Love's Home Box Set

Chapter 1

Chapter 1“C’mon, Eliot!” Jesse’s on the phone with his good-for-nothing agent who has never managed to get him anything better than being a f*****g extra. It’s lunchtime. He’s at a payphone outside the set of the TV series he’s currently working on, as an extra of course, and he’s at the end of his tether what with there being no other job in sight for him.

Jesse rubs the back of his neck. Things have turned from bad to worse since his so-called boyfriend dumped him a month ago. Max had simply walked out one day and left Jesse high and dry without enough money to pay for the apartment they’d rented together.

The landlord has been hounding him for the rent money, saying that Jesse has to vacate the place unless he pays for another month. Jesse cringes at the thought of what he has in his wallet. There are the paychecks from his job as an extra-c*m-PA and the part-time work that he’s been doing at a fast food joint, but they don’t even begin to cover the high cost of living in Hollywood. It wasn’t so bad when Max was there to help share the financial burden, but now? Jesse is so frustrated that he just wants to scream and lash out at someone, anyone—Max, his agent, the landlord.

Jesse listens to what Eliot has to say. He clears his throat.

“Uh, no, Eliot. I don’t have that much time. It doesn’t have to be anything major. Just, you know, something a bit better than whatever you’ve thrown me so far.”

Jesse restrains the urge to slam the phone down. He’s still seething with resentment as he remembers an audition he’d missed and how Eliot had forgotten to tell him about it. Yeah, right, like he doesn’t know how unimportant he is to Eliot. Whatever. The man is still his f*****g agent and it’s still his f*****g job to find Jesse auditions that he so desperately needs.

“What? What did you say?” Jesse has almost missed Eliot’s next words. “Oh, okay, that sounds cool. Yeah, okay.”

Jesse hangs up the phone feeling more positive than he has for the past several days. The audition that Eliot was telling him about sounds promising though it still doesn’t solve his immediate problem—where he’s going to sleep tonight. The landlord has been unyielding and as of now Jesse is homeless with almost no money to his name.

Jesse turns around and flashes a polite smile as he walks past a guy talking on his cell. He tries to act normal.

* * * *

Trey nods back at the extra walking past him. Trey loves people, and he especially loves getting to know the people he works with. He has noticed—Jason?—on the set a few times, but then, who wouldn’t notice that face?

The man’s gorgeous and he could easily be mistaken for a model. As far as Trey can tell from the few lines the man has had, a good actor as well.

Trey is brought out of his reverie by the woman he’s talking to.

“Oh, yeah, Kimberly. What was that?”

He met Kimberly on the set of Theater High where they both played high school students. He clicked with Kimberly right from the beginning. She’s fun and funny, smart, and cute as a button. They keep in touch with each other, going on the occasional dates even though they’re no longer working together.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll get the role, babe. You’re awesome like that.”

Trey nearly jumps out of his skin when someone suddenly thumps him on the back, shouting in his ear and laughing like a maniac.

“Damn it, Brent!” he yells as he whirls around to see who it is. “No-no-no, Kim. It’s not you. It’s that weasel face Duncan again. He’s jealous of you.”

“What did you say? Is that Kimberly?” Brent laughs as he tries to snatch the phone from Trey. “Lemme talk to her.”

Trey cackles with laughter as he pushes Brent away. “Sorry, Kimberly, Brent was completely overreacting just now, totally embarrassing.”

“f**k you!”

“Got to go. My boy here wants some attention now. I’ll see you soon, yeah?” Trey clicks his phone shut with a grin and he and Brent pummel each other playfully as they walk back to the set with Brent proclaiming to all and sundry that he would never ever be jealous of anyone who’s close to Trey.

* * * *

Jesse buttons up his jacket, shrugs his backpack up on his shoulder, and bends down to pick up his duffle. As he starts to walk towards the exit gate, his eyes wander towards the row of huge trailers used by the stars and he is suddenly overwhelmed with feelings of envy and self-pity. He knows that in the unlikely event that he gets to use one of the trailers, he wouldn’t need to have another place to crash. The trailer would be more than enough for him. It would be his home, not a mere resting place used during breaks in between shots.

