Chapter Seven Road Tripping

Chapter seven

Road Tripping

"What's ‘harder' mean?"

Eddie arched an eyebrow at Lee over the bonnet of the Jeep in the underground basement car park of their hotel.

Lee shook his head. "In the context of that bloke directing you to act ‘harder'."

Eddie opened the passenger door and slid into the leather seat, Lee climbing into the driver's side.

It had been a week since the screen test, where Eddie had been in the throes of read-throughs, studio time and other such things that made movies happen. Long hours too. Lee had spent that time watching from the sidelines. Sometimes he could see the rehearsals. Hear the read-throughs. But mostly, he was stuck drinking coffee outside somewhere, waiting for it all to end, and pondering the meaning behind Mitch's repeated directions to all his cast to do it ‘harder' .

"Do it better," Eddie said, slipping on his shades. "Y'know, harder !" He balled his fists. "Surely you've had someone crying out for you to do it harder?"

Lee started the Jeep's engine, uncomfortable at having asked. This wasn't a conversation he liked to have with anyone. Let alone Rupert's son. "That's…"

"Or do you go in all hard and they have to beg for you to go softer? I hear that's a problem with women."

"Not all the time."

"Oh, really ?" Eddie elongated the word in intrigue.

"Not talking about it with you."

"Why? Is it a sore subject?" Eddie nudged Lee's chest with his elbow.

"Eddie?"

"Mmm?"

"Shut up."

"Yeah. Okay."

Lee had also discovered Eddie was a bit of a babbler. His mouth ran away with him half the time. The other half he zoned out and went quiet. Insular. They'd had to move from the opulence of their Venice Beach hotel to one closer to where the Blue Tin studios were in Hollywood, and whilst it wasn't as up market as the Ritz-Carlton, it was still plush, and still only had the one double bed. Lee slept on the floor. Or well, didn't sleep. Now, a week into production, they were heading to the first location. Low budget also meant stretched for time, and the schedule was jam-packed with no real down time. These four hours of driving over American soil into the desert would be the longest they would spend alone together. The location crew had hired a full ranch in the middle of Arizona and were preparing to ride out in convoy, but Lee had insisted on a head start in order to throw off any potential people following the production schedule.

Lee drove the Jeep out of the hotel's basement car park, the gates opening up for their exit onto the strip. "What's the film about anyway?" he asked.

Despite what he'd been allowed in on, he still hadn't grasped what the film was about, other than Eddie in endless scenes arguing with Tiffany then falling into bed with her.

As if that happened in real life.

Eddie showed him the front page of his hefty script and call sheets. "'Sands of Love'," he said in a wistful attempt at doing a trailer voice over. "Working title. Follows the journey of Maya, an ambitious, independent and upcoming writer from the city played by Disney's Tiffany Rose, and Joel, a charming, devilishly handsome but disillusioned ranch owner from," he rolled his eyes, "the UK would you believe? Played by Britain's national treasure, Eddie Hart. Their paths unexpectedly converge in the vast, sun-scorched expanse of the Mojave Desert when Maya is stranded after attempting to drive from New York to California in search of…that bit I don't understand. Unsure what she's in search of, other than Joel's cock."

"Should be called ‘Desert Dick' then."

"Ha. Nice. Like it. I'll pass that one to the production team."

"Bit far-fetched to fall in love that quick, though, isn't it?"

"That's the bit you focus on? Not the British ranch owner?"

"There're many reasons a Brit might up and move to the desert."

"The cheap real estate? "

"The no people."

"Which is a factor in Joel's case. A recluse. Bad past. Hates the city."

"And let me guess, she's a city bird?"

"Of course."

"And Joel will show her the beauty of working the land?"

"You've seen it already?" Eddie pouted in mockery.

"Cora was a fan of those Hallmark movies."

"And you prefer guns, action, and a bit of Vin Diesel."

"I prefer plot."

"There's plot here." Eddie slapped the script. "There's even a gun in it. A car chase. It's all very exciting."

"If you say so." Lee settled back into a cruise position, the scorching sun spreading hues of orange and yellow onto the car windscreen and highlighting the sprawling landscape of Beverly Hills.

Eddie went unusually quiet as they navigated the winding roads out of the opulent neighbourhood, leaving behind the glitz and glamour of LA. Lee remained quiet too, allowing whatever headspace Eddie was in to run its course. This was where his mother was from. Where she'd had her shot at stardom. The place she'd then fled and found herself in England with Eddie's father. It must cause an array of mixed emotions within him.

