Question Mark (12 page)

Jenny’s lips tightened in disapproval. “You’re perfect, Zane. Don’t let him trample on the ground you’ve broken. He thinks his money and name mean he can waste time on games. Do you want me to up the asking price? If he’s springing this crap on you, you have every right to request to be compensated for the pull on your time.”

Zane didn’t care about the money, but he
was
furious. This was more than a pull on his time. It was a total drain and he’d probably lose any chance he might’ve had with Mark because of it.
Wham!
—instant long-distance relationship for an undetermined amount of time. He didn’t know Mark near well enough to put that kind of pressure on him. There was no way this could work.

“Ask for more money,” he finally murmured. “If Pete’s that committed to being a dick about what I do with
mine
, then he can give the part to Pershall and watch it tank when the audience doesn’t take it seriously.”

“I’ll do it right now,” she said with a firm nod. When she was a few steps away, she stopped and turned around, her expression tight. “I’m sorry about what this will do to you and…”

He shook his head, not wanting her to finish. Not wanting her to say Mark’s name.

***

On his way back to the bungalow, Mark was thinking a lot of things over. Seriously thinking, like to the point that thoughts were queueing up for his attention.

Christian. Zane. The future. Dating. Rafe. Trust. Horniness.
And on and on.

That ass, he thought, shaking his head in disbelief over the dinner he’d shared with Christian. The man was screwed up and lost. Seeing that made Mark’s skeptical heart soften—not that he could admit that aloud. If he did, he was sure Christian would pounce on him. With the way Mark had promised no games to Zane, pouncing wouldn’t fly and not only because it wouldn’t help Christian figure out his life. Sadly, Mark was shockingly ready to be pounced upon, especially since his last memory of sex involved Rafe.

Christian was a fool to think his life would be rich if he continued on the way he was. His day-to-day wouldn’t get any less complicated by throwing in a few sexual escapades with men that his starved heart lived off of year after year. Mark didn’t want to be a part of a string of lies.

He vividly recalled every moment of coming out to his family all those years ago. After his high school graduation, Mark gathered his family in the den and with his older brothers, Sean and Reid, staring him down and his parents patiently waiting for him to talk, he pretty much spewed the truth at them and stepped back. There was a lot of clumsy,
“This is who I am,”
and
“I’m still the same guy,”
and
“I just don’t want to hide anymore.”
His heart had been pounding so hard he could still remember how it clenched and released.

If it hadn’t been so terrifying Mark would’ve laughed at the way his brothers gaped at him open-mouthed. His mom pursed her lips, then smiled and whispered that she knew.
How?
he’d thought. Mark wasn’t a show-and-tell type of guy and he was certain his stash of magazines was very well hidden, but she just knew, she said.

What?—like you know a good melon when you squeeze it?

His dad did a lot of throat clearing and hand wringing after the confession, but it was the way he stood and grabbed Mark in a hug so quick it was over almost before it began that calmed his son. He’d then pointed at Mark’s brothers and said, “You give him shit about this and I’ll bust your asses. He’s your brother and our son and that’s
that
.”

Sean and Reid did the
yeah-sure-no-problem
thing and sucker punched him as they left the room in a fog. In his family, if his brothers punched him, all was as well as it could be.

And they never did give him any shit about it. They all moved on pretty quickly after his revelation. Jobs. College. Relationships. For Mark “relationships” referred to a long string of untouchables—sort of like with Rafe, he realized grimly—that were too closeted, or too closed off, or too cruel, or too interested in their Karate instructor...

Mark was always the one on the chase; always the one with the hurt feelings and broken heart. At least he had support when he needed it and his parents were amazing. He had the ideal coming out story.

Christian had nothing like that and it showed.

There wasn’t much Mark could do for him if he wasn’t willing to change—or even accept that the situation was a mess that would drive him mad if he kept it up much longer. Christian’s life would come to a crossroads time and again and he’d have to make a decision to keep pretending, or take the risk and be done with it.

It was up to Christian, though, not Mark.

In a moment of weakness, or maybe it was the softer/gentler version of Mark that did it, he gave Christian his phone number and told him if he really needed to talk to go ahead and call. No screwing around though. It would only make both of them miserable in the long run. Not to mention that Mark couldn’t get Zane out of his mind, no matter how futile it was clinging to hope. If he messed around with Christian…God, the guilt would be terrible. Well…after the pleasure, anyway. Still, 
not worth it
.

By the time Mark sank into the deck chair he’d abandoned hours ago, he knew he wasn’t sticking around in Bora Bora. It was beautiful—he’d spent the money on a vacation package so excited to experience it—but he was still
alone
. When he made the plans, that was the selling point, but thinking he could come out here and renew himself was a new way to hide from life. So far, he was more conflicted than ever.

The trip was a way to avoid pain and he could only handle so much vacationing on his own. There was no one to laugh and flirt with and it was all sort of sad. Maybe if Zane could have stayed, Mark wouldn’t be feeling this way…

Mark usually spent his time off with his family in Bakersfield. One brother and his parents still lived there and he hadn’t wanted to face going home without Rafe along for the ride. He knew that his family didn’t give a damn about that and only wanted Mark around, but he hadn’t felt ready. God, his mom had even cried when he told her he was going to Bora Bora.

It was late in California, but Mark punched a number on speed dial and waited. Five rings in, Reid answered sounding out of breath.

“Hey, little brother! What’s going on?” More breathing.

“Did I interrupt you getting down?”