Those rich actors have luxurious condos, and mansions even, places in which they hardly ever stay.

Such a waste…and so greedy, all of them…

He shudders at his thoughts and fights to shove them away from his mind. Damn it, he thinks and smacks himself inwardly. His mom would be very disappointed in him. After all her teachings—he grimaces at this reminder of the reason he left her in the first place.

A loud honk makes him jump out of his skin and an SUV cruises to a stop beside him. The darkened back window slides down and Jesse’s eyes widen in surprise.

Talk about the devil.

Trey Miller.

The actor is one of the big names he’d thought of so sourly just minutes before. Jesse cringes and hopes he doesn’t look too guilty. Oh well, my mind is my own. It’s not like he’s planning to steal from those actors. Or murder them.

“Jason, right?”

“Jesse,” he says, trying not to grit his teeth. Big stars can’t be expected to know the names of each and every single extra or PA on the set. Jesse gives what he hopes is his most winning smile, which may or may not have come out as a grimace.

“Ah, right. Jesse.” Trey smiles back. Nothing is false about his smile, all dimples and straight, white teeth. “So, Jesse, what’re you doing still around this late? Aren’t you scheduled early tomorrow? Hey, you need a ride?”

Jesse’s heard stories about how friendly Trey is and how he keeps track of everyone’s birthday. Jesse’s not sure whether Trey knows about his birthday or not since Jesse only joined the team in July, months after his birthday. Though maybe Trey does and—

“You okay, buddy?”

Jesse blinks, his face heating up. Oh God, he has just totally zoned out there. He’s just like any other celebrity-struck fan, and he’s so not a fan. Hell, no.

“Uh, y-yeah,” Jesse stutters, trying to think of what to say. He can’t suddenly deluge Trey with his problems: No, Trey, I’m not scheduled until four in the afternoon but still I have to leave early for my morning shift at the fast food restaurant while I don’t even know where to sleep tonight thanks to my boyfriend who left me just like that. There’s no way I can afford a hotel room or rent an apartment on my own.

“You’re zoning out on me again, man.” Trey smiles, but he’s frowning now.

“Uh, sorry. I’m a—I’m waiting for a friend.”

“There’s no one left here.” Trey frowns even more.

“No. No, I mean, he’s coming to get me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yup.”

“You sure you’ll be all right if I leave you here?” Trey looks around pointedly.

Jesse rolls his eyes.

“Sure, what am I, five?”

“Well, it’s really late. But, okay, if you say so.” He taps his driver on the shoulder, signals him to go on, and turns back to Jesse. His eyes are sharp. Jesse fidgets under Trey’s scrutiny and imagines the pity there.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” Trey says. “Take care, Jesse.”

Jesse can only nod as he feels a lump in his throat. Trey’s right. It’s the middle of the night and he—he really doesn’t have anywhere to go. Not that he hopes that Trey might ask him to stay with him—what a crazy thought that is! —but Jesse suddenly feels as though he just lost his last hope. His only hope.

Jesse sighs, gathers his bags—his only possessions, and walks out of the gate. There is a park across the street, and benches are strewn all over the place. That should do for him for tonight.

* * * *

Trey gets out of his car and slowly closes the door behind him. Jason—who was he kidding? Those sleepy green eyes, curled lips—Trey has been aware of them since the first day he laid eyes on Jesse. Luckily, he has a habit of keeping track of the birthdays of everyone in the set. A little stretch when it comes to Jesse will not make anyone suspicious. So far he has found out: Jesse’s name, of course, his birthday, where he comes from, what he likes (chocolate and strawberry), and the fact that he’s too pretty to be an extra.

Trey sighs and tosses the car keys on the kitchen table. He can lie and tell himself that he saw something in Jesse’s eyes when he greeted him just now. Jesse always seems serious and reserved and only changes when he is immersed in his role, whether he’s playing a clerk in Farmer’s Market or a customer in the diner. Trey can tell when Jesse’s acting—not that he always pays attention to the man. Oh no, not at all. It’s Jesse, really, who keeps stealing glances at him, but then how would he know if he didn’t—

Jesus.

Trey slides down the wall, throwing his head back, letting it go thud. His hand roams over his chest and his eyes squeeze shut.

