Chapter Seven

Friday morning the protestors were waiting outside the studio when Dale arrived. But not even they, with their hateful banners and angry calls to quit, could dampen his mood. Nothing could bring him down. Not today.

Not after a night like that.

He didn’t get much sleep. Didn’t need it—or want it. Not when he was with Matt. Oh boy, what a night. It wasn’t just the sex, though it had been pretty mind-blowing. It was the interactions between them, deep into the night, talking back and forth. Listening. Learning. Discovering each other.

How was it even possible to feel so strongly for someone you had just met? Dale didn’t know, but he did. Matt was someone very special. The more time he spent with him, the more he felt it. Not only handsome and sexy—those things were obvious to anyone with eyes—but warm, funny and intelligent. He was the complete package.

If Dale didn’t know better, he would say he had fallen in love. But he couldn’t say that. Not yet.

The first person he encountered as he hurried to his trailer was Adrian Nelson, a talented stage actor playing the young detective on the show, sidekick to the imposing Roxanne. He was tall and rangy with an untidy mop of curls and a large nose.

“How’s it going?” Dale beamed.

Adrian frowned. “A happy face. How nice. I hope it lasts. Roxanne is back and she’s got as much cheer as a Russian winter.”

“Ah. She must have got Elton’s message about the avaiabilty of his first choice. Not a happy lady, eh?”

“That’s putting it very mildly. She’s got a face like a smacked arse. And compared to the face on Elton, that’s a good thing. Hang on to that happiness for as long as you feel it. This is going to be a very long day.”

“It’s gonna take more than a disgruntled actress to bring me down,” Dale said. He meant it too. He had two whole days off after this. His boy, Jack, was coming to stay. Dale had been looking forward to that for too long to let anyone spoil it.

Now, to add to his joy, there was Matt. It was with great reluctance that Dale had left his bed that morning. In an ideal world he’d slip back in there tonight, but that was impossible. As much as he wanted to be with Matt, spending quality time with his son was more important. This weekend would be all about the boy.

Matt understood. They would stay in touch and maybe, just maybe, there was a chance they could get together again on Sunday night when Jack went back to his mother’s.

Until then there was work to do.

Dale changed into the costume that was laid out in his trailer. When he wasn’t killing people, his character, Daryl Stone, was a teacher at the sixth-form college, lecturing impressionable teens. It was a huge challenge as an actor to portray the conflicting sides of the character—the caring teacher and the psychotic killer. As he dressed in today’s wardrobe—chinos, plaid shirt and blazer—he put thoughts of his personal life to one side and concentrated on the twisted mind of Daryl Stone.

He headed to the makeup trailer with that morning’s script. He knew the lines already but an actor could never be over-prepared.

Roxanne Maxwell was in the chair when he arrived. While a makeup assistant and hairdresser busied around her, Roxanne glowered at the screen of her mobile phone, furiously thumbing the keys. She didn’t look up or acknowledge his arrival.

“Morning,” he said cheerfully, sliding into the chair beside her. She might have a face like a horse’s ass but it wasn’t contagious. “Hope you’re feeling better today, Roxanne.”

She raised her eyes from the phone and stared at his reflection in the mirror. Her lips were narrow and tense. The poor makeup girl had her work cut out trying to get color on them.

“Not really,” she said frostily. “I don’t appreciate being dragged from my sick bed by some third-rate director. You know the little bastard threatened to have me replaced? The gin must have addled his tiny mind. They’re selling this crap on me, not Elton bloody Weaver. It’s my name above the title. I’m the star of the show. No offense.”

“Huh. None taken.”

“If he had any damn sense he’d close the production down for at least a week. Until this whole mess is sorted out.”

Mess? This crazy woman thought the murder of two young men was a mess?

“That would be too expensive,” he said calmly, refusing to be drawn into her anger. “I doubt we’re insured for things like that. Besides, the producers were breathing down Elton’s neck, insisting he keep the show on the road.”

