Stranded Read online

  “Did you sing on Broadway?” Guy asked.

  “Yeah. I just finished a musical.” Kendall sipped his beer. “I can dance too, but don’t tell anyone.” He and Guy laughed, and others got up to sing. After a while, they ordered some snacks, and when they were done, Kendall convinced Guy to take a turn. He wasn’t half bad, and Guy convinced Kendall to have another go. It was a great afternoon, and Kendall had definitely needed some fun.

  THE next three weeks turned out to be hectic as hell, but they were really productive too. At least that was what Lyman had told him. Filming seemed to be going very well, with most shots only requiring one or two takes. Lyman seemed to be flying high, and the entire cast and crew was running on high energy and excitement. As Johnny had predicted, Kendall’s days off had evaporated because the filming schedule compressed as the scenes clicked by one after another.

  “Okay, listen up everyone,” Lyman had said a few days earlier. “We’re moving along very well, and I’ve asked the location team to be ready for us to show up Monday. They’ve assured me they’ll be ready, and so will we. I’ve revised the shooting schedule, and we should finish these last studio scenes this week.” Everyone had listened politely. “The location shooting schedule will make the one we’ve been using seem like a piece of cake because we’ll need to shoot around the heat, wind, and sun.” Lyman paused. “So let’s finish up this portion of the film.” Lyman walked back to his place behind the camera to signal he was through talking, and Kendall got into position for the next shot.

  “He wants to see you,” Juan told him a few minutes later, and Kendall walked to where Lyman sat making notes.

  “I need you to stay tonight. We’re going to need some publicity stills, and they want to do some here. We’ll need some on location as well.” He looked up from his pages. “Sorry for the short notice.”

  Each night for the rest of the week, Kendall ended up staying for photos. Sometimes it was just him, but most of the time it was with other cast members too.

  By the end of the week, Kendall was exhausted. They’d been filming full-on for weeks on end, and he’d had very few days off. Lyman was a bit of a slave driver, but Kendall could also see what he was trying to do.

  “Get some rest,” Lyman told him when they were finally done with the last scene on the shooting schedule before heading to location.

  “I will, I promise,” Kendall said and then went to his dressing room. The place was a shambles, with his things strewn everywhere. The mirror had been shattered, and shards of glass covered the dressing table and floor. Everything made of glass in the room was in pieces, including makeup containers.

  “What the hell happened?” Lyman demanded from the doorway as Kendall turned around.

  “I don’t know,” Kendall said and looked through the room. Sure enough, a pair of pink roses sat on the seat of the chair. They appeared to be the only things to have escaped the carnage. “Everything was fine when I arrived on the set, and I’ve been in the studio all day.”

  “What’s with the roses?” Lyman asked, and he stepped into the room, glass crunching beneath his shoes.

  “Don’t,” Kendall said, and Lyman turned around. “I’ve had someone leaving me flowers for weeks now. Mostly here in the dressing room, but a few times at my apartment and once in my car. They’d sort of stopped for the past ten days or so, and I was hoping whoever it was had given up.”

  Lyman pulled out his phone and made a call to security. “These guys won’t mess around. They’re professionals, not rent-a-cops. They might be able to help.”

  Kendall surveyed the wrecked room. He hadn’t kept anything personal in his dressing room other than the clothes he changed out of when getting into costume. Of course they were covered in broken glass, and when he looked closer, Kendall saw they’d actually been ripped to shreds. Kendall let go of the fabric and stepped out of the dressing room. Lyman came out right after him, and a few minutes later, two huge, brutish men strode over. They were like walking walls in dark clothes. “You reported an incident,” one of the men said in a remarkably deep voice. Kendall almost suspected he was auditioning for a part rather than responding to a call for assistance.

  “Yes. Over here.” Lyman took charge, and for that Kendall was extremely grateful. “Someone broke into this dressing room while we were filming. Kendall has apparently been having a bit of trouble with a stalker.” Lyman’s Australian accent was out in full force. “And things seem to have escalated a bit.”