Reid snorted then murmured something in the background. “Nah. I’m online with Sean playing
Call of Duty
. Had to run for the phone.” There was more murmuring and what sounded like a bunch of empty beer bottles toppling over. Reid’s juicy expletive confirmed it. “Sean says hi, by the way.”

“Tell him, ‘What up, dickhead.’”

Reid relayed the message and laughed before Mark heard him ending the game and shutting his system down.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he said quickly. “I only needed a quick minute to ask you something.”

“We were done anyway. Sean’s got to be in the office early tomorrow.” There was a sigh as if Reid had finally settled. “What’s up?”

“I’m coming to visit. Is your guest room open?” The moment Mark asked the question he felt better. It’d been a long time since he’d seen his family, though both his brothers had offered to come down to Albuquerque to beat Rafe’s ass a while back. Mark was certain Jeremy would’ve had something to say about that, however, as huge as he was.

“Yeah, sure! I thought you were exploring the wonders of the tropics; gaying it out in the South Pacific. Did that fall through or something?”

“Nah. I’m here, but it’s weird alone. I have all these activities scheduled that make me feel like I’m at camp because I’m by myself and end up surrounded by kids whose parents are off on romantic cruises. I went snorkeling today and had to fight a ten year old for flippers.”

Reid laughed again and the familiar tones made Mark’s homesickness worse. “My door’s open whenever you need to crash, as long as you don’t mind that half of the guest room is a gym now.”

“Whatever. I don’t care. If it’s a problem I’ll split time between mom and dad’s and your place.” Mark knew his brother would probably wake him up every morning doing bicep curls at his bedside.
One…look at that bicep, Mark… Two…solid gold… Three…check it out, man…

Reid started chewing on something, probably potato chips, and asked him when he’d be there.

“Tomorrow, late, if I can swing it.” Mark’s brain started spinning with plans. “I don’t know if there’s an express flight from L.A. to Bakersfield that late.”

“I don’t have anything going on. I can pick you up. Just let me know.”

“Don’t tell mom and dad,” he warned. “Mom will freak and I want to see it.”

“Yep. Her baby boy’s a-comin’ home.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Standby for the info.”

They hung up and Mark grinned. This was right. His wallet might be crying some crocodile tears, but he was good to go.

And if he was about six hours closer to Zane, who was counting?

CHAPTER NINE

As predicted, Pete went for Jenny’s offer, upping Zane’s cut by an obscene amount. His pay was already embarrassing, but throw in royalties and random contract riders…shit. The producer knew he wanted Zane and he also wanted to yank him around a little. Didn’t that make everything roses…

He made it home after midnight since he and Jenny had sequestered themselves in her office to talk numbers and schedules. Before Pete left for the night, flying high on a serious buzz with some indie actress on his arm, he’d mentioned a meeting in his office at ten the next morning. Zane also learned that the producers, director, and some crew had already been out scouting locations and most of the film was going to be shot in the English countryside. Rehearsals and training began in less than a month and Zane was sick about it.

He was trying to remind himself that he’d only just met Mark and it shouldn’t bother him so much, but how often did he meet someone that made him react this way? The truth was that Zane hadn’t met someone like Mark at all. He didn’t want to give up, but how could he possibly convince Mark to give him this chance…

Hang around for the next year, please? We might even get to see each other!

Zane was up early running off his frustration on the treadmill and counting down the minutes until it was a reasonable hour in Bora Bora so he could call Mark and drop this huge bomb on him.

Pounding out mile number five, he nearly lost his balance when his home phone rang. He hit the e-stop button on the treadmill and Jell-O-legged it to the table where the handset was blinking away. He gulped down some water and punched the on button.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Mark.”

Zane swallowed wrong and choked. “You’re up early! Wha—” he said, gasping for air. “Sorry—I’m choking to death here.”

Mark made a concerned noise, sounding incredibly tired at the same time, and Zane wondered if it was simply the hour. “I didn’t call trying to kill you.” He paused and did some throat clearing of his own that had Zane holding his breath in anticipation. “I…uh…well, I’m leaving Tahiti. In like, two hours.”

What?

“Why?” His total confusion was obvious.

“I’m an idiot, that’s why. Being in Bora Bora alone is
weird
, way weirder than I originally thought it would be. I’m this odd man out everywhere I go, so… I’m cutting this part short and going to visit my family, who will say I should’ve done so in the first place.”

“Bakersfield?” Zane mopped his face with a towel and tried to get his still-rapid heart rate to slow. Mark was going to be in California? Two hours away from him? His brain went into planning mode.

“You remembered,” Mark sort of sighed. “That’s…encouraging.”

He frowned—if Mark said it, Zane was going to remember it. “Did you stay up all night trying to make travel arrangements? You sound exhausted.”

“I didn’t really sleep at all, actually. After I got off the phone with my brother, Reid, I called up the airline and stayed on hold for
three hundred years
. Then I had to pack. Thank God this resort has a shuttle schedule to accommodate people with red eye flights. I’m waiting at the dock right now.”

Still struggling to believe his good fortune, Zane sank to a seat on his weight bench. “What time do you leave Tahiti?”

“Six, I think. I’m taking the shuttle to the airstrip on Bora Bora, then a flight to the big island. From there to L.A., then an express flight to Bakersfield. Reid’s going to pick me up. I’m hoping to get some sleep on the long flight.”

“Does that mean you get into Bakersfield around four?”

“Five fifteen.”

Zane whistled. “That’s a long day, man.”