Chapter Eleven All Made Up

Chapter eleven

All Made Up

If Eddie thought sharing a bed with Lee had been difficult, what he was currently doing was infinitely harder.

Close up behind him, hand on his hip to ensure his steady stance, whispering instructions into his ear about how to hold a rifle in his hands as if he were about to shoot the enemy, Lee was wreaking havoc with Eddie's nerves. It shouldn't be this erotic. Not when, a mere twenty-four hours ago, Eddie could have lost his life on this very spot. But it was so damn hot having Lee pressed up against him, commanding him to hold a deadly weapon, and after having spent the night in the same bed, beneath the same sheets, with Lee's leg brushing his, Eddie was suffering from a massive case of blue balls.

Or unrequited love.

Whatever .

What made it worse was Lee was like a whole different person today. As if he had control of himself. Eddie put that down to him having actually slept. He, however, hadn't much, in favour of basking in the glory of sharing a bed with Lee and having been the one to cure his insomnia. Because Lee had snored . All night. Proper, downright fog-horned snored . And when woken up by the rap of knuckles on the door from the production runner at dawn, Lee had been in shock. Bleary-eyed. Out of sorts. Surprised at his facedown spreadeagle, with the dainty sheet draped over his unfortunately covered in boxers arse, Eddie next to him. Smiling.

"Cured ya," Eddie had winked.

Lee had said nothing. Grunted. Then took himself off to the bathroom. And when he'd returned from doing God knew what in there, Eddie hadn't had time to sort himself out.

"Pull the trigger." Lee's warm breath trickled down Eddie's neck, sending shivers along his spine. As if his lips had kissed a trail from Eddie's ear to his back.

He was far too close. Eddie doubted this was the way they taught firearms in the Met. But Eddie wasn't complaining because he felt all sorts of safe and all sorts of wrapped up in it. In him . Lee felt so damn good behind him. The big spoon to his little, he belonged there. Because Lee was stocky and big, and Eddie slender and tall. A slight difference in height, but in body mass, they were opposites. And he wanted to sink into him. Be enveloped by him. He'd never felt small and insignificant before, having always sought to be the centre of attention. But with Lee, he'd happily cocoon himself in his thick-set arms, fade into obscurity and lose himself to the world forever.

Because, to him, Lee was the world .

He had to fucking get over this.

Most of the crew believed Lee was unhinged. Or at least a little heavy-handed. Irrational, even. Eddie wondered that too. Triggered by him beforehand, Lee could have believed Hank had been about to shoot him and had he not jumped on him, Hank might have shot the tin can himself, demonstrating what a superb marksman he was. He might have meant for that one bullet to be in there. For training. But they'd never know the whole truth. It sat somewhere between Lee's avoidance of his state of mind and Hank's insistence he had done nothing wrong. But a loaded gun on set even for practice was a big no no. For more reasons than the most recent.

Eddie didn't care about the truth, though. He was glad Lee had been there. That his need to save him had fuelled Lee's heroism. And that elevated his crush to such dizzy heights, Eddie suffered vertigo. Every. Minute. Of every goddamn day.

He squeezed his finger on the trigger.

" Boom ." Lee's low, deep, penetrating voice vibrated in Eddie's chest and every one of his hair follicles stood to attention. That rumbling whisper, Lee emulating what would happen had there been something inside the barrel to shoot, stirred excruciatingly in Eddie's cock.

The gun was empty, but Eddie didn't need ammunition to fuel his detonation. He was already on fire. And there wasn't a damn thing that would put it out.

" Eddie !"

Except maybe the production runner waving at him from afar, reminding him they were on a tight schedule and he belonged to them, not to Lee Everett.

Lee cleared his throat, stepping away. Unspooned .

Eddie dropped the gun to his side. "Makeup." He rolled his eyes, which had nothing to do with not wanting to get into Joel's hair and clothes and everything to do with how he wanted to remain right where he was and be Eddie for once. With Lee. "Then it'll be one scene to the next."

"Go break a leg."

