Chapter Nineteen

Rowes

 

He’d silenced his phone once already on the way from their hotel room, but it rang a second time as Izzy guided him across traffic to their cab, an arm slung over his shoulders.

“Who is it?” Izzy asked, lifting his hand to block the sun from Rowes’ face. The gesture put a smile on his lips, the warm feeling in Rowes’ gut only spreading. Scenes were one thing, but it was the little things that he really loved. Hand-feeding was probably at the top of that list.

“The director,” said Rowes, accepting the call and putting the phone to his ear. “Hello?” Hopefully, she hadn’t been trying for too long. Izzy and him had been busy for quite a while.

“Have you heard from Lorena?” asked the director, straight and to the point like she always was.

Rowes blinked. “Uh—no?” The last time he’d talked to her she had glared up a storm and had basically called him a liar—that, and bringing up his closeness with Izzy with the director. That had been way out of line, and he still hadn’t decided how he was going to handle it.

“I was on a wild goose chase of phone calls this morning trying to track you down. She wouldn’t answer her phone, and neither would you or your boy toy.” She let out a sigh.

Boy toy? That was as perfect a term as Rowes had ever heard. He snickered, elbowing Izzy, who looked at him in confusion.

“Anyway,” The director continued, “Don’t go to the location today. Just come straight to my office, and I’ll meet you there.”

Her office? She couldn’t have been talking about the production company’s home base, which was hours away by plane. She probably meant her temporary office that she’d set up out of her hotel. Apparently, she’d managed to get one of the board rooms where there was lots of space for meetings and whatever else she got up to. Rowes tried to keep his attendance to mandatory things only.

“It sounds like bad news,” said Rowes, his stomach dropping. They were probably doing a script rewrite or something, but he usually wasn’t called in for those. The director and producers had the final say, and as far as he was concerned, he was fine with following orders.

But Izzy had thrown a wrench in the season and the show itself.

“We’ll see.” She hung up with a click and Rowes stared at his phone as Izzy opened the door for him and he slid into the back seat of the cab.

“What sounds bad?” asked Izzy as he slid into the opposite seat. He was bouncing his knee, but he didn’t look nervous. If he was feeling anything like Rowes, then he was brimming with energy.

“Not sure,” said Rowes before turning to the cab driver. “Can you take us to the Fairmont?”

Izzy’s frown deepened as he slid into the middle spot and buckled his seat belt. The cab driver pulled into traffic, heading the opposite way that Rowes had expected when he’d woken up in Izzy’s arms.

Shrugging, Rowes looked out of the window, trying to shake off the sinking feeling. It wasn’t just the call, either. He’d been high on Izzy for days, and he was coming down…hard. Izzy had talked to him about it and explained what a drop would feel like, but it was still different to go through it.

He’d expected sluggish thoughts and maybe having a harder time smiling, but he was a touch nauseated. That, and there was a headache brewing at the base of his skull.

“They probably want a reshoot,” said Izzy, leaning back and looking like the picture of comfort. “That kiss was way too smoking hot, and it melted the film. Or they want it from a different angle where it’ll look less like I’m trying to suck your soul out of your body.”

Rowes let out a sigh, unable to convince his lips to smile. He’d felt low before and had been a little lost after their first scene, but it seemed to be kicking his ass extra hard today. He clenched his hand on his thigh where he knew there was a bruise. It was almost numb, even as he dug deep.

Weird. An hour ago he’d been concerned about breakfast and kisses, but he was pretty sure he would never be able to eat again. And the sunshine flitting through the window was way too bright, making his headache flare.

“Ro?”

Blinking, Rowes looked to Izzy, not knowing if Izzy had been talking to him or if that was the first time he’d tried to get his attention. He sank a little bit deeper. After everything Izzy had done for him, he couldn’t even pay attention.

“Are you feeling okay?”

Rowes shook his head. His gut was tight, nausea crawling up his throat like he’d eaten something off at breakfast. And fuck, did he ever want to cry. If there was a death of a family member scene he needed to film, today was the day.

“I think you’re dropping,” said Izzy, leaning closer and speaking quietly so the cab driver wouldn’t hear them over the radio. He was their usual driver, so he was used to their clinginess. And he’d mentioned that he didn’t watch much television, so that was always a plus.