  The men peered inside. “Did anyone hear or see anything?”

  Kendall looked around. “I wouldn’t know. Most of the cast and crew had gone by the time I returned. I certainly didn’t hear anything, and I suspect Lyman didn’t either, or he would have paused shooting because of the noise.”

  Both men pulled out notebooks. “When were you here last?”

  “Just after lunch. I had a wardrobe change to make, and since then I’ve been occupied on the set. I spent much of the day either on camera or waiting for shots to be set up,” Kendall explained. Many of the other actors went back to their dressing rooms between takes, but Kendall had found he was fascinated with the movie-making process and liked to watch the set changes being made. “I suppose someone could have gotten in here during that time. It would have been noisy with people coming and going.” Kendall looked at Lyman, who nodded in agreement.

  “We were making some set changes this afternoon, and that would probably have covered the noise,” Lyman said.

  “Shouldn’t we be calling the police?” Kendall asked, and all three of the other men stared at him.

  “No publicity,” Lyman said, turning to Kendall. “This kind of thing can doom a film fast.” The other two men nodded their agreement. “No one was hurt, after all.”

  “We’ll take a look around and see if we can find anything,” the deep-voiced guard said, and Kendall turned away, wondering what he was going to wear home.

  “I’ve got some extra clothes in my office,” Lyman offered, and Kendall thanked him. “They’ll be a bit big, but they should do to get you home.” Kendall followed the director out of the soundstage, and they got into a golf cart and were driven across the lot to the small office where Kendall had first met Lyman and the producers. Lyman gave him a pair of old pants and a shirt. Kendall changed in the restroom and gathered up his costume.

  “I’ll take care of those for you,” Beverly, Lyman’s administrative assistant, said when he came out. Kendall looked around, wondering where Lyman was. “He had an appointment, but before he left he asked me to make sure there’s security while you’re on location. I’ll also make sure that your trailer has a lock and only you will have a set of keys.”

  “Trailer?” Kendall asked.

  She smiled. “Yeah. You’re going to be in the middle of nowhere. Think of it as your private dressing room. We’re booking you into hotels in Las Vegas, but that’s an hour away, so it isn’t like you’ll be able to run there to get a soda. We’ve arranged for trailers that will provide you some privacy.” She sat down at her desk and began gathering her things. “Don’t worry, everything will be fine.” She had a strange expression on her face, and for a second Kendall thought she might be his stalker, but that was ridiculous.

  “Thanks for your help,” Kendall said, checking to make sure he had all his things. Then he left the office. Kendall walked across the studio to where he’d parked his car. Before getting in, he checked it over and then carefully drove home. Kendall kept checking his rearview mirror the entire time to make sure he wasn’t followed. He was pretty sure he wasn’t, but he made a few extra turns just in case before turning into the drive and opening the gate to the underground parking. He realized this action was useless as soon as he parked: the stalker already knew where he lived.

  Once he’d parked, Kendall carefully looked around the garage and then made his way to his apartment, jumping at every sound. When he approached his door, he sighed when he saw nothing waiting for him—no roses or notes, or b
unny carcasses. His imagination was definitely running away with him at this point. Kendall unlocked the door and peered inside. Everything looked normal and he didn’t hear anything. He went in and closed the door, then checked over every room before returning to deadbolt the door. He put on the chain as well, then hurried through the apartment making sure all the windows were locked, as well as the balcony door. It didn’t matter that he was on the third floor—Kendall needed to feel safe.

  Once he was sure no one could get in, he sat down and called Johnny, but the call went to voice mail, so he did what any red-blooded American man would do—he called his mother. Her phone went to voice mail as well. Kendall didn’t leave a message, figuring he’d only worry her.

  For a while he sat on the sofa, staring at the walls and listening for any unusual sounds, but he heard nothing, and eventually his heart stopped pounding in his ears and his breathing returned to normal. The next time his heart raced like that, he hoped it was for something a hell of a lot more fun, preferably involving lips, hands, and being naked. Eventually he got up off the sofa, deciding that whatever this crazy freak had going on in their head, he wouldn’t let the person dictate his life. He walked toward the kitchen and opened the nearly empty refrigerator, trying to figure out what to eat before he went to bed.

