two were fighting, and I couldn’t figure out why. You aren’t leaving the show, right? My character would be nothing without his trusty sidekick.”

“Not in a million years,” said Rowes before taking another sip of his juice. Maybe he had been pale or something, because he could feel the juice filling him and leveling him out. “And I do not get cranky. It’s only natural to be a little testy if I haven’t eaten in a few hours.”

Izzy was looking away, rolling his shoulders and clutching at his leather jacket that he’d donned for the scene. He was already in makeup, his hair styled to absolute perfection and probably nearly solid with the amount of product in it. There was a fake gash near the lower left of his lip—the result of a left hook from last season’s finale.

They were picking up right where they left off—deep in enemy territory with only two bullets left.

“Okay, people,” the director shouted, and Izzy instantly started toward the set. He glanced back to Rowes, motioning up and down his own body.

“You look great, but cut out some of the useless puppy act. You’re a badass, so act like one,” said Rowes, grinning as the persona slapped over Izzy’s features like a shutter. “Perfect. Get’em, Kemble.”

Watching the shoot was like having a front-row ticket to a shattered movie that made absolutely no sense. With the green screen in the back, Rowes had to imagine what the viewers would finally end up seeing. And the way they often shot out of order meant that he had no idea where they were starting or ending up.

Being behind the camera was different to being in front, though. Watching Izzy move like fluid grace was his middle name, even as baddies hurled themselves in and off screen, was thrilling. It looked like Izzy was in a losing battle, until Rowes got the cue that he was up next.

They were moving so much better than expected, lines and shots nearly flying by. It was the most productive he could ever remember being. It had only taken five seasons, but they’d figured it out.

Slapping his knee once, Rowes rushed past the camera, holding a gun in his hand and squeezing the trigger as he rolled. A baddie went down on the other side of the set as Rowes settled on his knees against the same dumpster as Izzy. He shuffled to the side, getting closer to his best friend before reaching into his waistband for the second weapon he’d brought for Izzy.

Only, it wasn’t there. Panicking, he searched his back pockets, coming up empty. A bead of sweat rolled down his neck as he looked across the set to the path where he’d rolled. In the middle of the scuffed dirt, the gun rested with the barrel pointing their way.

Shit. It must’ve slipped from his pants during his roll.

“Cut! Reset!”

Breaking character, he offered Izzy a hand, lugging him to his feet as Izzy glanced toward the director in question. He always had trouble breaking character, especially in an unexpected cut. Rowes squeezed his hand briefly in an attempt to soothe him.

Doing stunts more than once was brutal, especially rolls when he gave it his all. Anything more and he usually had his double step in. He’d learned the hard way after jumping through a window in season one. At the rate they were going, his back was going to kill him in the morning.

“Sorry!” Rowes called out, trotting toward the gun and shoving it into his waistband, trying to tuck it deeper so it didn’t fling free. It would have been easier if he’d had a belt, or pants with a little more room to them. His jeans were virtually painted on, which probably made his ass look great, but they weren’t all that practical.

“Somebody get Rowes a damn belt!”

Rowes grinned, clearing out of the way as people rushed to reset the scene exactly the way it had been. Izzy resumed his spot, worry and intensity still fixed on his face. He couldn’t slip in and out of character quite as easily as Rowes or Connley could, but he was still a damn good actor.

An intern passed Rowes a belt, and he quickly looped it in through his pants, securing the gun and tugging it tight. It would probably give him a bit of muffin top, but hopefully they would edit that out. Depending on how they shot it, a fan was bound to notice a continuity error, but he kept his mouth shut.

At the call of ‘action’, he burst into motion, his back screaming as he took the roll at full speed, almost throwing himself off with the strength of it. When he settled safely next to Izzy and reached for the gun, it was still there. He tossed it to his friend without a word, and Izzy grinned, fake blood staining his teeth.

“What took you so long?”

“And cut!”

Rowes heaved out a laugh, collapsing back to the dirt as Izzy stood from his crouch and passed someone his gun. Rowes was probably pissing off the wardrobe department by getting stuff dirty, but the dirtier the better, in his opinion. If women wanted a clean man, then they wouldn’t be watching Gunlover.

Izzy held his hand out, helping Rowes to his feet with a grunt. “That last one looked like it hurt. You okay?”

Draping his arm around Rowes’ shoulder, he pulled him closer, tilting their heads together as he ducked in. His eyes were sharp, some remnants of his character still there. Rowes shivered, casting his gaze around. No one was looking their way—too busy with everything else.

“Yeah.” Rowes attempted to stretch, wincing when his back pulled in a very unfun way. “Let’s hope there’s a spa at the hotel, or I won’t be able to move tomorrow.”

Dropping his hand, Izzy rubbed along the aching spot, grazing low enough to rest just about Rowes’ waistband. When he dug in his fingers, Rowes couldn’t bite back his sudden yelp that could have come from a chihuahua getting stepped on.

Izzy pulled his hand away, his face etched with concern. “I thought you said you were okay. That didn’t sound okay, Ro.”

His voice had dropped into something Rowes didn’t recognize, the edge of a growl rumbling in his throat. It was deep and dark, with the promise of something if Rowes wasn’t honest. The hair on the back of his neck stood up as he looked around.

“I hurt my back,” said Rowes, touching the aching muscles of his lower back. He hadn’t even hit there, but he must’ve twisted the wrong way during the second round. It was a good thing that the directors looked happy with it, or he’d really fuck up his back trying it a third time.

“Then I’ll take care of you. Don’t hide your pain from me again.”

Izzy’s voice was low, but anyone could have heard him if they were paying attention. Rowes snapped straight in shock, letting out a second yelp at the movement. Lorena was bustling over to them, her forehead pinched with concern.

“Rowes hurt his back,” said Izzy, cutting off anything Lorena was going to say. “I’m taking him back to our room. Can you see if someone has a muscle relaxant or something?”

“I’ll get some for Rowes,” said Lorena, “but you need to stay on set, Isthmus. You have at least two more scenes to shoot before we wrap up today. You can’t just leave.”

The momentary flicker of stubbornness was all Rowes needed to see. If Izzy put his foot down, he was going to piss somebody off, and nothing was worse than an actor making a fuss on set.

“I can wait,” said Rowes, pointing to one of the chairs off to the side. “Izzy can take me back when he’s done, but I can wait for now.” He wasn’t going to mention how uncomfortable he knew those chairs were and that he would be in absolute agony in ten minutes or so. He was good at breathing through the pain.

“It’s not my first set injury, Izzy, and it’s not like I broke anything. It’s fine.” At least, I don’t think I broke anything. The pain was starting to spread around his sides, his ribs pulling tighter with every breath. He forced a grin on his face, bearing it.

Izzy pinched his lips into a thin line, working his jaw. Some of his character was still shining through, his fingers twitching like they would on his gun. “Lorena, take him back to our room. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Okay,” said Lorena, already reaching for Rowes’ arm. “Come on. Let’s get you into bed, and I’ll find some meds.”

“No,” Izzy cut her off. “There’s a jacuzzi in the room. Get in that until I get back. If you go to bed now, you’ll just seize up.”

Holy fuck. Rowes bit his lip. Izzy had been protective of him before, but this was on a different level. His gut bubbled, tingly and warm as he flushed. Lorena gave them both a strange look before she nodded.

“Okay. Good luck, Isthmus.”

Rowes tried to recover, stretching out and wincing again. “Remember what I said, Izzy. You’re a badass bitch. Act like one.”

Izzy gave him a wink, not even looking to Lorena before he turned away, people parting around him as if he were a god.

He kind of is.