Stranded Read online

  “Okay, I get it,” Kendall said as he felt the tender moment slip away. “I’ll let you get back to work.”

  “Call and let me know how it goes,” Johnny asked, and Kendall agreed before hanging up. He noticed there was no “I love you” or any other sentiment at the end of the call, and he tried to remember when those had disappeared, but he couldn’t. He’d just now realized they were gone and had been gone for quite a while. Kendall missed them. He also knew it wasn’t Johnny’s fault any more than it was his. They’d let those things slip away, along with some of the intimacy in their relationship, and Kendall wondered if it was too late to get them back.

  Lyman finally hung up, and their small group rode in near silence until they got close to the gas station where they’d started their trip. The limousine was waiting, and when they stopped, Kendall got out and shook hands with both men. “Thank you,” he told Lyman. “This was an eye-opening experience, and I think it helped me build the character in my mind.”

  “Very good. We’ll talk later this week or early next week about how you see your character and how I see your character. Then we’ll come to an understanding going forward,” Lyman said with as much camaraderie as Kendall had heard all day. “Let me know if you have any trouble getting everything done tomorrow. I know there’s a lot going on, but we’re crunched for time.”

  “It’s fine. I’ve been through this before,” Kendall said. “Not with a movie, but I understand the urgency.” Lyman nodded a bit, and Kendall thought he might be seeing the beginnings of a touch of respect from him. When he didn’t say anything more, Kendall walked toward the limousine and found it blessedly empty. He climbed into the back and asked the driver to take him to the hotel. As he rode he called Juan.

  “I need some help,” he said after they’d exchanged greetings. “I’m going to need a small place to live while I’m here as well as a car of my own. Can you help me?”

  “Of course,” Juan said. “Let me make some phone calls to see what I can find.”

  “Thanks. I don’t want some huge showy place; just a small secure apartment for a few months will do.” He was used to making do with a small space and that suited him.

  “But what if you decide to stay?” Juan asked, and Kendall paused. Leaving New York had never occurred to him. “Okay, I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Thank you, I appreciate the help,” Kendall said.

  “No problem. I’ll see you in the morning and help you get to all your appointments,” Juan said.

  “Thanks.” Kendall hung up the phone and slid it into his pocket. He was exhausted, and tomorrow promised to be long, as did most of the days ahead. He was used to long days, but he was also used to coming home to Johnny every night, and he really missed that, especially once the driver had dropped him off and he took the elevator to his solitary hotel room.

  Chapter 4

  KENDALL never knew four weeks could fly by so damned fast. Juan had found him a nice furnished apartment through his studio connections. A car proved more problematic, but he finally managed to lease one for six months. Granted, he wasn’t expecting to need it that long, but it was the shortest duration he could find. “They’re ready for you on the set,” a runner said, and Kendall didn’t even get a chance to turn his head before he was gone. He understood speed, but everyone here seemed to exist in hyperdrive.

  As he headed out to the set, he was handed an updated script for the scene he was about to shoot. “Thank you,” Kendall said with a smile and began looking it over. He noted the change and committed it to memory. When they were ready for him, he took his position.

  “Okay,” Lyman said from his position just off camera. “You got the change?”

  Kendall nodded and stepped into position. He did the scene as written with the feeling and enunciation Lyman had said he wanted, but it felt off to him.

  “Cut,” Lyman said at the end and waited for the playback. “It’s what we said, but….”

  “Can I try it again?” Kendall asked, and Lyman nodded and then called for everyone to move back to their places. They did the scene two more times, with Kendall making minor changes, but Lyman still wasn’t happy. Finally, on the fifth attempt, Kendall played the scene the way he thought it should have been played all along.

  “Perfect,” Lyman called and then watched the playback. “That’s exactly what we needed. Let’s get one more and we’ll wrap this set.” Kendall did the scene, and when Lyman cut and said they were done, everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

  “God, I thought he was going to keep us here half the night, like he did yesterday,” one of Kendall’s costars, Barbara Hamill, said softly to the woman next to her.