“I was fine this morning,” said Rowes, scratching at a hole in his jeans. Everything seemed to be wearing thin, even his clothes. Then again, they were a designer brand that had been made to look like he’d just gotten sweaty fighting off a wildebeest or something.

“I don’t feel like myself.” He rubbed at his chest where a persistent ache was setting in, almost stronger than the nausea. “Last night I was more me than I’ve ever been, but now?” He dropped his face into his hands, doing everything he could not to let the tears go.

“What if that wasn’t me? And it was all just another persona, like the ones I throw on every time I’m in front of the camera. It’s like I’m going to wake up and find that you are just a figment of my imagination.” He tried to pull away from Izzy, but his Dom held him tight, steadying him.

“You know what I love most about you?” asked Izzy, his voice soft as he stared out at the passing cars. His lashes were long, touching his cheeks each time he blinked. Rowes had never taken the time to really look at him, his presence steady and constant.

“No.” Rowes sniffed, wiping at his cheeks. There wasn’t much to love most days. He was a placeholder in a lot of his life—something for fans to look at, put on their desktop computers or talk about at work.

“I always know,” said Izzy, a smile touching his lips. “When you’re acting, you enthrall people, and they can’t see the real you behind the character. That’s never happened with me. When I watch you in front of the camera, it’s almost like seeing double. I see your character, hear their words, but underneath, it’s all you. The little smiles, the sparkle in your eyes when you really think something’s funny, it blows me away. You never could fool me.”

Izzy chuckled, leaning over to rest his head against Rowes’. “When it’s just you and me, there is no double. Last night, that was all you. Every whimper, every tear was all you, and it was so perfect that I could never doubt you. I just hope your ass isn’t too sore for today.”

This time Rowes did chuckle, his chest aching for a whole different reason. Izzy always seemed to know the exact right thing to say and when to say it.

“Feel better?” asked Izzy, seemingly ready to risk a kiss as he dragged his lips against Rowes’ hair.

“You aren’t just saying that, right?” He couldn’t see double when Izzy was acting, but he thought he knew the real Izzy. Izzy’s character was him, only with a gun with a heaping pile of excessive intensity.

“I could write it down if you don’t trust it,” said Izzy. “I could send it to you in a card every day until you believed it. You know I can’t lie to you. I’m not as good as Connley.”

That part was the truth. Izzy was a shitty liar at the best of times. Some of his most frequent retakes were when he was lying on set. Connley was the opposite, though. He was on a whole different level he was so good. He would probably be able to fool a polygraph with ease.

“True,” said Rowes, biting his lip as he looked from under his lashes.

Izzy chuckled, pushing at his shoulder. “You weren’t supposed to agree with me.”

The cab rolled to a stop and Izzy unbuckled both of their seatbelts, helping Rowes out of the car. Rowes took his hand with a grin that felt much more real. Touch had always helped him, but touching Izzy was the best part of his life.

“I’m not going to keel over. I’m fine.” When Rowes said it, he realized that he actually meant it. He felt so much better than he had when the director had called. That had been like sugar crashing after twelve hours of filming.

“You let me know if you’re feeling down again,” said Izzy, tilting his head back to stare at the hotel. It was a step or two above theirs, with a chauffeur and what looked like a guard next to the entrance. “I’m on the wrong side of the camera.”

After asking the doorman where they should go, they were ushered directly down a set of hallways to what appeared to be a boardroom. The door itself looked like someone had painted over rich wood, dabbing some gold paint on each bit of trim so it looked expensive. The original wood probably would have looked nicer, but Rowes was the type to keep a scrubby pad for his dishes in a little green frog holder, so his opinion probably didn’t count.

As they approached, the director stepped out of the room, letting the door fall shut behind her. She was shaking her head, her hair even more frazzled than it had been after the multiple kiss retakes.

“Rowes,” she said as soon as she saw them. “And Isthmus.” She bit her lip, tapping her chin with one finger. “Maybe it’s good that you’re here, too. Maybe someone with an extra appendage can get a point across to these idiots.” She let out a huff. “Good luck.”

With one last shake of her head, she turned away, strolling toward the exit with her running shoes squeaking on the floor as she went.

