Chapter Eight Extreme Long Shot

chapter eight

Extreme Long Shot

Eddie levelled out.

The meds did their job, allowing his mind to shut off the constant here, there, and everywhere to focus. Or more, fade out the shit going on around him and, with his mind numb, he could gaze at the vast expanse of landscape zooming past his window and not shit himself.

Before the car, Eddie believed the threat on him was inconsequential. His dad always had threats. It was part and parcel. Came with the job. Eddie, too, had had his fair share of threatening messages via social media since his elevated status as a minor TV celebrity. None of them were anything more than nutjobs behind a screen, wallowing away in a basement somewhere, and thanks to their own lack of a life, they messed around in someone else's. He'd thought his dad was using this threat to parent him from afar over the guilt of not having been a proper dad when it had mattered. Making up for having buried his head in the sand and allowing Eddie to take control of the house, his sister, their mother. But Lee's reaction to the car tailing them had caused alarm bells.

Should he be worried?

He didn't want to ask Lee. Not again. He'd give the same answer, anyway.

To keep his mind off it, he switched the conversation to the mundane. Returned them to the semi-comfortable tête-à-tête they'd started with. Nothing too deep. Transitioning from one topic to the other, comprising anecdotes from disastrous auditions and the happier times when Lee had been in the Met. He almost forgot, for a while, that Lee's loyalty lay with his dad. That Lee was his dad's best mate and not someone he could forge his own friendship with. Despite Eddie's agonising and unrequited crush on him, it would have made things a hell of a lot easier if he could put him in the friend category. Because Lee was all right. For an older bloke. His dry humour was right up Eddie's street, and he was a joy to wind up. Add being easy on the eyes and Lee was the total package. But Eddie couldn't fool himself that Lee was his mate, or even pretend that him saving his life back then was because he cared . It wasn't.

It was because Rupert had asked him to.

Time slithered away, hours blending into another as they talked and the sun dipped low on the horizon, painting the sky with a stunning display of burnt orange and light pinks when artificial lighting came into view up ahead.

"There!" Eddie pointed to the barrier of wooden slats cordoning off an estate from the desert wasteland, a sign above the entrance welcoming them to Haven Ranch of Death Valley.

He checked his call sheet, ensuring this was the place where the production had hired for the desert shoot. It was. Once an old working estate, the ranch was now refurbished for tourists on their American road trip and desert adventure. With cacti, scrub brush and palm trees dotting the surrounding land to give it an authentic, and Eddie thought, eerie feel. He was far too used to city lights, high rise building blocks and a TV studio nestled in a suburb off the M25.

"Couldn't have the first location at Staying Alive Valley, no?" Lee said as he parked the car up in a bay along the front entrance and peered up at the sign.

" The Bee Gees had that trademarked." Eddie flung open the door and popped out, then poked his head back in. "Not scared of a little desert, are we, Lee?"

"I'm not scared of anything."

Eddie waggled his finger. "Everyone's scared of something, and I'll find out what it is soon enough." He then skipped to the back of the Jeep to fetch his luggage.

If this was where they were staying, Eddie could get on board.

Desert didn't mean desolate .

The production had rented the entire complex and whilst the weathered wooden beams and earthy hues reminiscent of an off-beat American Wild West saloon had a rugged charm, Eddie was more than a little relieved that it was a modern cosy lodge laying beyond the facade. The place might evoke a sense of frontier spirit and adventure in some, but Eddie was happy to remain within the safety of the shaded verandas and sprawling lawns dotted with tall palm trees. And lazing on one of the loungers next to the pool that had been mentioned on the call sheet as where they could exercise and cool off between filming. He was an actor . He could pretend he was in the desert. He didn't actually have to live in it.

Method acting was overrated .

Lee joined him at the boot to retrieve his bag. "What's the plan?"

"We check in."

"Then?"

"Then we wait for the rest of the cast and crew."

"When do you start filming?"

"Tomorrow. They'll arrive by convoy and take over the place."

"All right." Lee squinted up at the sprawling complex. "Where do we check in?"

"Am I meant to know everything?"

"How on earth did you expect to get through this on your own?"

"I sometimes wonder if you listen to me at all." Eddie scrambled to get out his hefty script and call sheet. "I was to have a driver."

