“Something like that.”I preen before the mirror, straightening out my tie, and cuffs, and settling my flashy watch just so on my wrist.
“You know you don’t have to give them anything of yourself.Just because you’re representing the cause doesn’t mean you have to divulge what’s none of their goddamned business.”
“My fucked-up past isn’t the problem, Ron.”
It’s the present I’m struggling to handle.
“Is it true you’ve been receiving threatening letters?”
“Same old, same old,” I say, brushing away the notion that anything in my world is any different to normal.I don’t think there’s a day that’s passed since I was ten or eleven that hasn’t involved a threat of some sort or another being hurled in my direction.It’s sad to say that even the laser printed epitaphs threatening to cut me to ribbons if I don’t slither into a hole and agree never to disgrace the silver screen again are anything new.I come from a gene pool of sociopaths, and have suffered my share of power mad agents, studio execs, and psychotic directors.Stephen King inspired stalker-fans are simply the newest layer on the crazy cake.
“Shall we go and be fabulous together?”
“Dylan Drake,” Ronnie drawls.“Like you ever need to ask.”
The foyer is now largely deserted as most of the networking has moved to the tables dotted around the main auditorium.Ronnie abandons me all too soon in favour of Dare Wilde’s baby sister.Not that she looks like much of a baby anymore.Jeez, I must be getting old.I do a quick head count and quash the notion that I’m in any way past it.There’re still two generations of silver-headed sires and sirens floating about the place, and only a handful of youngsters.
With Kira back on my heels, I head over to the table reserved for the cast and crew ofOldrich Hall.Hopefully, once I’m seated with the people I work with every day, it’ll be easier to push Kira out of my mind and be myself.
It’s a plan, okay.I never said it was a good one.
-5-
-Dylan Drake-
“Aren’t you drinking tonight, Dylan?”My co-star and on screen mistress, Rosie Kleen, smiles at me from across the top of her raised cocktail glass.
“Need to keep a clear heard until after my speech.”
She waves aside my explanation.“Don’t be such a pooper.A tipple or two won’t hurt.Join me.Someone get Dylan one of these Dirty Martinis.”
The waiter appears by my side.“Vodka or Gin, sir?”
“Neither, I’m fine just now.”I can virtually hear Kira remarking I’ve had more than enough shots already.Not that she actually says a thing.“Actually, Vodka’s good, and make it extra dirty.”
“As you wish, sir.”
Rosie’s all smiles, but based on the number of glasses being removed from the table, she’s already downed a half dozen glasses of her favourite poison.She twirls the olive on a stick.“What about your friend?Don’t she want one?”
Kira shakes her head.“A plain slimline tonic’s good.”
To be honest, I’m astonished she even agreed to that, but I suppose she has to attempt to fit in.She doesn’t in any way fit in.Oh, the dress is perfect.Her silhouette’s to die for, and there’s plenty of fire raging behind her eyes, but she’s too stiff, too aware, too antsy.
Rosie switches places so she’s sitting next to me and scoots her chair right up to mine.She links our arms and rests her chin upon my triceps.“You’re so naughty, Dylan.Who is she?Do introduce us.”
“Kira, Rosie.Rosie, Kira.”
“That’s it?”Rosie protests, her scarlet lips puckering to form a pout.“Where’s she from?Wherever did you find her?”
Shit!We ought to have got our cover story together ahead of time.I’m sure Falchard constructed a whole fake history for us, which I’m going to totally fuck up if I improvise.
“Say, like are you guys like together?”
Seriously?I launch an eyebrow up my forehead.An assortment of titters traverses the table as various interlopers comment on Rosie’s apparent ignorance of my orientation.It’s not ignorance though, or even naivety.Rosie doesn’t actually believe gay people exist.’Cause, don’t be silly, the world is all about opposites and procreating.Sure, I fuck other men for fun, but one day I’m going to settle down with a nice woman—her—and make oodles of pudding-like kiddies.The worst part about this scenario is not that the effect Kira’s having on me tonight means there’s a risk of it coming true, but that Rosie actually believes one day I’m going to propose and impregnate her.
“Are you like old school friends?”
“We met recently,” Kira responds.She doesn’t elaborate over how recently.
