Mark woke with a start.
Wind blew hard through the tall trees. He felt stiff from sleeping outside and tried to stand. His legs ached. He rested his hand on the cold stone of a crypt. Over his head, etched in granite was the name ‘RICHFIELD’. He touched his pockets, looking for his phone. “Fuck.” He didn’t have it. He picked up his helmet and held onto it, staring at the mausoleum.
Mark leaned his shoulder on the wall of the structure and envisioned the young couple in the photographs; handsome, happy, in love…
A baby boy came into the family. The home should have been filled with joy and happiness. That baby boy should have gotten all the attention from a loving mom and dad.
Why hadn’t he? What did he do that was so contemptible that they made a decision to beat him? Ignore him? Demean him?
Mark backed up, slightly unsteady from riding nearly five hours on his motorcycle. He checked the time on his watch. It was seven and he needed to be at Parsons and Company at nine. He put his helmet on and sat on the bike.
He took one last look at the crypt, knew he would never be here again, dead or alive, and rode out of the cemetery, back to Interstate 5, and back to work.
~
Alex held the script in front of him. He was seated at a long rectangular table with the stars from his new TV series. Charlotte was there, as was Derek Dixon. Alex stared into space until his costar, a blonde woman who was going to play his jilted bride, nudged him. “Your line.”
“Hm?” Alex snapped back into focus.
“Sugarplum?” Charlotte asked, “Did you not get any sleep last night?”
Alex glanced around at the actors at the table. The last thing he wanted to do was add to the gossip surrounding his father. “Can I speak with you in private?”
Charlotte stood and gestured to the door.
Alex closed it behind them.
Charlotte crossed her arms. “You only kiss her once. Don’t get grossed out.”
“No. Charlotte, it’s not that.”
“I expected you to be floating on a cloud after what Jack managed to do for us.”
“No. I mean, I am. Charlotte? Dad’s gone missing.”
“Missing?”
Alex rubbed his nose with his index finger. “He went off in the middle of the night on his new motorcycle. Everyone’s looking for him.”
“Did anyone call him?”
“He left his cell-phone at the house.”
“Alex.” She touched his hair. “What do you want to do?”
“Keep working. Billy and Steve are looking for him. I can’t do a fucking thing but worry.”
“I’m sorry, Alex. I’m sure Mark is fine.”
“Yeah, right.” Alex used his shirt to wipe his eyes.
“Come here.” Charlotte hugged him. “He’s fine.”
Alex sobbed against her shoulder. “I’m a mess.”
“Okay. Take a break. Go splash your face. We’re not going anywhere.”
Alex nodded and battled back his emotions.
~
Jeff and Mickey drove their patrol car down every street in LA looking for Mark’s motorcycle. Nothing.
Since Mickey was driving, Jeff held a notice Billy had made to locate him. A ‘BOLO’ or ‘Be On the Look Out’ for a red 1299 Panigale S Ducati motorcycle.
“Mick. We have to take 911 calls. We can’t spend all day cruising for his bike.”
“I know.”
“Fucking Mark. Why does he do this? Jesus, Mick.”
“I don’t know. I wish I had answers for you.” Mickey stuck the flier on the dashboard.
“Poor Steve. He has to be going through hell.”
“Unbelievable. I swear, Jeff, I’m so glad I married you. If I was married to Mark, I’d lose it.”
“What the fuck? Doesn’t he realize when he does this how many people suffer?”
“I don’t know if he’s a selfish prick, or just one fucked up dude.”
“Mark’s not selfish.”
Mickey sank in the driver’s seat. “I can’t think straight, Jeff. The fucking exam coming, Billy leaving the LAPD—”
“Did he hear? Did he get the job in Santa Monica?”
“I didn’t hear anything formally, but come on. They’re going to snap him up.”
“A gay chief. That’s pretty monumental.”
“Yeah. Makes me wonder why Mark would want to miss that.”
“He’s fine.” Jeff rubbed Mickey’s leg.
“Maybe he just needed time to think. Ya know. After his mom died.”
“She was really fucking cold at the hospital when he OD’d.”
“She did fly in from London.”
“True. And she had a connection to Larsen.”
“They go way back, Mark and Jack. They met at Stanford.”
“I know. On the baseball team. That’s one long-ass friendship.”
Mickey thought about Mark as they continued to -sort of- look for him. The man had been through hell and back. He’d survived an abusive upbringing, nearly married a woman to hide his sexuality, and then his illegitimate son showed up on his doorstep, turning everything upside down.
Top model, top mess.
Not to mention the media hounding the three of those men received after the gossip. The insinuation that Billy and Mark were carrying on a secret affair after, the rags claimed Mark and his son and the captain had three-way sex. It was despicable, and that type of defamation should be fought. But maybe Mark didn’t have the strength to fight every fucking media battle.