"A driver. Not a PA. You need a PA."

"I know, right!" Eddie slapped the pages to Lee's chest. "I thought Priscilla would be with me. Guess I make do with you." He grinned.

Lee huffed. "I am not your PA." He grabbed the script before all the unstapled parts fell to the dried-up landscape and flew away in the mild breeze floating dust particles into his face.

"But you are here to ensure I fulfil my obligations."

"By preventing a kidnap. Or death. Not by…" He flicked through the mounds of pages. "There is a lot of information in here."

"Yeah."

"Have you read any of it?"

"I was going to, but you wouldn't stop flapping your gums in the car." Eddie mimicked his hand as a mouth.

"Thought about upping the dosage on your meds?"

"Why? Do they prevent your yapping? "

"They might prevent yours." Lee glanced over Eddie's shoulder. "We check in at the Welcome Cottage."

"They have a Welcome Cottage? Fancy."

"Do you even know your lines?"

"I learn them before the scene. If I do it too early, it's like they float right out of my head." Eddie waved around his skull as though bits of fairy dust were leaving his brain, which is how he imagined it looked whenever he couldn't retain information.

"This way." Lee led him toward a cabin which called itself Welcome Cottage but was merely a reception, where a woman with shiny white teeth greeted them and Eddie went through the rigmarole of checking them in.

"I only have one guest on the booking?" She peered at Lee hovering behind him, tipping her pink glasses to the edge of her nose.

"I know, but I picked him up on the way and I can't get rid." Eddie tapped his passport on the desk. "Not going to be a problem, is it?"

"Are you British?"

Eddie gave his Hollywood smile. "I am." He angled his head. "As is he."

"I love your accents." She tapped a few times on her keyboard, then said, "We only have a standard double room. No twins. We're booked up for the production."

This was becoming the norm.

"It's fine." Eddie took the keycard.

"Would you like me to book you both in for dinner? You won't get much else around here."

Eddie supposed Deliveroo was out of the question then. "Sure. Eight?"

That gave him an hour to sort himself out and clear the dust from his skin. He swerved from the desk to face Lee and handed over the spare keycard. "Another double, I'm afraid."

Lee stared at the card as if it held the secrets to life, the universe and everything and wouldn't give them up. Eddie scooted around him and back outside into the stifling heat of the desert to drag his case to the accommodation block. Lee followed him in silence as deathly as their location namesake. Eddie sensed the awkwardness. Despite the week they'd spent with each other in LA, this felt different. They were in the middle of nowhere. The film crew weren't arriving until tomorrow. They were, for all intents and purposes, alone in the desert.

Their room was on the ground floor of a grandiose building, sweeping structure reminiscent of the eerie motels Eddie used to watch in old horror movies, the most prominent being the Bates one. In the centre, a swimming pool lined with an ornate fence and empty loungers glistened below the rising moon, which looked enormous among the dusting of early stars. At one end of the accommodation block, separated and welcoming, was a rustic Saloon Bar, exuding a cosy warmth despite its rough exterior.

Eddie grazed his hand along the smooth wooden door of their room which was adorned with intricate carvings. The place felt frozen in time. The only thing shunting it into modernity was the keycard reader and when Eddie zapped it and pushed open the door, a waft of stale air struck him in the face. No air con, then. Eddie ushered them inside, closing the door behind with an echoing creak as he laid eyes on the one double bed. This time, it wasn't even a king size. And there was no armchair. The room held one bed. One bathroom. One wardrobe.

Eddie trudged in, dumping his case on the bed .

"Guess I'll take the floor then," Lee said, glancing around the room.

"You don't have to."

" You wanna take the floor?"

Eddie turned to give him a look, one he hoped conveyed both his unpleasant reaction to considering the floor and also Lee's stupidity. "We can share."

"I'm not a great sleeper. I'll keep you up all night."

Eddie whipped back around to face the headboard, hiding his glowing cheeks that would show his spiking pulse. What he would give for Lee to keep him up all night. There wasn't much he wouldn't do with Lee all night.

Lee chucked his bag on the floor. "Why don't you get settled? Freshen up. I'll go take a walk."

Eddie glanced over his shoulder, arching an eyebrow. "A walk?"

