Chapter 18

EIGHTEEN

Sawyer had had betternights in his life. The night he was rushed to hospital with projectile vomiting and explosive diarrhea after eating bad sushi came to mind. In all its technicolor glory, that had been a much better night than the premiere for Start at the Beginning.

“What do you have to say for yourself in the face of all the queerbaiting accusations?”

“Does the fact that you’ve come out now have anything to do with publicity for Start at the Beginning?”

“How do your costars feel about you deceiving them?”

That last question, which had come not from the press, but from another big-name starlet who Sawyer had ended up standing next to as the theater doors were opened and the crowd began to funnel into the auditorium, stung.

“I haven’t deceived anyone,” Sawyer insisted. “I’ve never hidden who I was. It’s everyone else who jumped to conclusions they had no right to about what I do in my personal life.”

“Listen, honey,” the starlet, who looked like she was all of twenty-one and was American to boot, turned to him and said with a flat look, “you’re not going to get anywhere in this business if you try to live like a normal person. People are nasty and voracious. They demand full custody of their stars. You have to sex it up for them, give them what they paid for, or you’ll end up on some pitiful episode of a ‘Where Are They Now?’ show in twenty years. So stop trying to play coy and either shit or get off the fence.”

Sawyer was too stunned by the mish-mash of mixed metaphors and the starlet’s jaded attitude to do anything but stare at her in horrific awe. Never mind the fact that he’d been working steadily in the UK for years, which she apparently didn’t know. If that was the prevailing attitude of the level of stardom he’d just stepped into, he truly wasn’t sure he wanted that life anymore.

And then there was Casper. As Sawyer stepped out of the line of people funneling into the auditorium, his heart called out to Casper. He shifted around the stream of the crowd as much as he could to look back to where he’d put Casper so he’d be safe and out of the public eye.

Casper was like the precious antique he’d found priced well below what it should be because no one saw its value. He was the unexpectedly magical view from the top of the cliff in Whitby that had taken his breath away and made him see the bigger picture. He gave Sawyer the feeling that he could do anything while still being himself.

And that was terrifying. Every self-doubt and worry that he wasn’t good enough, that he actually was faking everything, and that he’d be discovered as a fraud and put in his place at any moment rushed at him when he stopped to think about how much he cared for Casper. What if he couldn’t keep things up, literally and figuratively? What if his career got in the way of what they had? Casper believed the Royal University of London only wanted him because of their connection. Had he helped Casper to come into his own, or had he made him more invisible than ever?

It had to have been the noise and the excitement of the evening that swirled those anxieties tighter and tighter inside of Sawyer, pushing them close to pure panic, as he shoved against the stream of people to reach Casper again. It felt like far more of a metaphor than he would have liked as he went against the flow of the crowd.

He was desperately hoping to find Casper standing there with his beautiful, accepting smile, arms open, ready to hug him and tell him everything would be alright. Instead, he found Casper standing extraordinarily close to a tall, gorgeous black man who seemed deeply interested in him. The two were clearly chatting each other up, and when the other man handed Casper his card, which Casper took happily, Sawyer’s anxiety shifted into full-blown panic.

It was bound to happen. Casper was bound to find someone else who could satisfy him in a way Sawyer knew he never could. The other man looked strong and confident, not to mention sexy by anyone’s standards. He was everything Sawyer could never be, and Casper deserved someone who could make him happier than he could. But, God, it hurt.

“Casper?” Sawyer could only squeak his beloved’s name as he approached the two of them. More like the crowd had shoved him forward, making the confrontation inevitable.

But no, it was not inevitable that he have his heart broken in public. It couldn’t be inevitable that he would be forced to live his entire life on stage, or that he wouldn’t have a moment’s peace as he tried to battle rumors and live up to expectations. He couldn’t do it. Everything was too much for him.

He dragged his eyes away from Casper, giving in to the flight response that pulsed through him, and shot for the nearest door. It was a side door, and part of him worried he’d set off some sort of alarm by going through that way. He bolted anyhow, and within seconds, he’d replaced the frantic, hot, noisy lobby with the busy, chaotic, London street.

