The Performance

Is it all just an act? Or is it real?

                                                         

The tall, muscular man strided into the room where sat the other fellow, equally handsome in his own way. 

"Mind if I join you?" the standing fellow said in a deep, seductive voice. 

The blonde man seated looked up at him and smiled. 

"I was hoping you would," he replied, patting the cushion beside him. 

The man sat down next to the other and leaned in close, resting his head on the other fellow's broad shoulder. The first man seated brought his fingertips up to softly caress the other man's burly arm. The firm thigh emerging from the jogging shorts was tenderly massaged as both men looked off and inhaled deeply.  

"Sparck, I don't think I've ever been happier than right now," the fair-haired fellow said. 

The other man smiled and brought his hand up the hairy chest and across the pecs to brush the square jaw of his adoration. 

"I want nothing else than for you to be happy, Dryve," he said. They touched foreheads, looking into each other's piercing blue eyes. 

"And you do, Sparck," Dryve whispered. "You make me happier than you will ever know." 

Dryve brought his other arm around to embrace Sparck and hold him as close as possible, to press bare torsos together and become lost with one another. 

"And, . . . . CUT! That's a wrap."

A loud bell sounded as bright overhead lights suddenly illuminated everything and everyone present.  

"Okay, people. Let's get ready for the office scene next. Somebody get Matilda out here. Tell her she's up."

On the couch, the two men who had so lovingly held each other began to part, tho one of them appeared unable to do so. Or unwilling. 

"Will you let go of me, Andy?" the other man said, flustered as he stood from the couch. Andy had a shellshocked expression as he too struggled to stand, revealing to all the impression of his erection in his shorts. 

"Looking good there, Andy," a woman with a clipboard and wearing a headset called out as she walked by. Others laughed.

"He always gets excited with me," the other guy said as he made his way to his dressing room. "I'm gonna take a shower." 

Andy looked around as tho he had been abandoned. He chased after his co-star. 

"Jim," he called. "Jim!" 

"What is it, Andy?" 

Andy got up next to Jim and seemed exasperated. 

"You want me to join you? In the shower?" Andy asked. 

"No, Andy. We've been through this before."

"You announced it out so everyone would know."

Jim opened the door to his dressing room. 

"Andy," he said as he walked in, "go tend to your hardon," and closed the door in Andy's face. 

Andy looked around to see one or two persons watching him, then they turned away. He began making his way to his own dressing room to sort out his feelings of rejection. He was basically through for the day, so he decided to get dressed as well and leave the studio. As he too showered, he poured on the cold water, just wishing Jim was there. Just wanting Jim to be there. He increased the cold water. 

Andy walked out of the dressing room and gave a casual glance to see where Jim might be. He was nowhere to be found, so rather than appear to obviously be hoping to see Jim, Andy made his way to the parking lot. 

How much longer could Andy look at Jim and hear his voice in rehearsals and filming saying how much he loved him? Having them in all sorts of stages of undress. The scene in which Sparck and Dryve took the bubble bath together was difficult enough. Andy didn't think he'd ever manage when Sparck and Dryve were in the pool and took each other's trunks off underwater and tossed them to the side. It was visible as they entered the water they had nothing on underneath the briefs. Andy was mortified until he realized they'd have a second pair of trunks each waiting for them at the bottom of the pool for the tossing bit. 

Jim was already outside, talking on the phone. Andy wondered who he was talking to. Before he knew it, he was heading toward Jim. Jim saw him coming and continued talking on the phone. As Andy got near, he heard the one-sided conversation. 

"Uh-huh," Jim said, still not looking to Andy. "Uh-huh." 

Andy stood and waited. He just wanted to tell Jim he loved him. 

"Yea, okay. Uh-huh. Yea."

Jim shot Andy a look of annoyance. Andy frowned and looked down.  

"Allright, . . . . love you, too, . . . bye." Jim looked off in the distance. 

"What do you want, Andy?" 

