Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

Nadia had requested time away from work to tend to Billy. Knowing his brother was being cared for was how James managed to plow through his rehearsal, physical therapy and evening performance. Throughout the show, he had to remind himself that some of the audience members were seeing it for the first time, and he had to put his worries aside so he didn’t disappoint. Nevertheless, he messed up his lines twice and almost brought down a co-star with the wrong dance move. James was embarrassed to take a bow at the show’s conclusion, knowing he wasn’t worthy of the standing ovation the crowd still awarded him. After most performances, the cast would mingle backstage and share some laughs. This night, James scurried back to his dressing room, wanting to escape the humiliation, the memory of his father’s lecture and the thought of breaking up with Mike.

“Knock, knock.” James turned to see who had spoken from the hallway outside his dressing room door. He returned a weak smile when it registered that it was his co-star, Emily Hunt. James could see the concern in her eyes, and it reinforced for him that he had been as bad on stage as he had feared.

“Hey.”

“Can we talk for a minute?” Emily was still in the sexy outfit she wore when she portrayed the president’s mistress. James had been pleased when she had been cast in the role. Emily had many stage credits under her belt, was very talented and was prettier than many of the other women with whom he’d worked. She didn’t have a big ego, and she had befriended James from the start, even though many of the other actors kept a polite distance because of his last name. He was thankful that he and Emily shared the same agent and publicist team, as it made it easier for them to bond over common experiences. At one point, James had even contemplated asking her out, but he needed a friend at work and he didn’t want to jeopardize losing the one he had if the relationship went sour.

“I was just heading out,” James apologized. “My brother is staying at my place. He was mugged and assaulted last night, and…” James cursed under his breath, tears stinging the corners of his eyes. “Emily, I’m sorry I wasn’t very good tonight. I let everyone down.”

The actress walked into his room, closing the door behind her to allow James his privacy. She didn’t ask him questions as she pulled him into a hug to let him cry. “Shh. You didn’t let anyone down, James. The audience didn’t even notice the mistakes. I promise. You covered them like a pro.”

Once he regained his composure, he blinked away the last tears and straightened. “Sorry about that. It’s been a rough couple of days.”

“I’m sorry about your brother. Will he be all right?”

James nodded. “Yeah. He’s a tough little fucker.” He let out a melancholy laugh, and she joined with a similarly toned one.

“Did they catch who did it?”

James sank back down on the single chair in his space. “No.”

Emily tried out a small, encouraging smile. “Well, I’m sure he’ll never see them again.”

James dropped his head, wishing that was true, but knowing that depended on his actions going forward. “This constant pressure is unbearable.”

He saw Emily drop to her knees, squeezing herself between his legs. She looked up at him with caring, and it restarted a tear at the corner of his eye. James was embarrassed by his emotion, and it made him recall his father’s accusation that he wasn’t much of a man.

“What’s going on, James? What do you mean? This is more than your brother being attacked, isn’t it?” James remained motionless, regretting his careless comment. “James, everyone here sees how sad you are. The fact that you give such an amazing performance every night, so full of life and confidence, doesn’t jibe with how you are off stage. People want to reach out, but they’re afraid to overstep. Everyone cares about you.”

James was shocked that the reason they kept their distance was because they were trying to be respectful. “I thought they didn’t want to get close to me because of my father, figuring I’m cut from the same cloth.”

Emily’s eyes widened. “Oh, James, no. How could you be like your father and still star in a show with a message like this one has? They admire you, knowing what you’re doing must piss off your father. We can see that you’re nothing like him—or at least nothing like his image. You’re always kind to everyone. I told them how I see you give food to the homeless guy out front every day.” James blushed. He didn’t realize anyone had been watching. It had become a routine for him to bring some of his homemade food to the poor old guy named Hal. The two had even started conversing about which dishes James made better than others. James felt guilty that on Mondays when the theater was dark, Hal could be going without food.

“Thanks,” was all James could murmur in response.

“You’ve almost seemed happy the last couple of weeks,” Emily continued. “I thought maybe you met someone. Then, today, you came in and I could tell right away that the joy was gone. So, I’ll ask again. This isn’t just about what happened to your brother, is it?”

He wanted to share. He wanted a friend who would tell him he would be okay. “I wish I could talk about it, Emily. I’m not trying to shut people out. It’s just, the less people know, the safer they are.”

“Maybe you need to let others help you sometimes, the way you help the old man out front. James, there’s nobody here but us. We’re safe. Trust me not to do something stupid with what you tell me. I think you should get it off your chest.”

James contemplated her words, then rose from the chair and offered it to her. “If you mean that, then you should make yourself comfortable. There’s a lot to tell.”

She took the seat, bracing the arms as if awaiting an electrocution. James paced and she let him wander about the room until he was ready to speak.