Rowes watched her retreat, clasping his hands together. There could still be sexism within some of the filming companies, but he’d never heard the director point it out quite so bluntly. It made the dread and guilt so much worse.

But it wasn’t as bad as before. The feeling from the car was just out of reach, Izzy’s presence seemingly enough to keep it at bay.

“What the hell was that about?” asked Izzy, following Rowes’ gaze. “I thought this was about a reshoot.”

“Me, too,” said Rowes. “What else could it be?” His mind instantly jumped to the worst. When he hadn’t listened to Lorena, had she gone straight to the top? He refused to think that way. She was a good woman, even when she was angry.

“Mr. Keppel.” The voice greeted them as they Rowes stepped through the door, swallowing when he caught sight of the producers for Gunlover, as well as a man and woman he didn’t recognize. They were sitting at a rectangular table, papers and a few bits of equipment pushed to the far end. Each of the producers had a coffee in hand, while the other two people only had a stack of paperwork and a tablet.

“And Mr. Linton.” The executive producer seemed a little startled by Izzy’s presence, looking to the others before he slid his hands across the tabletop. “Isthmus, your presence isn’t required at this meeting. It is only for Mr. Keppel, his manager and a legal representative of his choice.”

“Then consider me his lawyer,” said Izzy, his hand never leaving Rowes’ arm. “Or a stand-in, at least. He’s working on hiring one at the moment.”

This sounded bad…like fired bad. All his years on the show flashed before his eyes. The gags, the wasted shots when he messed up, that one time he’d accidentally smashed a ten-thousand-dollar piece of equipment…it all added up. Sure, all that stuff was replaceable, but so was he.

“Okay. If that’s how you want to do this,” said the executive producer as Izzy guided Rowes to his seat. “This is Mr. Votch and Ms. Sassen. I’ll let them proceed with the agenda for today.”

Rowes swallowed, fighting the urge to reach for Izzy and hold his hand tight. His thoughts were whirling, blood rushing through his ears as he wavered. Grabbing the back of the nearest chair, he held on, begging for the moment to pass.

Mr. Votch was more attractive than Rowes had noticed at first, clean-shaven with a well-fitted suit and aviator glasses perched on top of his head. He reached for the tablet, typing in a password before clicking something on the screen. Passing the tablet along the table toward Rowes, he hit play on the video he had cued up.

“Can you identify the persons in this video?”

Rowes’ hand trembled as he grasped the tablet, barely hanging onto it as the video started to play. There was a whooshing sound like poor audio quality, before a cheesy song cut in.

This is not going to be good. He recognized the app as the same one where he had found the D/s video that had changed his world. The user who had uploaded it was the same person, too, but it was the title that was a dead giveaway.

“I can’t believe it! Rowes Keppel is a confirmed submissive and his Dom is none other than Isthmus Linton.”

The title scrolled across the screen and Rowes’ mouth went dry as he looked to Izzy. His heart was racing, his palms sweaty as he gripped the tablet.

Someone at Unkinked? It had seemed so safe and tight-knit, but there had been a lot of people there—some of whom he hadn’t even spoken to. Clint had seemed so starstruck, even if he didn’t seem like the type to sell out. Meeting someone famous did strange things to people.

Fresh words appeared on the screen as a low beat started up. It was a heavy song, filled with as much potential as something that could be heard in a sleezy club. Rowes blinked away the tears that were already starting, trying to read them before they could disappear.

“This doesn’t even need an explanation, so I’m just going to let it roll.”

“Sit,” said Izzy, helping Rowes into the nearest chair as he wavered again. Izzy sidled behind him as soon as he sat, resting his hands on Rowes’ shoulders and presumably staring at the same thing Rowes was.

The room went from hot to cold as the first clip played, an iron ball settling in his gut. Whoever had caught them had taken the video in slow motion, enhancing it until it was very clear as to what was going on.

The alley looked different than Rowes remembered, but it didn’t seem real without the scent of garbage and piss. Even in shadow, his silhouette was all too familiar as Izzy forced him to his knees with a hand around his neck.

It could have been anyone in low light like that. They used stunt doubles, and their faces were mostly obscured.

But then they were pulling apart, Rowes jumping to his feet when they’d heard that noise. The person taking the video moved until they were tucked away out of view while their lens captured everything.

