Buying Time; an Action! series book 57

By GA Hauser

In episode 57 of the Action! Series, the court hearing for the custody battle between the Nation’s Top Male Model, Mark Antonious Richfield, and his ex-fiancée, Sharon Tice-Hill is about to heat up. As Mark loses what’s left of his mind, he and his lawyer, Ira Goldman, consider strategies to get Mark visitation for his son Jacob.

In the meantime, Academy Award winning actor, Carl Bronson, lands a major role in a new movie, which is going to be filmed in Paris. While his husband, Keith O’Leary, continues to struggle for a part in anything at all, creating a rift and jealousy between the married pair.

And one lucky couple is relocating to Paradise!

Get ready for another rocky ride from the boys from LA as they battle for their rights and harness the power of their minds to work as a team.

(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.)

For complete the list of blurbs and reading order, visit my website at www.authorgahauser.com

• Language: English
• Publisher: GA Hauser
• Release date: Jun 6, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463154748

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

BUYING TIME

an Action! Series Book

By

G.A.HAUSER

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © G.A. Hauser, 2020

BUYING TIME

Book 57 of the Action! Series

Copyright © G.A. Hauser, 2020

ISBN Trade paperback: 979-8643-6079-5-3

© 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:

June 2020

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Chapter 1

Former LA firefighter Blake Hughes followed quickly behind fifteen-month old, Isaac ‘Zak’ Milton Richfield. Mark and Stan’s son began to walk, or race, around the mansion.

Blake, who had been released from the fire service because of a back injury, was now living at the mansion in Paradise, California with his Butte County Fire Captain husband, Hunter Rasmussen.

Isaac giggled wildly as he realized walking on two feet was a lot more fun than crawling.

~

Mark Antonious Richfield, the Nation’s Top Male Model, heard his little one’s excitement and peered out of his second floor bedroom door to see him.

Isaac ran right into Mark and Stan’s bedroom and squealed in joy that he had found his daddy.

Blake, who was very fit at fifty-years old, panted to catch his breath as he stood in the doorway. He’s quick!

Dadaaa! Isaac fell against Mark’s leg as he tied his necktie in the full-length mirror, preparing for his helicopter ride to his office. He and his ex-husband, Steven Jay Miller, worked in Sacramento at Mark’s deceased father’s garment manufacturing firm, Richfield-Miller International.

They had offices in Sacramento, New York, London, and Paris.

Well! Look who’s racing around the manor. Mark finished knotting his tie and reached for his boy. He held him in his arms, and said, Oh, my! Who’s getting to be a big boy?

He’s a bruiser. Blake laughed.

Mark figured Isaac weighed nearly thirty pounds. He was a big little boy!

Dadaaa! Isaac’s finger was in his mouth. Appull?

Since that was Isaac’s word for food, Mark assumed he was hungry. Yes. We’ll have our breakfast now. Mark handed Isaac to Blake. Let me finish, love. Mark smiled and picked up his gold cufflinks from the dresser.

Dadaaa! Isaac screamed and wriggled to be let down.

Blake carefully set him back on his feet which had shoes that blinked with a light when he walked. Isaac raced right for Mark and hugged his leg.

Mark chuckled and put his cufflinks on.

~

Stan Charles Bergman-Richfield, Mark’s second husband, had turned twenty-seven this April. His gorgeous, forty-something, Top Model husband had bought him a fabulous digital camera and a high quality piece of leather luggage. They didn’t have a party or celebration for his birthday. Mark had already given Stan a Lamborghini automobile and a Patek Philippe gold watch for wedding gifts. There wasn’t much Stan needed. But, his gorgeous husband bought him two lovely gifts just the same.

Stan opened a few greeting cards that had arrived in the mail. His buddies in Los Angeles sent him one they had all signed, and his parents and sister, who lived in New York City, also sent a card. His father had enclosed a check for five hundred bucks.

His father, Michael Bergman, was a New York State Attorney General, and his mom, Ali, was a lawyer in her own firm. His kid sister, Leslie, was in law school.

While he stood in the nook portion of the working kitchen, Stan inhaled the scent of bread baking and bacon frying while their chef, Sierra, worked her magic.

Through the glass pane at the nook’s bench seating, there was a grand view of the back of the estate’s property; their outdoor pool, the tennis courts, basketball courts, and a stable housing four horses, including an outdoor paddock for them to graze in.

