Something Like Peace Page 2

  But that meant I had only a week and a half until I saw him again.

  He hadn’t said anything to me, and since I brought my A game to work, he hadn’t even talked to me outside of giving direction. It had been two days of nerves for me, not quite knowing what to do or say. I guessed he’d meant it when he said it was up to me. But before I’d built up the nerve to do anything, we’d got the final scene for the episode in the can and everyone scattered. I thought I’d have a chance to make my move at the wrap party, but he hadn’t shown at DeLorio’s that night. It was disappointing, but in the end, I decided it wasn’t something I wanted to pursue.

  And then Marc Bergman, showrunner and producer, called an all cast and staff meeting to tell us the big plans for episode twelve and I learned just how soon Vincent Stevens would be back.

  Not that it mattered. I wasn’t going to do anything else with him. He was sexy and beautiful, he wore his fifty-two years incredibly well, but I knew better than to try for anything. It was never a good idea to get involved with someone you worked with. I always worried about what would happen if things between Lucas and Aaron went south, and I breathed a sigh every day I saw them still in love. God, their affection went so deep that I was almost certain their relationship would outlast the run of the show.

  I could hope anyway.

  But I wasn’t naïve enough to think that I could find the same thing. And Vincent had certainly sounded like he was looking for a good time, not a relationship. I didn’t know if the risks of pursuing that were worth the reward. I didn’t think I was brave enough to find out. So I resolutely pushed the thought from my mind and went to change into the first costume.

  It was a long day, and a good portion of it was me standing around and waiting for the photographer to need me. I got into a tickle fight with Mary Alice for which we were both chastised. Court Scully and I had a heated debate about the merits of lowering the drinking age. We were all quiet when the photographer, James Levinson, had us pose on set, and it was difficult to find that half smile that was Frank Geary’s trademark. I didn’t have a problem when we were in a scene; the smile came naturally to me then. But I wasn’t in Geary’s head right now, for all I was wearing his clothes and standing with his coworkers and lover.

  Eventually things wound down and James had let everyone go except for me, Aaron, and Lucas. Aaron’s character had gone from a supporting role to a main character over the course of one season. The novelty of a gay relationship hadn’t worn off yet, apparently. There was still a ridiculous amount of publicity, though fortunately most of the negative had dissipated. We didn’t even get protesters anymore.

  We shot some poses with Lucas and me looking all menacing and badass. We were hotshot detectives who always solved our cases, after all. It was the best part of the day, goofing off with Lucas. He was a close friend, our years together on the set of this show cementing something between us that couldn’t be broken. He’d been honest with me about his sexuality the first time I’d caught him staring at Aaron’s ass, though I hadn’t known at the time how deep his infatuation ran. But even though I’d finally figured things out for myself, I hadn’t yet returned the favor.

  James interrupted my train of thought by telling Lucas he was done, and ushering Aaron onto set with me. He had us move to the corner where he’d set up a dark background. Aaron was wearing the deputy uniform of his character, and I was wearing a button down shirt, tie, and slacks. My badge hung around my neck.

  “Let’s get the good shots so we can all go home,” James said, sounding as weary as I felt. He had us position ourselves so I was leaning against the wall, and Aaron was leaning into me. We both looked at the camera as the shutter started clicking.

  “So,” I began conversationally, keeping my voice low. Might as well start with Aaron, and tell him the truth. We’d been basically naked together, and had spent several days faking having sex. That gave us a connection. “I need to tell you something.”

  “Yeah?” Aaron asked, moving as James directed so that his back was to me and he was leaning against my left shoulder. When James had me slip my arm around Aaron’s waist, I did not miss the way Aaron’s gaze shot to Lucas’s.

  Lucas, for his part, looked thoroughly engaged in his phone, typing madly, but I knew him well enough to know his attention was focused on us. And that he’d put up with me touching Aaron because it was me and our job, and for no other reason.

  “Yeah,” I agreed. Then blew out a breath. “Truth is, I’m gay.”

