Andy levered himself off the door frame and took the few steps over to the bed. He set one knee beside Victor’s head and fell forward onto his hands because he wasn’t even balanced before that perfect mouth had him. Then he was on his elbows, eyes closed, vaguely aware that his other foot was still on the floor. Victor’s arm was locked around that thigh and he was making hungry sounds that Andy would remember. “Jesus fucking Christ.” Another sound, something that might have meant ‘go now,’ and he did. “Fuck!” He wasn’t sure if he collapsed or if Victor pulled him over. It didn’t really matter. His legs were across Victor’s body and he was gasping into a pillow.
They were both quiet for a minute. Then Andy said, “Did you get that hair for
me?” and Victor laughed.
They had coffee in the sunroom, because they could. They didn’t have anywhere to be that day. There were still a few days when they had to report back to the set of ‘L.A. Vice.’ But the number of taping days was in the single digits now and very soon, or finally, they’d be done for good. Victor was wrapping up an almost ten-year run on the cop show, Andy nearly four.
They might have worked through the end of this season if not for the shooting last September. That had been the final straw, a definitive ‘enough’
after years of threats and hostility because of their characters. Because of who they were and what they represented, as gay men in love. Andy knew that Victor still believed what they’d done had social value. Value enough to outweigh those years of stress. He did himself, though he personally didn’t know yet if the social value outweighed almost losing Victor to that bullet.
They might never know.
“What did you think of the schedule?” he said after a while. Almost the minute they wrapped their parts on ‘Vice,’ he and Victor were going out on an international tour to promote a movie. That was the only reason they had their phones out here.
“It’s not that bad.” Victor sipped coffee, enjoying the sun. It wasn’t cold outside. The climate in the sunroom was ideal for nudity. “They spaced things out pretty well.”
“The best thing about it is that’s all we have to do. Get to the thing, do the thing, go wherever and sleep. Or find a milonga and dance till dawn and then go wherever and sleep.”
“It’ll be fun. Oh, fuck me.” Victor’s phone was buzzing with an incoming call. He had zero desire to answer it.
Andy picked up the phone. It was an unidentified number. “Victor Garcia’s phone, Andy Martin speaking. This had better be important.” He listened for a few seconds, held the phone away and gave it an ‘are you kidding me’ look, then put it back to his ear. His tone was still pleasant when he said, “How did you get this number? Well lose it, and go fuck yourself.”
He disconnected and handed the phone back to Victor, who was laughing.
“Somebody wants to sell you a sports car. You didn’t want a Ferrari, did you?”
“That’s a solid no,” Victor said after a few seconds to collect himself. He
glanced over, reluctant to ask, but knowing he needed to. “What’s the latest on your pops?” Andy’s father had recently had his second mini-stroke.
Andy sighed. “Mom says he’s stubborn as a pig, which surprises exactly no one. The doctor said you have to stop smoking, he said I’m almost eighty why stop now, Mom said if you don’t stop I’m going to divorce you.”
Victor bit back a laugh. “But she won’t.”
“No, of course she won’t, and he knows it. He did promise to go with her every morning for her beach walk when he’s out of rehab.” Andy rested his head on the chair’s high back and gazed at Victor. “I’d better go over there as soon as the tour is over.”
“What about those guys you want to photograph?” Friends of a friend, who they’d seen at the movie premiere in December.
“Okay, as soon as that’s over.”
Victor waited a few seconds to see if the health conversation was going to continue. “So you had your physical.”
“Yep.”
“What did your doctor say?”
“Said we want to put you on statins.”
“Why the fuck would they do that?”
“It’s the protocol.” Andy made an impatient gesture. “I’m over fifty.”
“You’re fitter than I am.” Victor was ten years younger, and he had to work to keep up with Andy. “That’s ridiculous. They don’t even have any evidence that shit does any good.”
“Which is exactly what I said, and also gave him an earful about the side effects. Basically a big hellz to the no. You know last fall the guy at the hospital wanted to keep me on a heart monitor. They were like, it’s your age, sir, shock can do funny things. Same thing Stan said, though I think he was talking about me passing out, not me stroking out.”
“Don’t even say that.”
Andy turned his head, smiling. “I love you, catnip. My heart is fine as long as you’re beside me.”
“I love you too.” A few more quiet minutes. Victor rubbed their dog’s fluffy blonde belly with his toes. She did that catlike thing of stretching out all her paws, with a sound something between a sigh and a groan. He wanted
to keep Andy talking. He knew once they left the sunroom and actually started their day, Andy wouldn’t stop being busy. He couldn’t help it. “So you know I’m voicing a villain for that animated thing. Some songs to record.
That’ll get me out of your hair for a few weeks before ‘Countdown 3’ starts filming.”
I don’t want you out of my hair. “In town, though, right?”
“Right.”
“Good. I might try to do something with dancing this spring.” He was still watching Victor’s face, and saw the happy surprise there. He’d told his best girlfriend Dana, and
