Something Like Trust Read online

  When the megaphone clicked on, I started and reached again for the sidearm before I made myself stand down. My vigilant state wasn’t going anywhere for a while, but at least I was aware enough to realize what was going on. Stevens called everyone back to set, as it were, and got started again.

  I took a deep breath and centered myself so I could focus entirely on the job. But I was ready for this day to be done.

  * * * *

  I was still on high alert when my day was over. It wasn’t until after I collected Brandon and had us ensconced in my locked house that I was able to begin to relax. Brandon looked at me sideways when I triple-checked the locks and made several circuits to make sure we were safe. He wisely didn’t say anything when I insisted on cooking instead of ordering in, even though all I had were the makings for hamburgers and frozen fries. He went along with it all until I sat on the couch, pulled him down and tucked him close into my side, and then vehemently vetoed his movie suggestion. I knew better than to think I could handle an action film with explosions right now.

  When I picked an inane comedy that I knew damn well neither of us would find funny, Brandon finally had enough. He gently extricated the remote from my hand and tossed it on the coffee table before turning toward me, straddling my thigh, and looking me straight in the eye.

  “Please tell me what’s going on.”

  The way he phrased it, as a request without demand, had me releasing a slow breath and trying to get my thoughts in order. He obviously knew there was no point in making it a question. Something was clearly off with me, and the way he spoke indicated he knew it. But he still wasn’t forcing it. His nature wouldn’t allow him to push me too hard. I had to remember that and see this request for what it was. Brandon deserved an answer.

  I nodded to let him know I’d heard him, but it still took me a few more minutes to feel ready to tell the tale without reliving it. Separated as I was from what had occurred, I felt a bit ridiculous to having the reaction I did. But it was a combination of mindset and events that had me reacting this way. And I also knew I had the tools now to cope and move past it.

  I told him what had happened earlier in the day without going into too much detail. It was enough that he was in my arms and safe while I told it. It made the whole thing seem farther away, and I felt myself let go of it when I was done. Brandon, for his part, listened attentively, his arms around my neck and his front plastered to my side. When I was finished, I felt like a small weight had been lifted. I felt better. I knew I’d still be on edge, but at least that edge was less sharp now.

  “I’m glad it was just a scare and nothing serious,” he said softly when I was finally finished.

  I hugged him, and kissed his temple. “Yeah, me, too.”

  “Can I help in any way? Give you a blow job to make you forget?” The last was said with an eyebrow waggle and a half-joking tone. He was being silly, trying to get me to smile, but he obviously wasn’t actually opposed to the idea, and if I said “yes,” he’d get right down on his knees for me. The thought was seriously tempting.

  “I’ll take you up on that later. For now, let’s just watch the stupid movie.”

  Brandon agreed, but when he went to move off of me, I kept him there with a strong arm. Brandon quirked an eyebrow, but subsided immediately, settling his smaller body against mine and letting me hold him.

  The movie was, in fact, incredibly stupid, and even though Brandon agreed, when I tried to change it to something else, he objected. Apparently he had to see it through to the end now that he’d started. If I had known that, I probably would have chosen something else.

  We were about halfway through when his phone rang. Brandon’s whole body went stiff, then he rolled out of my arms to grab his cell from where he’d left it on the coffee table. He didn’t look at the screen, just held it for a moment. When the ring started again, he turned wide eyes to me.

  “Sorry. I h-have to t-take this. It’s my agent.”

  “Okay,” I said. I paused the movie, expecting him to get up and step out of the room. I wanted to be able to hear what he was saying because obviously this agent made him nervous. But he didn’t leave. He just answered the phone and leaned against me. I looped my arm around his shoulders and pulled him in close.

  “Hey C-Cas,” Brandon said, and even though he was stuttering, he sounded relaxed. “No, I’m f-fine. Really…It’s j-just that I’m out at J-J-Jared’s…Stop. It’s g-good…No!” His body went tense and he sat up straighter. His reaction had my heart starting to pound. “I can h-handle…C-C-Cas you c-c-can’t tell. P-please don’t breathe a w-w-word of…C-Cas? Cas!”