“My father had his goons beat up my brother,” James blurted. He turned to see Emily gasp and let her mouth drop open. She remained silent, though, knowing there was more. “My father told me everything this morning. He did it to hurt Billy and me. Billy had just bought an engagement ring for his biracial girlfriend, and my father found out. He wasn’t happy about it. They took the ring. The beating they gave him was to punish me for dating a man. My father knew Billy taking blows for me would hurt me more than if I had ended up in the emergency room myself.”

“Oh my God, James. That’s horrible!”

“What he did, or me dating a man?” James asked, unsure what or whom he could trust anymore.

“James, you know me better than that. Of course, I’m talking about what your father did. Nobody here would think anything of you dating a man. More than half the show’s male actors are in relationships with men. It’s Mike Cooper, the baseball player, isn’t it?”

That caused James a moment of panic. “What? Why would you say that?”

Emily smiled. “When he announced he’s bisexual, and it coincided with that photo of you and him at the Yankees game, you seemed happy for the first time. It made some of us pay more attention the couple of times he came backstage to see you. Mike Cooper seemed like a man with a mission, and we were hoping that mission was bringing some happiness into your life.”

James wiped his still-damp face. “Please don’t tell anyone, Emily. I’m breaking up with him anyway.”

“Why? Maybe your father will come around.”

“Having Billy beaten wasn’t an aberration. In the past, my father had me institutionalized for bad-mouthing him in an interview. He financially destroyed a man that had the bravery to date me a couple of years ago. When I first started this show, my father told me I had better not use interviews to criticize him or his party, or he’d use his connections to have the show shut down. If people wonder why I don’t speak out against him, that’s why. He’d hurt you. He’d hurt anyone he deems to be a threat to his interests.”

“James, I had no idea…”

“I should never have taken this part. Everyone I meet and everything I touch is endangered by my presence. I just don’t know what to do anymore, except I know I need to break up with Mike.” James grimaced, looking down at the floor. “I can’t let my father hurt him or anyone else I care about. It’s killing me, of course. I like him so much, and the thought of crushing him by telling him I don’t want him is making me sick.”

“Why wouldn’t you tell him the truth?”

James frowned. “Because if he knows the truth, he’ll try to fight my father. Mike’s that kind of guy. He wouldn’t win, though, and there’d be lots of people who’d get hurt during the battle.”

Emily shook her head, also looking down at the floor, obviously frustrated she had no advice to offer. “James, I’m so sorry. Do you think maybe you could go to the police?”

James barked a sarcastic laugh. “The police? I don’t know who in the NYPD is dirty and who isn’t. They’ve already turned a blind eye to my brother’s assault. You don’t understand—he has his fingers in with bad cops, organized crime and every dirty politician sitting in office.”

“What if you went public with everything?” Emily suggested.

He shook his head. “It would be my word against his. The word of a son who was once committed for mental health issues versus the upstanding politician. I didn’t realize it when he first had me admitted as punishment, but he set the stage to stave off future allegations I’d make. His quack physician friend documented that I had a persecution complex and imagined horrible things my father was doing.” It occurred to James that Emily might now wonder if the doctor was right. “Emily, I don’t have a mental illness. Everything I told you is true.”

Emily nodded. “I believe you. But I do see how he could spin it and make things worse for you.”

James walked over to his co-star and pulled her into a side-hug. “Thanks for listening, Emily. I know it doesn’t change anything, but you were right. It was a relief to let someone know. I can’t even tell my brother everything. There’s a part of Billy that still hopes our father loves him. It would devastate him to know he’d been beaten by some of Father’s thugs.”

“Jesus, James. Won’t Billy call you out for splitting with Mike Cooper? He must know you like the guy. He’s going to think you and Mike should stand up to your father to get what you want,” Emily reasoned.

“I thought about that,” James acknowledged. “After I’ve broken up with Mike, I’ll tell Billy that Mike dumped me. It’s like you said—if Billy knew the truth, he’d try to help me by telling Mike the real reason I broke up with him. Then I’d be right back to Mike trying to fight my father and Billy being unaware of the danger it puts him in. The only way this works is for Billy to believe Mike left me because he’s interested in someone else. That will bring out Billy’s protective streak and desire to break Mike’s nose, but he wouldn’t, knowing it would upset me. Absent the ability to wreak physical violence on Mike, Billy will just go silent on him. That would leave Mike none the wiser about the true reason I left him.”

“I hate this.” Emily moaned. “All the secrets you need to hold to protect everyone around you. It isn’t fair.”

James nodded. “Well, they’re not secrets from everyone anymore. Thanks for listening.”

Emily pulled him into another hug and kissed his cheek. “Somehow, some way, I believe things will get better for you, James. They must. I hope I’ll still know you and be friends with you when they do. I want to see you have the peace you deserve.”

James hugged her back. “Thanks, Emily.” He wanted that too, but figured the only way it would happen was if his father died. And try as he might, every time he wished for that, those hopes were washed away by a larger wave of guilt and remorse for harboring such hateful thoughts.

