Body of Work
By Amy Spector
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About this ebook
Lee Hellstrom is hitting the big screen after more than three decades and, with the much younger Grant Cooper at his side on the red carpet, he plans to make a lasting impression. The only problem is that not all the attention Lee has drawn is good.
When Lee goes missing, it's up to Christopher, Vic, and Grant to save the old man from a most horrible of fates.
Christopher's life may not have been perfect, but his death is a pain in the ass.
Amy Spector
Amy Spector grew up in the United States surviving on a steady diet of old horror movies, television reruns, and mystery novels.After years of blogging about comic books, vintage Gothic romance book cover illustrations, and a shameful amount about herself, she decided to try her hand at writing stories. She found it more than a little like talking about herself in third person, and that suited her just fine.She blames Universal for her love of horror, Edward Gorey for her love of British drama, and writing for awakening the romantic that was probably there all along.Amy lives in the Midwest with her husband and children, and her cats Poe, Goji and Nekō.
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Body of Work - Amy Spector
Life with Vic isn’t exactly what Christopher Minnick was expecting. His boyfriend has given him a new lease on life—literally—but he doesn’t have a job, Jessie thinks he’s a ghost, and there are only so many closets on hand for shoving Jonathan into. Now, with Lee back in the limelight, things just might become more than Christopher can handle.
Lee Hellstrom is hitting the big screen after more than three decades and, with the much younger Grant Cooper at his side on the red carpet, he plans to make a lasting impression. The only problem is that not all the attention Lee has drawn is good.
When Lee goes missing, it’s up to Christopher, Vic, and Grant to save the old man from a most horrible of fates.
Christopher’s life may not have been perfect, but his death is a pain in the ass.
Acknowledgements
A special thank you to Al and Ofelia for everything. It wouldn’t be fun without the two of you.
Dedication
Dedicated to Aaron, Ethan, Evan and Ezra.
Think of it as an apology.
You have to have a sense of humor, darling, to be alive. Even a bit mad. It helps to be mad.
— Peter Cushing
Chapter 1
You can’t possibly be serious?
Lee said nothing, just sucked in his cheeks in that disapproving way he had, and continued to stir his tea.
He’s twenty-six.
I tried again. I’m just saying that people will talk.
And now I sounded like my brother had when Lee and I first started hanging out.
People always talk.
Lee sounded blasé enough that I knew it was exactly what he hoped for. Why would I care if they talk?
Talk about what?
Grant asked.
I looked up as he slipped back into the booth, opposite me and next to Lee. Christopher and I were discussing me asking you to be my plus-one for the premiere.
Actually, I was telling him that people would get the wrong idea. He might like the attention of having someone younger on his arm but, plastic surgery or no, Lee was in his seventies. The attention wouldn’t necessarily be good.
Really?
Grant’s face lit up. Want me to go as your sex slave? I could wear a pair of black vinyl short-shorts and a collar like the girls wore when you played Dr. Mortimer.
I tried not to imagine Grant in vinyl short-shorts, but it was hard not to.
Lee smiled and patted Grant’s hand, a far more grandfatherly gesture than his thoughts, no doubt. The pervert. I thought you might want to go as a vampire.
Grant actually bounced in his seat. Fuck, yes. If you think that’s safe.
Safe? I didn’t even bother asking.
I was on my third cup of tea when a young man stood at the end of our booth and cleared his throat.
Yes?
Lee asked, smiling. He seemed to know what was coming.
Mr. Hellstrom, could I possibly have your autograph?
When Lee agreed, the young man, barely more than a kid, passed him a small leather-bound book and pen. Lee opened the book, fanning through its blank pages before going back to the first sheet.
The first of your collection, I see.
The guy didn’t even spare me a glance as he said, Mr. Hellstrom’s is the only one I’m interested in.
I had to give him credit; the kid knew how to suck up.
Lee had been a stage actor in his prime. Dark-haired and handsome, he had made quite a name for himself, but nothing compared to the following he still had from a dozen or so cheesy Technicolor horror films he’d starred in during the late sixties and seventies. Now, with Lee’s cameo in a studio remake of one of his most beloved vampire movies, he was back in the spotlight.
Duty done, and his spirits flying high, Lee discussed plans with Grant. Once he’d finished his tea, he stood, looking pleased, and promised he’d call us both. He pressed a kiss to Grant’s cheek and whispered a thank-you, and I gave up. It wasn’t any of my concern, anyway. I had my own shit to deal with.
Grant was all smiles, scarfing down the rest of his burger before waving a waitress over and ordering a slice of french silk pie, extra whipped cream. I again declined anything other than a refill of my tea. I hadn’t had much of an appetite recently.
You’re not hungry?
Grant asked, miming eating his own brains with a two-handed scooping gesture, and I rolled my eyes. Where is Dr. Frankenfurter anyway?
Wasn’t that always the question? He was never on time, never home when he said, almost always a no-show for our weekly dinners with Lee. Then again, maybe it would have been more difficult starting a new life with a man like Victor Polidori if I wasn’t reminded of the existence of his shortcomings on a daily basis. Maybe his imperfections made my own issues seem like less of a deal breaker.
When I didn’t answer, Grant nodded as if that were answer enough, scooping up a fork of whipped cream and licking it clean.
I heard the bells rattle on the diner’s door and jerked my eyes away from Grant’s mouth.
It still wasn’t Vic.
***
Like nearly every week after dinner, Grant and I sat on the bench across the street from Things in the Attic.
The sun had already set, but the traffic was still heavy. I managed only a few glimpses of Jessie and Evan as they moved around inside. They both looked the same from this distance, and I wondered if they would look the same close up. I wondered if I did.
I liked watching them, and in the darkened street, the brightly lit store looked like a movie screen showing scenes from my past, the past I missed a hell of a lot.
Maybe I needed a job.
Even before I sold the place, I had known I would miss it. I’d stood behind its counter for too many years not to. It had felt like a part of me. But when I had moved out West—ran away, if I were honest—I hadn’t given much thought to the people inside. I’d simply thought