  Brandon pulled the phone away from his ear. He closed his eyes and blew out a breath. His voice was soft but intense when he whispered, “F-f-fuck.”

  It took nothing at all, especially after the events of earlier today, for me to go to red alert. Even as adrenaline flooded my veins readying me for action, my mind was swirling with scenarios. The half of the conversation that I could hear hadn’t sounded good. Anger and worry started mixing in equal parts in my gut. I leaned forward and gently placed a hand on his back, careful to keep my emotions out of my movement.

  “Brandon?”

  “Crap,” was his reply.

  “What’s going on?” I wasn’t ashamed that I put a hint of command in that question. He needed to tell me what in the fuck had him so upset and I needed to know now. Because to me it sounded like this Cas person was going to out him, something I was vehemently against, and if that was the case, this agent was going to be in for a world of hurt.

  “Hang on a s-sec,” Brandon said, his voice shaking.

  “No, I won’t—” I was interrupted by him holding up his hand. I squinted at him, staring him down, but he wasn’t looking at me. He had his eyes on the phone. “Brandon,” I growled.

  “Just wait,” he pleaded, not sounding intimidated in the least. I’d have to fix that.

  I opened my mouth to growl some more when his phone rang in his hand. Surprisingly, some of the tension left his body. He leaned against me as he tapped at the screen.

  “Hey,” he answered without putting the phone to his ear.

  “What the fuck is going on?” a deep voice asked, not losing much timbre despite being on speaker. “Brandon Jeremiah Culpepper, you tell me right now why you’re in such a state! You know better than to let yourself get that way.”

  “B—” Brandon tried to interrupt, but the mysterious caller wasn’t having any of it.

  “You’re supposed to call me! Or Cas! If you’re having trouble, you call us and one of us will get on a plane!”

  “Brian,” Brandon tried again.

  “We are there for you. Always. No matter what. You don’t let yourself get all—”

  “Brian!”

  “What?” the caller said, exasperated. And maybe pissed for being interrupted.

  Brandon just smiled, a little one that barely quirked his lips. “B, say hi to Jared.”

  There was a beat of silence. Then, very low, “You have me on speaker?”

  Brandon honest to God giggled, and relaxed completely against me. I was bewildered, but I pulled him in anyway. His reaction had some of my anxiety settling, too. I did my best to relax as well and I leaned forward to drop another kiss on Brandon’s temple.

  “Someone want to tell me what’s going on?” I asked with a casualness I didn’t feel.

  Brandon turned a wide smile up at me. “Jared, my brother Brian. He’s three hundred and sixty days older than me. For five days, we’re the same age. He’s ridiculously protective of me.”

  “Am not,” Brian grumbled.

  “B, meet Jared. He’s the guy I’m seeing. Very yummy and very toppy. It’s good.” Brandon said that last bit with a wink and another smile for me, and I couldn’t help but smile in return.

  “Christ, Brandon. I don’t need details.”

  Brandon rolled his eyes and adjusted his position so he was lying across my lap and his head was on the arm
of the couch. He placed his phone on his chest, then took one of my hands in his and started playing with my fingers.

  “Like I haven’t witnessed you and Cas doing so much more,” he said. Then he glanced at me. “Brian and Casper are married. That’s how I know Cas in the first place.”

  “I know the story,” Brian muttered irritably, even though he had to know that Brandon was not talking to him. “Stop deflecting. I want to know why your stutter was so bad that my beloved husband felt the need to call me out of my studio. He never interrupts me when I’m working. So, little brother, explain yourself.”

  Brandon instantly, and predictably, went bright red. He turned his face and stuck his nose in my armpit, breathing deeply. All I could do was shake my head and gather him in close, holding him tightly. The phone slid and slipped, but Brandon caught it and repositioned it so we could both still hear.

