Love's Home

Chapter 1-2

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.