  The sound of the call button made him jump nearly to the ceiling. Once he restarted his heart, he pressed the intercom. “Who is it?” He hadn’t been expecting anyone.

  “It’s Juan.”

  Kendall buzzed him in and then instantly wondered if that was such a good idea. Juan could be his stalker. After all, Juan had propositioned him that first night and Kendall had turned him down. Maybe Juan had been sending him the flowers, and it would have been easy for him to get Kendall’s keys and access to his dressing room. Juan also knew where he lived because he’d helped him get the apartment, and Kendall hadn’t told anyone else where he was living, not even Lyman, who wasn’t above suspicion either. He hadn’t seen Juan on the set today, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t been there and wasn’t the person who’d trashed his dressing room. Kendall was relieved he didn’t jump when Juan knocked on the door, but he did look around for a weapon. Of course, there wasn’t one.

  Kendall peered through the peephole in the door and saw Juan shifting from foot to foot. “I can hear you in there,” Juan said, almost laughing. “I’m not your stalker.”

  “How do I know that?” Kendall asked, beginning to realize he was being a complete idiot. He opened the door, and Juan stepped inside.

  “I heard about what happened and figured you’d be pretty freaked out, so I wanted to make sure you were okay,” Juan told him. “I also sort of figured you didn’t have anything in the house, so I stopped and picked up takeout.” Juan lifted the bag he was carrying and chuckled a bit. “I’m not going to hit you with it,” he added when Kendall stepped back. “This has you jumping at your own shadow, doesn’t it?”

  “Yeah, I guess,” Kendall admitted. “Whoever it was trashed my dressing room during production today. They knew enough about how things work to get in and out of there without being seen or at least rousing suspicion. That’s pretty scary, don’t you think?”

  “Yeah, it is,” Juan agreed, and he began unpacking the white plastic bag of take-out containers. “I hope it’s okay I came here,” he said after a bit of hesitation, and Kendall motioned toward the table. “You’re always so nice to everyone. Most of the stars don’t give the people around them the time of day, but you’ve been nice and treated everyone with respect and kindness. You don’t deserve to be treated like this. Heck, you even got Barbara to be nicer to everyone, and she was the queen bitch supreme.” Juan handed him a plastic container. “I got you a salad with mixed greens, nuts, Craisins, chicken, and apples. It’s some sort of harvest salad, but it looked good.”

  “Thanks, Juan, I’ve been….” Kendall let his voice trial off. The emotions coursing through him were too muddled and irrational to explain.

  “Let me see,” Juan said, pausing with a second salad container in his hand. “You’re feeling violated because someone went through your stuff, and you’re scared because you don’t know who’s doing this.” He set the second container on the counter. “You’re also here away from the people you know, so everything is a bit amplified.” Juan sat down at the table across from him.

  “Can you read my mind?” Kendall asked, opening the container. The salad was huge, but it was fresh and smelled amazing. Juan passed over some dressing packets, and Kendall chose one. Juan apparently hadn’t been sure of what Kendall liked—he seemed to have gotten one of everything.

  “Nah, it’s just how I’d feel if I were in your place.” Juan grabbed one of the dressing packets and began squeezing ranch dressing on his salad. “So I figured I’d come keep you company. It didn’t occur to me until I was standing outside your door that you might think I was the stalker.” Juan’s cheeks got a definite red tinge to them when Kendall smiled. “God, that first night I was such a doofus.” Juan blushed further.

  “Actually, I was flattered,” Kendall said honestly. “It’s been a while since I’ve felt… desirable to anyone.” God, he shouldn’t be talking about this stuff, least of all with Juan. “Things with Johnny and me have been… I don’t know. The spark seems to be gone.”

