Is he acting right now? Is he always acting?
“I do owe you my life,” I say. “And career. I owe you everything.”
Am I acting right now?
He bites. Literally. My lip, hard.
“You’re welcome, Barry,” he murmurs. “I knew you’d be perfect for this role.”
Of Levi? Or as the distraction from being Bryle?
Kyle releases me, running a hand through his hair and then down his perfect chest.
“Thanks for meeting me,” he continues. “I have one day off from shooting to get settled up here. They rented me this insane house with a stunning view of Joshua Tree. I thought wecould head over there after this to run lines.” Kyle smiles that megawatt smile. “Just like we used to.”
Or is he trying to recapture something real with me?
It is so quiet out here at dawn, and yet my heartbeat sounds like the Blue Angels are flying overhead.
“Did you get the script?” he continues. “Is your contract okay? I can change anything you want.”
“My agent has taken care of everything,” I say. “I still don’t know what to say.”
“Thank you,” Kyle says. “Just say, ‘Thank you, old friend.’”
“Thank you, old friend.”
“This is finally the role that will make you a star, Barry. Doesn’t matter if it came forty years later. It’s still the chance that every actor dreams of.”
“I feel like I’m in a dream,” I admit.
“You are! It’s karma, babe. The world always comes full circle,” Kyle says. He trails a finger down my chest. “Hollywood is quid pro quo. You broke up with me, and now you’ve come back into my life for a reason. We can give each other what we need and want.”
“What do you need and want, Kyle?”
Kyle puts his hands on my shoulders and pushes me to the ground with force. My teeth rattle. He grips the back of my head and presses it against his crotch.
“I want you, big boy. Don’t you want me again?” he asks, voice low, breathing hard. “Like old times. Remember?”
I look up at him. His eyes are closed. He is here. He is not here.
I unzip his pants.
Behind Kyle, a cactus rises, green, from the scorched earth. It is flowering, and a hummingbird puts its beak to the bloom. I focus on it and pretend I am that bird, simply doing as nature instructs.
When Kyle finishes, he looks down at me and says, “I guess I was the final shot in the old Western.”
He laughs and begins to walk away.
“I have to go,” he continues. “I’ll see you on set.”
“I thought we were going to see your house in Joshua Tree to run lines?” I ask, still kneeling on the ground, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.
Kyle stops but doesn’t turn around.
“Don’t be weak and don’t fucking embarrass me, Barry,” Kyle calls as he walks. “Go study your script. My career, your career, my money and this entire movie are riding on my decision to cast you. Don’t let me down, or I will ruin you forever.” His voice suddenly turns chipper again as he fades into the desert’s golden light. “I’ll call you!”
Kyle disappears behind the saloon, and I slump back on my heels. I’m still on my knees when Kyle’s red Mercedes convertible comes tearing down the dirt road, covering me in a cloud of dust. He smiles down at me, pleased I have not moved, and I suddenly understand that we both realize I am completely beholden to him. He lifts a hand as he drives away, his car melting into the sun.
