Showboys

By GA Hauser

When web-series star, Mitch Ephraim gets selected to host a new cable-TV series, called Showboys, he has no idea how the cutting edge topics and informal format will be received.
His co-host, a man ten years his junior, twenty-five year old Vince Keppel, is energetic and anxious for fame.
In order to boost the fledgling show and get an instant following, producers Charlotte Deavers and Will Markham try gay-baiting. They have their straight hosts, kiss.
The reaction is instant, and their edgy-raw news show is catapulted into social media heights.
But, just how far are the two men willing to go for celebrity?

And why does it matter?
Showboys...
Two straight men experimenting in gay-for-you ratings tactics.
For Mitch and Vince, it’s the difference between obscurity and stardom.

• Language: English
• Publisher: GA Hauser
• Release date: Feb 25, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370754571

GA Hauser

About the AuthorAuthor G.A. Hauser is from Fair Lawn, New Jersey, USA. She attended university at The Fashion Institute of Technology in NYC, and has a BA in Fine Art from William Paterson College in Wayne NJ where she graduated Cum Laude. As well as degrees in art, G.A. is a Graduate Gemologist from the Gemological Institute of America (GIA). In 1994 G.A. graduated the Washington State Police academy as a Peace Officer for the Seattle Police Department in Washington where she worked on the patrol division. She was awarded Officer of the Month in February 2000 for her work with recovering stolen vehicles and fingerprint matches to auto-theft and bank robbery suspects. After working for the Seattle Police, G.A. moved to Hertfordshire, England where she began to write full length gay romance novels. Now a full-time writer, G.A. has penned over 200 novels and short stories. Breaking into independent film, G. A. was the executive producer for her first feature film, CAPITAL GAMES which included TV star Shane Keough in its cast. CAPITAL GAMES had its Film Festival Premiere at Philly's Qfest, and its television premiere on OutTV. G.A. is the director and executive producer for her second film NAKED DRAGON, which is an interracial gay police/FBI drama filmed in Los Angeles with the outstanding cinematographer, Pete Borosh. (also the Cinematographer for Capital Games)The cover photographs of G.A.'s novels have been selected from talented and prolific photographers such as Dennis Dean, Dan Skinner, Michael Stokes, Tuta Veloso, Hans Withoos, and CJC Photography, as well as graphic comic artist, Arlen Schumer. Her cover designs have featured actors Chris Salvatore, Jeffery Patrick Olson, Tom Wolfe, and models Brian James Bradley, Bryan Feiss, Jimmy Thomas, Andre Flagger, among many others.Her advertisements have been printed in Attitude Magazine, LA Frontier, and Gay Times.G. A. has won awards from All Romance eBooks for Best Author 2009, Best Novel 2008, Mile High, Best Author 2008, Best Novel 2007, Secrets and Misdemeanors, and Best Author 2007.G.A. was the guest speaker at the SLA conference in San Diego, in 2013, where she discussed women writing gay erotica and has attended numerous writers’ conventions across the country.

Book preview

SHOWBOYS

By

G.A.HAUSER

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © G.A. Hauser, 2017

SHOWBOYS

Copyright © G.A. Hauser, 2017

ISBN Trade paperback: 978-1542-8779-0-9

© The G.A. Hauser Collection LLC

This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or business establishments, events or locales is coincidental.

All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

WARNING

This book contains material that maybe offensive to some: graphic language, homosexual relations, adult situations. Please store your books carefully where they cannot be accessed by underage readers.

First The G.A. Hauser Collection LLC publication:

March 2017

ABOUT THE E-BOOK YOU HAVE PURCHASED: PLEASE READ-

Your non-refundable purchase of this e-book allows you to only ONE LEGAL copy for your own personal reading on your own personal computer or device. You do not have resell or distribution rights without the prior written permission of both the publisher and the copyright owner of this book. This book cannot be copied in any format, sold, or otherwise transferred from your computer to another through upload to a file sharing peer to peer program, for free or for a fee, or as a prize in any contest. Such action is illegal and in violation of the U.S. Copyright Law. Distribution of this e-book, in whole or in part, online, offline, in print or in any way or any other method currently known or yet to be invented, is forbidden. If you do not want this book anymore, you must delete it from your computer.

WARNING:

The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

Chapter 1

I can’t talk right now. I don’t want to be late. Mitch Ephraim rapped his finger on the steering wheel of his car.

You’re taping the show live from a sound studio?

That’s the plan. We’re having a meeting beforehand about topics and going out on locations. Mitch glanced behind him. He was parked facing a concrete wall talking to his ex-wife. Beth? I have to go.

Whatever.