“Have you heard the fucking racket they are making out there? Next week we’re supposed to shoot locations. How are we going to do that if the moral crusaders decide to follow us?”

“It may calm down after the weekend.”

“Not likely.” She brandished her phone in his direction. “Have you seen what they are saying about me on Twitter? Me, for fuck’s sake. What did I ever do to deserve this shit?”

****

Roxanne’s mood did not improve once they got to the set. They were trying to shoot a scene in which the detectives, Roxanne and her sidekick Adrian, asked questions of pupils and teachers at the school of one of Daryl’s victims. Dale and Adrian were word perfect on every take while Roxanne blew every line.

“For fuck’s sake,” Elton screeched, blazing onto the set. “It’s not fucking Chekhov. What can possibly be so difficult?”

Oh crap. This was exactly what she’d been building to, provoking the director to the point of explosion.

“What is so difficult is trying to work on the utter anarchy of your set. I can’t even think straight with all that noise out there. You need to do something about it.”

“You don’t have to think, duckie.” Elton’s voice was as sharp as a blade. “It’s all written down for you. All you have to do is learn the words and repeat them. Like a parrot. It’s called acting. Give it a try it sometime.”

The resulting clash went off louder than New Year’s fireworks, so deafening that the sound of the protestors outside was finally reduced to background noise. Adrian Nelson rolled his eyes as he and Dale stepped to the side of the set.

“This could take a while,” Adrian said wearily.

“Maybe it’ll be better afterward. Once they’ve cleared the air.” Dale sounded hopeful.

“TV fucking Choice Awards,” Elton screeched. “I didn’t know they gave awards to blocks of wood. What did they carve you out of? Oak or elm?”

“You gin-soaked old fairy!”

“I’m going for a smoke,” Adrian said. “Send someone out to get me when this is all over.”

Things only got worse over the course of the morning with Elton and Roxanne at each other’s throats. The protest outside seemed to be getting louder too, as though they sensed they were being upstaged by the drama inside. This couldn’t go on for much longer. The entire shoot was descending into chaos.

During the downtime, of which there was plenty, Dale checked his phone for messages. Everything was set for his weekend with Jack. Laura would put him on a train when he got out of school, first-class carriage, with instructions to speak to no one, and Dale would meet him at Durham station at eight that evening. It wasn’t ideal. The alternative was for Dale to drive down early on Saturday morning, meeting Laura at a collection point midway on the A1.

“Boring,” Jack had protested loudly. “There’s nothing to do in a car. I want to take the train. C’mon, I’m not a kid. I’m not going to talk to pedophiles in the carriage.”

Laura had been appalled but Dale had been quietly glad the boy was worldly wise and smart to such dangers. “You can call him every half hour of the journey,” Dale had assured her. “What harm can he come to in a first-class train carriage?”

Reluctantly Laura had agreed to the exchange.

No message yet from her to call the visit off. He’d been half expecting it, given the hullabaloo around the shoot. Maybe it was just a big story for the local news and not gaining as much attention nationally.

Mid-morning, he was pleased to receive a text from Matt.

Thanks for last night. One of the best. Can’t wait to do it again.

Neither could he. His night with Matt had sure put a spring in his step today. Work was impossible, regardless of the on-set drama, when all he could think about was Matt and his amazing body. And the sex. My God—the sex. That had never been so good. Not with anyone. Fucking, getting fucked, kissing, sucking, rimming. All night long, they couldn’t get enough of each other. Coupling and uncoupling in every way imaginable.

With other guys, Dale couldn’t wait to get away once it was over. There was an awkwardness after sex that always made him uncomfortable. But not with Matt. He had wanted to hold him and kiss him until they had been ready to go again. Pretty soon they both had been.

Elton eventually called an early lunch. His fights with Roxanne were getting them nowhere. The director, actress and producers retired to a production room where they could thrash out their considerable differences in private.

