Laurienodded.The movement dislodged the ice-pack on his brow.Sasha putit back, gently disentangling the damp curls beneath it.“In anutshell,” Laurie said faintly.“And I was late without tellingyou.”
“Only a little.”At the crunch of the Cherokee’s tyres on thedrive, Sasha had quietly closed off his laptop.Laurie need neverknow he’d been scanning the traffic news for accidents: a paranoidoverreaction, but in all their time together Laurie had never beenmore than ten minutes late without calling, emailing, practicallysending up flares.
“I’m still sorry.”
“Forget it.I was just wondering what you were saving up forday two.”
Lauriechuckled helplessly.He didn't want to laugh.He hadn't wantedSasha wryly sympathetic.He’d wanted him behind the door with arolling pin, ready to crack some sense into him.Didn't want thestory of his day extracted as if by delicate surgical procedure,painlessly, a piece at a time.
But itwas all out now, except the tiny malign dark spot he couldn't letSasha near.And God knew it had been a relief to tell him.Hisafternoon had gone downhill, if possible, after the drama withWesley and Libby Palermo.Brett had been called into an emergencymeeting with sponsors, and because he refused to delegate directioneven of his running-and-jumping scenes, Laurie and Bailey had hungaround for hours in their faux-Egyptian finery, waiting for a callto set that never came.Bailey had prattled, but his chatter hadonly created a deeper emptiness in Laurie's head in which he couldcontemplate his crimes.He'd lost a woman her job.It hadn'toccurred to him to blame Wesley, to blame Brett.Finally they'dbeen dismissed.By then Bailey's hand on his arm, his offer of aquiet drink, had been pleasant: it had been early still, and hehadn't wanted to take the way he was feeling straight home toSasha.One quiet drink, and a look at the Hollywoodsign...
Baileyhad chosen to take Libby's sacking as a message from the gods thathe could now throw off all self-restraint.He'd done a line or twoof coke before he'd left the studio, although this only becameapparent to Laurie when he'd started to drive his open-top yellowCamaro back and forth across his lane of the highway in time to thedeath-metal track blasting out of the speakers.He'd beencooperative enough when Laurie had told him to pull over, then hadsat on the back of the passenger seat, waving and singing joyously,while Laurie had driven them on.
Lauriestirred restlessly on the bed.“It wasn’t much of a lash,” he said.“With Bailey, I mean.Just a couple of martinis.”
“Where did you go?Somewhere nice?”
“Mm.Little actors' bar up in the Heights where they don't letin fans or reporters.It was okay.A bit loud.”The bass hadstripped a year or so off Laurie's functional hearing as he'dstumbled with Bailey into the strobe-lit dark.What he'd found inhis martini glass was faintly luminous and tasted like a vodkatriple shot.He'd knocked it back in sheer distraction, and theworld—Libby Palermo, Wesley, guilt and anxiety—had retreated to asafe distance.He'd had one more.An hour had disappeared likeseconds.Had somebody spiked him?He doubted it—why taint somethingalready so lethal?—but had turned the third one down and gone insearch of Bailey.Found him in a back room with another line laidout and ready, this one on the naked spine of a beautiful chorusboy from the latest blockbuster musical setting itself up in town.Laurie had bundled him back into the convertible, driven him to anaddress he sincerely hoped was his home.Laurie had driven theCamaro carefully back to Ivory Gate and left it with thenight-shift security guy.Then he'd got back into his Cherokee anddriven just as cautiously home.He felt fine.His head ached, thatwas all, and Sasha was dealing with that for him, ice pack and coolsoothing hands.“I'll have to take you there sometime.”He sat uphalfway, suddenly inspired.“Hey, would you like to go out now?Everywhere's open all night around here.We could doanything.”
“I'm all right here if you are.”
“Okay.”Laurie subsided.He was fine, except that Libby and theworld had crept back close to him, and he'd been enjoying thebreak.Still, no doubt housekeeping had stocked the drinks cabinetas well as the cupboards: he could fix himself a nightcap later on.“How was your day, sweetheart?”