  “I would have if it wasn’t for Kendall,” Lyman said in his booming voice to let Barbara know she’d been overheard. Yes, Kendall knew many things were new to him about making movies, but being a good actor wasn’t an issue. That came naturally, and Kendall was a hard worker and always made sure he knew his lines and blocking. It came from the discipline the stage required. Movies were forgiving in a lot of ways; live theater was not. “We have a lot to do tomorrow, so everyone finish up and go home. Rest well, because you’re all going to need it.” Lyman said something like that at the end of every day, and it was usually true. Of course, it hadn’t taken Kendall long to realize that long after they’d all left, Lyman was still up planning the shoots for the next few days. Barbara hurried over to him as soon as they broke up. “No, you don’t look like you have a brown nose,” she sniped.

  “This isn’t high school, Barbara,” Kendall retorted. “Act like a professional rather than a prom queen and you’ll get a lot further.” He stopped the next comment that threatened to come out by turning away and walking toward his dressing area.

  “What do you know?” she asked as she stormed after him. Kendall continued to his dressing room, and she followed him inside and closed the door. Kendall could tell she’d worked up a good head of steam, but he wasn’t about to take any crap from a glorified cheerleader.

  “Plenty. You don’t do eight shows a week with your name on the marquee without learning a few things. One, always know your lines inside and out; two, it’s about the show and the audience, not you; and three, treat people the way you want to be treated, because someday you’ll have to work with them again.” Kendall kept his voice level but firm. “Do you think the people you’ve pissed off are going to want to work with you again? The Broadway community is small and word gets around. Suddenly you don’t get called back, no matter how high you can kick it.” Kendall actually kicked his foot well over his head. “No one will hire you. And I’m sure the community here is just as cliquish and word spreads just as fast. So cut the dumb blonde act—Marilyn Monroe is dead.”

  Barbara’s mouth hung open. “Am I really that bad?” she asked, a bit horrified.

  “Not yet, but you could be.” Kendall sat down and began removing his makeup. “I headlined shows in New York, big ones, and I always have work lined up.” Sal was lining up offers and opportunities for Kendall as he spoke. “People like to work with me, so I get to work with the best people.” He turned around in his chair. “You want to make a career of this? Or are you just looking to be famous? Because if you want a career, then do your best every day, and the fame and everything else will come. But if you want to be Paris Hilton, and the butt of everyone’s jokes, then you could be well on your way.”

  “You don’t pull any punches,” Barbara said, moving toward the door.

  “Nope, but I will say I wouldn’t have bothered to tell you anything if I didn’t think you were worth it,” Kendall said, watching her in the mirror. “The last thing you want is people writing tell-all books about you. Become good at what you do.”

  “Is that what you did?” Barbara asked, stopping near the door.

  “You better believe it.” Kendall turned back to her. “Because when you have a theater full of people all watching you, and you flub something or screw up, all those people will know and
they’ll tweet it and tell their friends. Then when the show closes, so does your career, and you’re back to waiting tables at Ruth’s Chris for tips.” He went back to removing the last of his makeup.

  She giggled. “You must be doing something right. I certainly don’t get flowers.”

  Kendall looked around and saw two pink roses resting on one of the chairs. They’d been showing up every now and then in his dressing room or on the seat of his car. At first he’d wondered, or hoped that Johnny had been sending them, but that wasn’t Johnny’s style, and when they started showing up in his locked car, Kendall had gotten nervous. He began carrying his keys everywhere with him or hiding them when he was on the set. None had shown up in his car since, but now they showed up in his dressing room more often. “Please take them,” Kendall said as he reached over and lifted the flowers, then handed them to her.

  “You’re serious?” she asked as she accepted them.

  “Of course. Enjoy.” Kendall smiled, and Barbara left his dressing room, closing the door behind her. He finished up and grabbed his things, making sure he had everything and that nothing was missing. Then he left the soundstage with the actors and crew and headed for his car.

