Chapter Fifteen

 

 

DREW woke to a quiet whine and the sound of nails on hardwood. Next to him, Steve shifted and pressed a kiss to Drew’s hair.

Drew drifted for a moment or two, but then Rita whined louder and Steve sat up. Cool air seeped under the covers, and Drew grumbled.

“I’m gonna take Rita for a run,” Steve murmured. “You want to come with or sleep in?”

After a meal like yesterday’s, Drew should go. After last night, though, the idea of running didn’t particularly appeal. Drew felt good—and Steve had been amazing—but he also ached.

Maybe he could convince Steve some more hot-tub time was in order today. “Sleep.” His voice was rough with disuse.

Steve chuckled. Drew soaked up the warmth of it and burrowed into the blankets.

When he woke up next, the sheets beside him were cool and the room was bright. Drew stretched, winced, then stretched again, reveling in the protests of well-used muscles. Then he swung his legs out of bed and went to investigate coffee.

The coffee maker itself was quiet and empty, but a blue Post-it on the front read Just push here. While the coffee brewed, Drew took another look around the house, thinking.

Pictures of Steve’s family brightened every room. Here in the kitchen, tucked in the window frame, an old picture of the people who must be Steve’s parents held a place of honor.

Looking at the faded photograph, Drew felt the pieces fall into place. The privacy. The house in the Hills. The way Steve seemed so at home on camera, or on set, or at a swanky Hollywood party. He probably wouldn’t even be fazed if Meryl Streep glided up to say hello.

Steve had inherited his mother’s coloring and his father’s build and face shape. The nose, Drew thought, probably came from his dad too, but it was difficult to tell because Steve’s had obviously been broken and set a little funny.

There were other reminders of a happy family life too, and Drew meandered out of the kitchen to examine them. Pictures of Steve at all ages, some with his parents, some without, adorned the hallway walls and the living room table. Age seven or so with a soccer ball, a toddler with a face full of spaghetti sauce, a teenager sitting with his mother on the deck of a boat. The nose incident obviously occurred after those were taken.

And then there were the awards: stashed away in the room that had served as Steve’s father’s office stood a case of trophies and certificates. The National Book Award was his father’s, and Drew recognized Steve’s mother’s name on some of the bronzed statues. But there was a soccer trophy with Steve Sopol engraved on the plaque, dated the year Steve would’ve been fourteen or so; and a certificate of completion for a young writers’ workshop; and a framed newspaper clipping with an accompanying picture that showed college-age Steve onstage in character as Oberon.

Being in this house, Drew almost felt like he’d been introduced to Steve’s family. Maybe Steve had invited him here in part so Drew would understand what they meant to him. Steve, being a writer, took show, don’t tell seriously.

Drew didn’t miss the subtext either.

The coffee maker beeped, and he padded out of the office back to the kitchen to pour himself a mug, thinking about his own family. He hadn’t been home in so long that he had no idea if his mother had framed pictures of him along with his sisters. Surely she had some from long-ago vacations, but did she display them? Did his dad keep a picture of Drew from his latest movie on his desk beside Brit and Sarah’s graduation pictures?

What would they make of Steve?

He hadn’t found any answers by the time he’d drunk halfway through the mug. But he did notice that something in the house was still beeping, and it wasn’t the coffee maker. Frowning, Drew set his mug down and went to investigate.

A moment later he found the source: his cell phone, still in the pocket of his pants from the night before, had nearly run out of battery and was beeping forlornly. Drew fished it out and glanced at the screen.

13 new text messages. 5 new voicemail messages.

Lately the high number wasn’t unusual. He was always getting texts about the movie, or prospective new parts, or updates from Leigh, or cat gifs and pupdates from his mom. But he’d had such a nice weekend that he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He refilled his coffee mug. Something told him he’d need caffeine and his phone charger to deal with this.

His charger was still plugged into the socket in his bedroom, but Drew didn’t want to find out about whatever shitstorm had blown through his life in bed. He retrieved the charger and relocated to the living room.

And then he settled down with his coffee and his phone and steeled himself for the worst.

Leigh’s message popped up at the top of the list. It was as good a place to start as any, but her first message was just a URL—it didn’t tell him anything. And the next one hardly enlightened him. Is this legit?