He looked at his phone and could see she had disconnected the conversation. Mitch pulled the emergency brake up and got out of his car, pocketing his phone and walking to the entrance.

Since he was running late, he jogged, looking for the conference room where his producers were waiting.

Mitch! The conference room is right there. A woman pointed him in the direction.

Thank you. He hurried down the short hallway and entered the room. Sorry.

You’re fine. We’re still trying to get organized.

Mitch ran his hand over his costar, Vince Keppel’s shoulder in greeting and sat beside him.

Vince took a cardboard cup from the stack on the table, filled it with coffee, and gave it to Mitch.

Thanks. He took off his jacket and moved the cup closer, then picked up a legal pad and pen from the pile in front of him and wrote the date on the heading.

Traffic? Vince asked.

My ex, Beth, decided to call and grill me about this new show. Mitch blew on the black coffee and sipped it.

Vince expressed a comic shiver.

Mitch laughed, set the cup down, and whispered, We’re still friends, but it’s her choice not mine. She hangs out with my mother. Talk about scary shit.

Tell you’re too busy with this show to talk to her again.

Sure. That’ll work. Mitch chuckled.

Okay. Charlotte Deavers, their director/producer, sat up in her chair.

Mitch held his coffee in both hands and looked around the table. He, his cohort, Vince Keppel, their executive producer, Will Markham, as well as their camera operator, sound mixer and IT tech, were present.

We want this to be fresh. Charlotte, her dark framed glasses making her appear academic, was a well respected director of nighttime cable TV. Live, raw, and controversial.

Vince glanced at him and made another silly face, trying to get him to laugh. Mitch elbowed him to behave.

Will Markham leaned his forearms on the table. Don’t censor yourselves. If you think it, say it. It’s premium cable. No annoying; bleep! bleep! every time you swear.

Good! Vince tapped his pen on his pad. I fucking hate that.

Bleep! Mitch said, laughing loudly.

Ass. Vince tried to draw on Mitch’s pad but he moved it away.

You’re going to spill my coffee.

It’s cheap drip!

Boys? Charlotte raised her eyebrow like a disapproving mother.

Buy us better coffee, Ms Deavers. Vince doodled on the pad.

Anyway… She huffed loudly. We’re lining up a few obscure locations for you two.

Do I need vaccines? Mitch was kidding.

Will replied, We’ll let you know.

Huh? Mitch paused before drinking his coffee, hoping they did not need them. Vaccines?

Shut up. Vince drew a penis on his pad.

I’m shutting up. Mitch drank the coffee and frowned at the taste. That’s nasty.

Anyway! Charlotte said loudly. You’re unscripted. Just read the topics off the cue cards. Can you do that?

Yup. Mitch shook sugar into his coffee, trying to make it palatable. Cream?

Vince dropped a handful of little creamer cups in front of him.

Gross!

Oh, my God. Charlotte sat back and shook her head at them.

I love it. Will chuckled.

You would. Charlotte cracked a smile.

Mitch opened the little creamers and poured them into the cup. He sipped it and cringed. No. I can’t. Don’t make me.

Vince pointed to their soundman, Allen Gower. Do you know of a PA we can send out for real coffee?

Real coffee? Allen, sporting a beard, tattoos up his neck and down his arms, a pierced nose and eyebrow, as well as plugs in his earlobes, downed the coffee in his cup, and made a noise as if it were delicious. That’ll put hair on your chest.

I don’t want hair on my chest. Sally Fischer, their AD set the cup aside.

Charlotte met Mitch’s gaze and though she pretended to be exasperated, Mitch knew, this is exactly the kind of banter she wanted on their live TV show. Showboys.

"Not showgirls. Showboys." Vince pointed a warning finger at him.

A question. Mitch asked, pretending to be serious, Why isn’t ‘showboys’ a word, and ‘showgirls’ is one?

What do you mean? Vince asked.

When I write the word ‘showboys’ on a computer doc, its highlighted. Isn’t that sexist?

Which way?

That’s a damn good question.

Have you tried ‘showmen’? Vince asked.

"Huh. Now, that’s truly sexist. There isn’t a showwomen."

Guys? Will gestured to Charlotte.

Are you two finished? She nudged her glasses higher.

We’re just beginning. Vince drew balls under the penis on his pad.

You’re a juvenile delinquent. Mitch looked at the doodle.

What did he draw? Neil Petit, their sound mixer/editor, asked.

Vince held it up for him.

Mitch noticed someone walk by the conference room. Yo!

Mr Ephraim? Charlotte scolded.

The PA poked their head into the room.

Mitch removed his wallet and waved a twenty at him. Coffee? Large mocha, no whip?

Everyone began to shout orders.

Write it down!

