Finding Hope An Action! Series Book

By GA Hauser

In this latest book in the Action! Series, we find Becca McKenna; the Nation’s Top Male Model Mark Antonious Richfield and his new young husband Stan’s surrogate baby’s due date fast approaching.

While the stress of a newborn infant about to join the men living in the estate in Paradise, California, bears down on them, Steve Miller and his husband, the Swedish model, Tadzio, continue to work at Mark’s father’s mega company, Richfield-Miller International in Sacramento.

Superstar Alexander Mark Richfield is away filming a new movie, Pirates, in the Bahamas, and his LAPD SWAT lieutenant husband, Billy Sharpe is involved in yet another shooting while working with the FBI in Los Angeles.

Mark continues to beg Dangereux cologne to hire a replacement for him, and that lucky man is one of Billy Sharpe’s SWAT team officers, Joe Scarbino. As the men of the Action! Series get into the groove after the holidays, more bad news strikes them; coming from every direction.

Finding hope when life throws horrific news at them, the men of the series continue to support each other through terrible times, as well as finding hope...in new life. A precious baby is born, bringing love, happiness, and the hope of good things on the horizon.

• Language: English
• Publisher: GA Hauser
• Release date: Jan 12, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463219959

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

FINDING HOPE

an Action! Series Book

By

G.A.HAUSER

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © G.A. Hauser, 2018

FINDING HOPE

Book 38 of the Action! Series

Copyright © G.A. Hauser, 2018

ISBN Trade paperback: 978-1731-4990-5-9

© 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:

January 2019

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Chapter 1

Mark Antonious Richfield didn’t buy into the whole pink and blue thing. Blue for boys, pink for girls…rubbish.

A coffee mug in his hand, Mark stood in the center of the remodeled ‘nursery’. His new husband, Stan’s, parents, Ali and Michael Bergman, had purchased most of the items they needed for this room. Last Thanksgiving, Mark hosted over thirty people for the long weekend, here, in his mansion in Paradise, California.

On a ‘Black Friday’ shopping trip to Sacramento, Ali and Michael had ordered everything, from a crib to a highchair, for their new grandchild, one that was expected this month, February.

Tadzio Andresen-Miller, Mark’s ex-husband Steve’s new spouse, had begun to add brightly colored animal characters from children’s storybooks on the wall, painting them by hand.

The gorgeous blond runway model had many talents, art being one.

As Mark sipped the strong black espresso, he smiled at the sketch of a bunny rabbit, one that appeared to be out of Alice in Wonderland, with a waistcoat and a top hat.

The walls were pale blue, but that didn’t mean he expected a boy. He didn’t ask their surrogate, Becca McKenna. He didn’t want to know.

Since most of the baby’s furniture was glossy white, Mark liked the pale blue in contrast, like a sky with clouds.

He tapped a mobile which hung over the crib, and its music box made a few notes.

Warren, their manservant, had placed an ad in the local paper for nannies, live-in. Yes, Tadzio had offered, but Mark couldn’t imagine him taking the entire load.

Sadly, their horse groom, Andrew Wilson, had quit. Warren located them a new stable helper, Larry McLeary.

Why Andrew had left, and whether it had anything to do with the fact that he worked for gay men, wasn’t Mark’s concern. He didn’t care what race, religion, or sexual orientation people were. What he did care about is how they treated his animals, and his family.

Tadzio, his long blond hair pinned up in a ponytail, his light blue eyes shadowed with smoky powder and lined with mascara, held his phone in front of his face as he entered the room.

Good morning, Mark said, smiling at him.

Alec iz on my phone! Tadzio showed Mark.

Superstar movie actor, Alexander Mark Richfield was on location in the Bahamas on another film shoot. Mark spotted his son’s face on the phone.

Dad!

Hullo, love. Mark put his eyeglasses on so he could see him clearly.

Tadzio leaned against Mark, sharing the phone.

How are you, pet? Mark put his arm around Tadzio.

Okay. Missing you guys. Alex, his long hair flowing down his shoulders, had let his facial hair grow, giving him an older, more rugged look as a captain of a pirate ship. He had been cast in yet another gay romance, this time with a man younger than he was, playing his love interest.

