Horsing Around: An Action! Series Book 55

By GA Hauser

In episode 55 of the Action! Series, we find what’s left of the party’s aftermath. While the Nation’s Top Male Model Mark Antonious Richfield is in a tailspin over the chaos, Mark’s gay male posse stay well clear of the disaster named Sharon Tice-Hill. Mark’s former fiancée and baby-mama makes the men’s life miserable.

Steven Jay Miller avoids controversy at work and finds pleasure in buying his niece Chloe a little mare named Sally to ride when she visits the estate.

And one of the couples of the Action! Series is in trouble. With the rise of Carl Bronson’s success and awards, his husband, Keith O’Leary continued to struggle with the possible cancelation of their nighttime TV show and no offers in sight.

Join the men from LA for more action and adventure and of course, horsing around!

(All Action! books can be read as ‘stand-alone’. This series is written like a television show, so dive right in! Or, watch Capital Games, the pilot of the series now on demand and DVD.)

• Language: English
• Publisher: GA Hauser
• Release date: Apr 16, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463012543

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

HORSING AROUND

an Action! Series Book

By

G.A.HAUSER

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © G.A. Hauser, 2020

HORSING AROUND

Book 55 of the Action! Series

Copyright © G.A. Hauser, 2020

ISBN Trade paperback: 979-8622-2424-6-5

© 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:

April 2020

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Chapter 1

I appreciate you taking my call. I realize it’s a Sunday.

The Nation’s Top Male Model, Mark Antonious Richfield, ran his hand through his shoulder-length brown hair nervously as he sat on a bed in the loft apartment above his stable. He had a houseful of guests at the moment. Yesterday they had celebrated his son, Isaac ‘Zak’ Milton Richfield’s first birthday. What had been an enjoyable event with loved ones, turned into a disaster when his ex-fiancée, Sharon Tice-Hill, showed up unannounced and uninvited.

Not only did she crash Isaac’s party, she took Isaac’s new brother home with her before he was scheduled to return. Jacob Bentley Tice-Hill was Mark’s biological son, conceived after an affair with the leggy blonde in a church.

With the cordless phone from the loft’s nightstand to his ear and his lawyer’s business card in his hand, Mark said, I know I originally wanted just two weekends a month, Ira, Mark explained to his attorney, Ira Goldman, But what she just did this weekend? Bloody hell, mate. It was over the top, even for her.

I understand, Mark. I did advise you to not deal with this matter until we had our day in court.

I know. But, things have changed. Mark had been hanging out in this stable loft for a while, trying to sort through his emotions after the chaos of Sharon’s hasty visit and departure. He also knew he had to get back to his remaining guests in the mansion.

Noise near the loft’s ladder drew his attention. Warren, his manservant, held an armload of linens. He appeared surprised to see Mark there.

I was coming to straighten up. Warren waited for Mark’s invitation.

Mark waved him in. Mark’s father-in-law, a New York State Attorney General, Michael Bergman, had slept here, in the barn’s loft, overnight. Mark stood from the bed, pocketed the business card, and continued talking to his lawyer as Warren changed the sheets.

Right. Mark tried to focus on the call. He turned his back to Warren and said, When is our next meeting with her attorney?

I don’t think we had one planned. I was under the impression this was going no further in mediation and we were going to court.

Mark dreaded having to wait months for another visit. When do you think we can get this before a judge?

Why don’t you let me check tomorrow? I could see what’s on the schedule.

Yes. Sorry. Thanks for taking my call on a Sunday. Mark peered at Warren and he was also replacing the towels in the bathroom.

No problem, Mark. I know what this child means to you.

Thank you, Ira.

I’ll be in touch.

Mark disconnected his call and replaced the phone back into its cradle, removing his eyeglasses and hanging them on his shirt collar.

Warren finished changing linens and towels and held the items that needed laundering in his arms. Stan was looking for you.

Yes. All right. Mark figured his absence would be noted. He followed Warren down the loft ladder.

They had four horses housed in the remodeled barn at the moment; his white Arabian gelding, Piccadilly’s Phantom, his best friend Jack Larsen’s black thoroughbred, Shadow of the Knight, his second husband Stan’s brown Percheron-mix, Bollward’s Tempest or Bull, and now, a small quarter horse mare named Sally, that he had hired for the weekend.

His first husband, Steven Jay Miller had offered to purchase the small mare for his niece Chloe.

Their groom Andrew Wilson volunteered to go with Steve to the stable to buy that mare. At the moment, the four horses were outside, grazing on hay in the paddock.

Mark walked with Warren back to the mansion. As he did, he heard men playing basketball on their court.