  “It was just…” Brandon blew out a breath. “Just nerves because I’m sitting here in Jared’s house.”

  Brandon’s brother was silent for a long moment. “Okay. I’ll buy that. As long as you tell me, honestly, right now, how you’re really doing.”

  There was a split second where I just knew Brandon was going to lie. It was there in his face as plain as day. He covered it quickly, but I had seen it. I made sure I had his complete attention so that there would be no misinterpreting my look. He winced, blushed harder, and nodded. Good. I needed to hear the truth as well, so I could put together more pieces of him. I worked out some of his idiosyncrasies over the past two weeks, but this was new ground and I wanted to know what it was about.

  “I’m coping,” Brandon said quietly. He cleared his throat. “It’s not easy, but thanks to my time with Jared, the paparazzi haven’t been able to harass me much. That’s helped.”

  To me, his words sounded sincere and his brother must have thought so, too. Brian made a thoughtful noise, then said, “All right. But I want your word you’ll call if it gets overwhelming.”

  “I promise,” Brandon agreed.

  “And,” Brian continued resolutely, his voice stern, “I want you to consider coming home for a while before you take the next job.”

  Brandon hesitated, glanced at me, then lowered his lashes. “I’ll think about it.”

  “Good. Love you, little brother.”

  Brandon rolled his eyes, but he smiled. “Love you, too.”

  He hung up the phone and blew out a breath as he tossed it on the table. He scrubbed his hands over his face, and pointedly did not look at me. I gave him a few minutes to collect himself, but when he didn’t seem like he was going to talk, I knew I’d have to start the conversation.

  “So, you want to tell me what that’s all about.” It was not a question.

  Brandon’s smile was a bit sheepish, but he nodded. “There’s kind of a story there.”

  I cocked an eyebrow, because that wasn’t going to deter me. “I’ve been trying to get a story out of you since that night in the diner.”

  He inclined his head in acquiescence. He stood. “Point. I’m going to grab something to drink. You want anything?”

  “Brandon.”

  “No, really. I’ll be right back.”

  I let him go, mostly because I could lean over the arm of the couch and watch him walk into the kitchen. I heard the refrigerator door rattle as he opened and shut it, then a moment later, his footsteps were padding back in my direction. He sat next to me as he took a long pull from the water bottle in his hand, then considerately set it on a coaster on the table before he leaned back. Though he was not as relaxed and pliant as he had been previously, he wasn’t closed off either. I did my best to keep my posture open and inviting, and just waited for him to talk.

  “So about eight years ago,” Brandon began, his voice sounding kind of far away and his eyes focusing on the opposite wall like he was remembering. “Casper Jones was in Atlanta on a talent scout or something and he and my brother hooked up. Spent the whole weekend together. It must have been really good, because Cas came back a few weeks later. And then a few weeks after that, B went out to L.A. to visit him. I never did get all the details, and I don’t want or need them. It was plain to see they had something special. So after about six months, when Brian said he was moving to L.A. to be with Cas, I could accept it.”

  He reached for the water bottle again and took a long drink. The plastic crinkled in his hand as he squeezed it a little too hard. “I guess the story really starts before that. When he came out, our parents disowned him. And I came out in solidarity. Brian was already in college, and I’d just graduated high school. They kicked us both out.”

  I laid a hand on his back and stroked up and down. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

  Brandon shrugged. “It was always me and B against the world anyway. This wasn’t any different. He got an apartment, I moved in with him, and started classes in the fall. We made do.” He shrugged again, and I almost believed he wasn’t hurt by his parents’ atrocious behavior any longer. “Point is, when B moved to L.A., I came with him. There was nothing else I could do.”

  “Sure,” I agreed, because he seemed to be waiting for me to say something.

  He nodded. “Anyway, Brian’s an artist. He’s pretty good, too. Paints these beautiful landscapes. So he could make his living anywhere. Since I was an accountant, I could, too. So we made a life for ourselves in L.A.” Brandon finished his water, twisted the cap back on the top, and carefully set down the empty bottle. “And then I accidentally became an actor.”