Dale was suddenly starving. He hadn’t eaten at all since leaving the restaurant with Matt last night. God knew he’d burned off some energy since then.

Instead of retiring to his trailer, he headed to the catering truck with the rest of the crew. No healthy lunch today. He needed protein and carbs. He loaded his plate with a beef burger and thick-cut chips and took a seat at a table with the lighting guys.

There was only one topic of conversation—the bust-up between director and leading lady.

“I’ve never worked on any set when I saw attitudes as unprofessional as those two,” said a bearded, tattooed engineer named Phil.

There were murmurs of agreement around the table. Dale refused to comment either way. There were a lot of weeks ahead of them. He wouldn’t be drawn into taking sides. Roxanne and Elton might be speaking to each other by this afternoon but would hold a grudge against anyone who spoke against them in the meantime.

He’d worked on enough sets to know there was nothing more fragile or toxic than ego.

After lunch, he went back to his trailer to catch up on the news. There were no new developments in the murder case though it was still the lead item on the local bulletin, with the protest outside the studio getting near equal coverage.

As Dale began preparing for that afternoon’s scenes, there was a knock on his trailer door—Aaron.

He hovered in the doorway, not coming in without an invitation. “Hi,” he said, cute smile in place, puppy-dog eyes effectively wide. “Are you in a better mood today?”

Dale smiled, not too encouragingly. “I’m always in a good mood. But I am kind of busy.”

“Too busy for a blow job?” Aaron winked, licking his lips.

“Afraid so.” Why didn’t he just tell the truth? I’ve met someone. As nice as the lunchtime blow jobs were, they’re over. No more.

“Your loss.” Aaron shrugged, closing the door behind him.

****

Matt had been in a terrific mood all day. Nothing they could throw at him in the office could spoil it. Annabel had obviously known there was something up the second she had collected him that morning.

“Whoa. I know it’s Friday and all that but you are way too cheerful for this time of the morning. What’s up?”

He’d decided, before she’d arrived, that he couldn’t trust her with his good news. There had been too much at stake for Dale, especially right now, to let her in on the secret. For a lawyer, she’d been hopelessly indiscreet. He could have sworn her to secrecy, but within hours, the news of his date with Dale Zachary would have been around the office, Twitter and on Facebook.

“I had a few too many drinks with Conrad last night, that’s all. Didn’t feel safe to drive this morning.”

“Very wise. I had eight drivers at court last week who were caught out by the cops with their early morning spot checks. They all thought they were safe to drive the next day.” Annabel had floored the accelerator as an amber light changed to red. Her driving was far from perfect, even when sober. “I thought you were going out with Conrad tonight.”

“We are, this was just…an unexpected piss-up. How was boot camp?” he asked, changing the subject.

“Didn’t make it,” she had said, ignoring the angry car horns of other drivers. “Didn’t even set my alarm. I knew last night there was no way I could get up for that this morning, as much I would like to see the tasty Dale again. And Clint for that matter. I got a definite whiff of interest there.”

It was a busy day at work and the time flew. Court appearances, police station interviews and scheduled appointments. He didn’t even stop for ten minutes to grab a sandwich for lunch. None of it bothered him. He went through the day on a euphoric high. Just the thought of Dale got him buzzing and looking back to last night.

He’d never been screwed so well. Not by anyone. And he’d never wanted anyone more. Usually one orgasm was enough—roll over and go to sleep. But with Dale, he hadn’t wanted to stop. Ten minutes after coming he had been hard again, ready for more. And how great it had been to go to bed with a man who was as versatile as he. Most guys he’d been with were bound up in roles, top or bottom, with no negotiation. Matt had always enjoyed it both ways and Dale did too. They were in and out of each other’s bodies all night long.

The memory made him smile. And got him hard again.

There was a possibility of them getting together on Sunday evening, depending on how the weekend with Dale’s son went. Matt could hardly wait and prayed nothing would come up to prevent it.