Mark paused to watch the game as Warren continued to the back door connecting the kitchen, carrying the dirty linens.

There you are! LAPD lieutenant Billy Sharpe, Mark’s son-in-law who was married to Mark’s eldest son, Alexander, was dripping with sweat. Where the fuck were you? Carl, Keith, Jeff and Mickey left.

Mark looked towards the heli-stop since he had heard a copter land and take off. Is that who left? I thought Steven went into work.

Work? The big gym-junkie, lawyer, Jack Charles Larsen gave him an expression of irritation. Where the hell were you?

I was in the loft, Mark said, pointing to the stable.

Yo! Talent agent Adam Lewis called from the court, holding the ball, Are we playing or what, Sharpe?

Billy jogged back to the game.

Mark spotted more guests watching from inside. Their large, working kitchen had a nook, or bench seating area which was very popular with the guests.

He entered the kitchen.

There you are! Ali Bergman, his mother-in-law, said. She was seated next to her daughter, Leslie, Stan’s law-student younger sister.

They were with Steve’s mother, Susan Miller, and Steve’s big sister, Laura.

The four women had bonded, and Mark felt as if they had turned against him. Yes. I’m here.

Stan’s been looking for you, Leslie said about her brother.

Where is he?

Giving Isaac swimming lessons with Josh and Tanner. Laura smiled at him.

Right. Mark, head down, was battling with his emotions. He did not live in Los Angeles any longer. He lived in Paradise, California, around a seven hour drive north from LA. So, going south constantly for lawyer meetings when he needed to be here not only for his son, Isaac, who had just turned one yesterday, but also for his garment manufacturing company, Richfield-Miller International, was infuriating.

He and his ex-husband ran his deceased father’s company, which had offices in Sacramento, London, Paris, and New York.

On his way down the long hallway towards the spa and entertainment sections of the thirteen-bedroom mansion, Mark heard noise in the game/theater room. His twenty-seven year old husband, Stan’s, young friends were playing videogames.

In the library, a few guests were enjoying board games or relaxing, reading, listening to a symphony on the stereo. Mark spied Stan’s father, Michael, reading, reclining on the padded bench near the front bay window. Mark’s pregnant surrogate, Becca McKenna and Becca’s girlfriend, Natalie Cushman, were playing chess.

Mark entered the marble spa.

Dadaa! Wimm! Isaac was in the water with Stan and Josh Elliot and Tanner Cameron. The two Los Angeles lifeguards had bought Zak a kickboard for his birthday and had been teaching him how to swim nearly since Zak was born.

Having two Olympic-sized pools made it essential that Isaac knew how to swim and not panic if he fell in the water.

Where were you? Stan asked, not looking pleased Mark had gone MIA when there were nearly thirty guests here.

Mark said, I made a call to my attorney.

On a Sunday? Josh asked as he helped Isaac kick his little legs while he used the float board.

Yes, well, he gets paid very well. Mark sat on the warm dry marble floor near the pool.

Dadaaa…dadaaa… Isaac swam towards him.

Big, muscular, Tanner picked the little guy up and held him, walking closer to Mark. Stan sat on the ledge next to him while Josh placed the kickboard on the side of the pool.

Aaaycup? Isaac asked about his brother.

Yes…well… Mark was very upset. I’m afraid your brother left with his mum, love.

Stan took Isaac from Tanner since the baby was wet. Let me get him washed and changed for lunch.

Mark rose to his feet and looked outdoors. Steve’s Swedish transgender, former runway model-turned-actor, wife, Tadzio Andresen was playing tennis with Blake Hughes, a retired Los Angeles firefighter, now working as their live-in nanny. The pair was playing against Barry, Steve’s brother-in-law and Chloe his eleven-year-old niece.

They appeared to be wrapping up their game and returning to the mansion.

His mood in the gutter, Mark followed behind Stan as he brought the baby to the second floor to change out of his wet things.

Mark paused in the foyer, staring outside at the front of the property. They had a rose quartz gravel driveway, one which led all the way to the high hedges that acted as a blind for the mansion from the street.

A clamor of noise came from the nook area.

Mark spun on his heels as the men that were playing basketball returned; Billy, his son’s fifty-year-old Los Angeles police lieutenant husband, Jack Larsen, the blue-eyed blond lawyer, Jack’s husband, Adam Lewis, the talent agent, and Hunter Rasmussen, Blake’s firefighter husband, who was now a captain with the Butte County Fire Department and lived with them.

The men guzzled citrus water Sierra, his chef, had left for them. They filled tumbler glasses full and cooled down after the strenuous game.