  Aaron gave a tiny jolt of surprise, but then he settled back further into my arms. I did not miss the accusation in his voice when he asked, “Since when?”

  “Always,” I admitted, then I took another breath and gave him the quick abridged version of my history. I knew he was listening intently because he cocked his head ever so slightly to the side. He didn’t look at me, kept his attention on James or Lucas, but I had no doubt he was hearing every word.

  “So you forgot you were gay?”

  When he put it like that, it sounded ridiculous. But that was closest to the truth. I could pretend with the best of them, I was paid a lot of money for it, and I’d convinced myself of a different truth, forgetting the real one. “Yes.”

  For a beat, Aaron didn’t react. Then he let out a soft laugh, and reached back to squeeze my hip. “You know what? Anyone else and I’d think that was a crock of shit. You, though? Yeah. I believe it.”

  Relief flooded my veins and I was so giddy with it, I laughed hard. Aaron turned a bright smile on me.

  “Thanks, A.”

  “Anytime. You want me to tell Lucas?”

  I shook my head. “I’ll do it. He deserves to hear it from me. Why don’t you guys come over for dinner tonight, I’ll make lasagna, and I’ll tell him then?”

  Aaron nodded, accepting for both of them. And then his smile turned a little mischievous. “So is there someone you have your eye on?”

  “What? No!” I sputtered. Aaron gave a wicked chuckle and I struggled to rein myself in in. Once I was under control, I said much more calmly, “No, of course not. I’m just, you know, sharing a truth about myself with my friend.”

  Aaron looked knowingly at me. “Yeah. Okay. You can share all your truths with me.”

  I snorted out a laugh and bumped him with my hip as James finally called an end to the session. “It’s not anything, at least, I don’t think it is. I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “I hear ya, man,” Aaron said, raising his fist for me to bump with my own.

  Lucas chose that moment to stalk closer, and after a surreptitious look around the set, pushed right into Aaron’s personal space. No one was paying them any attention but me, and I could see the way Lucas was vibrating with the need to reassert his claim. It was enough to make me laugh, but I kept it inside.

  “What’s so funny?” Lucas growled.

  Aaron shook his head and quickly ran a finger along Lucas’s jaw. It was amazing, the way Lucas relaxed under just that much of a touch.

  “Don’t worry about it right now,” Aaron said, his voice pitched low. “Dan’ll fill you in later when we go to his house for dinner.”

  Lucas brightened considerably, and he turned his gaze to me. “Lasagna?” he asked hopefully.

  I nodded and shooed them along. I needed to get out of this costume and hang it back on the rack, then I needed to get out of here. The warehouses that housed the soundstages and the production offices weren’t far from the grocery store, and I could stop and get what I needed on my way home. My place wasn’t anything fancy, only half of a duplex just past the business district where it started to become residential. I bought the place when it looked like Rourke and Geary would be sticking around for a while. Seattle was a fantastic city, and I had no problem making my home there for the duration.

  Coming out, take two, had gone fairly smoothly. I could only hope Lucas accepted it as easily.

  Chapter 3

  The writers kept the script for the one hundredth
episode under wraps until the last possible second to try and stop any leaks. I was at home on the second day of a three-day break when the courier delivered mine. I barely shut the door in his face before I was ripping into the manila envelope. I couldn’t wait to see what the writers had in store.

  An hour later and I felt like I’d been kicked in the gut, my emotions a riotous mess. It took me a few minutes to get myself under control. The episode was structured in a series of flashbacks as well as long reminiscing monologues as we all gathered around the chief’s bedside while he clung to life. One of the flashbacks toward the end of the episode showed how we’d gotten to that point; a disgruntled ex-con stormed into the precinct and took out the chief. And the whole episode ended on a cliffhanger that left the chief’s fate in doubt. The entire episode would be hell on our emotions, and if it ended like it implied, then one of our own would be leaving the show.

  I called Court Scully, who played the chief of police. He answered on the second ring.

  “Did you know about this?” I asked bluntly, dispensing with the usual greetings.

