Chapter Two Bursting at the Seams

Chapter two

Bursting at the Seams

Eddie sat on top of his bulging suitcase.

"Come the fuck on!" He attempted to zip it closed beneath his arse, despite the overstuffed contents of clothes, shoes and various toiletries preventing him. The spokes weren't coming together. He bounced on top of it, hoping somehow to reduce the contents within, instead it made a square shape dip in the sponge of his memory foam mattress.

Growling, he jumped off, bare feet landing in the soft fibres of his carpet, and flipped open the suitcase, staring down at the contents with his hands on his hips. Right. He needed to be more efficient with what to take. What could he get away without for the next couple of months at most? Positive thinking would get him through the upcoming screen and chemistry test and therefore he needed to pack enough to go straight to filming on location. Last thing he needed was to get a positive from the casting director then tell them he needed to jet back home before filming started. Living in a whole other country a ten-hour flight away wouldn't go down well with the production budget.

What did he even need in the desert?

He probably didn't need the hoodies. Plural. He ripped one out and threw it across the room. He also didn't need the Chelsea boots. Sliders and canvas loafers should be enough. Did he need the long-sleeve shirts? Maybe. He kept them in, rubbing his chin in thought. What else could he feasibly do without? He could wear his denim jacket on the flight. That would give space. He took that out and draped it over the back of his desk chair where he'd laid out tomorrow's outfit—ripped black skinny jeans and a V-neck. He then went back to perusing the bag of toiletries. The several bottles of aftershave were essential. His first mission was to find out what the actress he was playing opposite liked. Then he'd wear that when reading for the screen test, allowing her to inhale her preferred pheromones, thus creating chemistry . Genius.

It had worked before.

Sort of.

He could buy a couple of bottles at airport duty free, though. As long as he had at least one option in each of the four different fragrance families—one floral, one oriental, one woody and one fresh—then he'd prepared for all eventualities. He, himself, got off on the oriental fragrances. Not everyone was into the seductive and luxurious, though. He also had an affinity for mud, grit, dirt, and leather.

And stubble.

Tattoos.

Bulky muscles .

Hands. Big, fuck off hands.

He needed to get laid before the chemistry test.

And stop thinking about bulky bodies whilst in his bedclothes. The thin shorts and tee, ready to hit the sack at eight p.m. so he'd be sprightly for the early wake-up call tomorrow, didn't hide his stirring cock.

"Hey, how's it going?" Eddie's dad approached his open bedroom door.

"Hey." Eddie folded a T-shirt and added it to the suitcase, then glanced over at his bedside clock. "You're home early. Wasn't expecting you till late."

"Took the afternoon off. Had some errands." Rupert entered the room, peering into the case. "You really need all that?"

"Could be two months, Dad. I need more than all this." Eddie watched his dad checking the contents of his case. His shoulders were stiff and the five o'clock shadow was cutting through. Eddie's chest squeezed. Something was up, and Eddie wasn't sure he wanted to know what it was. Psyched about this opportunity, he wanted nothing to ruin it. Even if it meant having to leave his dad to fend for himself. But, because he'd been carrying the Brownlee home on his shoulders for a while now, instinct had him asking, "What's up?"

"Hmm?" Rupert snapped to, as if lost in his own faraway land.

"Something's up. What is it?" Please don't let it be another life shattering piece of news . Not again. His heart couldn't take it. Nor would his old man's. They weren't over the last one.

"Can we talk?" Rupert parked himself on the edge of Eddie's double bed. He was getting comfortable then. Long talk, was it ?

"Can it be a quick talk?" Eddie rummaged into his toiletries bag, throwing out the spare toothbrush, the mouthwash—he'd buy some when out there—and the exfoliating cream. None of which were going to make a dent in the suitcase, but he was trying, goddammit.

"It can. If you allow it." Rupert smiled. Sweetly. Knowing full well it would only be quick if Eddie agreed to everything his father was about to ask of him.

No wonder his mum had fallen for him at first sight and abandoned her home country for him. That smile could break criminals. It did. And had.

"I have to get this case to thirty kilos, then get at least six hours' sleep before the cab arrives to take me to the airport." Eddie stepped back to lean against his digital piano and folded his arms. "What's Liv got herself into now?"

"Why does everyone automatically assume it's Olivia?"

Eddie cocked his head, arching an eyebrow.

"Fair enough." Rupert rubbed his hands together. "It's not Olivia."

"Good. I had a chat with her last night and she's loving Newcastle. University might be the making of her."

"If she sticks at it."

"She will."