After work, he went home to change. The bed that he’d hastily straightened that morning still smelled of Dale. He held a pillow to his face and inhaled deeply. He wouldn’t change the sheets until Sunday. If he couldn’t spend the weekend with Dale, he could at least sleep with his scent.

He showered quickly and put on fresh underpants—white briefs—and socks. He dressed in jeans, a blue shirt and a navy pullover. It was a cold night with frost in the forecast, so he chose a pair of brogues and his dark blue tweed blazer. He was meeting his friend for a drink in town and wanted to look good, but not as if he were cruising. He was off the market, at least till he saw how things played out with Dale.

The champagne bar in Durham overlooked the River Wear. On Fridays and Saturdays it was standing room only but Matt arrived just in time to secure a booth and order a bottle of Veuve Clicquot.

Conrad came in as the waiter brought the bottle and an ice bucket to the table.

“Have we got something to celebrate?” Conrad asked, sliding into the booth beside Matt. He had also managed to change after work and wore a white shirt and checked jacket.

“A treat, that’s all,” Matt said, as the glasses were filled. “I think we deserved it. Cheers.”

“Cheers.”

They clinked glasses. The champagne was perfectly cold and tasted delicious. Though they often met here—it was one of the most popular bars in town—they rarely splashed out on the fizzy stuff. House wine or happy hour cocktails were more within their budget. But tonight, without Dale, Matt wanted to indulge.

“You look like you’ve already had a treat or two,” Conrad grinned. “I can tell by your face that last night went well.”

Matt returned the smile. “You could say that. You could also say that it went absolutely incredibly.”

“Come on then. Don’t be coy. Tell me everything. What’s it like to fuck a movie star?”

Unlike Annabel, Matt knew that whatever he told Conrad would stay between the two of them. They’d been friends for too long and shared too much to let each other down. Lowering his voice to avoid unwanted evesdroppers, he told Conrad about his date, leaving nothing out.

“Wow,” his friend said at the end of the story. “That’s some night, you randy bastard. Did you expect to go so far with him?”

“Depends what you mean by far. Sleeping with him—absolutely. My God, Conrad, if you had seen him you would understand why. I’ve never met anyone before who I found so physically attractive. He’s ten out of ten gorgeous. There’s just no way that I’d turn down the opportunity of going to bed with him. If it were only a one-night stand, I’d still do it. It was the other stuff I didn’t expect. The talking, the intimacy, feeling so comfortable with someone I knew next to nothing about.”

Conrad looked at him closely. “It sounds to me like you’ve fallen in love.”

“It does, doesn’t it? But I can’t have. That’s insane. You can’t love someone after a few days, can you? After only one date?”

Conrad suddenly sang the chorus of Love at First Sight. They both laughed.

“Thank you, Kylie, but I don’t think that’s the case just yet.”

Conrad refilled their glasses. “Until it hits you, how could you know? But I can tell you this, I’ve never seen you beam quite as much as you are tonight. Whatever Dale has done for you, you look good for it.”

“Thank you.”

“I don’t suppose you asked him about helping out with a charity donation?”

“No, sorry. Had other things on my mind.”

“Hmm. I don’t doubt that. You’ll ask him next time, though, won’t you?”

“I’ll do my best.”

By the time they had finished the bottle, the bar was heaving. The sound of talk and laughter all around was at a deafening volume. Time to move on. Matt hated it when a place got too crowded. He used to love the crowds and the action. Not anymore. He was getting old, almost thirty, but so what?

They went to another bar on the same road. It was just as busy but, because the venue was more than double the size, it didn’t feel so crowded or restrictive. Matt found a place to wait in a quieter corner of the room, while Conrad fought his way to the bar to get them each vodka and Cokes.