How close are you to wrapping production? Mark asked, sipping his coffee.

Soon I hope. We had a couple of weather delays. I have another night shoot today.

Tadzio held the phone out, showing off his artwork on the walls. Alec! Here iz my painting.

Mark caressed Tadzio’s hair lovingly and left the room, hanging his glasses from his shirt pocket.

The mansion his father had built in Paradise, California, was enormous; thirteen bedrooms, a spa with an indoor and an outdoor pool, workout room, sauna and Jacuzzi; a study, a theater/game room, two dining rooms, one formal, able to seat thirty guests, the other, smaller, more intimate.

They had three horses housed in a newly remodeled stable, tennis courts, a basketball court, and a detached garage that could contain at least six cars. He employed a chauffeur named Louis, a chef, Warren’s wife, Sierra, who worked daily. In addition to his fulltime staff, were housecleaners, landscapers, and even window washers all of whom showed up once a month.

Mark and his ex-husband Steve Miller, had taken over Mark’s deceased father’s garment manufacturing company; Richfield-Miller International. They had offices in Paris, London, and near here, in Sacramento.

As Mark made his way down the grand mahogany staircase to the marble foyer, his phone vibrated in his pocket. Mark paused on the first landing, set his empty cup on the pillar and took it out of his trouser pocket, putting his glasses back on.

Mark had been the nation’s top male model for a decade. His biggest claim to fame was Dangereux Cologne. Mark had been the face of Dangereux, and now Dangereux Red as well, while his stunning young husband was the model for Dangereux Obsession. Since Mark’s move north, to Paradise, and away from Los Angeles, the owners of Dangereux had offered to photograph him here, at the mansion or a studio close to it, in order to keep Mark as their top model.

A CEO, TJ Brown, had sent him a reminder that they had indeed a photo-shoot looming, which meant, Mark was back to starving.

He had tried.

He had tried to extricate himself from the work; tried to stop the starving, the fainting, and the flaunting of his body for sales.

One of Mark’s biggest problems was not being able to say no. No- to Dangereux Cologne’s TJ Brown and Bob Sutter. No- to Charlotte Deavers, Alex’s pushy TV director. No- to people he felt he would let down.

He simply was terrible at it.

Mark read the text on his phone of the time and date when the photographer, Armand LeGrand was going to show up with Danielle, his stylist, to do the shoot.

Mark texted back to TJ, ‘Will you please at least meet Joe Scarbino?’ Joe was one of the police officers Mark’s son-in-law, LAPD SWAT Lieutenant Billy Sharpe, worked with. For months Mark had been trying to get Dangereux to at least see this handsome young man. But…

With the holidays finally behind them, maybe they could now.

TJ sent back a text, ‘Is he at your home?’

‘No.’ Mark made a noise of how ridiculous that was. ‘He’s a police officer working in SWAT in LA.’ Mark had told TJ that. Bloody hell. Come on, mate. Mark shook his head in irritation, brushing his long hair out of his eyes. He continued to text, ‘Why won’t you trust me? He’s stunning.’

‘Meet with us here in LA sometime during the day on Monday.’

That was tomorrow since today was Sunday. Mark threw up his hands in irritation. He called TJ, hating this text game. As the line connected, Mark put his glasses on top of his head, picked up his cup, and continued to the kitchen with the phone pressed to his ear.

Hi, Mark.

TJ… Mark entered the kitchen where Sierra was kneading dough on the floured counter. Mark placed his empty mug in the sink and sat in a nook area, a bench seat with a view of the back of their property. Why are you being so difficult? He set his glasses on the table.

After a loud sigh, TJ replied, Because we don’t want another face for the cologne line.

Mark gazed outside at the cloudy winter sky as the horses grazed in the paddock. I can’t continue. I’ve already had this conversation with you.

No. We had this conversation and we agreed to send Armand and Danielle to you.

Mark ran his fingers through his hair, unsuccessfully containing his frustration. I’m nearly fifty! he shouted and then glanced at Sierra who didn’t react. He lowered his voice, Love…have pity on me. I’m expecting a child soon. Please.