Across a flowering meadow were the Sierra Nevada Mountain Range, a waterfall, and hiking and bridle trails.

Noise from the upper floor drew his attention.

Blake, Mark, and Isaac, were coming down the grand mahogany staircase for breakfast.

Steve and his transgender wife, Tadzio Andresen-Miller, also joined them for breakfast.

Captain Hunter Rasmussen was already seated in the nook, wearing his white shirt and blue uniform pants. The handsome man sipped his coffee while staring outside.

Stan gathered the greeting cards as Mark and Blake sat Isaac in his highchair.

Isaac babbled and reached for everything, growing up so quickly, it astounded Stan.

Mark, in his gorgeous designer dark gray Ralph Lauren business suit and tie, gave Stan a peck on the lips.

Stan held up the greeting cards. Dad sent me a check. He laughed because it was insane since he and Mark were doing very well.

That was lovely of Michael. Mark tied a bib around Isaac.

Sierra brought Isaac a bowl. Here you go, Zak.

Isaac squealed in excitement and said, Tencue…

Mark chuckled at him.

Blake dropped to the bench next to his husband and exhaled as if he had run a few laps.

Stan smiled at the former firefighter. He’s mobile. Uh oh? Stan scooted in beside Blake to take care of Isaac, as Mark did the same on the opposite bench, letting Tadzio and Steve slide in first.

Blake glanced up at Warren, their manservant, watching him pour his coffee. Thanks, Warren.

No problem. Warren served them each coffee, and Mark, an espresso.

Blake held his steaming cup on the table. Do we have to use a gate to block the stairs?

Stan looked into Isaac’s bowl and he had oatmeal, raisins, and bananas. He used both a little spoon and his fingers to eat it.

That’s some gate. Hunter expressed the size of their grand staircase.

Teach him to walk up ‘dem. Tadzio, with her Swedish accent, long blonde hair and powder blue eyes, sipped her coffee.

That’s not a bad idea. Blake exchanged glances with Hunter. We could teach him how to scoot down on his bottom.

Bobbum! Isaac held his spoon up and said, Mawpeeze?

Mark wiped his son’s sticky hands with his cloth napkin. Yes, well, if he takes a tumble down them, we’re in trouble.

I’ll work on that today. Stan sat back as Warren served him a plate loaded with food. He had two sunny-side-up eggs on Sierra’s homemade toasted challah bread, with crispy bacon and hash browns.

Isaac pointed to it and expressed his desire to eat it.

Stan cut up pieces of his bread and bacon and gave Isaac some in his bowl.

Mmm. Isaac nodded as he ate it.

Mark watched his son. He does eat an awful lot.

Maaaark! was called in harmony by everyone at the table, including his ex-husband.

What! Mark laughed and threw up his hands. I can barely hold him.

Steve, who looked spectacular after his ‘makeover’ with Mark’s hair stylist last February, was wearing a sleek designer suit and tie, like his former hubby. You’ll turn him into a food addict or anorexic. Let him eat what he wants, Richfield.

Iz good the baby has healthy appetite. Tadzio devoured her eggs and bacon.

Mark? Blake said, He’s very active. He needs the food as fuel.

Warren served the model an egg-white omelet.

Mark set his espresso down and tasted it.

Stan didn’t comment on Mark’s food or eating habits. Years of being a model had made him picky, to say the least. Uh…so you have a court date this week, Mark? Stan asked as he gave Isaac more of his food.

Sierra placed a bottle of formula down on the tray of the highchair for Isaac. She petted his soft hair gently and asked, Do you want fruit, Isaac?

Isaac nodded.

Sierra cut up apple and banana slices. The baby squealed happily and took the bowl to munch it.

Mark, appearing scattered, brushed his hair back from his forehead. Uh…yes. As far as I know I have a court date to appear before a judge. We tried, and failed, in mediation. Mark ate his egg-white omelet.

Stan kept his eye on Isaac, and Mark. That meant Mark had to return to Los Angeles once more, because court, and his ex-fiancée, and new baby boy, were there.

It appeared Sharon’s stock-broker-kickboxing bruiser husband wanted the top model to shell out a fortune to see his son.