“Oh, Jesse,” he moans. “Jess…” He rolls the name on his tongue, liking the feel of it. “Jesse. Jess. Jessie.”

His hand travels south and soon it finds the heart of his pleasure. Trey’s eyes roll up, he whimpers behind clamped lips—his hand gets more and more frantic, when suddenly…

The phone rings.

No!

He waits. Maybe it’ll stop ringing but the shrill sound continues.

Damn it. Even if he lets the call go to his machine, everything is ruined. Trey shoves himself up on wobbly legs.

“Hey, Trey…”

He hears his name sing-songed from the answering machine.

“Trey, where are you? I know you’re home.”

Trey grabs the receiver.

“Brent, what’s wrong with you? What’s up?”

Brent laughs.

“Aww, Trey, am I interrupting something? Something that concerns you and your callused hand?”

“f**k you, Brent. What do you want?”

“Let’s go out. The new bar I told you about? Let’s go there.”

Trey groans. “It’s late, man.”

“Oh, come on. You don’t have to get to work until late in the afternoon tomorrow.”

“Yeah, but I did tonight, unlike you who just got to sit around waiting for hours.”

“Trey, that hurts.”

“You asked for it.”

“So we’re going?”

“I’m telling you, I’m tired.”

“What if I say Alexandra is going to be there?”

The doofus can always make Trey laugh. Alexandra is his co-star but she is such a mama’s girl.

“Okay, I’m kidding. How about Kimberly? Kimberly, Trey, hmm?”

Now he’s talking. Kimberly with her lovely curves, her pretty mouth and eyes…

Wait. Why is Kimberly morphing into a particular someone with green eyes and luscious lips?

“Trey, you still there?”

“Yeah, yeah, I am. Okay, I’m going.”

Trey can imagine Brent pumping a fist in the air.

“Great! Pick you up in ten.”

Sighing, Trey returns the phone to its cradle. He can’t say no to Brent. The man might not know the truth about Trey but his nose can smell something off kilter, even if it is buried deep.

* * * *

This ain’t so bad. Jesse pats his laden backpack. He stretches himself on the bench and lowers his head onto the bag, grimacing at the bumps pressing against his head and neck. Awesome. He is going to have major cricks and headaches come morning. That is if he’s not suffering from early signs of pneumonia.

Jesse shifts and grunts and finally gives up. He sits up, takes off his jacket, and spreads it over his front before he lies down again. Moving a bit again to find the most comfortable position, he thinks, f**k, now my shorts are stuck in the crack of my ass. Jesse reaches down and pulls them free—ah, that’s better.

He takes a deep breath. So he’s a bum now, is he? His ma would be heartbroken if she knew. She could blame him for being such a hard head and insisting on having his own way. Jesse stares blankly at the leaves swaying on treetops, at the shadows of the swings dancing in the dark, at the stars blinking mockingly down at him. At least the fact that they are up there means that the sky is cloudless and Jesse doesn’t need to worry about the possibility of rain tonight. Getting soaked when the only place he has to sleep is this park would be a pain in the ass, not to mention hazardous to his health. Jesse also hopes no cops will come patrolling tonight.

Weary to the bone, Jesse curls both hands under the side of his face and gives in to slumber.

* * * *

“Come on, Trey, one more glass. Don’t be a spoilsport.”

What one more glass means for Brent must be different from what it means for Trey. They have been here for hours. Trey had sneaked a glance at his watch once. It showed four—and that must have been half an hour ago. Still there is no sign they are leaving soon.

Trey regrets his decision not to drive his own car and ride with Brent instead. f**k. He’s going to screw up his shot big time tomorrow—or rather, this afternoon.

“What celebration am I spoiling again?” Trey leans forward. Brent looks taken aback but he immediately offers a smile, which looks more like a snake’s sneer.

“Trey, that’s not nice.” He wags his forefinger.

“The hell with nice.” Trey rests his head on his folded arms on the table. “I’d rather be with Jess—”

Oops. He slipped up and said it out loud.

Brent and the others sitting around the table seem to come to a consensus to stop whatever they are doing and switch their attention to Trey.