"All right, do a sweep. Check the exits." Lee went to the door. "Make sure no one has followed us here."

Aaand back to that old threat on his life again.

"Lee?"

"Mmm?"

"Do you think it's likely?"

Lee waited a beat then, "No."

"So this is all…" Eddie waved his hand.

"Caution. Better to be safe than sorry." Lee raked a hand through his silver hair, pushing it up and over. "If I said that in my mother's voice, I'm sorry."

"Does your mum sound like a fifty-year-old bloke from London?"

"I'm forty-nine."

"And counting."

"Thank you for the reminder." Lee yanked open the door .

Eddie suddenly didn't want to be alone. "Hey!" he called before Lee darted out into the night, leaving Eddie as a shitting duck. Yes, a shitting one. "Better give me your number."

"For?"

"Whilst you're sweeping up out there, someone could break in and it'd be good to, y'know, let you know about that."

"A decent perp wouldn't let you reach your phone."

Eddie widened his eyes.

"But, yeah, take my number. I'll meet you in the bar."

"You don't want to freshen up?"

Lee sniffed himself. Lifted his arm and inhaled it like a neanderthal. Eddie's cock stirred unhelpfully inside his jeans.

"I'll do."

Yes. Yes, he would.

"Scare off those perps with your seasoned stench, eh?"

"Works for the women too." Lee then rattled off his mobile number and Eddie scrambled to input the digits, sending off a text comprising the policeman emoji. Lee's phone pinged, and he checked the message with a snigger. "Cute."

Eddie smiled behind his racing heart, and Lee left the room, closing the door behind him.

He waited a moment before falling face down on the bed. How was he ever going to get over this stupid crush? That's what'd kill him, not some keyboard warrior troll tracking him down to the middle of fucking nowhere. He couldn't fall back on his usual methods to forget about Lee. Ones where he could pick up some random older bloke in a club, or on Grindr, and pretend he was Lee. He'd almost thought he was over him thanks to the year he'd spent up north while on the soap, and found himself in the closest thing to what he'd call a relationship with a cast member. Until said cast member had dumped him as Eddie hadn't been ready to tell the world he was gay. That ended badly and confirmed how keeping his sexuality on a need to know basis was the right thing to do. Then this opportunity came up, and he'd thought he could hang with some American dude and soon thoughts of Lee wouldn't even be a side character in the film of his life.

But now he was here . In America. With Lee.

And there was only one fricking bed.

Lee was the main character in the film of his goddamn life. The fucking love interest !

And he's straight!

Life sure liked to kick Eddie when he was on the up. A little reminder that despite his career taking off, the rest of his life still scraped along the tarmac.

Fuck you, life. Fuck you.

Stomping to the bathroom, he stripped and showered, stroking away the torment in his fist. When he emerged, sordid guilt written over his face at his self-pleasuring, he met with his reflection in the steamed-up mirror. The man staring back was unfamiliar. Not the usual Eddie he was used to staring back at him. The one he'd perfected over time who could hide who he really was. Hide his pain. Bury how hollow and gutted he was from not really knowing who he was anymore. As though having Lee here was making everything seep out. Because Lee knew all about his pain and anguish. Knew what he'd been through. He couldn't hide it from him.

He tried a smile. Tried to get it to reach his eyes. It didn't. He gripped the sink and hung his head. He was no stranger to playing roles, but this one where he had to pretend he wasn't thinking about Lee twenty-four seven was raw and unscripted. The last thing he needed right now was for Hollywood to discover they were taking a shot on an unknown British actor who was bent. And in-fucking-love with his old man's best friend! They'd void the contract then. Recast someone else. The roles would dry up.

His mum had warned him about the fickleness of Hollywood.

A deep breath and he pushed aside the intrusive thoughts lingering in his mind like tormenting ghosts, to tread back into the main room.

All he had to do was remind himself of all the reasons Lee was off limits. Number one being that he was straight. Two, being he was his dad's best friend. And three being his career . They were all enough reasons for him to knock this whole thing on the head.

He dressed in his usual ensemble. Jeans, loose V-neck tee, then sat on the bed to put on his shoes when his phone buzzed beside him. He checked the message.

You alive?