Eddie slapped the replica gun to Lee's chest. "Thought you were here to ensure that doesn't happen."

"Rupert said keep you alive." Lee took the gun. "Nothing about limbs remaining intact."

Nor his heart.

Evidently.

"Ha ha." Eddie meandered off toward the production set.

"Eddie?"

"Yeah?" Eddie swivelled around.

"When you press the trigger, jolt back a little. Expect the recoil."

Recoil ? That's what it meant. Eddie flashed him a smile. "Acting tips, huh?"

"When you shoot a gun for a living, it ain't acting."

Eddie's smile dropped until Lee winked, flicking the rifle up on his shoulder in such a carefree attitude, Eddie swooned. He spun back to face front, hiding his grin by wiping his mouth as he jogged along to the make-up trailer.

"What you grinning for, Sunshine?" Jenny leaned on the open door of her trailer, arms folded.

If there was ever a time to swipe the smirk off his face, it was now. He had to be Joel . A man smitten with a woman he'd met in the desert who infuriated him beyond no end, rescued from near death, and was now to kiss for the first time. In front of the whole damn cast and crew. He had to make it believable , as if he wasn't sporting a raging boner for his dad's best friend and had fantasies about Lee holding a loaded gun while he pounded into him.

Yes, he needed therapy.

He knew that. Everyone knew that.

"Happy to see you," Eddie said as he skipped up the steps to kiss Jenny on the cheek.

"You Brits think you're so damn cute, don't ya?"

Jenny was the mum of the crew. Eddie found most make-up ladies were, at least in his experience. Spending long periods of time in their fold out chairs being preened for camera meant they were more often than not the counsellor on set too. And unless the actor was playing an ogre, they came out looking and feeling like the million dollars the production was worth once she'd finished with them, regardless.

"Not all of us. Just me." Eddie winked and collapsed into her chair, facing the mirror lit up by illuminating bulbs dotted around it and highlighting every blemish he didn't know he had. Desert dust got into every pore.

Jenny edged up behind him, flapping out a synthetic cape to drape around him and prevent the catastrophe of makeup on his clothes. She then went through her suitcase of products to pull out the cleansing wipes and eyed him through the glass.

"I would think this," she flicked the wiped over his smiling mouth, "was because you get to kiss Tiffany Rose in a minute. But I'm suspecting not."

Eddie gripped the armrests. "No?"

"No." She wiped over his nose, then gave him a poignant look. One that made Eddie's heart jolt. Was it that obvious? "My son is gay."

Eddie clamped his mouth shut, mostly for Jenny to wipe over his lips, but it served the purpose of keeping him quiet. He'd made his rule to stay in the closet while on this film and beyond that for a reason. His mum had warned him the day he'd come out to her. She loved him. No matter what. But if he was serious about wanting to act, then he had to think long and hard about what being out might do to his career. Especially if Hollywood was on his trajectory and not just a UK soap opera, occasionally treading the boards in the West End or the independent films he'd done thus far. His mum had known all about the fickleness of Hollywood. Of audiences. When she'd shown signs of illness, they'd all turned their back on her.

They'd do the same to him if he came out.

"Don't panic." Jenny rifled through her make-up suitcase. "Whatever is said while you're in that seat remains in that seat." She smiled, tilting her head. "You're not the first to be sitting there, keeping secrets." She crouched in front of him, scraping back his hair to dab around his forehead, hiding the blemishes.

Eddie said nothing. If he didn't admit it either way…

"Us mums have the gaydar too, y'know? I can always tell when someone's caught my Terry's eye."

Eddie didn't doubt it. It had been his mum who'd first called him out on his crush. When she'd still had her voice. She'd pulled him aside at a barbecue and told him to stop staring at Lee. But he'd had his top off, shades on, leaning back on the deck chair with a beer in his hand and Eddie, at thirteen, couldn't help drooling over him. If she were alive now, she would tell him he should have got over it by now. To go get under another man. One who wouldn't break his heart with his straightness and toxic masculinity. Back then, Lee had been married to Cora, and she'd been there too, complaining about Lee's dirty pants defacing the luxury fibres of their bedroom carpet .

