Chapter 1
Thirty-five-year-old actor Alexander Mark Richfield held the paperwork with his lines on it. He was the headlining star in a new cable TV series, Room at the Top. As he closed his eyes and said the dialogue in his head, already committing them to memory last night at home, Alex’s makeup artist was styling his hair and powdering his face. The TV series had begun as a backdoor pilot and been picked up by one of the mega cable television companies. Since it was on pay TV and an evening series, the writers, and his director, Charlotte Deavers, got away with murder. Nudity, swearing, taboo subjects, you name it, they did it. The producers of the series, Will Markham and Derek Dixon, were activists and supporters of the gay community. Will was married to a photographer, Madison Henning. Derek was straight and married to a woman, but his unwavering support of the LGBTQ community was evident from his television shows. Alex’s best friend, Tadzio Andressen, was a trans-woman, and lived with him and his husband, LAPD lieutenant, Billy Sharpe. Tadzio had married Billy’s police officer nephew, Matt Nolf. They lived in Bel Air with Billy and his looney white saluki-mix mutt, Lady. As Alex readied for his scene, one he knew was coming because he’d read the script, he heard Charlotte shouting at the gaffer and grips about lighting. One of the sets they were using today was a bar. Their studio in Burbank had a plethora of designed rooms. Everything from the posh law offices where he was supposed to work, to bedrooms of their private homes, to the office restrooms, hallways, you name it, they had it. While the lighting was adjusted to make the scene appear to be evening and a dimly lit drinking establishment, Alex spotted his costar, Gabe Loveday. Young eighteen-year-old, Gabe, was the son of Oliver Loveday, a man Alex had met and dated at UCLA while he attended drama school. Oliver’s father, Gabriel ‘Angel’ Loveday was a soft porn star in the 80s and had lived with Alex’s husband, Billy Sharpe for a while. That’s how Alex and Billy met, through Angel and his son Oliver. Alex had stolen the hot copper away from Angel. He had broken Oliver’s heart, and no doubt, pissed off Angel Loveday. Billy was twenty years older than Alex, but the man worked out so hard, he could outrun or beat up, any man Alex knew. And Billy had beaten up several men already. “All right!” Charlotte shouted, “Let’s get this scene going before I’m too old to shoot it!” She had headphones draped around her neck, and her dark hair was cropped short, and salt and pepper gray now. She was tiny in stature, but a ‘force majeure’ in the television world. Alex’s stylist finally stopped fussing with his hair and makeup. Alex avoided running his hands through his thick, brown, shoulder-length hair, and straightened the suit jacket he wore. His father, Mark Antonious Richfield, was the Nation’s Top Male Model and had been for decades. Not only was his dad famous for his cologne line, Dangereux, he now made men’s suits and formal clothing for his and his husband, Steve Miller’s garment manufacturing firm, Richfield-Miller Incorporated. Alex loved his dad’s designs. They were made for slender men and accented a man’s natural curves, broad shoulders, tight buttocks, and narrow hips. And the fabrics and colors were incredible. Imported wools, silks, and cottons from all over the world. Today Alex wore his favorite dark blue suit. It had a sheen to it, and was snug, hugging his trim physique. With it, Alex wore a light blue shirt and a dark blue and white striped tie. The assistant director yelled, “Quiet on the set!” The low murmuring went silent. Gabe, who was playing Pete Mitchell, their mailroom boy, wore a white cotton-long-sleeved shirt, and dark blue pants. His ‘uniform’. This was their first real date, since Gabe had been seducing Alex’s character for a few weeks. He’d already given Alex a blowjob under his desk. Acting, of course. So far, Alex hadn’t been asked to expose himself. He expected it, however. He’d done full-frontal in both of the TV shows produced by these two men. Being Screwed, a vampire series, and The Action! Series. “Camera ready!” “Sound speed!” Alex looked at Gabe. Gabe looked at him. Extras were sent scurrying around to make the bar appear crowded. Charlotte pointed to him and said, “Action.” Alex and Gabe walked towards the bar as the bartender wiped the counter. Two stools were open between an occupied row of patrons. The studio set was dead quiet. Even though the extras moved their lips and pretended to speak, nothing was said. Alex and Gabe’s microphone packs, and a boom microphone, which the soundman hung over their heads, recorded their dialogue. Gabe, with his long straight dark hair, like his grandfather, was a pretty young man. Not Alex’s type. Alex preferred big bruisers, macho men. Cops. Billy Sharpe, for example. Tadzio wasn’t on set yet today. Since she had also been cast in a feature film to play a judge, Charlotte had somehow managed to get the writers to give her the time she needed to get the movie shot. Two weeks. That was all Tadzio required. So? They began Alex and Gabe’s office romance as the main story line while Tadzio was busy. Alex gestured for Gabe to take a seat. The young man climbed onto a stool and flipped back his long hair. Alex, whose character name was Denny Harris, tried to move the stool farther from ‘Pete’s’ but as scripted, he couldn’t, because a woman seated to his right was very close to him. The main camera was aimed at his and Gabe from behind the bar. Gabe leaned closer to him, pretending the noise was loud. Music and underlying conversation would be added during the editing of the show. “What are you drinking?” Alex loosened his necktie and the top button of his shirt collar. Everything he did and said was directly from the script. “I’m driving so I don’t know if I’ll drink booze.” Gabe ran his hand along Alex’s thigh. Alex looked down at it. “Get one cocktail. We can stay here until you sober up.” Gabe laughed at him and signaled the bartender. A man with a receding hairline, dressed in a green cotton shirt and red vest, leaned close to them. “What can I get you?” Gabe said, as if shouting in noise, “I’ll have a mojito.” The man leaned closer to Alex. Alex looked at Gabe, then at the bartender. “Same,” he said, frowning. “Cut.”