Buying time? Stan didn’t think a judge would be impressed with Brent’s blackmailing tactics. He had asked Mark for ten-grand a month for a measly two weekends a month visitation.

Not to mention, while the negotiations went on for some of February and all of March, they had gotten nowhere.

So, Mark had to go to court to get a judge to decide the fate of his relationship and contact with both his son, and his scorned former fiancée, Sharon Tice.

~

A ‘For Sale’ sign on his front lawn, a lock box on his doorknob, Joe Scarbino tried to clean up his house for viewing. He had been granted medical leave from the LAPD recently. Joe had been working for the SWAT team and had been injured while on duty.

During a rally turned riot, he had been clocked in the helmet with a brick, knocking him unconscious.

After weeks of both testing to his brain, and mental health therapy sessions, his private medical and emotional doctors, both agreed that Joe should not go back to work on the front lines-yet. So now Joe had to fight for permanent disability, which wasn’t an easy task.

He was dealing with the LAPD trying to get him to work as a file clerk, desk clerk, evidence clerk, or what-the-fuck-are-you-kidding–me? –a clerk?

Joe was not a clerk of any kind. He would lose his mind sitting at a file cabinet or desk answering phones. He had a taste of that crappy work when he broke his leg after sliding on the Ducati motorcycle he had purchased from Mark.

At the moment, he was filling in for Mark Antonious Richfield, modeling for Dangereux Cologne. Unfortunately it wasn’t enough of an income to quit the LAPD. They had four photo-shoots a year and one, maybe two tours. That was it. And he had missed the last photo shoot because of the brick to the head.

He wasn’t Mark Richfield. He didn’t earn what that model did for his photo shoots. Most likely he was making less than half of what the Nation’s Top Male Model was paid.

Since his home had been burgled last February, Joe hated being here. So? After much deliberation, he placed the worn out four-room home in Van Nuys up for sale.

The market had rebounded a little so he hoped to make decent money on it. Where he was going to live? Well, that was up for debate.

Joe took a moment to rest as he loaded boxes with clutter to hide in the garage. Ever since his head injury, he didn’t feel well. Moving and lifting made him dizzy.

The real estate agent had helped give him ideas for ‘staging’, but Joe wasn’t very good at it.

He dropped to his shabby sofa and held his phone. He tapped a text to a detective in the homicide division, Lt Jeff Chandler. Joe was having sex with both Chandler, and his robbery detective husband, Mickey Stanton.

He sent Jeff a text, ‘Kill me now.’

Jeff texted back, ‘why? what’d ya do, ya dork?’

Joe grinned at the text. He loved Jeff and Mickey. A lot.

He sent back, ‘I ain’t no interior decorator.’

He got a laugh emoji from the lieutenant.

Joe sent another text. ‘How’s your day going?’ This time he texted his ‘boyfriend’; Hollywood star Jeremy Runner. Did he want Jeremy to invite him to move in? You bet he did.

But, Jeremy hadn’t actually done it yet. Not in the right way, not in a non-pity-I want-to-marry-you way.

Joe managed to commandeer a drawer in the star’s bedroom, keeping a few clothing items in it, but…

Maybe because Joe didn’t want to stop having three-way sex with the two detectives, Jeremy hadn’t made an offer to him yet. At least not officially. If Jeremy had asked him to stop seeing the two cops, would he stop?

Whatever.

Joe was selling this shitty house in Van Nuys anyway. Fuck it. He could either live in his car or stay with Jeff and Mick temporarily. They had invited him to live at their loft condo.

With a pay cut looming for his medical retirement, Joe knew he could not afford house payments.

It didn’t matter. He hated this fucking place.

The burglary had enraged him. He didn’t have much to steal, but they had taken a framed photograph of Mark Antonious with his red Ducati Panigale. Joe had purchased that bike, fell on it, broken his leg, and sold it at auction, using that ad as promotional material.

Now, it was gone. Gone- along with an expensive out of print hardbound coffee table book with Mark’s nude photos in it.

So, pretty much, the only two things he owned of value had been stolen from him.

Joe sank on his crappy sofa and felt ill. His head. The ringing to his ears and the dizziness…they still hadn’t vanished completely.

And just as he closed his eyes to try and rest, his phone chimed.

‘Come by anytime, handsome.’