* * * *

James had been able to arrive home from his Tuesday night performance in time to have a late dinner with his brother and Nadia. He grimaced as Billy struggled to chew scrambled eggs and toast. The sight made him more determined about what he’d need to do the next day.

When James awoke the next morning to head to rehearsal, Nadia was making coffee, but signaled that Billy was asleep in the bedroom. They both figured his body needed the rest, so they went about their morning preparations with little noise or conversation. That was fine with James, as he was strung tight thinking about how Mike had asked if he could visit James in his dressing room at the end of the matinee. He knew that would be the time he would need to tell Mike it was over, and he had to do so without emotion to convince Mike he wasn’t being pressured to do so. Tears could only be shed before and after Mike’s visit.

James made it through rehearsal and physical therapy on autopilot, then managed an error-free matinee, albeit one with less passion than he could typically muster. Even the crowd must have felt the lower energy, as the standing ovation felt obligatory and polite rather than enthusiastic. He hoped that after he spoke with Mike, he could focus on his work and give an evening performance that the audience deserved.

Once James was settled in his dressing room, he took deep breaths. He had to view himself and Mike as two characters in a play. James needed to deliver the acting performance of his life. He thought he had psyched himself into the right frame of mind, but something in his stomach still took a major drop when Mike knocked on the doorframe. James dared himself to look over. The handsome man was smiling with a basket in hand.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Mike greeted. “Thanks for squeezing me into your day.”

Mike entered the room and pulled the door closed behind him, then winked conspiratorially. Before James could say anything, Mike had rushed over to plant a sweet kiss on James’ lips. Once Mike pulled back, James shuddered, trying to muster the strength to do what needed to be done. “Mike, what’s in the basket?”

Mike grinned more broadly. “I made you something to eat. I know the show taps a lot of energy and you don’t eat properly on Wednesdays because of the two shows.” James frowned.

“Don’t worry,” Mike assured him. “I know you think I brought junk food. I do know how to make healthy stuff. This is my mother’s amazing recipe for turkey salad, using non-fat Greek yogurt. I put it on whole-grain bread.” Mike beamed. “I made the bread. It came out tasty, if I say so myself.”

James turned his head away, wincing as hard as he could to fight the tears from forming. “I wish you hadn’t done that.”

“What’s wrong?” Mike asked. “It’s okay if you don’t want it. I won’t be hurt. Well, maybe just a little, but I should have asked you first. Do you hate turkey?”

James spun back to face Mike. “Mike, this isn’t going to work between us.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” James mumbled, looking down at the floor, avoiding the hurt that he had glimpsed in Mike’s eyes.

“I don’t understand,” Mike sputtered. “Did I do something wrong? Am I coming on too strong?” There was a long moment of silence, so Mike plowed forward. “James, we’ve been having a good time, haven’t we? Whatever I did, we can talk about it and I can adjust.”

James shook his head, still refusing to look Mike in the eye. “There’s nothing to adjust. There’s nothing you did.” Another long moment of silence ensued.

“James, look at me,” Mike pleaded. James did not. “James, if you’re breaking up with me, at least have the courtesy to say it to me eye-to-eye.”

James raised his eyes to look at Mike’s face, which was crestfallen instead of angry. God, he’d rather see Mike furious. “Mike, I want to break up with you.”

Mike swallowed hard and his eyes watered. “May I ask why?”

Trying to psych himself again that he was an actor in a play, James hardened his expression before responding. “You were a crush. What can I say? I liked your poster when I was eighteen. Being with you was fulfilling a horny teenager’s dream at the age of thirty-four. But that’s all it was, Mike. The sex was great, but you want more. I don’t. I warned you days ago, I don’t do relationships.”

Mike shook his head. “If this is about your father…”

“It isn’t,” James snapped.

“James, please don’t do this,” Mike pleaded. “I don’t believe this was just sex to you. You and I connected. Our calls, our text messages, our time together—you were into me. I know you were.”

“It was fun,” James replied. “And now it’s not.”

Mike gasped and James wondered how Mike could retain so much moisture in his eyes that it was visible without any of it leaking down his face. “James, I’ve been falling for you.”

James couldn’t maintain his gaze any longer. He looked at a mark on the wall behind Mike’s head. “I wish you weren’t. They call it falling for a reason. Someone always gets hurt. I didn’t want that for you. You’re a good guy. You should find someone who wants what you want.”

Mike stood silently for a few moments before speaking. “This is what you were thinking the other night when I woke to find you by the window, isn’t it?” James didn’t correct Mike. He figured Mike’s assumption would make it more believable that James wanted the breakup. “I understand. I’m sorry, James. I misread the situation.”

James dared a glance at Mike, and he noticed a single tear had escaped and trickled down his cheek. He watched the man he had idolized for two decades pick up the basket, walk to the door then pause. James knew he shouldn’t, but he found himself hoping Mike would turn around to protest and demand James give them a chance. Instead, Mike sighed, opened the door and walked out of his life.