“Jess? Jess who?” Brent asks. “I thought you were with Kimberly.”

Trey feels blood rush into his face but he sighs inwardly in relief that Brent doesn’t know who he was talking about.

“Kimberly? Right. And you said she’d be here! Where is she, Brenton?”

Brent visibly cringes at the name and Trey feels like guffawing. Eat that, asshat!

“My name’s not Brenton.”

“So what? You haven’t answered my question.”

And neither has Trey, but Brent has forgotten about that. Trey gulps down his drink, and tries to shut down from everything going on around him.

* * * *

Jesse has never seen it before—day at its innocence, the break of the dawn that offers buoyancy and promises of a better future. Jesse looks up to the sky and inhales, shivering slightly at the chill and the dampness of the air. It amazes him that he could sleep soundly, and he feels grateful to wake up to a beautiful morning. This must be a sign that things are going to go well. He will get awesome tips and a clean, decent room will be waiting for him at the end of the day.

He will be seeing Trey before that.

Jesse smiles and gets up, ready to take on the day.

Jesse walks to the nearest gas station to freshen up. He is dying for a hot shower but he can’t afford one right now. He will just have to make do with splashes of water on his face and he needs to brush his teeth, too.

He has to find a place to crash later on today. He’s trying to remember if there’re rooms nearby, there should be one cheap enough that he can afford to pay but he’s unable to come up with any ideas. He’s had it easy staying with Max for the last couple of years and he’s quite forgotten how hard it is finding a place to stay in this town. And yeah, it has never occurred to him that he might lose it all someday.

Jesse heaves his backpack up his shoulders and leaves the restroom. He glances at the store next to it and considers grabbing a bag of chips, and maybe one of those microwaved sandwiches as well—he’s not totally penniless—but he refrains. Better not waste what little money he has left when he is not completely sure what the day will bring. Ignoring the growl in his stomach, Jesse resolutely turns away.

He walks to the back door of the fast food joint where he works; the front door is still locked at this early hour of the morning. Fishing the key out of his pocket, Jesse starts when the door opens before him.

“Jesse.” It’s Kurt, the storeowner.

“Morning, Kurt.” Jesse backs away a little without really looking at the man. Kurt is early, though it’s not the first time he’s arrived before anyone else. The guy is serious about his business.

Jesse moves to get inside but a hand on his shoulder makes him stop.

“Uh, look.” Kurt shifts a little. Jesse lifts an eyebrow.

“Yeah?”

“Sorry, but you can’t get in. Come to think of it, can I have your key?”

Jesse frowns.

“What’re you saying, boss?”

“Jesse, you’re no longer working here, okay? My nephew came and he needs a job. I have no vacancy so I gave him your spot.”

Jesse can’t believe his ears—his job, his tips, his last chance to get a roof over his head tonight.

“You’ve gotta be kidding.”

“I’m not. Sorry, man.”

“How about my paycheck?”

“What paycheck? I gave it to you two days ago.”

“I meant for the last two days.”

“Sorry, you haven’t worked for one full week. Read your contract again.”

What? This sucks out loud. Jesse leans forward.

“Come on, man, you can’t do this. I can work for half the pay. Or at least—let me finish the week.”

Kurt won’t budge. He only shakes his head and suddenly Jesse notices the two men standing behind his former boss.

“No, Jesse. Please don’t make it harder on yourself. Leave now or I’ll have to ask Harry and Ben to remove you.”

Jesse knows Harry and Ben, and they know him. They’re good friends. They won’t hurt him.

* * * *

Trey heaves, his hand flying out to grip Brent’s forearm, hard. The car swerves dangerously.

“Damn it, Trey! What’s up?”

“Pull over, will ya? Think I’m gonna be sick.” Trey doesn’t have to tell Brent twice though he would have gladly puked inside Brent’s car especially after what Brent has done to him—staying at the club long after closing time.

Thanks to Brent, Trey has spent most of the last few hours at the club sprawled unconscious on the couch.

Trey’s head is throbbing and if anything bad happens later on at the set, Trey will certainly lay the blame on Brent.