He bowed his head with an air of vulnerability that hit Lee in the chest. "Do you think I can do this?" he asked.

Lee wasn't sure how to answer. Eddie's self-assuredness hid his constant need for reassurance. He'd always been enigmatic. The life and soul. When his mum had deteriorated, so had Eddie's belief in himself. He didn't have his mum to tell him how special he was anymore, and Rupert cowered away from his feelings, making Eddie seek validation from strangers. From social media followers. Casting directors. The viewers who watched his TV episodes.

Maybe from the old men who chased him, as Rupert had put it earlier?

Lee tried to counter all that. "You have a starring role in Hollywood, Eddie."

"I know. But, well, that could be for other reasons than I was any good at this."

"Like what?"

"That I'm Lori Hart's son. I was the only one to turn up. You …"

Lee understood the nepotism fear, but the other stuff? "Me…?"

Eddie huffed, pushing his shades up his nose. "You walk in with your muscles and they might have felt threatened. Like, ‘hire him goddammit or I'll pound your arse'."

"I never once mentioned any pounding of anyone's arse."

"Shame."

"Pardon?"

"Nothing."

Lee frowned. "You getting this role is down to you ." He turned the car onto the I-405 north. "Because you're good. Really good. I'm impressed."

He'd seen Eddie on the small screen back home. For all of Cora's intelligence, her guilty pleasure was to kick back and watch the soaps on TV while reading through endless mounds of legal documentation. It helped her focus, she'd said. Took her mind off corporate manslaughter charges, or reading through detailed descriptions of deaths on the railway or at fairgrounds, deciding whether it was a freak accident, the fault of the operating staff, or corporate negligence for the company to be held accountable. She made an avid point of watching Eddie's appearances on Hollyoaks . Out of love for Lori.

By default, Lee had watched him too.

And as he'd watched him that week, reciting lines, limbering up for the scene that would prove to this Mitch guy if he had a talent worth pursuing, then leaning in to kiss someone he'd only just met as if he was in love as the script demanded, he realised he was watching a man chasing his dream. The pressure on him was palpable, and his determination shone through his nervous fa?ade. He'd become someone else this whole week. The person written on the pages of the script that might change his life.

"You reminded me of Rupert," Lee said, voice carrying on the breeze as the Jeep sped along the freeway, top down.

Eddie lowered his shades, deep, milky-chocolate brown eyes delving into his.

"I know your mum was the actress." Lee rested his elbow on the door, leaning back for the cruise. "And, yeah, you have her feistiness. Her beauty. The delicate skin, cheekbones—"

"Careful there, you sound like you fancied my mum."

"I didn't fancy your mum. She was a looker, yeah. But she only had eyes for Ru from the moment they met. Unwritten rule, don't bang your best mate's girl."

"I'd say that was a written one."

"Where's it written?"

"The bible? On the back of some toilet stall."

Lee swerved the subject along with the Jeep. "You have Rupert's determination ."

Eddie's smile faded, and he turned away from him, a sharp noticeable swallow in his throat. Back was the vulnerability. The real Eddie. Because most of the time, Eddie acted. He hid his hurt and pain behind jokes and blabbering nonsense. Lee recognised someone hiding grief. Because he hid an abundance of it himself. He didn't pretend to be someone else, though. He hid behind tattoos and solemnity.

"I don't think I'm like Dad," Eddie said to the passing landscape as they entered the rugged terrain of the vast expanse ahead of them.

"Rupert always knew where he was going. What he wanted. And worked hard to get there. I envied that."

Eddie dropped his head back, sliding to look back at him, and Lee could tell it was Eddie there. No more jibes. No more playfulness. No more actor . But he didn't divulge what was on his mind. What was causing his refusal to accept he was like his dad. Instead, he probed Lee.

"Didn't you know what you wanted to do?"

Lee tightened his hands around the wheel. "Not really."

"Didn't always have your heart set on a uniform and a gun?"

Lee took his eyes off the road for a brief spell to check Eddie's face. Eddie raised an eyebrow, chewing on his plump bottom lip. He had thick lips. Like Rupert's. Great lips to kiss. No wonder Lori had spent her first night meeting Rupert in a lip lock lasting hours. And no wonder Tiffany had agreed on Eddie's casting after she'd kissed him.

He shoved that thought where it belonged.

"Don't want to talk about it, huh?" Eddie settled back in the seat.

"It's not that I don't want to talk about it."