  Court’s laugh was warm and affectionate. “Of course, I did, Dan. I asked for it.”

  The implications of that statement hit me hard and I had to sit. If Court had asked for something like this, then he wanted out. “You’re quitting?” I couldn’t keep the incredulity from my voice.

  “Retiring,” Court corrected gently. “I’m old, Dan. I’m old and I’m tired. I’ve been doing this a long time, and I love it. But it’s time I slowed down. Took the occasional guest role instead of working every week. I deserve it, don’t you think?”

  “Yeah, I guess,” I grumbled good-naturedly. Forty years was a long time to be in this business and stay relevant. Court wasn’t a huge name, wasn’t wildly popular, but he’d managed to find steady work throughout all those years. Television and movies, even the occasional play, he’d always been doing something. If he was ready to live a life of leisure, I couldn’t begrudge him that.

  “Gee, thanks,” he said sarcastically. And then he laughed. “When I talked to Marc about being done, he asked me to hang on until this episode. Said it would make the perfect one-hundredth celebration. I agreed. I love this show and I love the cast and crew. I couldn’t have asked for a better note to end on. But I’m ready to be done.”

  I let his words sink in for a long minute where neither of us said anything. Then I sighed. It wouldn’t be the same without him, but I knew we would manage. And I knew I wouldn’t be the only one working to make him proud of us. We all looked up to Court. He was a legend to those of us in the business, and we’d been grateful and lucky to have him with us these last four and a half years.

  “Congratulations,” I said, meaning it whole heartedly. “Party at DeLorio’s to send you on your way?”

  Court laughed, a deep booming sound, and I couldn’t help smile in return. “It’s already in the works, Danny-boy. Wrap party for the episode, farewell to me. It’ll be huge.”

  Court deserved nothing less.

  * * * *

  By the time we all showed up on set, word had gotten around about Court’s retirement. There was a somber mood to things, which fit the episode, and it just felt appropriate. But none of us had time to dwell on our own morose moods. We had a packed shooting schedule, and there was a lot of footage to film. Not all of it would be used, which was normally the case, but it was even more so this time. We had a lot of flashbacks to film, as well as all the current scenes, and no one was quite sure what would make it into the final cut of the episode and what wouldn’t.

  An updated copy of the shooting schedule was waiting for me in my dressing room. This one was structured differently than they usually were, showing not only who needed to be where but which director was shooting which scenes. It took me only a moment to catch the pattern. Connie was directing the flashback portions of the script, while Vincent was directing the present day hospital scenes. We had fifteen days on the schedule, which was almost twice as many as usual, and I was spending the first three in Vincent’s presence.

  That was just great.

  I’d managed to push the man to the back of my mind, relying on old habits to move forward. But now there would be no escaping him. And the truth was, I no longer wanted to. I had good reasons for avoiding any entanglements with him. Valid reasons that no one could argue with. None of it mattered, though, the moment I saw him again. It had been a couple of weeks, and even though it was impossible to forget what he looked like, it didn’t compare to seeing Vincent in person.

  He strode onto the set wearing his confidence like a cape, and immediately started barking out orders. PAs and gofers ran to do his bidding, and the set dressers started tweaking things to his liking. I stood by the craft services table, well out of the way of the main action on set, and just stared. I’d worked with the man on and off for five years. For nine months, I’d allowed myself to admire him, to acknowledge that I found him exceedingly attractive. And for two weeks I’d thought of little else than how he’d felt in my arms, how good I’d felt pressed against him, and how much I wanted to be there again. How desperately I wanted him to take me to bed. Or up against a wall. Or over a table. It didn’t really matter, I just wanted him. And I was determined to have him.

  He shooed off a twinky little PA with a huge, sparkling grin, and when he wasn’t immediately swarmed again, I took the opportunity. I walked quickly, and by the time I’d gotten across the set, the only thing he’d had time to do was sit in his chair and pick up his copy of the script. It was heavily marked up, just like they always were. Vincent liked to make notes. In green pen.