Brent pulls over and Trey bolts from the car. He staggers to a back alley where he crouches down, emptying his stomach. His head clears after a bit and he straightens up, groaning and wiping at his mouth. He feels a lot better. Time to kill Brent now.

He halts as he suddenly hears a muffled, grunting sound. Trey turns around, squinting in the darkish alley. The early morning light has not made its appearance there yet, and in the dim light he makes out a curled up shape, a man, lying near a couple of dumpsters nearby. Trey is still feeling queasy but he ignores his discomfort and cautiously walks towards the man and gently touches the man’s shoulder, all the while telling himself that he should let the man be. Probably another homeless drunk, but something tells him this man is hurting, not just drunk. He can’t smell any alcohol on the man anyway.

“Hey, you okay?”

No answer. Trey turns the man over gently, careful to not jar him. The man groans, his eyes squeezed shut. He is clearly oblivious to Trey’s presence.

Oh God.

“Jesse?” Trey chokes.

At the sound of his name, Jesse jolts to a sitting position and drags himself back towards the wall behind him.

Trey winces at the sight of Jesse, the wounds and bruises. Both his eyes are swollen shut and there are dark bruises plastered all over his face, cuts on his forehead, some of which are still oozing blood—the same goes for his split lips. Jesse’s scrunching down, hands over his middle, and Trey can imagine what he will find there if he looked at it—more bruises probably, perhaps even some broken ribs? Trey kneels down beside Jesse, his headache completely forgotten.

“What the hell happened to you?” He tentatively puts his hand on Jesse’s shoulder. Jesse stills, shaking his head.

“Go. Just go. Please.”

Jesse turns his head around. He looks like he is searching for something.

“Were you robbed?”

Jesse shakes his head when suddenly his already pale face blanches even more and he grimaces. Trey knows what is coming and he is right. Jesse turns his face to the side and he just loses it. The sound of Jesse puking and the smell make Trey’s stomach roll and he clamps a hand over his mouth and nose, not wanting to puke again. There is not much coming out from Jesse though, just some bile-colored fluid and what looks like…blood? Trey puts his hand on the back of Jesse’s neck, rubbing it.

“I’m taking you to the hospital, dude,” he says softly. “You look bad.” Trey watches as Jesse breathes heavily, leaning back against the wall.

“Trey, I-I don’t—”

“No, don’t say anything. Can you get up? Brent’s waiting in the car.” The douche had better not have anything to say about Jesse.

Without waiting for an answer, Trey helps Jesse to his feet.

* * * *

Deep down Jesse wants to hold back, wants to refuse Trey’s help, doesn’t want to let Trey see him like this.

Because oh God it is Trey and it’s going to be so embarrassing for Jesse if Trey knows what he is and what his life is like. Trey is younger than him but look where his career has taken him compared to Jesse’s. And what if Trey found out what Jesse feels towards him? That Jesse is gay and has the hots for the sexy young star when he’s just a nobody.

Jesse wishes he were strong enough to stand by himself without feeling the world shift beneath him and threaten to send him to the ground. But it feels so good to be held in Trey’s strong arms, to smell his warm, male scent—though it’s overlaid by a strong tang of alcohol. Through the haze in his mind, Jesse knows that there is something missing, something important. He clutches at Trey’s arm.

“What is it?” Trey asks.

Trey’s voice is low and heavy yet warm and soothing. Jesse has always loved listening to that voice.

Jesse hesitates. Something—then he remembers.

His backpack and duffel bag.

His clothes. His papers. What little money he has left. All his worldly possessions in those bags.

And he no longer has them with him.

Jesse feels like crying. Why didn’t they just kill him? The rats could feast on his flesh and he wouldn’t have to worry about his miserable life anymore. He looks up at the back door of the restaurant where he used to work and feels bile rising in his throat.

“Jess?” Trey shakes Jesse’s shoulder. “You okay?”

Jesse’s head spins, his hands turn sweaty, and his vision blurs. A trip to the hospital is not an option as he has no money, no insurance. He doesn’t think that he will be able to go to the set today either, him being a wreck like this. And that means no pay for today.

No food.

No shelter.

And with that thought on his mind, Jesse loses consciousness, unaware of Trey tightening his hold on him.