The movie kept playing, but he knew it by heart, so he didn’t watch. Slowly he sat up and closed his robe. The sticky mess in the towel matched the ones he had stacked in his hamper. He often washed most of them before his housekeeper got there for her one day a week. It was stupid, but he hated her thinking he couldn’t get a guy to do that for him. He could—probably. But no real man measured up to his fantasy world. Yes, he was twenty-four and needed to grow up. Well, maybe grow back up. He’d had to grow up when he was four. If he wanted to enjoy being a stupid adolescent now, he fucking well could. Bernardo had paid for Ru’s right to a childhood.
He stood, turned everything off including the lamps, walked into his bedroom, and dropped the towel into the hamper with the others. He crossed to the bathroom, peed, washed his hands, brushed his teeth, and headed for bed. Only the bedside light stayed on as he pulled off his robe and draped it over the bench at the foot of the bed. As he reached for the lamp, he caught the movement in his floor mirror. Don’t look. He sighed.
Straightening, he gazed over his shoulder at his back—the back he never showed to anyone, making the practice of having sex with real humans a bit tricky. Across his shoulders stretched two black tattooed wings, and at the junction was scripted Angel del Diablo. One of the edges of the wings was blurred where he’d tried to have it removed and then given up in despair. The scarring looked worse than the tat. No lovely, smooth, gay-boy skin for him. Instead he got to spend his life wearing T-shirts under his clothes, never going in the water without a cover-up, never showering in the gym with other people, so that no one—not even his best friend—would know his back advertised the name of his gang.
Chapter Three
The water splashed in the fountain on the patio at Shazam as Ru flipped the page of the sketchbook, sipped his iced tea, and created costumes for the play. Okay, so Queen Gertrude needed just the right amount of over the top. She definitely had her sexy side, or she never would have married that idiot. So high-necked gown, but slashed to the waist. He drew bold lines on his pad of paper.
“Hey, darling, when did you take up the Bard for lunchtime reading?”
Ru sat back and looked up at Shaz. Got to tell him sometime. “I’ve got, uh, kind of a surprise.”
“Tell me, tell me.” Shaz flipped his hair, clapped his hands together, and perched on the edge of the chair next to Ru.
“The board of the Playhouse asked me to do costumes for a special contemporary production of Hamlet. I can pretty much have my way with it. Be as outrageous as I want.”
“Wow.” A flicker of a crease popped between his eyebrows, then vanished. “Fabulous—and a lot of work. Will this cut into the design time on your collection?”
Shaz looked worried. Yes. He’d bet the farm—at least a barn or two—on Ru’s first big collection. Ru nodded. “I’m just going to have to work double hard. This is a rare opportunity. It’s got a, uh, famous cast, so the production should receive a lot of publicity.”
“That’s never a bad thing. Who’s in it?”
Ru looked down toward the giant collection of Shakespeare he’d borrowed from the library. “Gray Anson.”
“What?”
Ru frowned. “Gray Anson. Gray Anson is the star of the damned production, and no, I didn’t manifest this from my frigging dreams, and just don’t give me a hard time about it.”
“You’re kidding me.” Shaz rocked back in his chair.
“No, I’m not. The head of the Playhouse board asked me at the fund-raiser.”
Shaz gave him a look. “That was days ago. You were going to tell me when?”
Ru tried on his best lopsided grin. “When I got up the nerve to confess I get to touch Gray Anson.”
“All right, my favorite groupie.” He nodded, eyes narrowing. “You’re right. This will bring every critic in California and maybe New York to see the pretty boy fall on his face.”
“Just as long as he doesn’t fall on the costumes.”
“Okay, discounting the obvious, I understand why you want to do it. But seriously, darling, can you do both?”
Ru drew a breath. “Actually, I’ve decided I’m going to let one inform the other. I’ve been searching for the perfect theme for the collection. I think this may be it. It can give me some real fantasy looks.”
“What about the pants outfit and the wedding gown you’ve already done?”
“Not sure, but I’ll work them into the theme somehow. I’m thinking the queen will be really sexy, and Ophelia’s going to look a bit loony from the start. Hamlet—that’s the fun one. A total gangster look, but in very rich fabrics, like the prince who was a rebel.”
Shaz clapped his hands. “I love that, and I’ve never seen anything like it. The wedding gown could be some kind of dream of Ophelia’s. Her imagining marrying Hamlet.”
“Wow. Great idea.”
Shaz’s face lit up. “What if we have a press reception at Shazam? We can invite the cast, the VIPs, and the press. And we’ll dress models in designs from your collection. Give them a preview of what they’ll see at Fashion Week.”
Ru laughed. “I can’t even imagine something so great. Thank you for thinking of it.”
Shaz wrapped an arm around Ru’s neck. “You need to imagine more great stuff in your life. So when do you get to meet your paragon of all virtues?”
“No telling, apparently. He’ll be in and out around his shooting schedule, but I meet the rest of the cast this coming weekend.”
“You better get to work on designing the collection so we can have pieces made in time for the press reception.”
“Right.” Ru’s heart beat in his throat. He’d just piled all the cards into one big stack. Hopefully no one wanted the one on the bottom.
“Ru, this is our director, Arthur Clemson. Artie, meet Ru Maitland, your costume designer. I’ve given Ru the assurance that he can have carte blanche with his designs.” Helena Atchison grinned. “That is, within the context of pleasing our director.”
Artie Clemson was a middle-aged, wiry, no-nonsense guy Ru had heard great things about. The man had a ton of television to his credit, a number of successful plays, and one or two of Ru’s favorite movies. “Glad to meet you, Mr. Clemson.” Ru stuck out his hand.
Clemson took his hand but gave Ru an undisguised once-over. “I’ve heard good things, Maitland, but nobody told me you weren’t old enough to drive.”
“No, darling, just old enough to design.”
Clemson tossed off a laugh. “Okay, put the old man in his place. Glad to have you on board. I’m looking for outrageous on this, and Helena assures me you’re the man to deliver. Every time an actor comes on stage, I want a gasp. Hell, I want people to come back to watch the show just to see the costumes again.”
Ru wanted to fall on his back and giggle. “My vision exactly.”
“Brilliant.”
Helena took his arm. “Come and meet the cast.” She led him to the group of actors sitting around a wooden table drinking coffee and getting ready for a read-through. “Everyone, this is your costumer, Ru Maitland. Ru’s actually a fashion designer and will be giving this production its look, so cooperate fully, please.”