“You’re right.” Butouchwith the personality analysis.
“Reward me,” he says as I cut a second piece of steak. He puts both elbows on the table, leans in, and as I hold out the steak on the end of my fork, he wraps his lips slowly around it. And just like that, I’m getting hard.
Sliding his lips, and the morsel of meat, off the fork, he leans back and chews. “Do tell me more about the Oscar.”
"Uh… right. Well, I didn't win it, obviously," I sputter out and reach for my wine again, which thankfully the waiter topped up when he delivered the main. After a hearty sip, I continue. "My father won it. There are actually two on the mantle now. Like book ends. But I was in college when he won the second so I've never lived with it."
“Who the hell is your dad?” I can see Gabriel’s mind working overtime, probably flipping through every Australian actor he can think of.
“Dominic Hemming. Won for best director when I was seven and again when I was nineteen. Also, he has two Emmys from his work in television, but I thought if I mentioned those it would be so specific you’d know.”
“Dominic Hemming?” Gabriel repeats and recognition covers his handsome features. “He actually deserved those awards too.”
"Yeah, he's brilliant." I nod because, like it or not, it's true. And to be honest I don't not like it. I'm proud of my dad. "And yes we have different last names. I use my mother's last name professionally. Keeps people from wanting things from me I can't deliver. Like his attention. I can't tell you the number of people who slipped screenplays under my dorm door in college."
"I bet I got just as many sketchbooks from eager design students shoved under mine," Gabriel counters. "For the seven months I attended anyway, before I convinced my dad I didn't need higher education, I just needed to drive."
“I guess we have that in common. People using us to get close to our fathers.”
Gabriel smiles, but it’s a completely different smile than I’ve ever seen on his stunning face. It’s real and candid and vulnerable. He’s letting his guard down. The guard he cloaks in brashness and sarcasm. I feel a wave of victory, but also something else. I’m bonding with him too.
He cuts himself a piece of steak and then pops it in his mouth. After he swallows, he leans back. “I guess there was no way in hell you’d go into filmmaking even if it interested you.”
“No way in hell,” I confirm. “And itdidinterest me. Still does. A lot. But I create stories another way. Through the power of twisting the media narrative, which let’s face it, is probably harder.”
Gabriel drops a hand over mine on the table. A simple, easy gesture that fills my veins with gasoline and then he lights that gasoline with a smile. “I don’t know. You are making it feel pretty easy.”
14GABRIEL
I gaveAxel the greens he wanted but not the early night. We stay atMon Ami Gabiuntil there’s no one else there. We ordered night caps and lingered over them and a shared Crème Brûlée. We discover each other through this silly little game he introduced, which makes me laugh and also, in some cases, takes my breath away. I’m boldly candid with him, because what do I have to lose?
I tell him I want more pets, like Edith Piaf, but can't have one because of my schedule. I list all the pet rescues I donate to instead. I tell him about my favorite Christmas, which was spent in Canada when my dad was dating a Vancouver businessman named Gilles, and we did the holidays in Whistler. Fighting yet another unheard of blush, I admit that I was scared of moths and butterflies as a kid and still prefer not to be around them, but won't run screaming if I see one now like I used to.
Axel isn’t as boldly candid with personal information as I am, but he’s trying, which I can tell for him is a huge deal. He tells me about selling his loft. There’s melancholy in his voice even though he says it makes sense and he doesn’t want to live in Australia right now. He explains he hates surfing, and I tell him should get his Australian passport revoked, and he laughs and nods. Alternatively, and nonsensically, Axel loves snowboarding, which he admits is essentially the same thing as surfing. I learn he loves seafood but can't eat anything with eyes staring at him, so his lobster and shrimp and such need to be dismantled before it's served. I laugh at that and call him a bloody heart again.
We pile into the SUV just after midnight and I try to fight the despair in my chest that this night is ending. I’ve enjoyed it more than anything I’ve done in the last few months, including racing. Axel doesn’t pull out his phone or ignore me or sit as far away as possible, but he does get quiet. I take a second to absorb the feeling of his knee gently bumping mine and then decide to keep the conversation going instead of sliding my hand up his thigh, which is what I really want to do.
“Is your sister’s middle name really Black-Heart?” I ask.
“I thought you didn’t want information that wasn’t about me,” Axel shoots back with a quirk of his mouth. God, I want to beg him to wrap those lips around my cock.
I shake the thought from my head. “Well, I guess I’ve decided that it kind of is about you because if she has that crazy of a middle name then you must have an absurd one too.”
“Her middle name is Joan,” Axel says but the smile on his lips says there’s more to the story. “But my crazy former rock band groupie-slash-model mother did want Black Heart. As a nod to Joan Jett and the Black Hearts, which was her favorite group growing up. Dad talked her into Joan instead. Officially she’s Cordelia Joan Sydney Walsh Hemming. Sydney is where she was conceived. Cordelia is because it’s my mom’s favorite character onBuffy the Vampire Slayer.”
“Mon Dieuand I thought the French picked weird names,” I mutter and pause before pushing. “And you?”
“Well, Dad was the absurd one when it came to naming me,” he explains. “And Mom didn’t deter him.”
“I’m waiting,” I prompt when he doesn’t say anything else. He takes in a long, slow breath, and I add, “I can just have Damien give me your file.”
“There’s a file?”
“There’s always a file when you work for my dad,” I reply, and he lifts both eyebrows but doesn’t ask anything more.
“Axel Jericho Maximus Walsh Hemming.”
“Jesus.”