Under his breath, Jeff said, “He’ll be okay.”
Mickey woke out his stupor, heard their call sign over the dispatch radio, and took the call they were assigned to.
~
Worn out and feeling ragged, Mark parked the motorcycle in the garage. Steve’s car was gone. He’d kept the motorcycle’s speed at near one hundred miles per hour the entire drive south, and made it home in just over four hours. He entered the house and changed into his suit and tie, then sat in his TVR and headed to Parsons and Company. He was beyond tired, and mentally spent, but had to keep moving or he’d collapse.
~
Steve sat at his computer in his office, but hadn’t touched the keyboard. He stared into space, his cell phone by him, ominously silent.
“Steven?”
Hearing Mark’s voice, Steve jumped to his feet, practically vaulted over his desk, and grabbed him. Steve fought back his emotions and shut his office door. “Oh, God.” Steve kept touching Mark and then said, “Let me tell Billy you’re okay.” Steve’s hands shook as he dialed Billy’s cell-phone number.
“Miller?”
“He’s here.”
“Where?”
“In my office at Parsons.”
“What. The. Fuck? Put that asshole on!”
Steve held out the phone. “The captain needs a word with you.”
“Why?” Mark tilted his head.
Steve made Mark take the phone.
As he did, Steve used his office phone to call Jack. “Larsen. Mark is here at work.”
“Where the fuck was he? Is he out of his mind to do this to us?”
“Sharpe is ripping him a new one at the moment.”
“I swear, Steve, I’m about to fucking kill him. Where was he?”
“No clue. I’ll find out. Just spread the word he’s okay.”
“Fucking asshole.”
“Hey. He’s alive. Okay?”
Jack exhaled loudly. “Okay. So, tomorrow, after the shoot we’re still coming over?”
“Yes.”
“Thanks for calling.”
“Of course.” Steve hung up and could see Mark getting a verbal beating from the captain.
“I forgot my phone!” Mark twisted a strand of his hair as Billy lectured him. “No! I didn’t mean to cause any—Captain. You’re just being rude now.”
Steve shook his head as he stared at Mark. What am I going to do with you?
“It was closure. I certainly couldn’t ask you and Steven to come back to the cemetery—I’m going to hang up if you continue to use that language with me!”
Ahhh, the cemetery. Sure. What the hell? Take the bike out at one in the morning, drive north for four hundred miles and spend the night with ghosts. Yeah, makes perfect sense. Not.
“Captain!” Mark yelled. “Oh? Did you? Does this mean I may call you Chief?”
Steve smiled. He hadn’t heard the news yet, since Mark gave them all heart failure.
“My, oh, my. Chief of Police. Well.” Mark gave Steve a grin. “Oh, yes. I’ll call Alexander. Why? Good Lord, must you all think the worst? I wasn’t that—” Mark threw up one hand. “I forgot my phone! Bloody hell! Keep your ‘hair on!”
Steve shook his head and didn’t know Alex’s number by heart, so he had to wait for Mark to get off his phone.
“Yes. Yes, Master Chief of Police. No, I shall never go off on my own… no, I shall never tell you how fast I was going! You do realize you’re behaving like a child. Fine.” Mark handed Steve the phone.
“Sharpe.”
“I swear, Miller, I want to fucking kick his tight ass all over LA.”
“Call your husband, please. Alex must be losing his mind.”
“Fucking Mark. Goddamn him.”
Steve met Mark’s gaze. “Yeah. I know what you mean. So? Are you coming to the shoot tomorrow?”
“I will, just to strangle him.”
Steve smiled. “We’ll pick you up at ten.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
Steve set the phone down and crossed his arms.
“I forgot my phone.” Mark mirrored Steve’s posture.
“So? You just figured you’d take a little ride? Huh? No big deal?”
“I couldn’t sleep. It seemed like a way to get closure.”
“And? No note. Seriously? So I wake up to you missing?”
“I wasn’t missing. I was at the cemetery.”
“Mark Antonious.”
“Steven Jay.” Mark sauntered closer.
“Do you know you gave all of us a heart attack?”
“I wasn’t depressed. I mean, no more than the norm. Why do you all overreact? I’m sick of being treated as if I am an irresponsible child.”
Steve rubbed his face and then stared at Mark in disbelief.
“What?” Mark shrugged as if he had done nothing wrong.
“Come here.”
Mark inched closer. “We’re at work, Steven. No naughty blowjobs.”
Steve grabbed Mark, hugging him, and swatted his behind, hard.
“You brute!” Mark pouted.
“If you only knew the mess you created while everyone was trying to find you.”