One of Stan’s young friends, Fred Chew, raced into the room from the direction of the game room. When’s lunch, Sierra?

She smiled at him. Soon, Fred!

Mark noticed his son, Alexander, and Steve’s wife, Tadzio, holding hands as they approached. The two had costarred together in a late night vampire series, Being Screwed, many years ago. Tadzio had top surgery, so she now identified as a female.

There you are! Alex laughed and approached him. He hugged Mark and rested his head on his shoulder. We were worried. Where were you?

Still in her tennis whites, Tadzio, her long blonde ponytail cascading down one shoulder, her light blue eyes smoky with shadow, said, We t’ought you went wit Sharon to LA.

Hardly. Mark ran his hand through his eldest son’s long, brown hair and then rubbed his back lovingly. His superstar son, Alex, was thirty, his police hubby was fifty. They had been married for nearly a decade.

Forty—something—Mark had also married a younger man…two years younger than his son.

As the guests who were playing basketball and tennis returned to wash up for lunch, Mark gazed at the women at the nook.

He was well aware they had ‘chosen sides’ when it came to Sharon Tice-Hill and her demand for Jacob’s return. They were on the new mother’s side, not the biological father’s side.

He shouldn’t be surprised. Ali Bergman, his mother-in-law, did not like him, and lord knew what Susan Miller, Steve’s mother thought of him.

He felt something near his shins. When he looked, his son and Billy’s crazy saluki-mix dog was there, sniffing around the floor.

Lady! Alex parted from his hug and picked his dog up. She was adorable, white, fluffy, energetic, and goofy.

Mark left the group to shower and change for lunch after their sporty fun, and headed to his room to check on his son and husband trying hard not to feel defeated after Sharon took Jacob away from him.

~

LAPD SWAT officer Joe Scarbino tipped up a bottle of water as he and his team hung out near the scene of a triple death; two murders, one suicide. The area had been evacuated, yellow crime scene tape waved in the wind, and the patrol cars that were left guarding the scene had their overhead lights rotating.

A black exempt sedan pulled into the parking area where the command center was staged. When Joe spotted Lt Jeff Chandler of homicide, he nearly cried. He missed him.

He’d been having sex with Jeff and his robbery detective husband Mickey Stanton since last summer. The urge to run over to him and give him a big squishy hug was powerful.

As the handsome lieutenant, looking sharp in a business suit, listened to the top brass give him the details, Joe made his way closer on the pretext of being nosy.

Scarb? his sergeant called to him, We’re going to head out.

Joe acknowledged him, and ignored his words. He walked over to Jeff, who glanced up at him quickly as he heard the gory details of this tragic event.

Okay, Jeff nodded in understanding. There was no need for any deep investigating. It was obvious what had happened since officers had witnessed it. So Jeff was here to document it, make sure it was written up perfectly because there were officers involved in this act of violence.

Joe shifted his weight leg to leg, feeling weary.

Jeff approached him. Hey. Did you see the shooting?

Just what our guys did. I didn’t see the dude kill his wife and kid. Joe glanced behind him. Are both you and Mick back from Mark’s place?

Yeah.

Can I come by…after?

Sure. Jeff patted his shoulder since they didn’t have time to chat.

See ya later, Joe whispered and returned to his unit.

Yes, he had begun dating a movie star, Jeremy Runner, but…he loved Jeff and Mickey, and it was tough to not be with them. They were cops. They understood what he went through daily.

While his SWAT team collected and stored their gear and got ready to leave the scene, Joe pouted. He felt as if he were in a lose-lose position. If he continued to date Jeremy, and the hot star dumped him? Then what? Should he walk away from Jeff and Mickey? Hell no.

Let’s go! his lieutenant encouraged them to bug out.

Joe sat in the back of an unmarked black SUV and touched the raw skin of his chin, which had beard-burn from his new celebrity lover. All he wanted to do after shift was go to Mickey and Jeff’s loft condo, and chill.

With thoughts of that in his head, Joe sank in the padded bench seat as the odors of BO, old nicotine, and mud filled the tight space.

~

Stan ran a soapy sponge along Isaac’s back while he bathed him. Isaac played with his plastic boats and rubber sharks, giggling.

He drained the tub and wrapped Isaac in a soft towel drying him while sitting on a bench in the bathroom of their nursery.

Abbbaaa…aaaycupp…wimm, dada… Isaac babbled on, only recently stringing one or two coherent words together.

Stan spotted Mark leaning on the doorframe watching.

Dadaaa! Isaac noticed him too and reached for him, expressing his need.