Eddie would do anything to have Lee's dirty pants on his bedroom floor.

"You like him, huh?" Jenny stood, hand on hip, inspecting his face. Possibly for an answer to her question, but also for work purposes.

And maybe because he felt safe in the chair, or maybe because he'd thought about his mum. Or maybe he was desperate to talk to someone , he squeezed out the, "Yeah. But I'll get over it." Exactly what he'd said to his mum at thirteen. Again at fourteen. Then again, at sixteen when she'd had to ask using the computerised machine speaking for her. The machine had replied for her with, "No one can ever make that man happy." And sure enough, six years after she'd written those words and six years after her death, Cora had left him because she couldn't figure out how to make him happy.

Eddie made him smile. Got him to sleep. If only for a short time.

"Will you?" Jenny asked, eyebrow arched.

"I have to." Eddie spoke to himself in the mirror as if reaffirming it to himself. "Ain't ever gonna happen."

Jenny returned to applying his make-up. "Why not?"

"He's straight."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that."

Eddie furrowed his brow.

Jenny tapped him with the end of her make-up brush. "Don't do that."

Eddie relaxed his face and Jenny pinched his chin to pull him one way, then the other. "Gimme another reason."

"He's only here because he's been asked to."

"We all are, sweetheart. That doesn't mean shit."

"He's been through a recent break up that's destroyed him." It wasn't only the breakup that had destroyed him, but Eddie shouldn't be spilling Lee's secrets in here as well as his own.

"He could be waiting for the right guy to come along and show him there's still hope out there." She leaned back to inspect him. "You have gorgeous eyes. Girls would kill for your eyelashes."

"All my mum's."

"She was a beautiful woman."

"Yeah." Eddie rung his hands in his lap and Jenny went searching through her case again, returning to add a few dabs under his eyes.

"Did your mum's make-up once. My first job. Such a darling. Was such a shame what happened to her."

"What makes you say he isn't straight?" Eddie didn't want to talk about his mum. Didn't want to be reminded that perhaps the only reason he was here, sat in this seat, a production taking a chance on him was because everyone felt sorry about what happened to his mum.

Maybe Hollywood did have guilt?

Jenny chuckled, warm breath wafting scents of fruity chewing gum onto his face. "I been around the block. I see it all. I know. I seen the way he looks at you."

"You have?" He told his heart not to get too excited.

"Oh, sure!" Jenny stood, scooting behind him, then ruffled her hands through his hair, swishing it one way then the next, checking it in the mirror.

"Still can't happen."

"Why not?"

"He's nearly thirty years older than me and is my dad's best mate."

Jenny paused, staring at him blankly through the reflection. "What was that now?"

Eddie's heart thumped. He'd said too much. No one knew Lee was his dad's best mate. Was that the look of shock on Jenny's face? Cause the older comment was obvious.

Wasn't it?

"Who are you talking about?" Jenny asked.

Shit . "Lee?"

"Who's Lee?"

Eddie fluttered his eyes closed. "Never mind." Of course she hadn't seen Lee looking at him with heart eyes. She didn't know who Lee was. And Lee wasn't looking at him like that. His gut sank. Heart sluggish, as if giving up keeping him alive. Then he flung his eyes open as she sprayed his hair. "Who were you talking about?"

Jenny pursed her lips. "No one."

Eddie whipped around to face her. "Who?"

"Kyle."

Eddie dropped back in the chair, twisting to face the mirror. "Kyle?"

"Has a real soft spot for you."

Kyle . The camera guy. The one who'd zoomed in on him a thousand times already. The one who'd nodded appreciatively back in Beverly Hills when choosing to hire him. The one he was about to stand in front of while he kissed Tiffany. The one who would film the intimate scenes at the next location during a closed off set where it would be him, buck naked, Tiffany with strategically placed sheets, Mitch directing and an intimacy co-ordinator.

Kyle. The cute camera guy.

Huh .