“I forgot my phone!”
“Shut up. Leave me a fucking note, will you? It’s what you normally do.”
“Promise.”
Steve held onto him and closed his eyes. “Fucking Richfield.”
“Yes, well, that is the one thing you can do. In the car? Do you think?”
Steve shook his head and couldn’t let him go. He held onto Mark and inhaled him, his delicious scent. “Did you get what you went there for?”
“I did. I do not want to be buried there. End of.”
“Okay.”
“Now.” Mark tried to part from their embrace. “What does Harold have in mind for us today?”
Steve hauled him back into his arms. “It can wait.”
“You really are a pushover, Officer Miller.”
“Only for you, Trouble. Only for you.”
“Mm. Give us a kiss.”
Steve cupped Mark’s jaw and kissed him.
~
Alex felt his phone vibrate. As another cast member read from the new pilot episode, he peeked. It was a text from Billy. ‘your dad is fine. he rode back to the cemetery and ‘forgot’ his phone. he’s with Steve at work. we can both kill him later.’
Alex exhaled loudly. “Thank God.”
Everyone in the room looked at him.
Charlotte asked, “All good, Alex?”
Alex put his phone into his pocket. “Yes. It’s all good.”
“Okay. Your line, sugarplum.”
Alex sat up, and read his character’s line, this time, with enthusiasm.
~
By one, Mark felt the toll of his little nightly excursion, including sleeping on the cold ground near the crypt. It wasn’t much of a nap, simply complete exhaustion causing him to shut down. Cup after cup of strong coffee wasn’t doing him much good.
He stood in the employee lounge, filling his mug when Donny Rothschild, one of a pair of identical twins working with him and Steve, entered the room.
“Hey.” Donny waited for Mark to hand him the coffee carafe. “Sorry about your mom.”
“Thank you.” Mark blew on his hot coffee.
“Why didn’t you drive in with Steve this morning? Did you guys have a fight? He looked like shit and didn’t come out of his office until you showed up.”
“No, lovely. We didn’t fight. I just had something to take care of.”
Donny set the coffee pot down and poured creamer into his cup. “I saw the media hounds hit you guys at your mom’s funeral. Man, that has to suck having them poke their nose into everything you, Alex, or Billy, do.”
“Indeed, it does, suck.” Mark drank the coffee.
“So? What’s new with Alex? Is he still in Canada?” Donny leaned on the counter. “I saw an article on the internet he was assaulted. Was that real or made-up bullshit?”
Mark rubbed his forehead and then ran his hand over his hair. “He’s fine. I do wish everyone would just let us be.”
“Well, you’re celebrities. Not only that, but, every fuckhead with a phone can now film you and sell it to the highest bidder.”
“Quite.” Mark sipped his coffee. “Well, Steven and I have to go to an appointment.”
“The dream team.” Donny smiled.
Mark paused. “I don’t know why Harold doesn’t send you and Daniel.”
Donny laughed. “He tried it once. We confused the client since they couldn’t figure out which of us was which.”
“Silly rubbish.”
Donny tapped Mark. “You sound more British. Is that from hanging with the family?”
“Don’t you start on me. I hear enough from Steven and the captain, or shall I say, the chief.” Mark beamed at Donny.
“He got it?”
“I do believe he did.”
“Holy shit!” Donny laughed. “Billy Sharpe, Chief of Police.”
“It does have a nice ring to it.” Mark walked to the hallway. “Oh, and Alexander has a new TV show. I’ll be sure to let everyone know when it premiers.”
“And, his film? All done?”
“Yes. It wrapped early. My baby boy is home.”
Donny followed Mark out of the lounge. “That sounds like a lot of reasons to celebrate.” Donny held his mug. “Or is it too soon after your mom’s death?”
“That’s a good question. Can I think on it?”
“Of course.” Donny winked at him and walked off.
Mark met Steve in the hall.
Steve asked, “Are you ready?”
“Yes. Let me just set this down and get my suit jacket and valise.”
“I’ll drive.”
“I’d have it no other way.” Mark smiled wickedly at him. He put his mug on a cup-warmer and took his suit jacket from a hook behind his office door. Mark hadn’t eaten, at all. And tried to recall the last time he had. He picked up the coffee and finished it, then reached for his briefcase. As he did he felt faint and waited for it to pass.
“Okay. Let’s go… Mark?”
Mark shook off the sensation of lightheadedness, and made sure his laptop was in the briefcase. “Yes.”
“You’re pale. Hang on.”
“Steven.” Mark ran his hand through his hair. “Can we just get on with it?”
Steve narrowed his eyes at Mark, and Mark waited for the usual interrogation about what he had ingested. Steve didn’t do it. He simply gestured for Mark to lead the way.