“Sawyer!”

Casper’s voice calling out behind him, and the fact that the area outside the door was blocked off and he didn’t know which way to go, caused Sawyer to stop and turn back.

“Sawyer, what’s wrong?” Casper asked, striding quickly to him.

Casper opened his arms just the way Sawyer had wanted him to earlier, stepping into Sawyer and embracing him. Sawyer remained stiff and shocked for a moment, his panic getting the better of him.

A moment later, he blew out a breath and screwed up his face in a grimace for himself. What had he been thinking? Of course Casper wouldn’t rush off into another man’s arms within seconds of meeting someone. The overload of the night had him not thinking clearly.

“Darling, are you alright?” Casper asked, hugging him tightly and kissing the side of his face.

“No,” Sawyer sobbed, hating how miserable he sounded. But instead of pulling back and standing on his own two feet, he sagged into Casper, resting his head against Casper’s shoulder. “I’m definitely not alright.”

“Is there something I can do?” Casper asked, rubbing his back. “You look like you need more than just a hug.”

He did, but as he took a moment to breathe in Casper’s arms, it dawned on him that Casper deserved so much more than to be a dumping ground for his problems. Casper had a whole life and troubles of his own. The fact that he’d never been anyone’s boyfriend was a poor excuse for being such a bad boyfriend when Casper needed one.

Yes, he needed help, but he had to sort things on his own so that he and Casper could be stronger together.

Drawing in a breath and as much courage as he could muster, Sawyer stood straighter. “Thank you,” he said, gazing into Casper’s eyes and feeling more love than he’d ever felt for anyone. “You are everything to me, Casper, but I’ve been horribly unfair to you.”

Casper eyed him worriedly. “You haven’t been unfair,” he said, stroking a hand across Sawyer’s face. “At least, I don’t feel like you’ve been unfair to me at any point.”

“No, but I have,” Sawyer said. “This whole time, you’ve been worried about being invisible, and instead of bringing you out into the sunlight, I’ve eclipsed you even more, and without trying.”

“I know it’s not your fault,” Casper said quietly.

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” Sawyer said, “but it is my fault. I have to fix this.”

“There’s nothing to fix,” Casper said, growing more agitated. “We’ll be alright. Everything will be fine.”

Sawyer wasn’t even remotely convinced of that. “I’m not sure,” he said. The statement covered a wealth of things. “I need…I need to sort some things out in my head. On my own. This whole thing, the Hollywood scene, the consequences that come with it…I have to take a step back and figure out if it’s all what I really want.”

Casper’s mouth had been half open, like he had something to say, but he closed it, and his shoulders relaxed. “Whatever you need to do,” he said. “You know I’m here for you whenever and however you need me.”

“I know,” Sawyer said, leaning in and stealing a quick kiss. “I think if I want things to continue like that, I have to figure a few things out. I’m going to take a walk.”

Casper arched an eyebrow. “In the heart of London? On a Saturday night? Alone?”

Sawyer winced, but the dangers of being seen didn’t change his mind. “I’ll be careful,” he said.

Casper stared at him long and hard, like he wanted to forbid Sawyer from taking that kind of risk. But he finally said, “Alright. You have your mobile with you?”

“I do,” Sawyer said, patting his back pocket.

“Then stay safe and do what you need to do.”

Casper leaned in and kissed him one last time before letting Sawyer go and heading back inside.

Sawyer squeezed his way around the barriers that had been set up, thrust his hands into his pockets, and hunched his shoulders in the hope that no one would recognize him as he made his way to the nearest Tube station. His heart felt like it had been cut open and was bleeding for Casper. Love was holding someone close when they needed a hug, but it was also trusting someone enough to let them go when they needed to sort things.

Not that Sawyer’s heart and mind had the first idea about where to start the whole process of sorting what he wanted. He growled and hissed to himself, ordering himself to think and make a decision about what he wanted as he walked on, no idea where he was going. Forcing himself to miraculously know how to solve the puzzle of the cruel life he’d rushed into wasn’t helping anything.