Sashastroked his brow.The lies coming out of that lovely mouth weresuch small ones, little fish close to the surface, easy to catch.Slowly Sasha was beginning to suspect the existence of a deep-watershark, a beast that had swum into their lives several weeks ago andremained there feeding since, but he could only deal with what hehad in front of him right now.“I had a good day.I had a swim, andI met Mrs Alvarez, who's going to keep house for us.She's verynice.I met the...”He paused for a fraction of a second, feelinghis colour come and go, glad of the darkness.“I met the pool boytoo.”
“Okay.Good.”
“Can you listen to me for a few minutes?”
“Of course.Always.”Jesus, Laurie had been neglectful!His ownday had been so full of racket and colour, he could scarcely thinkhow it must have been for Sasha, alone for so many hours here, onlyon his second day in his new world.He held Sasha's wrist, tracedthe delicate tendons and the veins on its underside.“Whatabout?”
“Couple of things.First, it sounds to me as though DouglasBrett manipulates his staff and sets them on one another in orderto get what he wants.”
Lauriesnorted faintly.“Nice try.I'd love to get myself off the hooklike that, but...No.I fucked up.”
“Well, I wasn't there.I guess that one's for your conscience.”Sasha waited for almost a minute.It was so hard for him to dothis, and he wished there was someone around to take him off hisown hooks, the barbs of his responsibility towards this man.It wasstrange—in London the problem had never arisen.They hadn't kept adry house, of course.They both loved the occasional bottle of goodwine over dinner, had popped the cork on plenty of champagne forcelebratory moments in both their lives.But they had never, bytacit, mutual consent, touched anything harder than that.SirWilliam Fitzroy had died from a heart attack, partly brought on bydecades of alcohol abuse.Laurie had been aware of the geneticdangers that lay in his path.They had never stored alcohol, onlybought in what they needed for the pleasures of the night.Sashasat up.He took the ice pack off Laurie's brow, then caught gentlehold of his jaw and turned him so that they were looking straightinto one another's eyes.“Second thing, then.I know when you'vehad a couple of drinks, Laurie, and I know when you're drunk.You're as elegant and graceful as ever, but...those weren'tmartinis, and you had no right at all to drive home.”
Lauriegaped.“Sash...What the fuck...”
“Not finished.Almost, and then I'll go and fix you some foodso you don't feel too rough in the morning.I love you, and I'dgive my own life to keep you from harm.All right?That's my job.But next time you get into a car pissed, and drive, and endangerother people, I'll call the police myself.Because stopping youthen would be theirs.”
Laurierolled onto his side.He stared out of the vine-cloaked window.Hewanted to spring out of bed, turn on Sasha like a tiger and deny itall, or deny at least Sasha's right to have seen it and speak out.Laurie had believed the lies himself by the time he'd thought themup, holding the truth and his new version of it on the dangerousparallel tracks in his mind.He wanted to walk away.
Insteadhe sat up.He grabbed hold of Sasha with all his strength, andsobbed in relief when Sasha's arms closed round him.When Sasha'shand made a shaky track down the back of his skull, as if he werestill somehow worthy of being touched and loved.“Fuck,” he rasped.“What was I thinking?What did I do?”
“Something so, so unlike you it makes my head spin.Jesus,love.It could have been anyone out there on the roads.It couldhave been Clara.”
“Oh, don't.Don't.”
“Okay.I've stopped.Now, will you let me go fix you asandwich?”
Laurieshuddered.He held on tighter.“No.Fix me here, ves'tacha.Don'tlet me go.”
***
Thetrouble, of course, was working out how to hold him.Not hold on tohim, not hold him down—just how to offer the strength and structurehe needed without getting in his way.
Withoutbeing burned to a crisp on the launch pad.Idly Sasha pursued themetaphor, smiling faintly at its drama.He wasn't sure what kind ofmission was going on at Cape Fitzroy at the moment, a leap for thestars or test-to-destruction, but it was producing so much heat andlight that Sasha felt blinded, blistered.