Eddie hated that just when he'd pulled the wings off those infantile butterflies, one text from Lee made them grow new ones as if they were bloody regenerative alligators with no concept of what ‘off the cards' actually meant. The smile that crept onto his face as he returned the text did reach his eyes.

Traitor.

Barely. Fought off three men with my bare hands. He added the muscle arm emoji, the punch emoji and the bandaged face emoji .

Usual Saturday night for you?

Eddie laughed, and was about to retaliate when another message pinged through.

Come to the bar. Now. I'm the one who needs rescuing.

Eddie sent back an eye roll emoji, mostly because he'd never read a text that was as grammatically correct as Lee's. Commas, full stops and apostrophes. Who does that? Oh yeah, his old man. With no use of emojis.

Shoving his phone in his back pocket, he left the room into the now dark night, air stifling hot and dry, and followed the noise and lights coming from the saloon bar at the end of the sweeping two-storey complex of lodge-style rooms. Each time the flapping doors opened, piano music filtered out along with laughter and chatter, glasses clanging over the backdrop of the eerie desert. On pushing through the wooden doors, he found why Lee needed rescuing.

A group of women surrounded him at the bar. They were about Lee's age. Middle-aged. American. Although not Californian. They sounded more mid-south. And totally fascinated by him, his accent and his Englishness , despite him being slumped over the bar, head down, politely answering the questions fired at him. He might look ferocious and could handle a weapon, but among civilians, his public servant training was intrinsic. Do not piss off the public.

Eddie didn't have that training, and he marched on over to stroke a hand up Lee's back. And, oh, fucking God , it was the single most amazing thing he had ever touched in his entire life. Sturdy. Lumps and bumps of pure, solid muscle and a hint of dampness from the sweat induced by oppressive desert heat. Eddie wanted to encase his hand in concrete, although not for the ultimate dream of having a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame but so he could remember forever how he'd once touched Lee Everett.

"Eddie!" Lee couldn't have been more pleased to see him, but his reaction had nothing to do with him and everything to do with wanting a reason to wriggle out from the women crowding him. "Did you get a table booked?" He widened his eyes as if making Eddie come in on the blatant lie.

Eddie glanced around the saloon. The empty saloon, save for an elderly couple dining in the corner, which was odd but what did Eddie know about it? "Uh, yeah." He spoke to the women. "Sorry, ladies, I'm going to have to drag him away."

"Oh, look at you!" The one with the tousled hair prodded Eddie on the chest. "Handsome devil, aren't ya? Bet you break all them hearts, eh?"

"Ha. Yeah. Sometimes." He wasn't sure he did. He wasn't sure he ever would. Because that would mean giving his heart to someone and caring enough about the other person to allow him to take theirs.

"And as handsome as your father!" another one said as Lee whipped around on his stool to stand.

"Oh, no, he's not…"

Eddie assumed Lee trailing off from admitting Eddie wasn't his son was because— perish the thought —Lee might not think he was old enough to have a twenty-three-year-old kid. But he was. And the more Lee looked at him, the more he realised Eddie could be mistaken for his son. Because he was Rupert's son. And behind those eyes was a realisation Eddie didn't want him to have .

"I'll be over there." Eddie trudged off to the table in the far corner, allowing Lee to say his goodbyes to his admirers, all telling him what a lovely father he was for taking his son on an American road trip for his gap year or some such conversation that would reinforce how Eddie and Lee couldn't be seen as anything other than potential relatives.

He scraped out a chair and slumped down, perusing the menu on the laminated card. How did he get over this? Why did it have to feel like this? What on earth could he do to stop it ?

"Thanks." Lee sat opposite him.

"No probs." Eddie didn't look up over the menu. He needed his game face on, and it was taking longer than usual for him to get into character.

"You all right?"

"Mm hm." Eddie couldn't take in any of the words written on the menu. Nothing was making his mouth water like Lee was, despite him not having eaten since breakfast. The only hankering he had was for Lee to push him down on a bed and climb on top of him.

Lee grabbed the other menu. He looked at it for a millisecond before slamming it back in the holder. Eddie knitted his eyebrows together, desperately trying to focus on the many barbecue offerings, but his heart thumped so hard it banged in his temple. It was because he could smell Lee. Could practically taste him. His musty, not-showered-since-yesterday, sweat covered body oozed its way across the table to stir Eddie's gut.