He headed blindly into the Leicester Square Tube station, heading down to the platforms without any idea where he was going, just that he wanted to get away. The train that had just pulled in when he reached the junction between northbound and southbound platforms was heading north, so he hopped on just before the door closed, then squeezed into the corner of the crowded car.

People recognized him, or at least thought they did. He had more than a few curious glances, as if the people who were looking were trying to figure out if he really was the Sawyer Kingston or just someone who looked like him. The designer suit he was wearing didn’t help him to go unnoted. Sawyer ignored their looks as much as he could and closed his eyes, focusing on the rattling of the train across the tracks and the acrid smell of smoke, metal, grease, and humanity that was unique to the Tube.

He was nudged out of his thoughts, or rather, his lack of thoughts, by an older man wearing a newsboy cap who leaned into him and whispered, “I loved you in Art for Art’s Sake.”

Sawyer opened his eyes and blinked at the man.

“My wife and I watched it all through her chemo last year,” the man went on, his eyes taking on a sheen of grief. “It was the only thing that made her laugh in the end. She thought you were hilarious.”

Sawyer smiled, his throat closing up and his eyes stinging, as if the man’s grief had transferred to him. “Thank you,” he said. “I really needed to hear that tonight.”

The man reached over with his gnarled hand and patted Sawyer’s arm. “Keep up the good work,” he said as the train slowed to a stop at the next station.

Sawyer had lost track of where they were, but that stop was the older man’s, and with a final smile and tip of his hat, he stepped out of the train.

Seconds later, the train whooshed on, taking Sawyer with it, but leaving a little bit of his heart and a lot of his insecurities behind.

He was surprised when the recorded voice announced that the next stop was Finsbury Park. He blinked and stood straighter, and when the train stopped, he got out and made his way up to the exit by rote. Definitely by rote. He’d taken the same journey a hundred times over at least when he’d been in theater school and after his first few jobs in the city.

It was only a short walk from the station to his family’s home. Sawyer knew the route like the back of his hand. He also knew the emotions that came with returning home after a long day of work on whatever set or stage he’d been performing on that day. He remembered the exhausted satisfaction and the deep joy of knowing he could make a living doing something he loved.

He loved acting. That had never been in question. It was the only thing he’d ever wanted to do, the only thing he thought he could do. But acting wasn’t the same as celebrity.

He still had a key to his house, but he rang the doorbell once he got there, just in case.

“Sawyer?” His mum answered the door with a look of surprise. “Oh, Sawyer! My boy. What are you doing here? Why did you ring the doorbell? I’m so happy to see you.”

“Hello, Mum.” Sawyer let his mum lead him inside, and even though his insides were a swirl of guilt and shame and regret, he was relieved to be in her familiar space.

“Come in, darling,” she said, drawing him straight into the kitchen. “Have a cup of tea. Why are you here? Don’t you have some sort of film thing tonight?”

“I left the premiere early,” he said, pretending it was no big deal so his mum wouldn’t worry. “They don’t expect us to actually sit and watch the film at those things anyhow. Most of the big names duck out before the show starts.”

“Well, never mind,” his mum said. “I was praying for you anyhow, and now here you are, like an answer to those prayers.”

“Why aren’t you at choir practice?” Sawyer asked as he headed to the table.

“Well, I’m not entirely certain our good Lord approves of that passel of gossiping cows,” his mum said as she filled the kettle.

Sawyer laughed and shook his head. He usually felt as if his mum’s religiosity was silly, but at that moment, he found it comfortable and warm. Maybe that’s why she clung so stalwartly to her faith in the first place.

“Where are Dad and Kenny?” he asked once the two of them were seated at the kitchen table drinking tea.

His mum made a sound and rolled her eyes. “Off at the pub, I’d expect,” she said. “Derek was going to join them.”

“And Dad won’t mind that I’ve come over? He threw me out, you know.”

His mum snorted, which was so much unlike her that Sawyer burst into a smile. “He likes his drink, you know,” she said as a sort of sideways answer. “He doesn’t always have the same opinions of things once he’s slept it off as he does when he’s in his cups.”