A long pause occurred, then TJ said, Fine. Set up a meeting here in LA, please, TJ added, But, you’re doing this next shoot. It’s for the spring ads.

That meant nearly naked. All right. And if you have to meet me in LA tomorrow, you may as well have our photo-shoot there. Mark looked up when he heard his ex-husband, Steve, coming down the hall.

Steve, wearing gym shorts from his workout; first a long run over the meadows, then weightlifting in their spa, gave Mark a kiss as he walked by.

In LA at the studio in our corporate office. How’s ten? TJ asked.

Fine. Mark disconnected the call and set his phone down on the table.

After taking a bottle of water from the fridge, Steve sat across from Mark in the nook. What’s going on?

Bloody nuisance. I have to go to LA tomorrow for a meeting and my modeling shoot now. Mark drew his hair back from his face with both hands and then slouched on the bench. Where’s Stan?

Steve tipped up the bottle for a drink and then thumbed behind him. He’s still lifting weights. I can’t do what he and Sharpe do.

Putting his glasses back on, Mark held his phone and stared at his contact list. He scrolled names, looking for Joe Scarbino.

Not locating it, unsure where his information was, Mark grew frustrated and slapped the phone on the table with his glasses. This is perfectly useless.

Just say no! Steve laughed at him. Come on, Mark. The contract is over. No one’s tying you to the cologne company but you.

He coaxed me back in. Mark stared at Steve, at his handsome face, his blue eyes, his conservatively cropped brown hair. Steve was only five years younger than he was; Stan? Over twenty years younger. He told me he’d shoot the ads here. Mark gestured to the house. What do you want from me?

It appeared Steve gave up on the conversation, his gaze moving to the view of the stable and the pool.

Steve was no longer his husband, he was his business partner. Mark felt the shift in Steve’s attitude. Mark’s issues were not his. They were Stan’s.

~

After completing his bench-presses, Billy removed the heavy metal plates from the bar over the bench.

While Alex was away filming Pirates he drove to Paradise from LA last Friday night, so he could enjoy a long-three-day weekend here. He was a lieutenant, if he wanted time off on the weekends, he was going to take it. His ‘fuck it’ attitude about work was growing.

Stan finished his routine by stretching; yoga moves.

Sweat running down Billy’s sternum, he gazed at Stan, licking his lips, tasting salt.

For a big man, Stan was incredibly flexible, able to do a split.

Stan’s hazel eyes found his in the mirror.

How do you do that? Billy gestured to Stan’s position on the mat.

Stretching- a lot. Stan smiled at him.

Billy sat beside him on the mat and tried to cross his legs as tightly as Stan did.

Stan waited, watching.

Billy couldn’t do it. He was forty-nine years old and Stan was only twenty-seven, younger than Alexander.

Hang on. Stan knelt behind him, facing the mirror. Just extend both legs in a straddle.

Billy did.

Stan guided him. Reach for your right foot.

While Billy leaned over his thigh, trying to touch his toes, Stan put pressure on his upper back, allowing him to stretch further. His hamstrings tugged and felt tighter than a leather strap.

Middle.

Billy reached out in front of himself, gazing at Stan’s handsome face in the mirror.

Left.

Stan used more of his weight on Billy’s back to help him stretch. Breathe.

Billy did, inhaling and exhaling. On his exhale, Stan urged him even lower, getting Billy’s tight tendons to open up a little.

Stan released him and sat beside him. You’re tight from not stretching enough.

Billy relaxed and gazed at Stan. He peered into the spa behind them, and then cupped Stan’s jaw for a kiss.

Since Alex was filming on location in the Bahamas, Billy figured his young superstar hubby would cheat, since Alex usually had an affair with his handsome costars. So?

Stan ended the kiss and smiled at him. You’ll get there. Mark’s becoming very limber from the yoga.

Billy bent one leg to get comfortable and admired Stan. How often do you do it now that you’re no longer in West Hollywood? Stan had lived in an apartment in WeHo, going to a local gym for both a workout and yoga classes.