  “Hey, Kendall.” He turned and saw Guy striding toward him. “I was wondering if you’d like to go out for a drink or something.”

  Kendall smiled. “Can we make it another night? I’m really tired and want to eat, shower, and fall into bed.” Kendall tried to think. “What day is it, anyway?”

  “Thursday,” Guy said.

  “Then how about Sunday afternoon? There’s nothing scheduled, and Lyman needs to give the crew a day off.” They could all use a day to recharge.

  “All right. I’ll call you,” Guy said, and Kendall continued on toward his car. He got inside and drove out the studio gate. His apartment was only five miles away, but it took fifteen minutes for him to get home. The building had a locked parking garage beneath the building, and Kendall’s apartment came with its own parking space. The gate slid closed behind the Mustang, and he pulled into his space.

  Kendall took the elevator up to his floor and let himself into the apartment. After setting down his bag, he flopped into a chair and called Johnny. His call went to voice mail. Kendall left a message and then began making a quick dinner.

  THE Sunday following their ride through the park, Johnny was coming over for dinner. Kendall stood in his kitchen, wondering what in hell he was going to do. He didn’t cook much, and had gotten food he thought was too simple to mess up. His apartment had this tiny stove and oven that was perfect for mouse-sized meals. Kendall opened his small refrigerator and stared at the groceries he’d bought. He could cook the steaks, that wasn’t a problem, but the rest of it…. In desperation, he picked up his phone, dialed, and waited.

  “Mom, I need your help,” Kendall said as soon as his mother answered.

  “What’s got you so frazzled?” she asked.

  “I need to cook dinner and I’m not sure what to do,” Kendall whined, and his mother laughed hard and long. “What’s so funny?”

  “You sing and dance in front of thousands of people every day, but making a meal for someone—I’m assuming there’s a guy involved—tips you over the edge? That’s so funny.”

  “Mom!” Kendall said indignantly. “It’s not the same.”

  “I know, honey. So I take it this meal is sort of special,” his mother said.

  “Yeah, it is.” Kendall told her about meeting Johnny at the party and about the carriage ride. “We’ve only kissed.”

  His mother gasped dramatically; Kendall came by his theatrical talent honestly. “So this is a big deal.” His mother was familiar with his carousing ways. “What do you have?” she asked, and Kendall ran down the menu of steak, potatoes, green beans, and salad. “Honey, there’s nothing to it. Season the steaks with some salt, pepper, and garlic, if you have it, before you cook them. Put some water on to boil to cook the beans, and about fifteen minutes before you’re ready, microwave the potatoes. Do you have butter and stuff?”

  “Yes,” Kendall said as he fished around in the refrigerator. “I have a bottle of red wine too.”

  “Good. Don’t panic and take your time. You’ll be just fine,” she said.

  “But how long do I cook the steaks?”

  “It depends how thick they are, but three minutes a side is usually good to start. Cut into the one you’ll eat to make sure it’s done if you have to, and serve the good one to your guest.” His mother chuckled again. “You are planning to bring this young man out to visit soon, aren’t you?”

  “I will,” Kendall promised and hung up. He set the phone on the counter and filled a pan with water before setting it on the stove to boil.

  The door buzzer rang, and Kendall jumped, nearly scattering the bag of beans he was pulling out of the refrigerator all over the floor. He set them on the counter and verified it was Johnny at the door before buzzing him in. Kendall opened the apartment door slightly and returned to the kitchen.

  “Hello,” Johnny greeted him as he pushed the apartment door the rest of the way open.

  “I’m in here,” Kendall called, staring at the unsnipped beans. “I have to warn you, I’m not much of a cook.”

  Johnny chuckled and took off his coat, draping it neatly over the back of one of the chairs before joining Kendall in the kitchen. “I’d say so,” Johnny said. “You need to take off the ends before you wash those.”

  “Maybe we should go out,” Kendall said, ready to open the wine and say to hell with the rest.