"Jim, I just . . . . " Andy stammered. He felt like a jealous wife, but he didn't know how to stop.  "I just don't see . . . . how we can say all those things we do and hold each other as we do and you . . . . "

"It's known as acting, Andy. It's what we do," Jim said, interrupting Andy. 

"Who were you talking to on the phone? Do you have someone in your life, then?" 

"Not that is any of your business, Andy, but I do." 

"Is it a man?"

Jim looked flustered at Andy. 

"You think if I was straight, I'd be able to kiss and rub all over you and smile like we do? I already have someone in my life and I am happy."

Andy fished for another inquiry.

"Well," he began, "how do you know I couldn't make you happier? I could, Jim. I really could. You just said you like making out with me and holding me close and all." 

"I doubt that, Andy. Lyn and I have been together for three years now and we're doing fine." 

With that, Jim got in his car and closed the door. He pulled out of his parking lot and drove away. Andy watched him leave, but the obsession had all it needed. A name. 

Len. Or was it Lyn? 

Andy stood alone, looking totally isolated and watched as Jim drove over to the studio door and slowed down to a stop. Andy stood motionless as he watched, as tho it made him undetectable. He saw as a familiar male figure walked out with two women and waved good bye to them, then got in Jim's car. The car sat for a moment without moving. Andy deduced they must be talking, possibly about him. Maybe not. Just to be safe, he turned away, so they wouldn't see him watching. But he continued to listen as the car made its way to the parking lot exit. He turned back to watch them depart. 

Leonard. One of the show's writers. That's who that was, and that was who Jim called Len. Slowly Andy turned and made his way to his car. He got in and sat for a moment to think. He envisioned Jim with Leonard. His mind raced with images of Leonard getting off on writing and watching Jim act out those scenes with Andy. Andy reciting Leonard's words to Jim. Andy cranked up his car and drove away. 

Andy sat on the edge of his bed in the dark room. He didn't move. He couldn't even bring himself to hate Jim for not wanting to be with him. He closed his eyes to try to think and opened them again to look at his reflection in the mirror. He saw himself, and that was who he must be. With or without Jim, and it seemed like it was going to be without. 

Andy stood from the bed and made his way to the bathroom and washed his face to wake up and get his mind focused, as well as try not to look so down-trodden. Popular soap actor? He wasn't even that. He knew he could be dropped from the show at a moment's notice, so he detested the idea of going out and finding someone and the only reason they want to be with him is because they think he is famous. But he had to get out of his apartment, get over Jim. 

He found something to wear for going out, not too styling, more casual. That's what he wanted if he couldn't, . . . 

He stopped himself from finishing that thought and looked out the window into the darkening city life, illuminated by evening lights and passing vehicles. He was going out into the unknown to see who he could find. He should never have broken up with his last boyfriend, but oh, when he took one look at his co-star. 

The thoughts just keep returning to Jim. Andy closed his eyes, took a deep breath and opened them. He picked up his phone and the keys and began turning off the lights. As he moved about, he checked his messages. Nothing new. He was just about to go when the suddenness of the commotion caused him to hesitate and not even move anymore. There it was again, now even louder. He stared in disbelief at his front door. 

"Andy!" the yell went out, followed by the loud pounding again, then again. 

It was Jim. 

Why was Jim here? Jim was at his apartment. He wanted to be excited, but this was all wrong. 

"Andy!" 

He made his way to the door to open it up, undoing the lock, but as soon as he was about to open the door, it burst open, sailing around to strike the small stand behind the door. Jim stepped in.

He was fuming so much, his complexion was red and it made his hair all but glow in comparison. There was blood on his sleeves and his hands. His eyes bulged and were fixated on Andy. He was perspiring  as he slowly strolled into the apartment, pushing the door to behind him. He was breathing heavily as well. 

"Jim," Andy said somewhat worriedly, "what's wrong?"

"Don't!" Jim gasped. "Don't you dare stand there and act . . . " 

Jim moved further toward Andy as Andy backed away. 