Daily. Stan sat in the lotus position, his back straight, his legs as limber as rubber-bands. We have an access channel on the satellite dish and do it in the mornings on the big TV screen in the theater.

I’d like to join you.

Okay. Stan smiled at him.

Billy stood and held out his hand to haul Stan up. Hungry for breakfast?

Starved. Stan was brought to his feet and he and Billy left the spa. Billy was staying in a guestroom next to Steve and Tadzio’s bedroom on the first floor. At least, that was where his items were left. He was sleeping in Steve and Tadzio’s bed.

Stan continued up the stairs to his and Mark’s bedroom, while Billy entered the guestroom on the first floor, next to Steve’s room.

Billy retrieved his phone and eyeglasses to read a text message he’d missed from his husband. Alex had sent, ‘miss you!’

Billy sent back, ‘you too, doll.’ He left his phone and glasses aside and took off his shorts, needing to shower and shave before breakfast.

~

Alex put his phone aside and picked up his script. He had a night shoot this evening, and had slept in. The producers of the film he was involved with, Pirates, had commandeered a small hotel on the beach. Nearly all of the crew from Los Angeles were staying here.

Not used to having facial hair, Alex toyed with the nubs on his jaw as he read the lines he had to commit to memory. His room had a view of the ocean, a balcony, and even a small galley kitchen. Alex, wearing nothing but cargo shorts, had already eaten breakfast and was getting hungry for lunch.

A knock came to his hotel room door. Alex set his paperwork down and answered it.

Hi, Alex.

His costar was a lovely mixed race young man named Kinsey Thomas. He was only nineteen and looked up to Alex for help and advice, which thrilled him.

Come in. Alex grinned in excitement.

Kinsey, wearing short-shorts and a tight tank top, his feet bare, held his paperwork for the day. Help me out?

Absolutely.

As Kinsey walked towards the sunny deck, Alex admired his full head of dark curly hair and fit, slender body.

Night shoot again. Kinsey sat on a lounge chair which faced the water.

I guess good pirate battles are at night. Alex sat beside him, picking up his daily script. I think they get off on the powder keg blasts and fires.

Ha. Yes. They do. Kinsey, whose eyes were blue, had a smile that could melt polar icecaps.

Contrary to the other films Alex had made, the sex scenes with Kinsey hadn’t occurred yet. This director, Hans Kraus, wanted him and Kinsey to get to know each other first, before diving into the kissing.

After acting together for two weeks, he and Kinsey had gotten to know each other well, and Alex adored this young man.

Kinsey waved the paperwork. First kiss.

First kiss. Alex licked his lips.

A wicked gleam shined in Kinsey’s eyes, he leaned closer to Alex, reaching towards him.

Alex didn’t hesitate. He kissed the young man.

What may have been intended as a peck to get the awkwardness out of the way, had changed into a sensual smooch.

Alex used his hand to cup Kinsey’s head from behind, his fingers tangled in his soft curls. Kinsey whimpered and while still kissing Alex, he dropped the script and crawled onto Alex’s lounge chair.

Alex allowed Kinsey on top of him, spreading his legs as Kinsey fell between his knees.

Tongues swirling inside mouths, Alex felt his cock pulsate strongly and the urge to fuck this young man overwhelmed him.

Kinsey, as if not sure how far this would go, broke the kiss and caught his breath. Wow.

Alex wanted to fuck him. Hell, yes.

I guess we’ll have no problems with the love scenes. Kinsey’s smile was bashful, delicious.

Alex shifted under him and touched himself, over his shorts.

Kinsey’s gaze drifted to Alex’s crotch.

Wanna fuck? Alex traced his own hard cock.

Aren’t you married to a cop? Kinsey asked.

It’s cool. Alex opened his zipper.

You have an open marriage? Kinsey appeared stunned.

Yes.

Kinsey seemed to think about it, then he went back for more kisses, sliding his fingers into Alex’s shorts.

~

Blond, gym-junkie, lawyer, Jack Larsen folded a pair of slacks, packing them into a suitcase. His talent agent husband, Adam Lewis, was in the bathroom placing toiletries into a kit.

