Something Like Want

Chapter 1 The Lounge was a trendy upscale bar I liked to frequent. A good place to be seen—as an actor, being seen was necessary—but not overcrowded or too loud. I was comfortable there, and a few gin and tonics with my friends put my picture on the gossip sites and got my name circulating on social media. Staying relevant in this business was not easy. Since I was on the wrong side of my twenties, I had to take care. There was always another pretty face with a modicum of talent trying to make a name for himself. I liked to think I kept getting roles because I was more than just a little talented. A few outstanding roles meant my name and face were known, but if I wanted to keep acting, I had to play the game. Which was why, even though I was feeling morose, I’d agreed to hit the Lounge with a few friends. I hadn’t expected to see him there. Though I should have considered it. How many times had his circle and mine overlapped? In the past year, how many times had we sat on the low, padded benches in the corner, huddled around a table of drinks, and talked? That’s how That Night had started, after all. So I really shouldn’t have been shocked. But after what I had just learned, seeing him was like a punch in the gut. Spencer Johns. Tall, built, blond, and utterly gorgeous. His skin seemed to glow in the low light, and as he lifted his glass of beer, his big hand drew my gaze. From my position across the room, I had no trouble making out the line of his throat as he swallowed. No problem seeing his teeth flash as he offered his companions a wide grin. He was delicious and beautiful, relaxed and enjoying the company of his friends. For a painful moment, I remembered the dark pools of his eyes as they stared into mine, the gentle way he touched my arm whenever he wanted my attention, his low, husky laugh. And then all the rage I’d felt earlier in the day came swarming back, and I went from admiring his beauty to wanting to stab that motherfucker in the throat. I slammed my glass on the table and was up and stalking across the floor before good sense could prevail. It only took me a few moments to get there, and he glanced up as I approached. He gave me a warm, easy grin, which quickly morphed into a concerned frown as he stood. “Alex?” “f**k you, you f*****g son of a b***h!” I spat, and before I even knew what I was doing, I’d hauled off and punched him straight in his perfect nose. He stumbled back, eyes wide and watering. His friends stood too, getting between us, and someone tugged on my arm. “What the f**k?” Spencer asked, the shock and surprise evident. He stared at me as though he’d never seen me before and couldn’t possibly fathom why he deserved the punch. Considering what he’d done, he probably had no remorse whatsoever. “Alex!” My friend, Jordan, said earnestly. He was the one tugging on my arm. “Come on, man. Security is headed over this way. You need to step back, okay?” I jerked my arm loose of his hold and stared at Spencer. No one moved, and I had the crazy urge to hit him again. But out of the corner of my eye, I saw the burly bouncer striding toward us, and I came to my senses. I turned on my heel, pushed through the crowd that had formed, and stormed out. It was only after I was in my car and speeding down the 101 toward my house in Los Feliz that I realized what a colossal f**k-up I’d just made. Giving in to that anger—rage was a better word, really—had been one of the stupidest things I could have done. I had every right to be pissed at Spencer Johns, but I’d just punched him in a room full of Hollywood A-listers. And their guests. Who, I was sure, all had smartphones. By the time I pulled into my driveway thirty-five minutes later, I knew I was in deep s**t. I coasted the Lexus into the garage. Once the door shut behind me and I’d turned off the engine, I sat there for a long moment. I’d been f*****g stupid, and now I was going to have to pay for it. Which meant I was going to have to call my agent, confess my sins, and hope he could put enough spin on it so I didn’t come out too worse for wear. With a heavy sigh, I exited the car and clomped into the house. As I removed my Prada ankle boots, followed swiftly by my socks, my cell phone started ringing. Only a handful of people ever actually called, and most of them lived on the East Coast where it was three o’clock in the morning. Which meant it had to be my agent, Lou Salvatore. I ignored the ringing until I’d poured myself a healthy dose of scotch, then sat on my leather couch and pressed the glass to my forehead. When the phone started ringing for the third time, I leaned back with a sigh and took a sip, savoring the smooth, smoky flavor before relishing the slight burn as it went down. Then I swiped my finger across the screen and lifted the phone to my ear. “What in the ever-living hell have you done?” Lou roared before I even had a chance to offer a greeting. Another sip, and I closed my eyes as I swallowed before answering. “I punched Spencer Johns in the face.” Lou growled like some kind of big cat, before heaving out a very put-upon sigh. “It’s already all over the web. Headlines about your redheaded temper.” I let the redhead thing go. Despite the fact that it was more dark auburn than red, having a temper wasn’t actually one of my problems. Usually. I addressed the rest of his concern. “I figured as much. Since you’re calling and all.” “Don’t be flip!” Lou was back to being mad. That was okay. I liked him better when he was a little pissed off. “Do you have any idea how much f*****g damage control I’m going to have to do because of this? It was a stupid-ass thing to do! All