One way to find out. Drew clicked the link.

Hollywood Hottie Off the Market?

Well, that was a pretty good hint. The accompanying picture filled in any remaining blanks Drew might’ve had—a shot of him and Steve slow-dancing by the jellyfish exhibit. Drew’s face hid most of Steve’s, but between the lighting and the dreamy expression on Drew’s face, it wasn’t hard to peg this as a date, and one that was going well.

Could Hollywood heartthrob Drew Beaumont be trading bachelorhood for domestic bliss? Though Beaumont is notorious for flying solo, sources say he and his date were rarely apart at last month’s benefit dinner. But who is the man with the charm to turn a party of one into a slow dance for two? We don’t know yet, but he must be one lucky guy. Whoever he is, the hearts of guys and girls all over the world are breaking. Looks like Drew Beaumont is officially off the market.

Okay. That could be worse. It didn’t out Steve by name, make lewd insinuations, or contain any blatant misinformation, at least. Though Drew was annoyed the shot had leaked, since the event was supposed to have been professional photography only, he could hardly make a fuss considering what one could do with a cell phone camera these days.

At least it hadn’t come out right after their date.

He closed the window before he could read any of the comments. Then he exhaled slowly and opened a new message to Leigh. You told me to take someone else! he said. And: Yes, it’s legit. New, though.

He didn’t bother texting any other details. He’d be hearing from her later, potentially at a pitch only dogs could understand.

Two of the missed calls and three of the text messages were from Alan, his publicist. The texts said You’re supposed to tell me these things and Do I need to do damage control and Call me! Drew looked at the time stamp on the messages—last night when he and Steve were otherwise occupied—and thanked himself for getting caught up in Steve and leaving his phone in his pants.

Drew could return that call later, after more coffee and maybe breakfast or a nice lobotomy.

Hilary’s text said As Steve’s friend: Be good to him or I will end you. As your agent: At least this will drum up press for the movie!

“Mercenary,” Drew grumbled, not sure if he was afraid or impressed. Maybe both.

By the time he got down to the last messages, he was mostly happy with how things had gone. But all that was up in the air now because the last texts—and the three missed calls not from his publicist—were from his mother.

You didn’t tell me you were seeing anyone. Is this photoshopped?

Five minutes later: I wish you had told us. Will we get to meet him?

And seventeen minutes after that: We just want you to be happy, sweetheart.

Drew set the phone on the end table and scrubbed his hands through his hair. He wasn’t going to play the poor-little-celebrity card. He’d signed up for the paparazzi being in his business more or less day in and day out. It came with the territory, and he accepted that. But Steve had never wanted to be recognizable, and it was inevitable now that his privacy would be invaded too.

Unless Steve broke up with him because he didn’t want this kind of pressure or scrutiny. Drew wouldn’t blame him. What a mess.

More than anything, the timing sucked. He should have been spending his morning coffee time debating ways to lure Steve back to bed, or the hot tub. They should get to spend the whole day shutting out the world and enjoying each other’s company, playing with the dog, making dinner.

Could Hollywood heartthrob Drew Beaumont be trading bachelorhood for domestic bliss? Drew thought wryly. Apparently he could. At least if that was still on the table when Steve got home—

The door slammed open. “Don’t look at your phone!” Steve half shouted, his own cell held in one hand, Rita’s lead in the other.

Rita, unmoved, eyed him, then trotted off toward her water dish, pulling until the leash slipped from Steve’s fingers.

“Oh,” Steve said. He sagged. “Too late, huh?” Sweat dripped down the side of his face, under his arms, down his chest. Another hot day today, Drew guessed. “Sorry I’m kind of….” He gestured. “We ran home as soon as I heard. Maybe a little faster than we should’ve.”

Rita kept slurping at her bowl.

“I’m sorry,” Drew and Steve said simultaneously.

Drew blinked. “What are you sorry for?”

Steve blew out a breath. “I don’t know. It can’t be very much fun—I’m sure you’re going to have to answer questions about me now, and we haven’t talked about how to answer them yet, and….” He shrugged.

“Comes with the job,” Drew said gently. “I’m the one who should be sorry. You didn’t ask for any of this. And they’re going to find out who you are, and then….”