His hopes that they hadn’t been caught clearly came crashing down as he left the alley with Izzy, a smile on his lips and both of their faces in full view. The other things that were apparent were the obvious erections in their pants.

Swallowing, Rowes looked to where Izzy’s hand rested on his shoulder, his tanned fingers dark against his paler skin. He had that same urge to pull away and deny everything that he’d had when Lorena had first accused him. Only at that point, he hadn’t done anything wrong. Now, he wasn’t sure if that was true.

“The people in the video, Mr. Keppel?”

Izzy was silent behind him. Rowes wanted to reach for him so badly, but his heart broke instead as Izzy pulled his hands away, taking a step back and putting space between them.

If there was any time in the world that he needed touch it was now. Rowes shivered in his chair, trying to find Izzy through the tears. He was only a little way away, but far enough for it to be monumental.

“Myself and Izzy—Isthmus,” said Rowes, clearing his throat as he clasped his hands together. The video had continued on, showing some older clips in a whole new light. He looked away, rubbing his throat where the memory of Izzy’s touch burned bright.

“And what exactly were you doing?” asked Mr. Votch, retrieving the tablet and pausing the video. The song cut off abruptly, leaving Rowes with the sound of his racing heart.

“Fooling around,” said Izzy, his voice cutting. “We’d just finished an epic retake and we were a little wound up.” He’d crossed his arms, his face going dark.

“Two hundred thousand hits and counting on this video and it was only uploaded two hours ago,” said Mr. Votch, setting the tablet on the table and returning to his seat. “By the time the video has been taken down, it might be close to a million.

“So?” asked Rowes softly, glaring at the polished fake wood of the table. It may have been an expensive hotel, but it seemed that the fittings were just as false as some people in the industry. “There are so many fan videos out there about us. What’s one more?”

“Not only have you violated your contract, Mr. Keppel,” said Ms. Sassen, speaking for the first time, “but the suggestions made in this video lead us to believe there is some kind of BDSM relationship between you and Isthmus that would be contrary to the studio’s views.”

He couldn’t breathe. The air was right there in his lungs, but it felt as if he were underwater. Reaching for Izzy’s hand, he only found air.

“As you can imagine, we don’t take this situation lightly,” she continued, reaching for one stack of papers and sliding it his way. “Here is your notice of termination. Have your lawyer review it before you sign it.”

Termination? The paper moved before his blurry eyes as Izzy tore it off the table.

“You can’t fire Rowes,” said Izzy, his face filled with disbelief. “He’s a main character of Gunlover. You’ll lose thousands of fans.” The paper shook in Izzy’s hands, the corners curling as he fisted it.

“He was a main character until he met his tragic end at the hands of a rival gang. The fans will still have Kemble, and they’ll rally for him as he goes through the loss of his best friend.”

His throat had never been so dry. Lorena had been right about everything. Everything. She’d only been trying to look after him while he’d been flirting with Izzy like an idiot. That kiss on set had probably sealed his fate, even before the video was released.

“You can’t do this,” said Izzy, hissing through his clenched teeth. “I won’t shoot another scene without him.”

Rowes reached for Izzy’s thigh, squeezing hard. He didn’t want to take Izzy down in his train wreck of a life.

“Let me put it this way, Isthmus,” said the executive producer, tenting his fingers. “Rowes goes quietly, or he will never work on a set again. Even low budget horror casters won’t take him after I’m through. If you’d like to align your fate with his, then please continue.”

“Sorry I’m late.”

Rowes flinched, whirling at the sound of Lorena’s voice. She was behind him, holding the heavy wooden door wide as she pulled the heel of her shoe back into place. One strap of her dress had fallen down her arm, and her hair was an absolute disaster.

“Funny thing,” she said, making her way to the only empty chair and taking a seat. She was breathing fast, but she smoothed her dress of the few wrinkles it had gathered. “I found out from the director that you were meeting with my clients. It’s strange that I wasn’t notified. I’ll assume this was an accidental oversight.”

The executive producer was glaring, but the two lawyers at least looked a little apologetic.

“So, what were we saying?” asked Lorena, spotting the tablet and reaching for it. The video was still paused, frozen on an old picture of Izzy whispering something into Rowes’ ear, and Rowes with his eyes half-lidded.

