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Chapter One
TonightonHollywoodBeats,we’re delving into the breaking news about one of the world’s most macho action stars, Elias Lake. We’re switching from the studio to Morgan Wong, who is on location outside the actor’s forty million dollar estate overlooking Los Angeles. Morgan, what can you tell us about this story that has set the movie industry on its ear?
“Elias, would youpleaseturn that off?”
I raised a hand to my agent to shush her.
Thanks, Susan. Things are heating up out here in the hills of L.A. let me tell you! Famous leading man, Elias Lake, was outed two days ago by an ex-boyfriend, Tic-Toc sensation My-Key Delano, after engaging in a hidden affair for over six months that went sour. My-Key has flooded his Tic-Toc account with previously private videos of himself and Elias in some rather spicy and compromising positions. This reporter has been following this closely as the movie world is reeling from the news. Elias has long been touted as the “Last Remaining Manly Man” by Four Winds Studios, so the shocking revelations that the action star is not only gay but likes to wear ladies panties while having gay sex has lit Hollywood up! I’ll be keeping on top of this story as it progresses with hourly updates. Back to you, Susan!
The television on the wall snapped off. I threw a glower at the two women staring at me. My agent, Elle Sterner, and my personal trainer and beard—oh right, that was ex-beard now—Katy Heath. Elle waved the remote in the air, so I directed my sour frown at her.
“Turn that back on,” I growled, shoving a hand into my lank hair.
“No. I am not going to sit here and listen to them circling around like vultures cawing at each other,” Elle spat, then tossed the remote to Katy who caught it nimbly and shoved it down between her boobs. Damn women and their cleavage storage areas.
“Actually, vultures are pretty silent for the most part. Maybe you’re thinking of crows. They caw,” I tossed out before shoving another chocolate-covered cherry into my mouth. Katy coughed lightly. I crammed another sweet in with the first and chewed loudly.
“Elias, you’re being a petulant shithead,” Katy told me. I knew that. I was aware, thank you. Being a spoiled asshole was pretty much all I had left of my former life. Fucking Tic-Toc twinks. They were my weakness. I really needed a different type of man in my life. Honestly, I just needed a life. The one that I had had just been nuked by someone I thought I could trust. I mean, did the fucker have to show the world that picture I had sent him in confidence? No. He did not. The jerk. The miserable uptight jerk bastard shithead, fuck-toad skinny bitch.
Honestly, we’d broken up seven months ago, and all had been well—sort of—then I’d made the mistake of asking the spoiled little tart to move out of my beach home in Laguna Beach. I’d been incredibly nice letting him stay there rent free after our split so he could “find a new place and recover from our break-up” but I wanted to go there to rest up before my intense training regime for an upcoming movie began. Guess my request that he vacate my premises had flipped his bitch switch for a mere twenty-four hours later he flooded his social media accounts with personal images in a smear campaign that had left me curled up in a ball smelling like dead fish wrapped up in sweaty socks.
“Sue me,” I grumbled around a mouthful of candy. Each treat I ate made me feel better. For a minute, then it made me feel like shit. Shittier, I suppose, because I had worked my ass off to get into incredible shape for my fans and my role as Connor Days—former ex-marine good guy turned Robin Hood type of vigilante who went after bad guys with a bloody heterosexual machismo glee—in theDaze of Retributionmovies. Ten. Ten fucking movies over fifteen years. And now those same fans were ready to roast me over a pit. Just for being gay. Christ, this fucking town sucked. I should have been a naturalist like I’d wanted to be as a kid but no, I got this wild acting hair up my ass and left Maine for L.A. Thanks, Los Angeles, you fickle thing you. I gave you my all and now I’m getting it in the ass and not in the fun way. This was sans lube with a giant dildo reaming.
“Elias, I swear if you don’t stop glutting, I’m going to kick your ass,” Katy barked, rising from her seat on one of five tan and dark brown sofas. She stalked over, lunged for the box of candy, and then snarled down at me when I held onto it. Since she was a former Ms. Olympia bodybuilder/professional wrestler, I had no doubt she could smash me like boiled potatoes. “Give me those.”