Mitch watched Vince scribble under the penis drawing, then he tore off the page and handed it over.

The PA looked at the dick. Selfie?

"No. I’m way smaller than that."

Mitch added, And that’s life size.

Vince drew a tiny dick and held it up.

Mitch took a look. That’s about right.

You know what his dick looks like? Allen asked, topping up his coffee from an urn.

Bye. The PA left with the list and cash.

You are coming back, right? Mitch yelled.

He just ripped off your twenty. Vince added curly pubic hair to penis.

Hey! Mitch yelled after the PA.

He’ll get you coffee! Charlotte waved for Mitch to calm down.

He knows. He’s just obnoxious. Vince drew a toothy smile under the tiny penis.

Mitch looked over at it. Why don’t we do an animated intro? Penises. Little ones growing into big ones.

Are they for real? Charlotte asked Will.

I fucking love them. Will sat back and smiled.

Mitch threw kisses at him.

I’ll create an animation. I could do it on my computer. Vince kept doodling.

Can we get back to what our first show is about? Charlotte asked.

After the PA comes back with real coffee. Mitch rested his head on the table.

Dude, Allen said, This is real coffee.

It’s mud.

It is mud. Vince made a sound of disgust.

Fine. Charlotte threw a creamer cup at Mitch making him sit up in his chair.

Ow.

I take it you two don’t need a script for your first live show, correct?

Script? Mitch looked at Vince. Do we want a script?

Fuck no.

Bleep!

I hate that sound! Vince pretended to strangle Mitch.

Bleep-you! Bleep-you!

I think we’re good, Char. Will laughed.

Charlotte threw her pen up in the air in comic frustration.

Mitch and Vince stared at each other. Will thinks we’re good.

We are good. Vince shrugged. He should know. He hired us.

Get into the studio. Let’s see how you two bozos handle this. Charlotte stood up.

Wait! Vince held up his hand.

Everyone stopped short.

What about our coffee?

He got booed and hissed and the crew left the conference room.

Mitch slouched in the chair.

Vince glanced at him. Was it something I said?

You always put your foot in your mouth, Keppel.

I’m not that flexible.

Mitch watched Vince draw a foot with spread out toes. Foot fetish?

No. What do you call the opposite? He added hair on the toes.

Foot aversion?

Foot-unfetish?

Foot-yeck?

Hoof and mouth?

Mitch heard Charlotte yelling from down the hall, Boys! Let’s go!

She’s a pushy bitch. Mitch stood up.

I know. I bleeping love her. Vince tore off the top page and crushed it, tossing it out as he and Mitch left the conference room.

What if I wanted to frame that? Mitch glanced into the trash can.

Frame it.

You’re a douche.

Bleep you.

Mitch smiled and pushed Vince from behind. Did you just fart?

No.

I heard it.

Barking spiders.

Mitch chuckled and walked to the sound studio with his new co-anchor, Vince-the-prince-Keppel.

~

Vince checked his phone before he and Mitch were going to be live on the air. He answered a message from a female friend, one who was making a play for him. Since he and Mitch had just been invited to create a new live TV show, the idea of getting into a serious relationship wasn’t a good one. He’d done it before, almost got married, and since he traveled… a lot, she ended it.

Twenty-five, no kids, and no wife. Meh, it’s okay.

Mitch said, Don’t text and walk.

Vince pretended to hit a wall as he did, and Mitch laughed. He shut off the phone and pocketed it. Where the fuck is our coffee?

F-bomb! Mitch made a noise of an explosion.

Premium channel. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

I never could figure out why words are censored. I mean, shit? Asshole? Like, five-year-olds don’t know those words nowadays.

They censor words and not violence. You figure it out.

I never will figure it out. Mitch ran his hand over his thick, dark hair.

Vince smiled at Mitch. He’d done a little recon to see what Mitch Ephraim’s experience was before being invited by Will and Charlotte to work on this bizarre live TV forum. Mitch had a good following of fans from his web-video-blog-episodes. Mitch was ten years older than he was. The gap was deliberate to gain points of view from someone who was not in their twenties any longer.

The two of them rough-housed with each other, trying to get into the studio first, jamming the doorway. Since Mitch and he were nearly the same height and weight, it was an even match.

Will you two quit it! Charlotte had headphones on and sat opposite the two chairs in the sound stage.

He started it. Vince managed to get into the room first.

Where’s my coffee! Mitch yelled in a fake tantrum.

Holy Christ, dude! Vince covered his ears.

The PA showed up with a tray.

There. Okay? Charlotte signaled for the PA to give them the coffee.

Yes. Yes. Mitch took a cup with his name marked on it.

Mm. Black heroin. Vince moaned and sniffed the brew.