"How are you boys doing today?" The waitress approached their table, dressed in an old-style gypsy top stressing an ample chest, a denim skirt paired with cowboy boots and blond hair in bunched ringlets. She was Lee's age though, and it showed when she, too, couldn't take her eyes off him.

"Good, thanks." Lee gestured to Eddie. "You go first?"

Eddie chewed on his thumbnail. Still nothing was going in. "No, you order."

"Steak," Lee said and that one word tore into Eddie's heart that somehow still beat to Lee's rhythmic dance. Could this man be any more… manly ? "Rare." Of course. "Side of fries and onion rings."

"Good choice. And you?" Waitress turned her attention on Eddie.

Still. Nothing. Going. In.

"Salad?" He dumped the menu back into its holder. He had to keep his intake limited, anyway. He was indulging too much in idle fantasies to throw calories into the mix. Especially when he had to be in front of a camera soon.

"Which one?"

Bollocks .

"Ranch?" Total guess.

"Would you like chicken with that?"

"Uh. Sure."

"Char Grilled or fried?"

"Grilled is fine. Thanks."

Waitress winked, not at him, but at Lee because in comparison, Eddie was nothing more than a child. And because he'd been downright rude. Fuck, he hated himself. If anything, he should watch his manners. It wouldn't do anything for his career to be called out as the rude, aloof Brit who couldn't muster a smile for the local folk who served him dinner.

Lee sat forward, hands clasped together over the table. "Your dad called. "

Why didn't he put reins on him like when he'd been a toddler? "Yeah?"

"He'll be tied up in court for the next few days. Wanted to check in."

"And called you , not me."

"He doesn't want to…suffocate you."

Eddie rolled his eyes. Or, more likely, because he was closer to Lee than he was to his own son. He told Lee stuff. He broke down on Lee. Could show his weakness to Lee. Eddie was a burden to him and reminded him too much of the wife he lost.

Lee grabbed a breadstick from the centre stack and chewed, glancing around the saloon. "I told him all was good. Needn't worry. Hey, there's a piano over there."

Eddie followed his line of sight and sure enough, an old wooden, scratched and beaten piano pressed up against a wall decorated with framed black and white photos and various rusty ranch equipment called to him.

"You still play?" Lee asked him, wiping breadcrumbs from his lap.

Eddie shrugged. "Yeah. Kinda."

"You were good."

Eddie smiled in gratitude but also the heart wrenching acknowledgement that Lee had heard him playing at age five. And probably the times he'd played at his mother's request. And her subsequent remembrances.

"Your mum loved your songs."

Eddie closed his eyes. Lee was clutching at straws for a conversation and it made sense to start it on something they shared, but fuck , why did he have to keep bringing up how much he already knew about Eddie? How much he'd been there throughout his childhood. He couldn't keep it all to himself as he normally did. No one knew him. No one. He played parts. And those men he messed around with in between playing those parts only knew the information he provided. And most of that was lies. Fabrication.

Lee knew everything .

Except how badly Eddie didn't want him to, and how many of those songs he'd played to his mum as she sat constrained by her own illness had been about him. And how many he'd made up since. When he'd been a kid, he'd thought his obsession with Lee was because he'd wanted him to be his dad. He'd wanted to have him marry his mum so he could come home to him. But as he'd grown, he'd understood more about what it was he wanted from Lee. And it wasn't for him to be sharing a bed with his mother. His jealousy that Cora shared that had been too raw. It wasn't paternal. Nor avuncular.

It was an uninhibited lust .

Lee took Eddie's silence as a sign he should stop talking, and did. It wasn't comfortable silence they sat in. But nor was it uncomfortable . It was…easy. And it gave Eddie the time to sort through his scrambling thoughts and put it away to focus on getting through this . When the waitress came back with their orders, they ate, sharing a pitcher of beer.

"One thing your dad asked me to check was if this nude scene you told him you're doing is real?"

Eddie glanced up from stabbing through his salad leaves that sadly wouldn't cut the mustard of satisfying his hunger either. "He'll have to wait ‘til it's out."

"The movie or you?"

Eddie sipped his beer, eyebrows knitted. "I'm out."

"Not to Hollywood, you're not."

"I'm out to who matters."