Rupert inhaled, chest rising. "I really am exceptionally proud of you."

Eddie smiled, despite knowing his father was buttering him up. He waited.

"You've achieved so much, despite everything."

"Dad?"

"Hmm? "

"I'd also like to shove dinner in me before I chug a load of Night Nurse."

Rupert shifted on the bed, hands clasped between his legs. He looked so troubled, Eddie wanted to hug him. It usually took a lot longer for kids to realise their parents were fallible, but he'd discovered his father's weakness at fourteen. Then again, much worse, at seventeen. And he'd been holding it together for him since. It was both a privilege and a burden. He was the one who saw the real man rather than the one who walked out into a courtroom and projected uber confidence over the toughest of tough criminals. But when at home…

At home, he was lost.

"There's been a threat," Rupert said.

"A threat? What sort of threat?"

"Against me. Well, more so, against you."

Eddie undraped his arms out of their fold, furrowing his brow. "I don't follow."

"This case I'm working on is going to trial at the Old Bailey next week. High profile. Part of an organised crime ring. His…counterparts in America have expressed their displeasure at my prosecution by threatening you if you step on American soil."

Eddie exhaled, nostrils flaring, and bowed his head. Of course. Of fucking course this would happen. It wasn't enough to rip his mother from him after three years of her suffering a debilitating illness. Nor for him to flunk out of school because he'd had to care for her during that time. And for him to have to keep his sister from going off the rails whilst his dad worked harder cases and longer hours, but just when he could start his own life, he was prevented from actually living it.

"I can't go," he said through gritted teeth. No question. A statement. Of fact. "This is fucking typical!" Eddie couldn't hold his anger. But it was justified. This wasn't fair. Because his dad wanted the man off the streets, why did it have to affect him? He couldn't care less what the bloke had done.

Okay, organised crime meant it was probably pretty bad. Or at least connected to something pretty bad.

But still!

"You can go." Rupert stood, hands up as if taming a wild horse. "You can go. You should go."

"You're shoving me in front of a gun ?" Eddie's voice rose.

"No!" Rupert pinched the bridge of his nose. "Look, most of these threats are nothing to worry about. I get them all the time."

"You what ?"

"All lawyers get threatened at some point. Especially prosecutors. Jurors too. Most of the time, it's keyboard warriors hoping by sending a few threatening emails they'll scare us off. Most criminals aren't firing on all cylinders. It's why they're criminals."

"You've told the police?"

"Of course."

"And they'll go lock them up or something?"

"They're in America. Out of our jurisdiction."

"But you've told America?"

"Yes, Eddie, I called up America and told them to be on the lookout for anyone shifty so my son can go off and make a movie." Rupert rolled his eyes at the unnecessary sarcasm.

"Phew. Thank God for that." Eddie scooted around his dad to shut his suitcase. "For a minute there, I thought you were going to hand me a bullet-proof vest and wish me the best of luck." When Rupert didn't respond, Eddie glanced up. "You are, aren't you? "

"Not a vest as such."

Eddie secured the padlock on his case, then dragged it off the bed, dumping it on his carpet far too close to his bare toes. "A gun?" he offered in jest.

"Better."

"What's better than protective bulletproof clothing and a means to defend myself?"

"Someone who knows how to actually use both."

Eddie furrowed his brow.

"Lee's going to accompany you."

Eddie flung his eyes wide. His sudden elevated pulse had nothing to do with the threat on his life and everything to do with the name that had left his father's lips. "Lee?"

"Everett?"

"I know who Lee is." Boy, did he know who Lee was. His dad's best friend was Eddie's ultimate fantasy and his hands went cold, blood draining from every part of his body to pump up his excitable and foolish cock. Totally, utterly, inappropriate. "I don't understand—"

"I've asked him to go with you. To…look after you."

Oh, fucking God. "Look after me?" Like he was some tiny kid who needed his hand holding. Jesus . What a way to emasculate him in front of the most masculine, dripping in sex male Eddie had ever known.

"I'm ninety-nine percent sure you will be okay." Rupert raked a hand through his salt and pepper hair, once luscious locks of dark brown now scattered with white and receding far too early. It was the stress. "They can't track you to where you're going. America is a huge country. The chances of them getting to you, even if they found out where you're filming, are slim to none." Who was he trying to convince here? Eddie. Or himself? "It would make me feel much better to know you have someone watching out for you. Someone who's trained in that sort of thing."

Eddie willed, very hard, for the images of Lee in all his padded Metropolitan Police gear, holding his massive firearm splashed all over the Metro to get out of his head. It wasn't right to have a major crush on his dad's best friend, nor was it appropriate to use the images of Lee protecting London from its worst nightmare as spank bank material.