Scrolling back to the start of the video, she played it again. The same music started up. It was no better than the first time, the scene condemning him a second time.

“What am I looking at?” asked Lorena, tilting the screen and squinting her eyes. “Is a little spoiler alert really worth a meeting with the execs?” She chuckled, stopping the video and tossing it back to Ms. Sassen.

“This is an obvious breach of contract—” Mr. Votch started.

“My clients had explicit instructions to practice the upcoming scene, contract or no.” Lorena picked at her nail, flaking off a bit of red polish with a raised brow.

“This video was shot after that scene,” said Mr. Votch, scrolling back to the video and pointing to the bottom corner where there was a date and time stamp of all things. “Mr. Laurie’s termination is final. The company can’t support these types of activities.”

“I see.” Lorena, steepled her fingers, leaning in. “I would caution you on that. Gunlover is in the top three ranked shows on late-night television, with hundreds of millions of dollars in profits. If the entire cast was fired, a fan or two may notice.”

The executive producer’s glare turned fierce. “I’m not going to be manipulated here. My show is an action series involving straight men.”

Izzy snorted.

“I thought you would know your audience a bit better after so many seasons,” said Lorena, shaking her head. “Why do you think Isthmus has so many fans? The only thing better to women than one hot man, is two—preferably naked and together. When this season is released with that scene, I guarantee you will have higher ratings than any other episode.”

Mr. Votch scoffed before he slapped the table. “I think we’re done here. Review the paperwork and sign it—or consider your career over.”

Lorena tilted her head back, inhaling deep through her nose. “Ah, the smell of blackmail always gets me going.” She grinned.

Rowes was mildly worried for her sanity. No one took on lawyers and producers with a smile. She’d always been a kick-ass bitch, though.

“I didn’t think you’d respond well to threats, but here we go,” she said, rubbing her hands together. “If you fire Rowes, the show is finished. Every dime you’ve spent on this season will be down the drain, and once news gets out as to why, this company won’t be far behind. Rowes won’t have to say a word. People talk, and let me tell you, no one will take your side.”

“Have your lawyer take a look, Mr. Keppel. I’ll be in touch.” Ms. Sassen gathered the tablet, pushing her chair out.

“We aren’t done here.” Rage rolled off Izzy in waves, red creeping up the collar of his T-shirt and his eyes wild.

“Yes, we are,” said Lorena, slowly standing and regarding the producers.

Rowes followed almost numbly, clutching the table as he wobbled. For his entire career, he’d dreaded this moment. He wasn’t the best actor out there or the most attractive. Izzy was everything he wasn’t, on and off the screen. As long as they had Izzy, the fans probably wouldn’t notice his absence too much.

He touched the papers in Izzy’s hand, slowly taking them from him. The edges were crinkled, some of the printer ink smudged from Izzy’s sweat. He couldn’t look at them and read the words that condemned his career, along with everything else he was. But he couldn’t let anyone else make the sacrifice for his screw up.

He was numb as he left the office, Izzy at his size and Lorena following with a click of her heels. Someone tried to stop them out front, asking Rowes for a signature, but for once, he brushed them off. His signature would be worth next to nothing soon. He could fight it, but what was the point?

All he could wonder was how they were going to kill him off. They had enough saved footage that had never rolled in order to do it with some serious editing. He’d taken a few bullets over the seasons, survived a poisoning as well as an alarming number of stabbings. Being Kemble’s best friend had come with some downsides.

“Hit by a car, maybe?” he mused, sticking his hand out to hail a nearby cab. It slowed to a stop as Izzy came up behind him, still stomping and fuming.

“They can’t fucking do this!” A few glances turned their way, and Rowes pressed a finger to his lips, staring down the road as he opened the cab’s door.

“They won’t,” said Lorena. “Rowes, no one is going to sit by and let this happen. I can speak for Izzy without asking, and Connley and Ainslie wouldn’t need much convincing.”

Izzy looked close to tears, carding his hand through his hair violently as he stared back at the hotel. When he turned to the cab, he widened his eyes in surprise. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

Rowes’ lips moved, but he could barely comprehend what he was saying. He blinked, shaking his head as he tried to focus. He pulled the cab door shut before Izzy or Lorena could get inside.