Sawyer swallowed the sip of tea he’d taken and raised an eyebrow at her. “Are you saying he suddenly doesn’t care that I’m gay?”

His mum reached across the table to rest her hand over his wrist. “Love, we’ve known you were a bit off since you were a child. The news didn’t come as a surprise to him as much as he let on.”

Sawyer wanted to laugh. “So he doesn’t mind?”

“Oh, he minds,” his mum said, sitting back to drink her tea. “But as I told him, God created man in his own image. The Bible says that unequivocally. He wouldn’t create someone or something that was not a reflection of Him. He created you just as you are, so who are we to question that?” She took a sip of her tea, then added, “And I told him he’d have to cook his own meals until his mind changed.”

Sawyer sat back, stunned. It was the very last sort of sentiment he’d expected his mum to express, or the sort of tactic he would have thought she was capable of.

Somehow, her surprise acceptance of him and the way she’d welcomed him in and reminded him he had a home, no matter how strange and dysfunctional it was, gave him the courage to lay his troubles before her.

“Mum, I’m thinking of quitting show business,” he said, deeply aware of the push and pull in his soul as he spoke the thought aloud.

His mum blinked in shock and paused with her teacup halfway to her mouth. She put her cup down and asked, “Whyever would you do something as silly as that?”

Again, his mum shocked him with her opinion. “Because it’s too much,” he said. “Everyone wants to know about my private business, and they’re making things up about me that aren’t true.”

His mum nodded sagely, which felt odd. Sawyer didn’t usually think of his mum as a fountain of advice. He was beginning to see that he’d grossly underestimated her.

“What does that handsome boyfriend of yours have to say?” she asked.

Sawyer flushed and warmed at the mention of Casper. “Casper says he’ll support me, no matter what I do,” he said.

His mum smiled. “He’s such a nice young man. You should bring him ’round for Sunday roast.”

“I’d like that,” Sawyer said, smiling. “I think Casper would like that, too.”

“It warms my heart to see you so happy,” she said, reaching for his hand again. “I don’t think you were happy for a while. I think this place had you trapped.”

“It’s alright here,” Sawyer said, though it felt like a bit of a lie.

“You were meant for better things than this life, sweetheart,” his mum said softly, her eyes so full of pride and love. “Whether that means God made you to be a glamorous film star or whether you’re just meant to be the clever bloke on the telly who makes people smile is up to you.”

“Who is the clever bloke on the telly?” he asked, grinning at her.

His mum sat a bit straighter, looking borderline offended. “Why, it’s you, love,” she said. “You were so cheeky and sweet when you did that cooking show. And you made everyone laugh when you did that show about the art school.”

Sawyer’s heart squeezed particularly hard as he remembered the older man on the Tube and his wife. Art for Art’s Sake had been a low-budget, limited-run show that he’d done right out of theater school, mostly for a laugh. He never would have dreamed it would be so memorable or make so many people smile.

But what if that was what it was all about? What if ambition and superstardom were not what he’d been made for, as his mum had put it? He’d been so focused on everyone telling him he could make it to the top and earn a place in the firmament of stars, but what if there was another way to do what he loved and keep his sanity at the same time.

“Mum, would you be disappointed in me if I made it almost all the way to the top, then changed my mind and settled for something less?” he asked, his heart beating with excitement for the first time since…since he’d met Casper.

“No! Not at all,” his mum said, waving the idea away. “I only want, and I’ve only ever wanted, for you to be happy. I think that lovely Casper makes you happy, by the way, darling. Kenny has shown me pictures of the two of you on the internet, and they’re very sweet.”

Sawyer laughed. Who would have thought his annoying brother’s penchant for sharing internet stories would have good motivations instead of snide ones.

“I have a lot to think about,” he said with a sigh, picking up his teacup.

“Well, you take all the time you need, love,” his mum said. “We may be as batty as a South American cave around here, but we love you.”

“I love you, too, Mum,” Sawyer said, taking her hand and squeezing it.

He had big decisions to make, but for the first time in ages, it felt like different paths had opened up to him.