Secrets and Charms(14)

“Oh yeah.” Olly remembered it now. Everyone in Hollywood had heard the rumors of her husband’s fondness for young boys, yet she’d made Clay Carson seem like an innocent and exclusively heterosexual angel. “She was very convincing,” Olly admitted.

“I told you. Fuck it. I’m better. I’ll show them.” She lay back down and closed her eyes.

The peace lasted maybe a minute before the sound of foghorns coming from the tent shattered it. She grunted. “Fuck. It’s my agent. The heartless bastard.” She clambered half inside and withdrew with phone in hand. “Hi, Allan. What are you calling me at dawn for? … Uh-huh. … Super. I love you! … What? Now? Are you crazy? It’s Saturday! And I look like shit… Fine, fine. I’ll be there. Make it forty, I need to take a shower. Groovy. See you there.” She hung up and looked at them with excitement radiating from her every pore. “I have a screen test,” she burst out. “Sort of impromptu. Like, now or probably never.”

“Congratulations!” Olly cried out and hugged her.

Rich remained calm. “In forty minutes? You better get moving.”

“I should, shouldn’t I?” She leapt up and rushed toward the house but spun around before going inside. “Rich. Remember what we talked about?”

Rich said nothing but raised his right hand and with his index finger made the sign of a cross over his heart. As in cross my heart and hope to die. Olly studied him with squinty-eyed suspicion, but Rich stared back innocently and rubbed the stubble on his chin.

“Are you growing it out?” Olly asked.

“I dunno. Thinking about it.”

“A beard would suit you.” The words slipped out without intent or forethought, but Olly meant them. Something about the copper hair was doing funny things to him. The sun made it seem like fire, and Olly’s fingers itched to touch. He wondered if Rich had more on his chest. Did he have freckles? There were none on his face…although…maybe a few on the bridge of his nose. Olly would have to look closer to be sure. Olly realized he’d been staring when Rich cleared his throat. He snatched his gaze away and started busying himself with the remains of their breakfast.

Rich pushed himself up. “I better clean up too. I smell like a bucket of fish bait.” Olly watched him walk inside. Now that he wasn’t furious with the man, Olly could admit Rich had a nice body, average build but solid, and the loose clothes revealed just enough to make curious minds even more curious.

Olly knew he should’ve just gone home, but he didn’t really want to. He had hours to kill before his half-day shift at FTP, and it was nice here in Sandy’s backyard. His apartment didn’t even have a balcony. He stuffed the trash into the plastic bag the food came in, but there was still one burrito left. After a moment of dithering over what to do with it, he remembered Sandy mentioning a fridge inside the garage. If he put the burrito there, he and Rich could eat it later. Or Sandy.

He stepped inside through the small door, flipped on the light and discovered Rich was hiding a secret.





Chapter Four

Rich contemplated his face in the bathroom mirror. He could grow a beard. He had once, in college, but his father thought it made him look like a “hippie”, so Rich promptly got rid of it. He turned his head this way and that, trying to picture his chin covered in hair. Yes, it would suit him, he decided.

After dropping his dirty clothes on the floor, he jumped under the shower. He was starting to feel better, the hangover fading, and the warm water washing off the stink felt so very good. If only he could wash the past away the same. He wasn’t even as irritable as usual; staying up late with his sister, drinking, shooting the breeze had been good. She’d tried to get him to open up about the stuff bothering him, but he just couldn’t. Not to her. She’d backed off, and they talked about her, what she’d been up to. It did him good just knowing there was someone who cared about him—he wasn’t completely alone. Maybe one day he could pay her unsolicited kindness back.

Even Olly didn’t bug him as much, although the guy had a knack for disturbing his equilibrium just by existing. Hell if he knew why. He slathered shower gel all over his body, and his cock responded to his attentions like an eager pup. Rich wasn’t about to waste the opportunity—he hadn’t had a good wank in ages. He braced one hand on the tiles, stroking his cock with the other. Images of supple, creamy flesh and smooth curves flashed in front of his mind’s eye. He didn’t try to hang on to them. Instead he focused on the physical sensations. The images kept coming—full lips around his cock, a pink tongue licking his balls. His hands on the sharp curves of hip bones, fingers digging. Thrusting. He came hard, his come splattering on the tile.