  “Or maybe we should cook together,” Johnny suggested. “I’ll clean the beans for you, if you like.”

  Kendall felt so helpless. His mother was an amazing cook, but he’d never spent much time in the kitchen. Now he wished he had. Although with his usual diet of protein shakes, chicken, and salads, getting something to eat had never been a particular problem. The bodega around the corner also had great take-out food, so cooking had never been a priority. “Thanks. I need to season the meat and clean the potatoes.” He figured this would be a simple meal, and he knew Johnny liked beef from their meal at the restaurant the week before, so he’d played it safe. He had no idea cooking the stuff would feel like brain surgery. Kendall got out the steaks and pulled out the salt and pepper. He also found some powdered garlic he hadn’t known he had and set that on the counter as well.

  “You don’t want to go too heavy,” Johnny told him, and Kendall began to sprinkle the seasonings. “A little bit more salt, and you can add the pepper and garlic.” Johnny watched him as he snipped the beans. “That should be good, now rub the steaks a bit so the seasonings stick, and turn them over to do the other side.”

  Johnny bumped him with his shoulder, and they shared a smile. Once the steaks were seasoned, Johnny had him set them aside.

  “Are the beans ready to go in?” Kendall asked.

  “Just about,” Johnny said. “Do you have minced onion?” Kendall shook his head. “Then add some salt to the water.” Johnny washed the beans, and once he deemed the water ready, he put them in to boil and turned down the heat. “I can cook the steaks if you want.”

  “Thank you,” Kendall said. “I feel bad about putting you to work.”

  “Then you can pay me,” Johnny said with a wink, and he leaned a bit closer. Kendall was happy to oblige, and he kissed Johnny lightly at first, but deepened it quickly.

  “That was just the down payment,” Kendall whispered after they broke the kiss, and Johnny’s eyes widened. Kendall grinned his best mischievous grin, knowing Johnny must be wondering just what he had in mind.

  Kendall got out the potatoes to clean. Once they were ready, he put them in the microwave and started it. He then began getting out the stuff for salad. He and Johnny worked for the next ten minutes or so in his tiny kitchen, occasionally bumping into each other, but it was a good kind of bumping, and Kendall was pretty sure some of it was on purpose.

  Johnny volunteered to fill plates, so
Kendall took a minute to set his tiny table, which was just big enough for two. Then they sat down across from each other. To say the table was tiny was an understatement. In an apartment this size, space was a premium, and the table usually doubled as a computer workstation. They began to eat, and anytime either of them moved, their knees rubbed together. It was rather intimate in an almost comical way. The food, on the other hand, was amazingly good. Johnny spoke first. “I love to cook. I don’t get a chance to do it very often, though. My place is even smaller than this, and I have it crammed full of books and research material.”

  Kendall took a small bite of steak and chewed slowly. “You can cook for me anytime, and I’ll definitely return the favor, somehow.” Johnny’s hand rested on the table, and Kendall reached across and placed his on top. “I’ve thought about you a lot this week,” he admitted.

  “Me too,” Johnny said. “I mean, I’ve thought a lot about you too.”

  “Now who’s the cute one?” Kendall said as Johnny blushed a bit. “Do you have plans for the holidays?”

  “I’m supposed to go see my family.” Johnny didn’t seem very excited about it. “They give me no end of grief whenever I’m there. All my dad does is ask me what kind of job I’m going to get studying history, and my mother keeps shoving girls in my direction.” Johnny reached for the wine bottle and topped off their glasses. “They know I’m gay, but refuse to talk about it. They’re in denial and they’re not happy about it, although….” Johnny swallowed hard. “Who knows? This could be my last visit. The last time I talked to them, they told me it was high time I forgot whatever foolish New York big-city notions I had in my head, settled down, and got married.” He shook his head slowly. “How about yours?”

  “You think they’d disown you?” Kendall asked, nearly dropping his fork. That was so far from his own experience he could hardly fathom it.