I lost the fight. She stormed off into the kitchen. I winced when I heard the garbage disposal firing to life. Personal trainers were mean. I slunk down on the sofa—a tan one—and stared out the thick wall of glass at the city of angels far below.
“Okay, so this is manageable.” Elle sat down beside me, the picture of professional acting representation. Dark skin glowing, hair neat and bobbed, power suit, heels, and earrings that glistened in the bright California sun. Diamonds. Bought from her ten percent of my millions. I liked pretty earrings.
Hey, maybe you can wear them now.
Yeah, maybe so. When I throw myself off the Vincent Thomas Bridge, I’ll make sure my earrings match my frilly undergarments.
“What the hell are you talking about?” I asked with zero emotion. I’d burned through all the feelings in the past forty-eight hours aside from anger at my friend/trainer/beard for tossing my candy down the sink. That was still glowing brightly in my empty breast. “How is this manageable? My career is in the toilet. My fans are calling for my head for lying to them for years. The studio is already shredding my last contract. What exactly do you think is salvageable in this fucking mess?!”
“Well, for one,” she crossed one lithe leg over the other, then hit me with a glower, “I’m going to be gracious and not rip your balls off for speaking to me as if I were a dimwit.”
“Sorry,” I mumbled, curling into a ball and then falling to my side as Katy entered the room with a platter of vegetables and a bottle of spring water. Really? I mean…really? Did she think carrots could take the place of chocolate-covered cherries during a time like this? The woman was delusional.
“Here, eat this instead.” Katy placed the platter on the glass-and-chrome coffee table and then sat down beside me, her long blonde ponytail falling over a muscular shoulder as she righted me like a rag doll. A big rag doll. I was six foot three and weighed in at a toned one hundred eighty-five pounds. She hoisted me up as if I were nothing. Sure, take another punch at my masculinity why don’t you? “Fruits and vegetables make you feel good.”
“No, they do not. Sweets make me feel good. This is just healthy shit. Who wants healthy shit when they’re experiencing a life trauma? Elle, call the pizza place and have them deliver a meat fanciers delight. With a side of candy.”
Elle rolled her dark eyes.
“Donotcall for pizza for this man,” Katy firmly said. Elle wasn’t scared of Katy at all. They were two lionesses who respected each other tremendously as they tried to keep their little cub—that would be me—from making stupid life choices. Like candy over veggies, investing in cryptocurrency, or having hidden affairs with skinny Tic-Toc stars. I should have listened to the women about that last one. Probably I should listen to women more than I do. They’re smarter than men. That is a fact. My dick had led me into more trouble than it was worth. “Elias, I know this sucks but you cannot lie around this house forever. Get up, get moving, and face this thing head on.”
Katy punched her palm. I winced, picked up a baby carrot and began chewing on it, and sighed so hard that some of the carrot flew from my mouth.
“Honestly,” Elle grumbled as she wiped the bits from my chest into her hand. “Elias, I really think you need to take the bull by the horns.” She dumped the carrot bits into a swanky ashtray—never used—near a coffee table book about vases—never read—then turned her attention back to me. “So, while the studio works out what it feels is the best way to progress—”
I moaned around my over-chewed carrot. Katy handed me some celery. I crammed that in with the carrot mush and chewed harder.
“The best way to progress is to make a public statement,” Elle concluded.
“Faying wash?” I asked. They both stared flatly at me. I chewed, swallowed, and tried once more. “Saying what? Sorry that I lied to the whole world about my sexual preferences? What do they care? The fans are after my blood for pretending to be straight when I was queer.”
“Ugh, not all the fans are like that,” Katy said, sitting back with a huff. “And really, who the hell are these people to get into your face for not coming out? I mean just look at the backlash that you’re facing. As if people in this town don’t pretend to be other things every fucking day of every fucking week of every fucking year. Gah! I hate people. I’m going to go punch something.”