"Good. Cause we've got a long drive ahead according to this map." He slapped the papers on his lap. " Paper map. Who the fuck uses a paper map anymore when we have beautiful, shiny things like this?" He stroked the huge tablet stuck to the dash. "I'll tell you who, Lee. People who are going into the abyss of American backwaters. No cell service for miles of this stretch. We are, like, off grid. Which probably means no radio. Talking's all we got, man."

"You can't tell me you haven't got a phone filled with downloaded playlists for such eventuality. Considering you were going to do this on your own."

"I was going to have a driver. And go with the convoy. They might have been chattier."

"My old man was a copper." Lee resigned himself to having to chew the fat with Eddie. He'd always been a bit of talker, even as a kid. Lee remembered him tearing around the back garden during their family barbecues, acting the clown, desperate for attention. But he had a point. They had miles of driving to get through. Weeks of being together. He couldn't exactly ignore him for that long.

"Really? I didn't know that."

"Why would you?"

Eddie shrugged.

"He was a beat copper. Standard blue cap and boots pounding the streets. Did the riot training. Never went up the ranks. Chose to remain front line."

"How come?"

Lee inhaled the usual sharp breath he did when thinking about his old man. A few years deceased, he'd still left a lasting legacy on Lee. Not all of it good. "You called me a straight alpha male a while back. My dad made me look like a fairy in comparison."

Eddie widened his eyes .

"Yeah. Very alpha. Very male. Very straight. Very… hard . Liked the front line a little too much, if you catch my drift."

"So, what, you followed in his footsteps because you also wanted to use your truncheon on innocent civilians?"

"I didn't say they were innocent."

Eddie shrugged.

Lee rubbed his forehead, one hand on the wheel as they spun the Jeep onto a long stretch of road, rocky dry hills to each side, vast concrete going forward. Barren wasteland, desert sage and wildflowers wafting through the air.

"Come on, Lee. A conversation only works if two people are having it."

"My dad encouraged it. Said it was what men did. And as I wasn't particularly academic like Rupert, it was the army, the fire service or police."

"There are literally hundreds more careers available to the non-academic."

"Not for me. For men. According to my old man."

"Sounds like he might have been harbouring some deep seated issues."

Lee said nothing. Those issues had kept Lee from ever letting on how he felt to his dad. PTSD wasn't a thing. Nor were feelings. Emotions. Men, in his day, were men. They got on with it.

And they didn't fancy other men.

"Didn't you do one of those career test thingamajigs? The ones that always comes out with how you should be a prison guard or work in IT."

"That what yours said?"

" There you go." Eddie shoved his shoulder playfully. "You asked a question. That's how we keep up this rally." He grinned, settling back in the seat. "And yes, pretty much. Except for the IT thing. I didn't have the focus for that. It was prison guard or actor." He held out his hands. "Ta-dah!"

"So you actually got something out of that career thing, then?"

"What else was there for me? The skills I have are to act, or go into full-time caring." Eddie glanced the other way, hiding his expression.

Lee didn't have to see Eddie to know he was hurting. He wished he could have given him a better childhood than the one he spent tending to his terminally ill mother. He understood why Eddie liked to hide behind other personas. Because it allowed him to escape the reality of growing up too fast and the pain of having lost his mother.

And because he wanted the happy Eddie back, Lee offered more of himself to him. "I went into the force not because of my dad, but because Rupert chose law."

Eddie turned back to him, hair ruffling in the breeze.

"It sort of made sense in my immature mind. I catch the bastards, he prosecutes them."

"Like a crime fighting duo."

"Yeah. Something like that."

"But why a firearms officer? Why not a homicide detective or something equally glamorous and less hazardous?"

"I was three years into my probation as a constable and hadn't seen much action."

"Not even when you filled out your uniform like a fricking glove?"

Lee drew in his eyebrows. "On the streets. "

Eddie held his hands up. "Hey, whatever floats your boat, man. "

Stepping around Eddie's double entendrés was a job in itself. "I was always called to burglaries and petty crime."

"And you wanted hardcore murder?"

"After the London bombings, I changed my career trajectory. Wanted a bit of what Rupert had in putting the real horrors away. Preventing them. I applied for the Detective board and passed, went into CID as a DC. Plain clothes for a while. Then did the SO19 training. Firearms section of the Met. Went back into uniform as an ARVO—Armed Response Vehicle Officer. Then went into Counter Terrorist Command, reverting to a DC. Plain clothes, carrying a gun."

"And kept the streets safe from terrorists."

Lee clammed up. He'd said enough. He didn't want to talk about those times. Not with Eddie.