Stan dried Zak’s teeny toes and then handed him to Mark.

Mark picked his little man up and brought him to the changing table to put a diaper on him.

Stan stood from the bench and draped the towel over a rail. He entered the nursery, gazing at the pale blue room with white furniture. Tadzio had hand-painted animals on the walls; a zebra with rainbow stripes, a giraffe with rainbow spots, an elephant balancing on a ball, and a rabbit with a pocket watch and waistcoat.

Isaac pointed to the bassinette. Aayycup?

Mark frowned as he dressed Isaac in a new little outfit. He had received many yesterday for his birthday.

Stan was still in his bathing suit and needed to rinse off. Okay if I hit the shower?

Mark nodded, brooding, silent.

Stan had seen his husband like this before. Mark hated to battle, hated to fight. He just wanted what he was due. And he was due visitation for his newborn son, Jacob.

Stan left the nursery, spotting the guys that were playing sporting games emerging from their bedrooms to head downstairs and eat lunch. At three this afternoon, their chauffeur Louis, was going to shuttle everyone back to Sacramento’s airport, including his family.

Stan closed the door to his and Mark’s bedroom and yanked off his bathing suit. He entered the bathroom and paused, looking at his reflection.

He was a big man, six-foot four, with hazel eyes and brown hair. He had a tribal tattoo on his chest. He may look powerful, but when it came to dealing with Sharon and his husband’s issues, he was helpless.

He knew having Sharon Tice-Hill attached to his man by an umbilical cord was inevitable after Mark had fucked her in a damn church in Pasadena.

Snarling in frustration, Stan stepped into the shower stall. The water came out warm from the showerhead. He rinsed off, battling a raging fury in himself that he hated.

~

Steven Jay Miller parked his black Mercedes sedan at a horse stable in Butte County. His horse groom, Andrew Wilson, accompanied him. The two men exited his car and Andrew indicated the office, where the owners could be located.

Twirling his key in his hand, Steve scanned the rural mountain area. A few horses were grazing in an enclosed ring, and more horses were housed in an older wooden stable with narrow rows of stalls divided by wood planking instead of large enclosures where each horse could shift or move with ease, like at their stable.

A few young riders were getting lessons, little girls with britches and black hardhats.

Andrew opened a door with a small bell on it, and they entered a narrow room with a desk and computer on it.

The building was older, needed a coat of paint and smelled like dust or dried dirt.

An middle-aged woman emerged from a door behind the counter. She had short cropped silver hair, was husky, and wore a red flannel shirt and blue jeans.

Hello, Andrew. She obviously knew him.

Hi, Stella. This is Steve Miller. He’s interested in purchasing Sally.

Steve watched the woman size him up, maybe wondering how much she could get for the little quarter-horse.

Steve asked, Is she for sale?

Andrew leaned on the counter near the older woman. Stella? How much?

Stella opened a metal cabinet and searched through files. She removed one, opening it up and putting on reading glasses.

Andrew gave Steve a nod, as if he would help get Steve the best bargain for the sweet mare.

I paid four hundred dollars for her. Stella kept flipping pages.

When? Andrew asked, leaning his elbows on the counter.

Steve backed off, letting his groom handle the negotiations. He walked to a wall of photos, some from here, some just looking like stock horse pictures. A bulletin board had notes on it for boarding, vet services, feed and tack…

Who are you buying Sally for?

Steve turned around. My niece. She’s eleven and loves the horse.

Stella? Andrew smiled at her. One hundred and Sally will have a wonderful new life as a privately owned horse, no longer a hack.

I have to replace her, the stubborn woman said.

Stella? Andrew sort of…flirted. He gave her a lustful grin that made Steve bite his lip on a comment to encourage the sale.

Andrew Wilson was a handsome man. So handsome, his wife had sucked his dick. Steve knew Andrew was straight and most likely didn’t know Tadzio wasn’t born female when it happened.

…Stella? Andrew giggled. Come on…you know Sally would be much better off with this guy. He thumbed to Steve. And with me.

The matronly woman finally cracked a smile, blushing. You owe me one, Andy.

You bet. I can help you out when you need a favor. Andrew waved Steve over.

Steve stood at the counter again. One hundred? He was stunned, imagining a horse would cost a lot more.

Fine. Stella placed paperwork into an envelope. Here’s her vet records and original bill of sale.

Andrew reached for the papers, removing them to read first. Steve? Sally’s sixteen years old.

He withdrew his credit card. Is that too old?

That’s not old. Stella took the credit card quickly.

She’s fine for Chloe, Andrew assured him. "Horses can still be