Jack had promised his mother he’d visit. Told her last November he’d come out again.

Jack’s father had died over the summer. His dad had taken an overdose of painkillers while the ravages of Alzheimer’s destroyed his brain. Jack’s mom, who still lived in Fort Lauderdale, had already met a new man.

Although Jack wasn’t keen on Florida, February was a good time to go, and he didn’t want to be at the estate when Mark’s newborn baby arrived, which was soon.

Their surrogate, Becca McKenna, was going to have a C-section on Valentine’s Day. That was less than two weeks away.

Adam emerged from the bathroom and placed his shaving kit into his luggage, then he ran his hand over his conservatively cut brown hair and yawned.

Jack checked the time. We should be heading to the airport.

I’m ready. Adam shrugged.

Zipping his rollaboard bag, Jack carried it to the front door and set it by the beach house’s entrance. Can we take the BMW?

Sure. Adam agreed, placing his bag near Jack’s.

You don’t want to go. Jack slipped on loafers and looked at his phone.

I don’t mind. I like your mom. Adam did a walkthrough of the Malibu home, double-checking that the windows and doors were locked.

Jack made sure he had his e-ticket on his phone app, and then he stared outside at the blue sky.

Adam nodded he was ready. Jack set the house security alarm and they carried their bags to Adam’s black sedan. Adam used his key-fob to pop the trunk. Jack loaded both their suitcases, and sat in the passenger’s seat.

Adam started the car and exhaled loudly as he backed out of their driveway onto the coastal highway.

Slouching in the leather seat, Jack muttered, I’m dreading meeting my mom’s new guy.

Why? Adam headed to LAX, Los Angeles’ international airport before the Sunday traffic clogged the highways.

She doesn’t shut up about him and his grandkids. Jack drew the visor down and checked his face, his blond hair, and clean-shaven jaw.

Adam glanced at him as he drove.

He flipped the visor back up. I feel like she’s insulting me without insulting me.

Adam chuckled. Okay…

It’s stupid, right?

I guess we’ll know when we meet him.

Jack rubbed his face and exhaled. I’d rather be on our own in Paradise.

I know. Adam pointed to a coffee shop on the way. Do you mind?

After checking the time, Jack said, No. It’s fine.

Adam pulled into the drive-up window lane and removed his wallet. What do you want?

Uh…grande latte.

Got it. Adam pulled up to the window clerk.

As he ordered his double espresso, Jack texted Mark, ‘on our way to LAX.’

‘Give Mum my love.’

Mark had never met his parents, but Jack appreciated the kindness. ‘you bet.’ He was handed his hot coffee, and sat up higher in the seat, setting it into a cup holder.

Adam did the same and resumed his journey, en route to the airport.

Chapter 2

Jeff Chandler carried a load of uniform shirts, on hangers, across his shoulder as he entered the cleaners. He draped them over the counter and tossed a plastic baggie loaded with chevron stripes beside it.

The clerk smiled at him and approached. How can I help you?

Jeff tugged on a police uniform sleeve, and pointed to his patches. I guess I need these on my shoulder now. He couldn’t hide his glee.

This drycleaners catered to police, fire, medics, and doctors. Their racks were loaded with uniforms; packed tight. The smell was of dry-cleaning solvent or starch. It was strong, but not repugnant.

Awesome. The woman behind the counter counted uniform shirts and then made sure she had enough sergeant patches. When do you need them? She wrote up an order for the work.

Soon? He smiled. I mean, I usually wear a suit and tie, but…come on. He held up a patch. I’ve been promoted!

Congratulations, Sergeant… she read his cloth nametag from his shirt, J. Chandler.

Sergeant Chandler. Jeff puffed out his chest in comic pride. That has a nice ring to it.

How about Thursday, Sarge?

Cool. He took the claim ticket and waved at her. Do a good job!

We will!

Jeff smiled as he returned to his husband, LAPD robbery detective, Mickey Stanton. He sat in his pickup truck beside him, and grinned wickedly. Ha!