  “Well, he’s in New York and you’re here. That’s bound to make things difficult. I mean, the equipment doesn’t reach.” Juan kept a straight face for about two seconds before losing it, and Kendall went right behind him. He laughed so hard his sides hurt. “So try something else—maybe phone sex.”

  Kendall laughed again, but for a different reason. There was no way he could see Johnny talking dirty on the phone. He barely talked dirty during actual sex. It was funny—he was a man who made his living with words, but in the bedroom, words always seemed so far away. “It isn’t that. Things between Johnny and me got… comfortable. The passion cooled, and we didn’t do much to try to rekindle it. We had different schedules and we were still intimate occasionally.” Kendall sighed softly. “The thing is, I still love Johnny, very much. He’s the other part of me, and I can’t see my life without him. But I don’t know if I’m the other half of him any longer.” Kendall took a bite of his salad to give his mouth something to do other than talk. He swallowed and figured, what the hell. Juan was listening to him and he was a good guy. If Juan was his stalker, then Kendall had bigger problems. And damn it, he needed a friend right now, someone who wasn’t a continent away.

  “If you tell anyone about this conversation, I’ll hunt you down,” Kendall said, and Juan snorted.

  “Please. The papers would pay me a fortune for what I know about famous people. You learn pretty fast to keep your mouth shut, or you won’t have a job for long,” Juan told him. “So don’t worry.”

  “I think Johnny might be having an affair. He’s got some grad school assistant he’s ‘doing research’ with, but… I don’t know. He won’t come out here to visit because I’m not going to have time to spend with him. And he’s probably right, but it would be nice to have him here with me for a few days.” Kendall put down his fork. “I can’t get back there to see him because this shooting schedule is so brutal. I know I wouldn’t get to see much of him, but just having him here would help me feel safer and not so freaking alone.”

  “Doesn’t he work?” Juan asked.

  Kendall continued eating. “Yes, he works. Johnny is a writer.” Pride welled up inside him. “Johnny Harker.”

  “The Johnny Harker? No way! I love his books.” Juan nearly vibrated out of his chair. “That’s so cool. His stories are so great.” Juan settled in his chair, but just barely. “You should tell Lyman. I bet he’d give his eyeteeth to make movies of those books.”

  Kendall chuckled. “He probably would, but Johnny won’t allow it. He’s had offers over the years, but after what he’s seen done to some other books, he’s always said he’d rather just have the books.” Kendall returned to his dinner. �
��He’s back in New York right now, working on a manuscript.” His momentary excitement faded, and Kendall continued eating, losing himself in his own thoughts and suspicions.

  Juan kept talking through much of the rest of the meal. He told Kendall about the famous people he’d seen. “I don’t get to work with many of them. Mostly I’m running errands for someone when the big stars are around.” Kendall wished he’d been better company. He wasn’t really concentrating much on what Juan was saying, even though he tried.

  By the time they were done eating, Kendall was exhausted. Juan gathered up the trash and threw it away. The apartment got quiet, and Kendall heard footsteps approaching his door. He signaled for Juan to listen too. His nerves ramped up instantly, and he waited until the footsteps passed his door before peering out to check that nothing had been left.

  “You really are jumpy,” Juan said softly once Kendall closed the door.

  “Yeah. Whoever is doing this has been here before.” Kendall locked the door once again and threw the chain for good measure.

  “Do you want me to stay?” Juan asked. “I mean, on the couch.”

  Kendall wanted to say yes. He wasn’t interested in spending the night lying awake, jumping at every noise. “You don’t need to do that,” he said.

  “It’s okay. You have a busy schedule and you need to rest. I’ll sleep on the sofa, and then maybe you’ll be able to sleep.”

  “Okay. Thank you,” Kendall said. He was already tired, so he got an extra blanket and pillow for Juan and placed them on the sofa. Kendall then went to his bedroom and got ready for bed. He cleaned up and popped his head into the living room. “I set out some towels and stuff for you in the bathroom.”

  “Thanks,” Juan said. “And don’t worry. I’ll be out here if anything happens. Try to get some rest.”