Or wishful thinking.
He sat back, still holding the picture. Really? Do you really hope Gray is gay? You’d wish that on a guy who has so much to protect?
He sighed. It’s always hard to wish the best for people when it doesn’t include you.
He picked up the last photo. Holy mother. This picture came from a different camera at a different time. Someone had caught a color close-up of Gray in an unguarded moment—the perfect profile against a sunset, his famous smoky eyes on the horizon. Not a hint of the cocky, self-assured, king-of-the-universe Gray Anson appeared in this photo. Just a sad, lonely young man gazing into some distant, unpromising future. Where had Mrs. O gotten this photo? Why did she give it to me?
He dragged the back of his hand across his watering eyes and wiped it on his bare chest.
Chapter Six
RU KNELT in the back of the auditorium, adjusting a seam in Beverly’s costume. One of his seamstresses followed his directions and pinned the garment tighter at the waist. “She’s a temptress. We want to see the war between her sadness and sexuality displayed on her body.” The seamstress looked at him like he’d left the planet and calmly tightened the seam.
On the stage, Polonius instructed Ophelia to appear to be reading a book so she’d have a reason to be found alone by Hamlet. Polonius hid, Ophelia slipped into a nook with her book, and on came Gray. Hard to say “on came Hamlet.” The shiny charisma that lit up a billion movie screens simply wouldn’t suppress itself to the character. Gray spoke the lines, but all you could see was a movie star reciting Hamlet . Ru glanced at Beverly, who stared at her shoes in embarrassment. Despite his fame and wealth, the cast wanted Gray to succeed, not fail. After all, it was their play too. Jesus, Ru wanted to hide.
Ru waved a hand at the gown. “You know what to do, Estrella, right?”
“Yes, Señor Ru.” Her dark eyes said I was doing this before you were born, sonny .
Ru hurried back to the costume department. He leaned over the big pattern-making table. What possessed Gray to set himself up for failure like this? He was brilliant at being Gray Anson. The best. No one like him. Hamlet? No so much. Despite the glimmer of understanding of the character he’d shown that first time Ru met him, in a word, he stunk. Ru wanted to die for him.
He walked into the small room where they kept materials and finishings. Sorting buttons always soothed him. When he’d hidden from the gangbangers in his neighborhood as a kid, he used to sneak into his mother’s closet and comb through her sewing basket, carefully arranging the buttons by colors and the spools of thread by hue and size. Now he ran his fingers through a plastic box of shirt buttons.
The snick of the door closing in the costume department stopped him. “Who’s there?” He walked to the door into the big room and peeked inside. Gray stood with his back to the entrance like he wanted to keep the world out. Good plan. “Hi.”
Gray looked startled. “Oh, hi. Sorry. Didn’t hear you.”
“I’m sneaky.”
For a second he seemed confused, then forced a smile. “Right.”
“You’re not scheduled for your fitting until tomorrow. They’re not quite done with the sewing.”
He stared at his feet. “Oh. I see.” God, the great man looked lost.
“This is a nice quiet place to hide out for a while, though.”
Gray sighed, walked over to the table, and flopped in a chair.
Ru turned toward a pile of cloth samples and pretended to be busy. “So how do you think it’s going?”
He snorted. “You were out there, right?”
Ru nodded but didn’t turn.
“You’re a smart guy. You know I’m sucking ass.”
That would be fun to see. Ru turned toward him and crossed his arms over his chest. “Why do you think you’re having so much trouble?”
He shrugged, then looked up at Ru as though to see if he cared. “I’m not really an actor. I mean, I’ve got little
He sat back, still holding the picture. Really? Do you really hope Gray is gay? You’d wish that on a guy who has so much to protect?
He sighed. It’s always hard to wish the best for people when it doesn’t include you.
He picked up the last photo. Holy mother. This picture came from a different camera at a different time. Someone had caught a color close-up of Gray in an unguarded moment—the perfect profile against a sunset, his famous smoky eyes on the horizon. Not a hint of the cocky, self-assured, king-of-the-universe Gray Anson appeared in this photo. Just a sad, lonely young man gazing into some distant, unpromising future. Where had Mrs. O gotten this photo? Why did she give it to me?
He dragged the back of his hand across his watering eyes and wiped it on his bare chest.
Chapter Six
RU KNELT in the back of the auditorium, adjusting a seam in Beverly’s costume. One of his seamstresses followed his directions and pinned the garment tighter at the waist. “She’s a temptress. We want to see the war between her sadness and sexuality displayed on her body.” The seamstress looked at him like he’d left the planet and calmly tightened the seam.
On the stage, Polonius instructed Ophelia to appear to be reading a book so she’d have a reason to be found alone by Hamlet. Polonius hid, Ophelia slipped into a nook with her book, and on came Gray. Hard to say “on came Hamlet.” The shiny charisma that lit up a billion movie screens simply wouldn’t suppress itself to the character. Gray spoke the lines, but all you could see was a movie star reciting Hamlet . Ru glanced at Beverly, who stared at her shoes in embarrassment. Despite his fame and wealth, the cast wanted Gray to succeed, not fail. After all, it was their play too. Jesus, Ru wanted to hide.
Ru waved a hand at the gown. “You know what to do, Estrella, right?”
“Yes, Señor Ru.” Her dark eyes said I was doing this before you were born, sonny .
Ru hurried back to the costume department. He leaned over the big pattern-making table. What possessed Gray to set himself up for failure like this? He was brilliant at being Gray Anson. The best. No one like him. Hamlet? No so much. Despite the glimmer of understanding of the character he’d shown that first time Ru met him, in a word, he stunk. Ru wanted to die for him.
He walked into the small room where they kept materials and finishings. Sorting buttons always soothed him. When he’d hidden from the gangbangers in his neighborhood as a kid, he used to sneak into his mother’s closet and comb through her sewing basket, carefully arranging the buttons by colors and the spools of thread by hue and size. Now he ran his fingers through a plastic box of shirt buttons.
The snick of the door closing in the costume department stopped him. “Who’s there?” He walked to the door into the big room and peeked inside. Gray stood with his back to the entrance like he wanted to keep the world out. Good plan. “Hi.”
Gray looked startled. “Oh, hi. Sorry. Didn’t hear you.”
“I’m sneaky.”
For a second he seemed confused, then forced a smile. “Right.”
“You’re not scheduled for your fitting until tomorrow. They’re not quite done with the sewing.”
He stared at his feet. “Oh. I see.” God, the great man looked lost.
“This is a nice quiet place to hide out for a while, though.”
Gray sighed, walked over to the table, and flopped in a chair.
Ru turned toward a pile of cloth samples and pretended to be busy. “So how do you think it’s going?”
He snorted. “You were out there, right?”
Ru nodded but didn’t turn.
“You’re a smart guy. You know I’m sucking ass.”
That would be fun to see. Ru turned toward him and crossed his arms over his chest. “Why do you think you’re having so much trouble?”
He shrugged, then looked up at Ru as though to see if he cared. “I’m not really an actor. I mean, I’ve got little
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