Joe smiled. I love you, Jeremy Runner.

~

Alexander Mark Richfield held his dog, a white Saluki-mix mutt named Lady, on his lap. For nearly two months Alex had been reading scripts, trying to get out of his typecast role as a gay love interest. Yes, he had long hair. Yes, he was slender and androgynous, but come on!

Audition after audition for roles he felt lukewarm about, Alex was ready to break something. His agent, Adam Lewis, had even offered him an audition for a straight-leading role in a romance film, but…kiss a woman? Ewww. That was a last resort.

He had an offer for a decent role in a sci-fi apocalyptic movie, but when he found out an actor, whom he did not like, Diesel VanDen, was going to costar, Alex balked.

Lady fidgeted and stirred on his lap.

Alex looked up at his husband. Billy Sharpe, a lieutenant in the Los Angeles Police Department, was getting ready to head to the police academy, where he taught defensive tactics to the new recruits.

Billy set his duffle bag near the connecting door to the garage and filled a travel mug with coffee.

Are we going to the estate this weekend, L-T? Alex asked, letting Lady hop off his lap.

She wagged her tail around Billy’s feet and looked up at him as he prepared to go to work.

Anything you want, doll. Billy capped his travel mug, shouldered his bag, and said, See ya later. He looked down at Lady, petting her, and said, Be good, ya goofball. Chuckling, Billy left the kitchen, closing the door behind him.

Lady raced to the living room and stood on the sofa, watching the black Corvette back out of the garage, and rumble as it vanished down the street.

Alex sent Tadzio a text, ‘are you as bored as I am?’

‘Yes! come up?’

Alex thought about it. He didn’t have an audition this week, and his late night cable TV drama was still on hiatus. Tadzio had wrapped her role as a woman in a movie called Nothing Like Romance. So, Tadzio wasn’t working on a film now either.

Alex flopped to the couch with Lady, and stared at her. Do we want to go to the estate without Billy? He didn’t really. His dad was going to be working every day with Steve in Sac.

As Alex’s boredom got the best of him, he sent his actor friend Jeremy Runner a text, ‘Coffee?’

‘Can’t, pixie. starting a new film today.’

Alex sat up on the couch to be able to text back quickly with two hands. Jeremy had just won an Academy Award for best supporting actor, and had been nominated for Best Actor, but lost to Carl Bronson, one of their close friends.

‘A new film? Congrats.’ Alex pouted. He had been making gay romances for a decade, and only got one nomination for one film. But he didn’t win, and never got nominated again. The text conversation vanished.

Alex sank low on the white leather sofa and Lady hopped off and left the house through her dog-door. Alex could see her sniffing around the shrubs on the fence line through the glass slider in the kitchen. The home was open-planned, and the living room/kitchen area was quite large. He gazed at their pool, wondering when the weather would be warm enough to uncover it. Not yet. Maybe soon.

~

Attorney Jack Charles Larsen, sipped coffee while staring outside his sliding glass door in his and his husband Adam Lewis’ Malibu beach house. In his business suit and tie, Jack gazed at the crashing waves and a few beachcombers out for a walk in the fresh morning gusts.

The work he and his firm, and another LA firm, did on a class-action lawsuit with the vaping industry had stalled. What had appeared to be an offer from the tobacco company, had been held up by some judge’s ruling that the settlement payment was too high.

Too high?

Too high when thousands of people were dying and getting ill? Still too high? He had thought they were through with partisan judges. It appeared not. Suddenly, corrupt judges were in every court, as if secretly, behind the public’s back, this had been tampered with undetected. Now he was seeing the result of that vile right-wing capitalist hijacking.

Jack had no idea what was happening to the world, but it appeared some judges, not the one they had for initial court ruling, but above their court, had somehow achieved a roadblock to the payout.

Mega companies were being treated as individuals in court, so litigating against them was a complex obstacle course. He hated this rat race. And he thought criminal and family law was bad?

Law, in general, was becoming so complicated and irritating Jack was seriously considering another line of work. But…do what?

Adam entered the kitchen. Jack turned to see his talent agent hubby.

Adam poured himself a cup of coffee and joined Jack at the slider to gaze out at the Pacific Ocean’s high tide.

Get this, Adam said as he sipped, "I got Scarbino an audition. Maybe now everyone can get