the news sites have it, and so do the rags. The consensus is clear, Lockhart. You attacked him unprovoked. You’ll be lucky if he doesn’t press charges!” Sitting there on the couch, the good scotch in my hand and Lou raging in my ear, everything suddenly felt normal. And as the liquor warmed my stomach, my ability to care diminished. I should be worried about him reporting the attack and the police issuing a warrant for my arrest. I should be anxious about what that would do to my image. Instead I actually felt a little vindicated because I knew that f*****g liar had gotten what he deserved. I’d just have to take the consequences as they came. So I told Lou as much…and then had to listen to him screaming and ranting for close to ten minutes before he’d calmed down enough to formulate a plan. “Okay, let me see if I can find out whether he’s reported the assault. If I can’t, you’ll probably have to make a call to Bob.” He sighed heavily at mentioning my lawyer’s name. The two men didn’t get along all that well. They often had conflicting opinions about what was in my best interest. “In the meantime, how do you want me to handle the punch? Go with the bad-reaction-to-prescription-meds excuse? Too much drinking coupled with exhaustion?” “No.” There was a beat of silence. Then Lou asked impatiently, “No to which one?” “No to both.” I quickly continued before he could start yelling again. “I don’t want to blame this on a lie. Just…no comment, okay?” “That’s not gonna fly well, Alex,” he warned. “Yeah, I know.” I took a deep breath. “But I don’t want to make this worse. Let it be. Story will die down in a few days. Somebody will do something stupider.” Lou gave a humorless laugh. “Well, you’re right about that. And if we’re lucky, they’ll do it sooner rather than later. But you have to lie low for a while. Don’t go out unless you absolutely have to, at least for a few days. Don’t answer the door unless you know the person on the other side. Don’t answer your phone unless you know who’s calling. Don’t—” “I know the drill, Lou. I promise I’ll be good. I’m not trying to make your job harder.” “Could have fooled me,” he grumbled. “All right. Let me get to work. But before I do, I gotta ask, is this because of the movie?” “No,” I answered honestly. I really didn’t care that he’d been cast in a role I’d wanted. Okay, I cared. But not for the reasons Lou thought. Or at least, not only because of those. And then, of course, I couldn’t have stopped the assault of images from a week ago if I tried: Spencer in my bed, on me, in me, the two of us together; the long talk afterward as we cuddled, our limbs tangled until we fell asleep with the sun creeping over the horizon; the sweet way he kissed me before he left…and the crushing hurt and disappointment when this morning I’d gotten the call with the news from Lou. “I didn’t think you were that guy,” Lou muttered. Then he let out another one of his big sighs. When I was in a good mood, I teased him that he should be saving all that breath for his birthday candles. “It’s personal, Lou,” I said, because I felt like I needed to give my agent something. Lou had been with me since the beginning of my career, and I definitely wouldn’t be the semi-popular actor getting fairly regular, well-paid work that I was if it weren’t for him. I paid him well, of course. And it was his job to take care of s**t like this in addition to getting me auditions and negotiating contracts. But in the ten years he’d been representing me, we’d developed a sort of friendship. I owed him a little more than the “no comment” he was going to be giving the press. “Fair enough,” he said after a lengthy pause. “Get some sleep. Don’t go near any windows. I’ll clean this up as best I can.” “Thanks, Lou.” “Yeah, yeah.” That was all the dismissal I got before I heard the double tone of a call disconnected. I locked the phone, then tossed it on the cushion beside me and pushed to my feet. I drained my glass and left it on the coffee table, then crossed the living room toward the back of the house. It was floor-to-ceiling glass, and I reached for the hidden switch to turn on the backyard lights. I loved it out there and had taken great care to create an oasis of tranquility. The trees, ferns, and koi pond with its bubbling fountain all added to that sense of peace. As I slid the door open and stepped outside, I took a second to just admire. The concrete patio was cool and rough on my bare feet. I took a deep breath of the night air, then another, and then crossed to the lounge chair closest to the pond. I sank onto it heavily and scrubbed my hands over my face. I shouldn’t have punched Spencer; I should have walked away. But he’d made me think we could start something, be something, and then he’d crushed it all by lying to me. We’d been circling each other for months, whenever our paths crossed, and just a week ago, we’d taken that final step. We talked all night, and a good portion of that had been me, going on and on about Shadow Jumper and the part I wanted so badly. He’d never once said he’d read for the same role, never even hinted at being up for the part. I must have sounded like an ass to him, talking so much about it. Until Lou told me this morning that I’d been passed over for Spencer Johns, I hadn’t known a thing. The anger, now coupled with a healthy dose of humiliation, roiled in my gut. I closed my eyes and focused on the sound of the lone cricket and the burbling fountain in the pond. Between the soothing sounds and the alcohol, I calmed enough so that I no longer felt like doing physical harm to the fucker. Knowing that was the best I could do, I got up and headed inside.