"Sorry."

Lee met his gaze. Held it. And for that tiny moment, there was a shared understanding. There were some topics that were too deep for a road trip. How Eddie felt about his dad and the catastrophic mistake that cost Lee his career.

Eddie wriggled in his seat. "We should try the radio."

"Good idea."

Eddie switched on the radio. "Oh, yes !" He clicked his fingers, bopping his shoulders, and sang along to the lyrics of Miley Cyrus Flowers blasting out of the speakers.

Lee had forgotten about Eddie's decent singing voice. Having studied at the Guildhall School of Music and Drama not only for his acting but also for honing his soft, dulcet tones, his voice was trained. He played the piano too, having had lessons since the age of five, and Lee glanced at his long fingers that he'd once used to run along the digital piano for his mum when she'd been struggling. Eddie had way more talent than he gave himself credit for.

"C'mon, Lee." Eddie slapped his arm. "This is your divorce song." The radio crackled out, static replacing Miley's declaration of self-love. "Bollocks."

"Saved by the desert."

"What? You don't like a bit of Miley?"

"Pop's not my thing."

"What is?" Eddie held up his hand. "Wait, let me guess. You have the same old man's taste my dad does? You are majorly stuck in the nineties and vow that Nirvana , The Cure and Radiohead are the greatest bands of all time. Throw in a bit of Blur and Oasis for," Eddie added the quotation marks with his fingers, "Brit pop greatness. Oh, and you bash out to Queen when you need a pick me up?"

"I never bashed out to Queen ."

"Because she wouldn't let you."

"In my uniform? Course she would have." Lee winked.

Eddie rolled his eyes. "Clubbing with you and my dad must've been real fun."

A genuine smile broke through Lee's stoic fa?ade. "Clubbing with us was an event. Trust me."

Eddie's eyes lit up. "Mosh pits and flannel shirts is not my idea of an event."

Lee laughed, tossing his head back, memories of his rebellious youth flooding back. "Our club days were more of the dance, house and trance persuasion. And I'd be topless, sweating like a pig cause I'd've been dancing nonstop after popping an—" He stopped himself in the nick of time, peeking to Eddie who'd twisted in his seat, full body facing him, arching an eyebrow.

"Popping a what?" he asked with a lilt.

" Body popping."

"That what they called ecstasy in the nineties?"

Lee clamped his mouth shut.

"Tut tut, Lee." Eddie twisted back around, folding his arms. "Aren't coppers meant to uphold the law?"

"I wasn't a copper back then and your dad wasn't a lawyer."

"My dad popped pills? Danced to hardcore trance music? I can't see it." Eddie glanced out the window, chewing on his bottom lip, and Lee felt him drifting back to the pain.

That was the second time mentioning his dad had done that. Lee had always figured them close. Father and son united in each other's pain. But Lee hadn't been around all the time. He hadn't seen the internal anguish of either. Maybe there was resentment for how his dad had buried himself in books and work while Eddie had played the carer role.

"He's certainly changed," Lee said. "I'll give you that. He did the moment he met your mum."

Eddie glanced back and behind the hurt in his eyes, there was interest in hearing more.

"He saw your mum across the dancefloor and desperately wanted to chat to her, but had little confidence back then. I had to dance us through the crowd and shove him. He fell into her, had to apologise. The rest, as they say, is history."

Eddie breathed out a laugh. "She fell for that?"

"She fell for your dad. They spent the next hour talking, the following two sucking face."

Eddie smiled. Then cocked his head. "And what did you do?"

"When? "

"When my dad had his tongue down my mum's throat?"

Lee shrugged. He vaguely remembered, but that wasn't for now. "Carried on dancing."

Eddie wrinkled his nose. "Can't see you as a dancer. Fucked off your face or not. You're too…composed. Big. Serious."

"Don't be fooled, Eddie. Looks can be deceiving."

"Yeah?"

Lee gripped the steering wheel. "Yeah."

"What other secrets you hiding then?"

Lee's reply hung in the air, fading into the soft hum of the engine. Not because he couldn't answer, or the subject made him strangely uncomfortable, but because a car appeared behind them, as if from nowhere, roaring up the vast expanse of road, blacked-out windows and furious tyres spitting gravel from the uneven tarmac.

Lee flew his hands back up to the ten-to-two spot on the steering wheel, grip tightening around the leather as a chill ricocheted down his spine. Mirroring his tension, Eddie twisted in his seat to peer out the back window.

"They're…close," he said, voice laced with concern.