  Vincent looked up when I drew close, and for a moment, a beautiful smile lit his face before it smoothed again into a mask of polite disinterest. But even though he could control his features, there was no mistaking the lust in his warm, deep brown eyes. I stopped close to the chair and peered down at him

  “You got a minute?” I asked quietly, doing my best to sound neutral. A quick glance around confirmed that no one was nearby, and so I let my body language convey my interest.

  Vincent’s gaze flicked to his watch, then back up to my face where it settled. “Yeah, but only just.”

  I nodded. Licked my lips. Took a deep breath. And then I smiled, making it as seductive as I knew how. “A couple of weeks ago,” I began, keeping my voice low, “you said to let you know if I wanted more. Did you mean it?”

  Vincent’s gaze never wavered. “I meant it.”

  “Great,” I said, and offered him a huge grin. Then, feeling silly, I over-exaggerated my flirtatious behavior. “You look gorgeous in that shirt. So, what’re you doing later?”

  He blinked at me, then burst out laughing. It was such a rare occurrence that nearly everyone turned to look. Just that fast, Vincent sobered and scowled, the look enough to send everyone back to their tasks.

  “You’re an idiot,” he muttered, but I could hear the affection in his tone. “And later I’ll be going to your place to eat and then fuck.”

  I swallowed hard, and my stomach dropped. I wasn’t going to dwell on the actual physicality of what we’d be doing. We’d figure that out later and I’d find a way to tell him that, since I’d only ever done that with the fairer sex, that no amount of porn had educated me as to how it really worked between men. At the moment, I was much more focused on the fact that he was coming back to my place, and we’d finally get a chance to explore each other.

  “Now that sounds like a plan,” I said. I knew I’d covered my nerves. I’d studied and honed my craft for more than twenty years; I could convince anyone of almost anything. I gave his shoulder a bump with my fist, then made to step away, knowing that he’d wanted to get started soon and he never began late.

  But before I walked away, I leaned close one more time.

  “But I wasn’t kidding about the shirt. Green looks fantastic on you.” I offered him my best and most real smile, then turned to actually walk away. I did not miss the sharp inha
le from him. I did my best to keep the smugness off my face. I’d affected him, which was all I had wanted.

  Chapter 4

  The thought crossed my mind more than once that I should have waited until later in the day before approaching Vincent about getting together. I was now in a weird headspace where I found it difficult to concentrate while at the same time was hyper-focused in order to get the scenes done as quickly as possible. Fortunately, no one seemed to notice. I didn’t mess up any more than usual, and we were done early. I could tell by the slight smirk on Vincent’s face that he was pleased with the day’s work.

  I was emotionally wrung out from the scenes and on edge because of what was yet to come. When Vincent called my name, I jumped a mile and blushed like a teenager. Everyone laughed, teasing and poking, and I joked right back, playing it up. I let them all think that getting in trouble, again, with Vincent was what made me nervous. I even hung my head and dragged my feet as I walked toward him, really making a show out of it. People got into it, scattering away like they wanted to be out of the blast zone. Though Vincent’s scowl and impatient huff were, I was certain, the real deal. He wasn’t playing around. He was irritated. I dropped the act and walked swiftly.

  The only good thing my antics had accomplished was that everyone had cleared a wide space around us. We were as alone as we were going to get on a set bustling with people. As long as we kept our voices low, we probably wouldn’t be overheard. That eased my tension. I did not want to advertise.

  “You did good today, Dan. But I could tell you weren’t always one-hundred percent present,” Vincent said, his voice holding a note of accusation. He wasn’t looking at me. Instead, he kept his gaze on his lap where he was scribbling notes on a tablet with a stylus. His already terrible handwriting was made worse by the medium.

  “My mind was occasionally occupied by other things, yes,” I allowed because there was no point in denying it. He’d had to deal with reining my attention back to the scene several times. I should have felt guiltier about that than I did. “It’s what happens when I have promises from a beautiful man.”