Knew you’d be high on the list, but number one? What is it with you and tests?

I’m amazing. Jeff chuckled.

I always said that about you. Mickey kissed him and backed out of the parking spot. What’s next?

Food shopping. Jeff checked his phone. He missed Mark…a lot. He knew once the holidays were over, Mark wouldn’t come to LA very often.

He sent him a text. ‘Hi. Miss you.’

‘Hullo, Sgt Chandler. So proud of you.’

Jeff felt giddy as he read Mark’s reply. Mickey slowed for a stop sign and leaned over to read it.

Jeff sent back, ‘when are we seeing you?’

‘I’ll be in town tomorrow. Will keep you abreast.’

‘K.’ Jeff said to Mickey, He said he’s coming to LA again tomorrow.

Good. Mickey ran his hand over Jeff’s leg and pulled into a grocery store parking lot.

Jeff unhooked his seatbelt, adjusted the gun on his waist, and said, Wonder what he’s coming to LA for?

Does it matter? Mickey opened the truck door.

No. Jeff hopped out of the high pickup and shut the passenger’s door. He and Mickey chose a shopping cart and cruised the aisles.

They had been invited to live in Bel Air, at Steve’s old house, with Blake Hughes and Hunter Rasmussen, their firefighter buddies. Although the idea sounded intriguing, he and Mickey hadn’t taken them up on it. They had spent a few nights with the firemen, and decided against making it permanent. To Jeff, it felt like going backwards, like living in a frat house… a really nice frat house, but, still, he wasn’t into it. At least his and Mickey’s shitty loft was almost paid for.

The two firefighters decided to continue testing it out to see if they liked it. Blake and Hunter had moved into Steve’s home, paying ‘rent’ which was very low, since Steve’s house was already paid for. Steve asked for just enough to cover the property taxes and utilities. That was it.

Tanner Cameron and Josh Elliot, their lifeguard friends, had just remodeled their home in Hawthorne, so they were hesitant to move as well.

Jeff pushed the cart as Mickey loaded it with food from his list.

So, Sharpe’s in Paradise for the weekend? Mickey asked as he dropped steaks into the cart.

I assume so. With Alex filming in the Bahamas, what’s Sharpe supposed to do with himself? Jerk off to photos of Mark?

Not when he’s got Steve’s ass and Tadzio’s mouth. Mickey inspected the prepared salads.

I’d prefer Mark’s ass and Stan’s mouth. Jeff lost himself in a memory of kissing Mark. They had stayed at the mansion for the Thanksgiving holiday weekend, and he and Mark made out one evening, while on the outside deck on the second floor.

Gee, that’s a shock. Mickey held up a salad for approval.

Jeff shrugged, not caring.

Mickey decided against it, and returned it to the cooler. They rolled the cart down another aisle, and Jeff’s mind wandered as Mickey read his shopping list again.

A rack of paperback books and magazines were in the same aisle as the plastic and foil wrap. Jeff paused and picked up a raunchy celebrity magazine. Alex and Stan were on the cover, posing cheek to cheek. The tagline read, ‘Secret Affair! Mark Antonious Richfield’s son and new husband, mad for each other!’

Jeff knew it was bullshit, but opened the magazine to see what was written. Photographs from their last movie, Lover Boy, were with text boxes. The pictures were obviously from the film’s taping, since they were of Stan and Alex naked in bed, either kissing or snuggling.

Jeff! Mickey held up a box of aluminum foil from down the aisle.

Hang on. Jeff read the article, which was pure sexploitation of the two young men. In other words, a lie.

Mickey returned, dropping the foil into the cart and then he leaned on Jeff to read the magazine. That movie blew past all expectations. Did you see the numbers?

Jeff turned a page, but the article was only two pages in the center of the magazine. Sex sells, and sex between two men in Mark’s life sells all too well.

Why does anyone believe that trash? Mickey lost interest.

Because lies are the new truth. Jeff tossed the magazine into the cart.

Mickey gave him a look of disbelief at purchasing it.

What? Jeff shrugged. It’s Alex.

You’re a dork. Mickey dragged the cart along