"Look at this," Sahil said. "He's not even reading the same lines as the others. What kind of nonsense are they sending us?"
"Probably every tape they have," Grant agreed distractedly. He paused the tape and backed it up."Look. He looks the part."
"Any muscular bastard can look the part."
Sahil gave him a hurt, judgmental look. Did he really think Grant had a thing for big, muscled guys? He could be jealous about anything if he tried hard enough. Grant sighed and put a hand on the back of his husband's neck and massaged it gently. His prickly Sahil began to relax, begrudgingly.
"He's big, but he seemsyoung and eager and fresh-faced. Strong, but...nice," said Grant, trying to explain his gut feeling about the actor in question. "He looks like the sort of guy you'd say, yes, he could be a cop, and he'd definitely try to protect his partner, but probably wouldn't always know how."
"A steep learning curve if you're not very bright," Sahil said viciously.
Grant winced. "Nobody's bright comparedto you, Sahil," he chided gently.
"You're right. I'm sorry." He did sound sorry. He didn't mean to be hateful, but sometimes awful things came out of his mouth, and if anyone but Grant heard them, they might get really hurt.
Of course, he said a few things to me, too, back in the day.
Then Grant grinned. "You realize you just agreed with me that nobody is as smart as you?"
"Well," Sahilsaid, smiling ruefully back at him, "that much is obviously true."
Grant laughed and pulled Sahil close enough to kiss, and did so. Sahil kissed him back hungrily, then snuggled closer, moving onto Grant's lap. Grant wrapped his arms around his restless, prickly husband, now becoming pliant in his arms. Sahil sighed softly, and Grant pressed play again.
They would watch a couple more auditions,and then Grant would see if Sahil did have to rush right off, or if they could occupy a little time more pleasantly.
#
"Honey, guess what?"
Coop grinned, letting his toes curl as he relaxed into the comfort of a call from Jimmy, who sounded really excited today. "What?"
"I've been asked to audition for another part! I don't know what it is yet, but wouldn't that be cool? If I got castthis time?"
But you're not an actor. "It would be cool, yes," Coop said, hoping he didn't sound too cautious. "I mean, if you want to do it."
"Sure. It would be fun to be on camera once. My pack got to be, and I didn't."
"So, no clue who you'd be playing this time?" Last time, it had been an FBI agent who asked to see someone's ID, and the scene had been cut in post-production.
"Maybea murder victim." Jimmy laughed. "Covered in gore. You'll get to investigate my death."
"Ew. I hope not." Coop didn't want to see Jimmy even fake-dead, not now, not ever. It would add more fodder to his nightmare folder.
Jimmy laughed again. "It'd be fun, though. You could give me some pointers on my lines, if I get any lines."
"Yeah, of course. I'll be home soon. Can't wait to seeyou."
He really wanted to get the topic off auditions. Jimmy sounded enthused and hopeful, and in Coop's experience, when you first started auditioning, you had some wrenching realizations coming your way. He would hate to see Jimmy's hopes dashed or for him to start feeling self-conscious about himself. He wasn't a trained actor, so casting directors would be bound to find flaws in any performancethat was more than a few lines in length. But at least Jimmy seemed to be treating it all as good fun, not something he was pinning his hopes on.
A few more days and he'd be home, and everything would be okay again, even though it would mean strenuous training sessions and working with a hostile costar. At least he'd be with Jimmy every night, no longer on the road. And maybe nothing elsewould go wrong for a while.
That night, Coop woke up from a horrible dream in something very close to a panic attack: breathing too fast, heart pounding too hard, mind racing with panic. It was surprising how jarring and devastating it was to have them. They'd been gone for a long time now.
He got up and started roving around the hotel room, desperate for something to take to numb the pain.Did he have any alcohol here? He stopped when he realized what he was doing.
I wasn't going to be that guy.
What had he decided? He'd always call Jimmy instead, if he was really tempted.
He fumbled for his phone, his racing pulse making him clumsy, so he dropped it once and nearly a second time before he got the phone ringing. Only then did he realize he'd be waking his boyfriend from aprobably sound sleep when he needed to get up early for work in the morning. He bit his lip and cancelled the call. He felt even lower now, and sat on the middle of his bed, huddling like an overgrown child, hugging his knees to his chest and trying not to cry.
What the hell was wrong with him?Why are you such a loser?It was just a dream.You can't even remember what it was about.