"Can't I tell the production?" Eddie pleaded. "I'm sure they have security, of sorts?"

He was clutching at straws. He already knew the production budget wasn't anywhere in the realm of Hollywood blockbusters. Tiger Films wasn't even a sister company to any of the major studios. Nor even a second cousin twice removed. They were an independent production company paying a shitload of dollars to get decent studio space and on-location filming. The reason they were even considering him for their title role was because he came cheap. Or cheaper than any established American actor would.

"They might well have, but this is for your old man's sake, eh?" Rupert laid a hand on Eddie's shoulder. "It'll put my mind at ease and allow me to do the best job I can here when I know Lee is doing the best job he can there . For you."

Yes, that all made sense. But why did it have to be Lee ? Every time he'd seen him, which hadn't been that often as of late since the family barbeques had diminished and with him living up north filming the soap, Eddie turned to mush. A jabbering idiot, unable to form a coherent sentence. Lee probably wondered how he could share any genetic relation with his lawyer father. Even his mum, as an actress herself, had had brains . But Lee made him forget his name. Made him flush. Sweat . Made him wish he was twenty years older and, of course, a woman . Because Lee was straight. An ultimate alpha male. Eddie had heard stories about him in his youth, bedding a different girl each night. A bachelor until his late thirties, when he'd settled down with Cora, who he'd met through Eddie's dad. They'd been married for years.

"If you can't accept it for your sake," Rupert said, cutting into his thoughts, "think of it as doing a favour to Lee."

"How is escorting me to California a favour to Lee?"

"It's distracting him from his divorce." Rupert stepped away, hands in his trousers' pocket. "And his early retirement."

"Was it retirement?"

"Officially."

Eddie shook his head in antipathy, blood gushing back around his body and boiling. "Can't believe the Met treated him like that. Not after…" he didn't bother finishing. His dad would understand, and he didn't know all the details of what happened to Lee – nor did he want to show his dad how much he'd tried to find out.

"Yes, well, these things happen." Rupert edged toward the door. "How about I walk up the road and grab us some fish and chips for dinner? Might be the last time you get British grub for a while."

Eddie breathed through a smile. His dad was, occasionally, a legend. "Sure. Okay."

Rupert nodded, then his usual worry lines reappeared. "You're okay with this, though, aren't you? You won't even know he's there."

Eddie would know he was there. He'd be able to sense him from across the ocean in all his solid bulk and inked up glory .

"He won't cramp your style." Rupert winked. "As I recall, he's a decent wingman."

"Dad." Eddie grimaced, then bowed his head. "I doubt he'd be interested in being a wingman for my sort."

"He knows."

"Knows what?"

"You're gay." Rupert held up a hand before Eddie could fly off the handle and have to, once again, explain how declaring his sexuality at this stage in his career might harm his chances. It wasn't fair. And he hated it. But that's the way the cookie crumbled. "He knows not to say anything. But I'm sure he'd be fine with escorting you to any gay-friendly bars out there in your downtime."

"Then it won't be me getting picked up," Eddie mumbled under his breath.

"Sorry?"

"Nothing."

Rupert chuckled and off he went, that faraway look in his eyes skipping down memory lane. "I don't think I would have ever had the courage to talk to your mother if Lee hadn't been the one to edge us over to her on the Pulse dancefloor."

Great . Now Eddie was imagining a young Lee Everett grinding his hips and shaking his glorious arse on a nightclub dancefloor. Eddie bet Lee could dance. Bet he looked utterly delicious under strobe lighting and rocking that perfect body to a high tempo dance track, skin glistening with sweat.

Eddie licked his lips.

"Share a saveloy?" Rupert asked, hand on the doorframe.

"Um…no. I'll stick with cod. You can take the saveloy for yourself." Eddie tapped his stomach. "Have to ma intain this physique if I'm going to be in the buff for the screen test."

" Are you?"

Eddie chuckled.

His dad shook his head, then left his room, leaving Eddie to collapse on his bed, face down. Shit . Not only did he have to convince the LA based production team to take a chance on a relatively unknown UK soap actor to lead their rom com, and prove he had chemistry with an actress he'd never met and wouldn't ever want in real life, he now had to do all that while Lee Everett was there . Watching him. A man he had way too much chemistry for. So much, it was bubbling out of the test tube he was meant to keep a lid on. For the sake of his career.

And he had a threat on his life.

He didn't know which he was more concerned about.