And then was the rub. Steve’s face twisted into an unpleasant expression. “Well, it’s bound to happen eventually, you know? I mean….” He gestured around. “I’m not exactly incognito here. The neighbors know who my mother is, obviously. And they know I’m her kid. It’s just a matter of someone seeing my face in a magazine or a blog and putting two and two together.”

Drew’s heart sank a little, and he covered Steve’s hand with his. He was the one who insisted Steve costar with him in this movie. Without him Steve could continue living his life quietly, out of the spotlight. “This is my fault. If I hadn’t dragged you in front of the cameras….”

Snorting, Steve turned his hand over and laced his fingers with Drew’s. “Yeah, look at me in that picture.” He set his phone, already open to the article Drew had been reading, on the table. “I sure look like I’m there against my will.” The picture didn’t show Steve’s face, but it did show his hand, fingers laced easily with Drew’s.

Still. “I didn’t mean to make your life this complicated,” Drew mumbled to the tabletop.

“Hey.” Steve squeezed his hand until he looked up. “Relationships are complicated. I wouldn’t do anything differently. Would you?”

Drew let out a long breath, relief and affection seeping through him. “No.”

“Then let’s let it go and decide what we’re going to do now.”

He made it sound so logical and reasonable. “I should call my publicist.” Drew wasn’t looking forward to that. “I’ll draft a generic statement. ‘It’s true, we’re happy, respect his privacy, blah blah.’”

Steve snorted. “Maybe I’ll help you with the wording. We can do better than ‘blah blah.’”

“Sure.” Drew ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. “Okay. You shower, I’ll do breakfast. And then we can deal with this mess.”

“Hmm.” Steve shot him a sly look. “Better idea. I’ll shower, and you come join me in a few minutes. Everything else can wait.”

Maybe the day wouldn’t be a total wash after all.

 

 

LAST night we published a picture of Drew Beaumont and an unknown man in an intimate embrace. When we reached out to Beaumont’s representation for comment, we received this response:

Last month Drew and a date attended a charity benefit at the Aquarium of the Pacific. Drew was assured the event would be professional photography only and is disappointed to have such a personal moment released in the media. At this time we would like to ask that members of the press respect Drew’s privacy and that of his boyfriend.

“I’m going to have to give an interview too,” Drew said, twisting his face in distaste as he set his phone on the bedside table. “Answering a few basic questions will get the press to back off a little. The less they think there is for them to discover, the less important it is to run a story.”

Steve nodded and slung his arm over Drew’s waist. “We could just tell them everything and get it over with.”

Drew hummed noncommittally. “Yeah. But you don’t want to.” Steve hadn’t even really told Drew about his family. He doubted Steve wanted it to be public knowledge.

“I always wanted to prove to my dad I could do it, you know? Not that he wasn’t supportive.” Steve shifted his weight until he was positioned so he didn’t have to look Drew in the eye. Drew let him; talking about this couldn’t be easy. “He was so proud. But I wanted to write my own stuff, and I wanted people to judge it on its own merit instead of comparing it to his.”

“Tall order,” Drew murmured.

Steve’s huff warmed the skin on Drew’s chest. “Right? But I’m one of the lucky ones. I was a high-risk pregnancy. Mom and Dad left Hollywood before I was even born. I went to school under an assumed name. I know some of my friends and their parents recognized my mom from movies, but by the time I was ten or so, Mom had been out of the spotlight for so long that it wasn’t a big thing.”

“She went back to work when your dad passed?” Drew guessed.

“Needed a diversion,” Steve confirmed. “And I think she’d forgotten how much she loved it. Don’t get me wrong, she loved playing mom too. But she couldn’t stay here all the time—too many memories of when they were young. So she had the place renovated and got an apartment in the city and an army of boyfriends.”

Drew chuckled at Steve’s wry tone. “She sounds awesome. You’re close?”

“She’s the best. And I am a mama’s boy,” Steve confirmed. “I’ve made my peace with it.”

“Hmm.” Absently Drew toyed with the fine hairs at the base of Steve’s neck. “I have to admit, there have been times in my life when I wondered if Marla Stone approved of me.” He dropped a kiss on the top of Steve’s head. “Never thought it’d be in the context of dating her only child, though.”

