Page 57 of Love On and Off Set

Again, Jeremy eyed my vehicle. “You look like you’ve got all your belongings in there. Shooting is supposed to last six weeks.”

Finally, I met his gaze. His dark-brown eyes were, as always, incisive. They matched his dark-brown hair and beard with little flecks of gray. He appeared distinguished. And with his shit together.

I was neither of those things.

I broke eye contact first. “The lease on my apartment was up, and the landlord wouldn’t renew it. Something about paparazzi hanging out and ruining their bushes.”

“Ah. And your furniture?”

“The place came with it. Nothing to get rid of except my television.”

“You kept your gaming console?”

This time, I rolled my eyes.

He sighed. “So everything you own is in your car. You know, I have a basement. If you want, we can put the stuff in my SUV. I can store it until you’re back in—”

“I’m not coming back to LA.” I jutted my chin.

Jeremy’s jaw dropped. “What do you mean, you’re not coming back to LA?” He shook his head, as if trying to dislodge a thought. “This is still the epicenter of the movie business, Andreas. You might go elsewhere to shoot a movie, but you need to have a foot in LA.”

“Because I’m not big enough to land a gig if I live somewhere else.”

He winced. “Well, when you put it like that…? No, you can’t live in Buttfuck backwater wherever and land plum roles.”

“Buttfuck Backwater Nebraska.”

“Hey, I’d never—”

“Well, I know my small town, so I can say it.” I swept my hair off my face, even as the breeze off the ocean tickled my cheeks. I’ll miss this.

“Why are you going back to Nebraska?”

I shrugged. “I’m not saying I am.”

“Andreas.” He said my name slowly.

“What?”

“You told me your family shunned you. That you were turned out.”

“I was headed to Stanford anyway, on a football scholarship. If I’d made it to the NFL, they suddenly wouldn’t have cared I was gay. That’s how capricious they are. You know this, Jeremy. A bad play, a bum knee, no more scholarship, and my life going down the crapper. Then I was scouted by a modeling agency, and I haven’t looked back.”

“So why are you now? Why the talk about going back to Nebraska?”

“Because I have nowhere else to go. LA isn’t my home—”

“Move into my basement, Andreas. Phillip and I would love to have you stay. Wally will be beside himself—another human being to manipulate. You can take him for long walks along the boardwalk. You can—”

“You and your fiancé don’t need company. It’s a generous offer, and I expect you to send me Wally pictures with his progress, but I’m not coming back to SoCal just to live in your basement. Hell, I probably won’t go back to Nebraska. I might crash in Seattle or head to, I dunno, some other blue state. Or New York. I always wanted to be a Broadway star.”

“Really?” He scrunched his nose. Then nodded. “Okay, well, there’s theater in LA. Does Shayna know you’re considering New York?”

Shayna was my brilliant agent.

Jeremy continued. “Her talent agency has a branch out on the east coast. I’m certain they could hook you—”

“I need a break.”