Page 53 of In Frame
They waited, almost-mirror images of silent impatient fascination. The twins looked, he thought sometimes, like the mother they’d all lost; they looked more like each other and Carlos, sharing a father, than Sam himself, of course.
But they looked a little like him, Sam, too. Around the eyes, the nose. Some expressions, some gestures, the way they crossed arms or opened a soda can one-handed or raised a single eyebrow.
He hadn’t noticed until their neighbor Annika had mentioned it a couple of years ago. She never minded checking in while he was gone, and the twins liked her and her family’s old Romanian recipes; she’d caught him coming home and chatted with him for a minute, mostly about how much she liked his sisters, how thoughtful they were about helping her take her cats to the veterinarian’s office, and what a good brother he was, and how anyone could see they were a family.
He tried not to feel a little proud—Thea and Diwerehis family; maybe he’d done a good job—and then usually felt guilty about that. They would’ve grown up differently, he knew, if he hadn’t been the one trying hard to be their parent.
But that would’ve been a whole different life, too. And he’d tried not to wonder about how much better off they might’ve been. They’d done okay. He’d done okay. He was pretty sure he had.
They were a family. No matter what. Awful nicknamesincluded. And the pasta and tomatoes watched from the counter, ready to offer support.
“It’s about California,” he said, and took a deep breath, and thought about Leo texting him soon, the weight of his phone in his pocket, the comfort of that presence. “About Colby Kent. And next week. And a job offer.”
Chapter 5: A Hotel and a Home
California. The week in question. A job. Sam, standing by a hotel window and a glorious view of Los Angeles, breathed in and out. The view gazed back at him: blue skies and a city of dreams.
He had a job. He had an assignment. One he couldn’t quite wrap his head around, though he’d started to accept that it was happening.
Camera equipment—not much, he traveled light—and his bag and his jacket collectively watched him from the bed. He’d dropped everything there, for now.
The bed was nice: towering and luxurious and crowned with more pillows than Sam had ever seen in one place. He hoped they didn’t know that he had no idea what to do with them all.
The whole room was nice. No. Not nice. Fabulous. Plush pale gold carpets, high ceilings, swooping blue curtains, light California-breeze wood. Serene and expensive and a little old-fashioned, not in any sort of negative way but in the sense of having Hollywood history, personality, a design that evoked decades of movie-star luxury.
It was the sort of room and the sort of hotel Colby Kent would reserve, because Colby had in fact reserved it, for Sam’s stay. Sam had thought, when the car’d dropped him off, that there must be some mistake. He still kind of thought so.
He eyed his travel bag again. Brown and battered, it sat on the fluffy white expanse of bed and shrugged at him. Maybe neither of them belonged, but they could damn well enjoy the luxury for a while, seemed to be the point.
Leo would like the bed. And all the pillows. They came in ocean colors: turquoise, aqua, deep teal, sand-gold. One had a seahorse design picked out in lacy white stitching. Sam picturedLeo scooping it up, falling in love with it, rolling over into the whole pillow extravaganza: unabashedly adoring it all.
The thought made him feel like adoring some pillows too.
He took a picture of the seahorse puffball shape and sent it Leo’s way. He wasn’t sure where Leo was at this exact minute—a meeting about returning as that television-show space-wizard villain, and then getting ready for dinner with parents, had been mentioned—but the reply came back within seconds.I’d love to ride a seahorse, wouldn’t you? It’d be such a unique experience. Not like anything else. Which is in fact the definition of unique, isn’t it?
Sam checked the time; Leo must be in between events, then. He himself had about half an hour before he was supposed to meet Jason Mirelli downstairs, which he was attempting not to think too much about. He’d offered to make his own way over to whatever the lunch plans involved; Jason had said, utterly casual, “Don’t worry about it, I’ll come pick you up,” as if he played chauffeur to tabloid photographers every day. Sam had tried not to whimper.
He hadn’t spoken to Colby yet, at least not on the phone. They’d emailed. Colby’s emails were very organized, in the way of someone who’d been a producer on multiple films and who knew about organization, and also mostly but not entirely very English in phrasing and spelling, and on top of that often vaguely apologetic without actually containing an apology for anything, generally hoping Sam wouldn’t mind the arrangements and offering to carry out any changes, large or small, if desired.
Colby definitely wasn’t Leo. Leo would’ve laughed and said, “You get what I arrange for you!” while making sure everything was exactly what the person in question needed, without drawing attention to that truth.
Sam, thinking about what people needed, looked at Leo’stext for a second, and went with,Was that some sort of idea about you coming over here and riding this pillow?
Leo started typing, stopped, started again.If you’d like! I expect I would also like, though I’ve never done that either. Trying to picture it. Two days from now!
I like you, Sam thought. I adore you, Leo Whyte. Said I’d have plans for you. You’ll love this bed.
I’ll love being in it with you. Is this an appropriate coming out to one’s parents outfit, do you think? Or should there be more rainbows?This came with a picture: Leo standing by his bed, in dark blue pants and a pale pink button-down, sleeves rolled up to show a hint of polka-dot pattern. A shiny blue jacket lay across the bed; Leo’s hair swept itself up in a stylish blond wave, shorter on the sides, and he was grinning.
The sight flooded right into Sam’s chest and painted color there. Love bloomed, physical, aching.
He knew Leo had meant to tell his parents sooner; they’d had to reschedule a family dinner. Some sort of minor emergency involving sets and rehearsals at the historic West End venue where Leo’s mother managed theatrical finances. Nothing serious, Leo’d said, but a panicked meeting or two.
He answered,I like it. You look like you. Colorful. Cute.
I am entirely both of those, thank you. Say hello to Jason and Colby for me. Tell Colby he owes me a person-sized lemon tart. Actually don’t. He’ll try to bake one.
I’ll say hi for you. Let me know how things go with your parents.