“I’m going to head back to the hotel and call my lawyer. You’re going to head to the studio.” He pointed over his shoulder, which was the opposite direction of the hotel. “And before you say anything, yes, you are going to shoot today. The show must go on, right? No one is giving up the show because of me. I’m not going to let that happen.”

Clenching his fists, Izzy nailed the top of the car. The driver squeaked in protest, giving Izzy a dirty look. “Don’t be so fucking ridiculous. Get out of the fucking car.”

Rowes rolled up the window, turning to the driver and giving him the directions back to his hotel. The car lurched ahead as Izzy brought his fist down again, Lorena looking on with concern etched into her features.

“That was intense,” said the driver, shooting Rowes a look through the rearview mirror. “I never thought he was such an asshole in real life. I’m a big fan of the show, but shit.”

His hackles rose immediately, but Rowes bit back his automatic rebuff. It wasn’t the first time someone had called Isthmus an asshole to his face, probably digging for dirt, but it was the first time he didn’t plan on defending him.

Why can’t he see? If he took Lorena’s route, he would be ruining the careers of dozens of people. He was just one guy—a replaceable one at that. Why didn’t anyone else see that?

His phone buzzed against his hip, and he jumped, grabbing for it as he made a non-committal sound to the cabbie. When he looked at the screen, he saw Izzy’s name in neon blue, the buzz almost violent as he held his phone.

“Hello?” He wasn’t not going to answer. No matter what they had been through, he always answered.

“What the fuck, Ro?”

Rowes winced, holding the phone away from his ear and quickly turning the volume down.

“There’s no need for you to be so upset, Isthmus,” said Rowes, biting his tongue as he said Izzy’s full name. He hadn’t called him that since they’d first met, long before they’d auditioned for Gunlover, when Rowes had spent his days at tryouts for numerous roles and Izzy had posed for art classes on the side.

“Are you serious right now?”

Izzy was pissed—no, beyond pissed. In all their time together, he rarely raised his voice, but apparently, he’d snapped. Maybe Rowes leaving him on the street had pushed him too far. Lorena was there, though. She could summon a driver with the snap of her fingers.

“I need you to calm down,” said Rowes, sharper than he’d intended. “If not for me, then for yourself.” The way Izzy had pulled away from him at the meeting flashed through his mind. He had probably just been trying to make the situation look better, but it had fucking stung.

“And I need you to get your ass back here. We aren’t done talking yet—not to each other or the producers.”

“So you just want your career to crash and burn,” said Rowes, running his hand through his hair. His cheeks were wet, but every time he wiped them, it didn’t seem to make a difference. “I, for one, don’t want to see that. I want to see the show do well, actually. You’ve put so much time and effort into your role—years—and the fans would never forgive you for backing down now.”

He cast a glance to the cabbie, who seemed way too invested in his conversation. This was why he liked to stick with his usual driver who never leaked a thing about their conversations.

“He’s prepping for a difficult scene right now. Sorry. Just giving him some feedback.” He covered the speaker on his phone as he said it. The driver gave him a slow nod before turning his gaze back to the road.

“It’s like you don’t even fucking care,” said Izzy, the disbelief in his voice obvious. “I’m trying to help you—stick up for you—and you’re acting like you want nothing to do with me.”

“That’s not true.” Rowes bit his lip, reaching for his wallet as the cab pulled in front of the hotel.

“You left me on the street, Ro.” Izzy took a breath. “I had to watch those lawyer assholes walk by me all high and mighty while Lorena called her driver.”

“I left you because you need to go to the studio. I’m a big boy, and I can look after myself. This has nothing to do with you, so carry on and stay out of it. I’ll talk to Lorena later.” It was a pathetic excuse, and Izzy seemed to catch on right away.

“If you want to play that way, Ro, then so be it.”

The line went dead, and Rowes pulled the phone away from his ear, wiping his tears away one last time. Tapping his card against the machine to pay, Rowes stepped out of the cab.

“That seemed like a pretty intense scene he’s working on there,” said the driver, rolling down his window and leaning out of it as Rowes headed for the hotel.

He looked back, mustering a smile. “It’s going to be an epic season. The best one yet.”