"Don't you want to be completely out? Be who you are? "

Eddie sat back in his seat. This was new. What did Lee care? "It's not advised at this point in my career."

"By who?"

"By pretty much everyone who's in the biz."

"Or everyone who takes a cut of what you earn."

"What's the difference?"

Lee shrugged, biting through an onion ring. "Doesn't seem fair to me. Why does who you sleep with determine whether you're a good actor or not?"

"It's nothing to do with my acting ability and everything to do with the potential for success."

"Why can't you have success and be out?"

"Who watches movies, Lee?"

"Everyone."

"Exactly. The majority. And the majority are heterosexual."

"That doesn't mean—"

"Who chose what you watched in your house? You or Cora?"

"We both did."

"And when she chose them, was it because she either fancied the main lead or wanted to be the main lead? Because that's how star status works. You either want to fuck who you're watching, or you want to be the one everyone wants to fuck. You straight blokes watch Arnie or Vin or Statham because you live vicariously through them. Now imagine they come out as gay. Bet it'd put you off choosing their movies, then. You don't want to be called out to be cheering on a fag."

Lee waited a moment, cutting through his raw steak. "Not everyone has a problem with sexuality and are comfortable in their own masculinity."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"What about you?"

"What about me?" Lee didn't look up from his plate.

"When you were on the force, if you were gay, would you have come out?"

"That's…" Lee inhaled, chest rising. "Irrelevant."

"Why?" Eddie cocked his head, waiting for the ultimate slam of the door on his unrequited feelings when Lee said it was because he was straight . He was doing it for a reason. The more Lee banged on about being straight, maybe it would force Eddie to realise nothing would or could happen and he might be freed of the restraints of this illness. "Because your old man wouldn't like it?"

Lee's jaw clenched, but he said, "Because the general public don't care who it is responding to an emergency call, as long as they do it within a time frame."

"But people do care who they root for on their screen."

"So, what, you'll stay in the closet forever?"

"If I have to."

"It's a lonely place." Lee scraped a piece of meat around the plate, then shoved it in his mouth and chewed.

"How would you know?"

Lee didn't respond, choosing to squirt more ketchup for the miniscule piece of steak he had left.

"It's not like I have anyone who wants to pull me out of it."

"One day you might."

Eddie held his glass of beer at his lips and waited for Lee to raise his gaze from his plate to him. And when he did, Eddie was rendered speechless, but it was all in his head. A fantasy. A dream. Lee wouldn't ever follow that up with a, "me."

Lee leaned back, meal finished, and folded his arms .

"Doubt it," Eddie said. Because he did doubt it. There couldn't be anyone worthy enough of that accolade.

Eddie ate with less conversation after that, and they finished the pitcher of beer which made him need his bed. Lee paid up and they walked back to the lodge, overwhelming quiet broken only by the occasional whispering wind along with the clicking and rhythmic, high pitched whining from crickets and cicadas. It felt heavy. Expansive.

Like Eddie's life.

He let them into the room and went to the bathroom to brush his teeth and change down to boxers and a tee. When he emerged into the main room, Lee was marking a space on the floor to sleep, having stolen a pillow from the bed.

"You don't have to sleep on the floor," Eddie said.

Lee ripped off his T-shirt and Eddie had to avert his gaze or he'd choke on his own breath. It was criminal how sculpted Lee was at age forty-nine. The sturdy body, the hairy chest and stomach, the toned, tattooed arms, the salt and pepper stubble, the slate-blue eyes…the absolute everything . But Lee dropped to the floor, fluffing up a pillow behind his head, lying on his back.

"Yeah, I do," he said to the ceiling.

Eddie flicked back the sheets on the bed and climbed in. "You must have shared a bed with my dad before?"

"Yes. And a tent. And a sleeping bag."

"Then sharing with me shouldn't be any different."

Lee waited a beat, eyes up at the ceiling when he exhaled around, "Yeah, it is."

Eddie leaned over to turn off the light, then lay back, hands behind his head. He couldn't help it, but after a while of stillness, where he couldn't make out if Lee was even breathing, he threw out a tempered, "Why? "

Another beat. Another breath held. Then, "It just is, Eddie."

Eddie left it at that.

Because, how could he argue? It was different.

Especially for him.