  I couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped, and Brandon’s entire body relaxed with the sound. He leaned back, snuggling under my arm and curling his legs underneath him. I figured the hard part of the story was over. I let him get comfortable before I prodded. “And how does one accidentally become an actor?”

  “Well, you don’t. Unless you have a brother-in-law who happens to be an agent and, through a weird series of events, happen to show some talent.” Brandon’s grin transformed his whole face. He looked equal parts mischievous and pleased. “I have this friend, Mindy. She directs plays at this tiny community theater in El Segundo. And they were putting on a production of Our Town. You know it?” He looked at me for confirmation. I’d never seen it, but I knew of it, so I nodded. “The day before opening night, one of her actors broke his leg. Funny, right, that an actor broke his leg?” Brandon chuckled and shook his head. I liked seeing him relaxed, open, and joyfully telling me about his life.

  “Anyway,” he continued. “She was flipping out because she didn’t have an understudy and no one could learn the lines that fast. Because the Stage Manager is kind of a big role. He…narrates and sets out props. Has these big monologues. And Mindy had the theater for only the week, so if she delayed opening, everybody would lose revenue and that’s just a bad story.

  “Except I have an eidetic memory. At least when it comes to things I read. I can memorize words after just a read through or two. And Mindy knew it. So she begged me to take the role on opening night. Literally was on her knees begging. Because I could read it through the day before and know every line. It didn’t have to be good, she told me, but just to get them through opening night while another actor learned the lines.”

  “And you never acted before?” I asked, completely absorbed in his story. This was a side of him I hadn’t yet seen and I loved it.

  “Nope,” he said, popping the “p” and smiling. “But I read the script and memorized the lines and we did a couple of rehearsals that day, and I went on opening night. Brian and Cas came, of course. To heckle me and give me a hard time afterward.”

  I grinned. “I take it by your smug, satisfied smile that didn’t happen.”

  He shook his head, his smile stretching even further. “I was good. Really talented. So much so that Casper spent the next three months talking me into signing with him. I finally agreed and he got me my first role about six minutes later.” Brandon chuckled. “So the thing is, I wouldn’t say I love acting. I do it because I’m
good at it and it pays a ridiculous amount, but I don’t have the passion for it that a lot of people do.”

  He curled in tighter against me and laid his head on my shoulder. “So, yeah. It gets to me. The travel. The constant new situations. New cities. New cast and crew. I’m not that extroverted, life-of-the-party guy. Sometimes it’s really hard. Especially lately because I’ve had a lot of roles playing really despicable characters. When I’m in character, I’m able to actually be that guy. My shyness, my stutter, it all goes away. It’s the rest of the time, when I’m not in front of the camera, that it gets to me. But as I said, I like it well enough, and get paid well enough, that I don’t want to stop.”

  A lot of things about him finally made sense. His shy, almost naïve behavior on set. His blushes and his stuttering. I suddenly felt like I knew him a hundred times better than I had. And we’d been getting to know each other pretty well. And now I knew how to help him better when he got that lost, almost panicky look when on set. At least for the next few weeks while he was still here and working on the show.

  The thought that he’d be leaving gave me a stomach cramp.

  Brandon obviously didn’t notice. He leaned up enough to kiss my neck, then nuzzled with his nose. “So that’s my story. Want to turn that movie back on so we can finish it? And then go to bed?”

  I nodded automatically, and supported him while he leaned precariously to grab the remote. I knew from the second I got involved with him that he would be leaving as soon as his contract was done. There was no excuse of my reaction now. I pushed away the feeling and focused on the man in my arms.

  Chapter 6

  The set was alive with activity. It seemed like everyone and their brother was crammed into the small space on soundstage two. Set dressers, PAs, and interns ran around doing everyone’s bidding. One of the go-fers looked ready to collapse. The director was in a heated discussion with the showrunner. The cast milled about, picking at food on the craft table, or running through lines.