"Jim, I don't . . . "

"Liar!" Jim screamed. "You little, lying, pathetic excuse for a human being!" 

Andy continued moving back as Jim kept his direction obvious. 

"You came to my apartment today, after we left the studio."

"No, Jim. I didn't." 

"You did! You know you did! And when I stepped out to do some shopping, you made your move."

"Jim, I came home exhausted and fell asleep." 

"You broke into the apartment and attacked Len, didn't you, Andy? Didn't you!" 

Andy couldn't believe what he was hearing. Len was attacked? 

"No, Jim. I didn't! I promise you. Is Len okay?"

Jim roared with all the rage he could manage and lunged at Andy, throwing him back on the floor. He began flailing away at Andy until finally Andy had no choice but to fight back against this object of his desires. Andy was actually bigger than Jim, but Andy obviously was torn at the prospect of hurting him. Jim struck him across the face, hard, letting Andy know he had no choice. He leapt up, grabbing hold of Jim and carried him in the opposite direction. He tried grabbing Jim's arms to detain him, but Jim was too overwrought and driven to be restrained. 

"Jim, stop it!" Andy pleaded. 

"If Len dies, it will be your fault!" 

"I didn't attack him, Jim! Please, believe me!"

Jim screamed in defiance at Andy's denial, but that was more of an energy release for him, so he was slowing down. Gasping, Andy got hold of one hand, then fought to get the other. Jim began bucking to throw Andy off until finally he just flipped him off sideways. Jim may have been tiring, but Andy was too. He was sore from the initial hits, being hurled back, being struck some more. He wasn't a fighter. And the last thing he wanted to do was fight with Jim like this. That was tearing him up. 

Andy crawled across the floor to get to his feet as best he could. Before he could turn around, Jim came crashing into him, sending him into the wall and anything hanging upon it. Glass picture frames shattered and Andy felt the glass stabbing into him. A hit to his lower gut took all the air out of Andy. He couldn't breathe and still the fists came. He was devastated at what he must do, but he had to stop Jim. He clenched his teeth, balled up his fist and let it fly, striking Jim across the jaw. Andy heard the pop. 

Jim collapsed to the floor and Andy slumped down beside him. Jim still seemed to be breathing, so Andy was glad about that. He didn't know how long it took, but he heard sirens. His eyes were glazing over. 

"Can you hear me?" he heard, but he couldn't manage a distinctive answer. 

"Jim! Jim!" 

Andy recognized Leonard's voice. He strained to open an eye enough to see what state Leonard was in, that Jim believed he had hurt him. 

". . . . tried to stop him," Andy heard Leonard speak, but I had to get tended to before I left the apartment."

"Before you left the apartment," Andy thought, so he was at the mercy of Jim, his beloved, talented Jim. 

". .. . he thought Andy attacked me, but it was a burglar. I don't know where he went. I tried following Jim but I was too dizzy, . . . "

As Andy was lifted on to a stretcher, he could see Leonard was wrapped like a mummy; forehead, under his chin, and the face was crimson red. Leonard had his arms wrapped up as well. Like a freakin' mummy. 

"L-leonard," Jim mutered. 

"I'm here, Jim," Leonard chocked, "I'm here."

"You're there and I'm going here," Andy thought to himself as he was wheeled out of the apartment and down the hall. 

"Oh, Jim," Leonard wailed, "you've lost some teeth!"

"Good," Andy concluded. Jim had always disregarded Andy, but tonight Andy had seen by how much. And he didn't feel like his heart was broken. 

"Don't worry, Mr. Lawson," the paramedic said steering his stretcher, "we'll get you to the hopsital and have you checked out."

Andy looked at the young man for a bit then turned away. 

"I keep wanting to call you Dryve," the young man said. 

Andy looked to him again. He looked down at Andy and smiled one of the most carefree smiles Andy had ever seen. 

"I can't believe I'm taking Andrew Lawson in my ambulance."

And very big brown eyes this paramedic had, too. 

The stretcher was wheeled into the elevator, and the door closed.