"Yeah." All of Lee's Spidey senses tingled, and he delved into the part of his police training where he could clear everything away and do what the job required of him.

The car behind was on their tail, screeching tyres as it dipped to one side then the other, swerving into red dirt, kicking back rock and desert terrain. Lee couldn't see inside the vehicle, having to guess whether this was a pursuit, a lone attack, or a twat on the road. But with a threat on Eddie's life, he had to assume the worst. It was why he was here, after all .

The car edged back onto the road behind them, reckless abandonment obvious with its driving. Whoever they were, they lacked training in off-road pursuits. But it wasn't outside the realm for someone to pay an unknown to take the job of a hit, so when the car bolted out to the other side of the road, Lee's chest squeezed.

A truck headed right for it.

"Jesus, fuck !" Eddie gripped the door handle, slamming up in the seat, back ramrod straight.

The car crept forward, playing chicken with the truck. A loud honk from the driver going about his business had Lee's heart pounding, adrenaline spiking. The car didn't back off. Taking one hand off the steering wheel but keeping the Jeep straight on tarmac, Lee splayed a hand around the back of Eddie's head and shunted him down. When Eddie's forehead slammed into his lap, Lee covered him with his arm.

The car beside them eased off the gas, flanking back and returning to its rightful place behind them as the truck drove past, horn blowing full blast. Lee was about to swerve onto the desert track when the car pulled out to the other side of the road and sped up, overtaking them.

No shots, no shunts, just a prick trying to prove he had a bigger dick than him.

He fucking didn't.

Lee released a breath, pulse levelling, but remained laser-focused on the road ahead, one hand still clamping Eddie's face into his lap.

"Lee?" Eddie's muffled voice brought Lee back to the now.

He snatched his hand from Eddie's head. "All clear."

Eddie rose in his seat. Pale white and staring ahead.

"You all right?"

Eddie didn't respond .

Lee gave him a moment before asking again. "Ed? You okay?"

"Did you think they were going to shoot me?"

"No," Lee lied with as much conviction as when he'd told Cora he did love her. Did want to have kids with her. Was happy with their sexless marriage. "I thought they were going to run us off the road."

"Then why shove my head in your lap?"

"Caution."

Eddie fell back in his seat. "Fuck me."

"Bet you say that to all the boys who shove your head in their lap."

Eddie looked at him.

Lee winced. He shouldn't joke. He wasn't with the lads in the Met who got through the day with jibes and jeers in order to forget what job they did and the horrors they saw. This was Eddie. A kid. Well, a young man. Rupert's young man.

"Sorry," he said. "Copper humour. If you've had a near death experience, it's best to, y'know, take the piss out of it. Trauma response—"

"I got it, Lee." Eddie bowed his head. "It was funny."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Eddie was still rigid to the core.

"Breathe."

Eddie exhaled. Then let go of his grip on the door handle, shaking out his hand that must have been holding it tight enough to stop the circulation.

Lee tried to get a look at him as he drove onwards. "I can pull over if you need to get out? Throw up?"

"No. No." Eddie shook his head, then rummaged in the bag by his feet, producing a tub of pills and a bottle of water .

Lee darted his focus from the long stretch of road to Eddie, cracking open the bottle, chugging two pills with a glug of water.

"What the fuck are those?" Lee nodded to the pill tub clutched in Eddie's hand. It had the standard prescription label suggesting they'd come from his GP, but that didn't mean shit.

Eddie opened his eyes, inhaled a breath, then shoved the pills back in his bag. "Methylphenidate." Eddie glanced back at him. "Ritalin."

Lee furrowed his brow. "You…you're…you've got…"

"ADHD. Surely that was obvious?"

Lee thought about it for a moment. "I…Yeah, I guess. You were a zany kid."

"Thanks." Eddie rolled his eyes. "Now pair that with a touch of good old anxiety."

"I didn't know."

"Dad not pass that bit on?"

"No. No, he didn't." Lee waited a moment, processing the information and how that affected Eddie, and what that meant for Lee handling him from here on in. "The anxiety…"

"Since Mum."

Lee nodded. That made sense. As if the bloke didn't have enough to contend with.

"Lee?"

"Yeah?" Lee blinked himself back into the drive and not the many, many times he'd missed the obvious signs.

"Do me a favour?"

"Sure."

"When you next shove my head in your lap, can you do it ‘ harder' ?"

Lee peeped at him. Eddie smiled and soon Lee chuckled, chalking that up to hysteria .

Near-death experiences did that.

Lee had had many.