Sit! Charlotte pointed to the two chairs.

Boss much? Mitch took the lid off the cup and said, Whipped cream?

Bite me! The PA laughed and left.

Any change from my twenty? Mitch yelled after him.

No. You owe me three bucks.

Vince chuckled and sat down in his chair, holding his cup. He took a look at the backdrop of their tiny room. ‘Showboys!’ was written like graffiti on the wall, on top of world maps and psychedelic posters. Is that lame or cool?

After he paid the PA, Mitch looked. Both?

You have whipped cream on your nose.

Lick it off.

Go bleep yourself. Vince heard Charlotte groan loudly.

We’re here. Chill. Vince set the cup down on the floor near his chair and could see Allen lowering the boom mic over them.

Mitch pretended to suck it, then sat down beside Vince.

Don’t we need a desk? Vince gestured to the open space between them and the cameras.

No. Charlotte adjusted a video feed monitor that showed what their camera-operator was filming.

Three stationary cameras surrounded them; right, left and front, while their AC, Sally Fischer had one on her shoulder. Sally was going to do close-ups as well as zooming in and moving around to give the show a modern, edgy feel.

Vince picked up his coffee and kept drinking it.

What about our clothes? Mitch asked Charlotte.

You’re fine.

Vince looked at Mitch’s outfit. He was wearing beige slacks and a white cotton shirt. You really need to tone it down.

I know. I’m way too loud. Mitch finished the coffee, tipping the cup up to get the last sweet drop. He licked his lips. Sugar! Caffeine! I’m ready!

What’s the first topic? Vince looked at a large cue card being held behind the middle camera.

Weed. Mitch rubbed his palms on his legs. We can do this.

Fuck yeah. Vince finished his coffee and held up both empty cups. A PA grabbed them to throw out.

Anyone have a mint? Mitch asked. Coffee breath.

Someone tossed a mint at him. It hit the floor with a bounce.

Try again. He opened his mouth.

This time, he caught it with his tongue and chewed it.

I’m impressed. Vince interlaced his fingers on his lap.

You impress easily.

It’s a curse.

Are we ready to go on the air? Charlotte adjusted her headphones.

The sound is up. Neil sat at a desk with the audio mixer.

Testing, testing… Vince said. He got a thumbs-up.

Charlotte raised her hand with five fingers spread. Five, four, three… She held up two, then one, then the -on the air- light lit.

An intro sounded; ‘Welcome to our live broadcast; where topics that interest you and the Nation are brought up for debate. Showboys! Vince Keppel and Mitch Ephraim. In. Your. Face!’

That’s rude, Vince addressed Mitch.

It’s in their face, not ours.

Oh. Vince laughed. He could see Sally tracking them with the center camera. Weed- miracle cure or menace?

What the pharmaceutical companies are afraid of.

And, take it from us. They’re terrified medical marijuana is going to take the cash from their deep coiffeurs.

Mitch crossed his legs. Do you smoke, Vince?

I’ve tried it.

And?

I cough, eat, and sleep. In that order.

I’ll keep that in mind.

Mitch and I are about to speak to an owner of a dispensary. It appears legal pot is still on the police radar.

And that’s a problem.

Vince read the cue on the card. Let’s go live to our contact up in Oakland.

A live feed of a video chat popped into frame. Vince could see the woman on the screen, waiting. And, here is Patricia Duvall in Oakland… Hi there!

Hi! She waved.

~

The show was twenty minutes to a half hour long, and so far, had no following. But, Mitch hoped it would be the type of voice to stand up against the severe political climate that had hit.

After eight years of growth and change, the dinosaurs had been brought back from the dead to rule as an oligarchy.

There were no commercial breaks. He and Vince simply discussed issues, interviewed guests via video chat, and invited viewers to get involved by emailing their websites and social media.

After nearly a half hour of discussing the issue with her, Patricia replied to one of Vince’s questions, It does seem absurd for the police to continue to spend time and money on busting legal medical users and dispensaries.

They need a hobby. Vince shifted in his chair, which wasn’t comfortable for Mitch either.

The woman from Oakland laughed. You two need to come up north. We’ll have an infused dinner with edible marijuana.

Vince looked at Mitch. Him? High? I can’t handle him sober.

I get mellow. Mitch shrugged. He spotted Charlotte holding up a little note. It read, Last five. Make it good. Then she twirled her finger, indicating to wrap it up with Patricia from Oakland.

Thanks, Patricia, for joining us, Mitch said, We’ll check back with you as the old farts in DC continue to roll us backwards.

She laughed. Thanks for having me on. Good luck with your show.

We’ll need it. Vince smiled.

Her image on the screen vanished and reverted to the server’s