“She keeps threatening to ask for your autograph,” Steve told him, and Drew laughed. “The two of you are going to be two peas in a pod.”

“I can’t wait to meet her,” Drew said, surprising himself with how much he meant that. It was too late for him to meet Steve’s dad, but Marla was still around. He wanted to meet her, talk to her, figure out if she was as like Steve as he suspected.

Steve shifted again, but this time he looked up at Drew for a moment. “Austin said that too.”

Realization dawned slowly. “That’s what you meant by ‘being used’? He wanted to meet your mother?” That was twisted.

“Well, that and his name dropped here and there for consideration. Better roles.”

“Ugh. What a nasty little vampire.”

“I liked hemorrhoid better.”

“Hemorrhoid it is.” Drew sighed contentedly and turned his head to check the time on the bedside clock. “I probably have to call my mom before she hires a private investigator. Anything you want me to say? Or not say?”

“She’s your mom. You can tell her the truth.”

Drew wondered what might happen if he did. Would his mother start planning another wedding? Would she be skeptical or suspicious? He had no frame of reference. He’d never dated anyone as an adult who had a decent relationship with his parents.

“I guess I can.” He wiggled a little until he could turn on his side. “Thank you.”

Steve gave him a curious look. “What for?”

“Everything.” Drew shrugged. “Humoring me. I know I can be a diva. Don’t think I didn’t notice the unopened six-pack of Perrier in the fridge when I got here. For a nice weekend away where I didn’t have to be on. For breakfasts and dinner and… sharing about your parents.”

Smiling, Steve curled his fingers around Drew’s. “You’re welcome. I’m glad you could come.”

“I don’t want to leave,” Drew admitted. “But I probably have to give an interview tomorrow and pack, and then we’re due on location on Tuesday.”

“You gonna miss me?” Steve teased gently.

Damn it. “Yes,” Drew admitted, feeling ridiculous.

But Steve just smiled. “Good.”

 

 

DREW Beaumont Opens Up

About his new movie, his new man, and what comes next

Unless you’ve been living under a rock, you know lone wolf Drew Beaumont was spotted at the Aquarium of the Pacific in LA last month anything but solo. We sat down with Drew to fill in some of the blanks on what you don’t know.

Q: To start us off, catch us up on what you’ve been doing this summer.

DB: I haven’t had a lot of time off. I started working on a movie called Dog Gone a few weeks back. It’s been a crunch because it’s on a budget and I have another filming commitment coming up in September and I need to be done by then.

Q: The movie’s about a dog?

DB: It’s about a sort of hapless guy, Scott—that’s me—who learns his best friend’s girlfriend ran off with his friend’s dog. Or so he thinks. And he’s not that bright, but he’s fiercely loyal, and his friend’s overseas, so he decides he’s going to go get this dog back. And he convinces his buddy’s brother to go with him.

Q: And then shenanigans.

DB [laughing]: Yeah, exactly. Scotty gets them into all kinds of trouble, and it’s sort of Morgan’s lot in life to get him out of it. Filming it is a kick. I’m loving it.

Q: Speaking of love….

DB: Oh boy, here we go.

Q: By now our readers have seen the pics of you and your mystery man at the aquarium. I guess there’s someone new in your life?

DB: Yeah, there is. It’s still really new and we’re trying to keep a low profile, but he’s pretty special. I’m happy, and I think he is too.

Q: What can you tell us about him?

DB: Ah, well, without giving too much away? He’s smart and funny and kind and he loves his dog. And he’s really talented at what he does. Thoughtful—I have this weird thing where I love dill pickles but I hate dill, and he totally noticed without me saying anything and then went out of his way to find food I’d like. And he’s very much himself all the time, which is sort of a paradox in this town. It makes him refreshing to be around.

Q: You sound smitten.

DB: Yeah, that was a little gushy, huh? You think I’m coming on too strong?

Q: I think he sounds like a lucky guy.

DB: Yeah, we both are.

Q: Drew, thanks for taking the time to chat with us. Anything else we should know about what’s in the pipe for you?

DB: We start filming Tumbleweed in September. So anyone who’s ever wanted a tentpole steampunk movie with human-robot hybrids and a good old-fashioned Wild West feel, look it up!