It was past nine-thirty. Dale would be with his son by now. He wondered what the boy was like, whether he knew about his father’s love life. This would take some getting used to if things developed between them. Matt hadn’t been involved with a man who had the complication of a family. Dale had given the impression that things were good between him and his ex-wife, no reason it should be a problem for Matt.

Give it a rest, he warned himself. One night of lust and he was already thinking about the future and relationships. Time to slow down and enjoy things for what they were, one day at a time.

Danny Frost came into the bar after ten. The lawyer was in the company of a couple of other guys. They were about the same age as Danny but lacked his trim physique and outgoing attitude—they looked like middle-aged men, where Danny looked timeless. He wore a tight-fitting black shirt, which not only looked great against his holiday suntan and graying hair, but showed off what great shape he was in.

“Matt,” he greeted, “twice in one week. This is an honor.”

Matt noted Conrad’s eyes widen at the sight of the older man and he changed position to get closer. Oh yes, he liked what he saw. Why not? Danny looked incredible. A total DILF. Matt made the introductions and didn’t miss the way Danny looked Conrad up and down as they shook hands.

Well, well, he would never have thought of putting these two together. But why not? They seemed to hit it off. Danny’s friends were less friendly and made little effort to engage with Matt while Danny and Conrad got acquainted. Eventually he excused himself and went to the bathroom.

He checked his phone. Still no messages from Dale. He had to stop doing that. They weren’t teenagers. Dale was a busy man. There was no reason for him to text all the time.

The bar was really heaving now. It was a struggle to get through to the bathrooms. He couldn’t be bothered with all of these people. It was a cattle market. He appeared to be the only man in here who wasn’t on the make. It would be time to move again soon. Always better to stay ahead of the crowd.

Matt was finishing off at the urinal when a voice behind him said, “Why did you stand me up this morning?”

He turned to find Clint Dexter standing there. Even now, dressed casually in shirt and jeans, off duty, the boot camp instructor was a huge and imposing figure. His brow was furrowed and the set of his mouth could almost be interpreted as a smile.

“Oh, Clint. Hi. I didn’t recognize you for a second.” A lie. There was no mistaking him.

“Not up to it today?”

“Sorry, no. I didn’t have time. Early start at work.” Why was he lying? He was under no obligation to attend every session.

“Your American friend didn’t make it either.” Clint’s pale eyes looked directly into Matt’s.

“He has a lot going on,” Matt said brightly. “I expect he was busy too.”

“Hmm,” Clint said, folding his tattooed arms. “I saw the news. All that shit about his show. You could be right about him. And your…girlfriend? No sign of her today either.”

“Yeah, Annabel’s not really a morning person. I don’t think you’ll see a whole lot of her. But I’ll be there Monday. Bright and early, with bells on.”

“I hope you are. To get any kind of results you have to put the work in. It takes commitment.”

“Like I said, I’ll be there.” Clint made him uncomfortable. His tough attitude was great for motivating tired people on the course, but not here when he was trying to unwind. “Better get back to my friends. See you next week.”

“You will,” Clint said as he walked away. “You showed great stamina. You have potential. You could get amazing results if you do the work.”

Conrad was alone when he returned. “Where’s Danny?”

“His friends dragged him away. I don’t think they liked us.”

“Miserable fucks,” Matt said.

They both laughed.

“He was nice though. I really liked him.”

“I could tell. I think he liked you too.”

“What’s his story? He is single?”

“He’s single. He hasn’t been in a relationship the whole time I’ve known him. But he’s a nice guy. Funny too.”

Conrad raised his mobile. “He left me his number. Said to call him tomorrow.”

“Excellent,” Matt said. “Meet for a coffee. See how you get on.”

Conrad smiled. “I think I will. God, I haven’t been on a date in ages. Seems old-fashioned in this age of apps and instant sex.”

“It’s not that old-fashioned. I went on a date with Dale.”

“And look how that turned out. You’ve really started something.”

It was true. He had started something. And it was something he couldn’t wait to continue.