Act Nice

Wayne

Wayne Larson sinks into the dressing room chair, releasing an exhausted sigh. They have just five minutes of rest after the concert, during which a pop star Adam Carter needs to change and use the restroom. To be precise, a pop star and a pain in the ass for two upcoming months for Wayne and Darren, two former FBI agents who now work as his bodyguards because of a huge mistake which Wayne will never forgive himself.

This is their routine now—guarding the pop star from adoring fans throughout the American music tour. Now, they have to brace themselves for the chaos of re-entering the crowd—a tumultuous sea of fans determined to reach their idol, ready to bulldoze anyone in their way.

Wayne looks at his watch: three minutes left. He rubs his eyes, closes them, and relaxes. The FBI has taught him to take a breather to recuperate: sometimes, he didn’t even have time to sleep, and such techniques helped him stay awake at the most crucial moment.

His partner, Darren Clayton, a tall, blond man in the same black suit as Wayne, with an earpiece in his ear and a holster on his belt, walks into the dressing room.

‘Resting?’ Darren grins, grabs a bottle of water from the table, and drains it halfway.

‘Yeah. I hate concerts,’ Wayne adds a little lower.

The quiet moment ends when Adam bursts into the dressing room, loud and bustling, pats Darren on the shoulder, and pulls a bottle of whiskey from the guitar tech’s bag.

‘Why so glum? The fun has just begun!’ Adam exclaims, walking up to the mirror and ruffling his blond hair, which is messy and stuck to his forehead and neck from sweat during the concert. Adam throws off his light-brown leather jacket on a chair and stretches.

‘The fun’s almost over,’ Wayne says flatly, standing up and straightening his suit. ‘Let’s go, we don’t have much time.’

‘You’re such a killjoy,’ Adam mutters, pouring Jack Daniels into three plastic cups. ‘All right, let’s have some whisky and go to the people.’

‘We don’t drink at work,’ Wayne tells him for what must be the hundredth time.

The FBI has taught him endless patience, too.

Adam rolls his eyes.

‘Oh, shut up! Just drink!’

Wayne and Darren don’t touch their cups. Adam looks at them, grunts, and drains his own, then reaches for the rest, but Wayne grabs his wrist.

Adam raises his eyebrows and almost chokes with indignation when Wayne says, ‘You can’t drink that much. Later.’

‘Are you my nannies?’ Adam retorts, making another attempt, but Wayne holds tight. Adam grunts and steps toward Wayne, pulling himself up and exhaling into his face, ‘Or daddies?’

Wayne’s nostrils flare, and he purses his lips and lets go of Adam’s hand.

‘That’s it. Maybe you’ll drink, Darren?’

Adam turns around, but the bodyguard is already at the door.

‘Let’s go,’ Darren nods toward the exit.

Adam rolls his eyes again, grabs a bottle of water and the jacket from the chair, and comes out of the dressing room. Wayne follows and closes the door.

Dragging one of America’s top pop stars past a crowd of enthusiastic fans is not easy, especially when the star doesn’t care about his own safety and all the established rules. They walk quickly down the small hallway to the exit, Darren ahead and slightly to the left, Wayne behind and to the right. The footsteps echo in the hallway, and it’s like two minutes of silence before a storm.

They stop at the door.

‘Is the car ready?’ Wayne asks the driver over the radio, and when he gets a positive answer, he nods to Darren. ‘We’re going out.’

‘Maybe I’m not ready,’ Adam says in a low voice, but when both bodyguards turn sharply to him, he smiles broadly. ‘Just kidding! They are my fans, they love me! What will they do to me? Let’s go!’

‘They’re going to tear you up into a thousand little freaky, noisy, whimsical little boys,’ Wayne thinks, but of course, he doesn’t say it, just nods to Darren at the door. And just before it swings open, he sees Adam gasping in and out of breath. The screeching of what seems to be a hundred people or more immediately hits his ears, but Wayne doesn’t look; his only goal is to walk the sixty feet to the car and leave Adam in one piece. He and Darren would have been happy to cover the distance in half a minute, as they used to do when they were escorting high rollers, but Adam already reaches for a girl’s hand to shake, grabs a marker to sign an autograph, and picks up someone’s phone to take a selfie.

Wayne grabs him around the waist, trying to make him move faster.

Adam turns around, ‘Hey, take it easy, cowboy, just a couple of autographs and photos.’

Wayne exchanges glances with Darren, understanding each other without words, and they both seem to be mentally cursing the day they got kicked out of work and had to take a job guarding this superstar for youngsters. Wayne squeezes and unclenches his hand a couple of times; he’s not used to grabbing clients like this, and he can’t help but think of feeling the tight muscles under his fingers.

They’re about halfway through the crowd when someone starts pulling on Adam’s T-shirt, and Wayne snatches it away before Adam even notices.

Wayne almost hugs Adam to protect him from the many hands trying to grab the star as he passes through the crowd. Darren, noticing this, picks up the pace, clearing a path for them to the car and not being polite with people in the way. When Darren opens the door, Adam dives into the limo. The bodyguards follow, and after a few seconds, the car starts moving but they still hear the sound of hands hitting it for a while.

Adam suddenly looks intently into Wayne’s eyes and for some reason, Wayne is lost under that gaze. It is strange: he has stared into the eyes of notorious murderers, maniacs, and Mafiosi, and not a muscle in his face has ever moved. But that look seems to get under his skin and make it burn, spreading through his blood not adrenaline at all—something else.

Actually, he can’t say he doesn’t like this guy. Adam is funny and pretty cute when he doesn’t try to grab all of the attention to him, behaving like a diva, being noisy, capricious, and complacent.

And he’s handsome. He’s damn handsome. But there’s nothing Wayne can do about it. Adam is his job.

Not his potential love interest.

Adam stares for a few more seconds, then turns away as if nothing has happened. He opens the window, leans out, and waves to the fans, shouting something while Darren holds him by the hips to keep him from falling out of the car.

Wayne glances at Darren, who just grins, and for some reason, Wayne thinks Darren felt the electricity that was in the car a second ago.

Nonsense, he doesn’t feel anything, and Wayne doesn’t even know what he may feel. It’s just that Adam has already had a few drinks—he needs a little on an empty stomach—and he’s as excited and worked up as ever after the concert, so he just channels his overflowing sexual energy wherever he can. And it hit Wayne.

Adam sits back in his seat, smiles at Darren and Wayne, and closes his eyes as he starts humming one of his songs.

‘We’re standing here, looking into each other’s eyes… We can feel the heat, and it’s getting hard to hide…’

Wayne tries not to listen, looking around as if someone might be bothering them in the car, but he sees in his peripheral vision how Adam opens his eyes, stares at him again, and finishes singing.

‘We’re feeling something, we can’t deny…’

Wayne turns to look him in the eye and swallows.

He knows it’s just a song. He’s heard it dozens of times as he stood at the side of the stage and made sure no one dragged Adam into the fan zone by his legs.

Never once did this song make Wayne picture burying his fingers in Adam’s blond hair and pulls him for a kiss.

Never once before this second.

Adam looks down at his bodyguard’s thighs, grins, and then bites his lip. Wayne doesn’t even have to look down to know he’s aroused.

Wayne meets Darren’s gaze, Darren raises his eyebrows and grins, and Wayne does his best to keep his face straight and at least look professional. He doesn’t know how long it will take to get to the hotel, as it had to be changed after fans figured out the room number and tried to climb through the window on the sill from the next room.

‘They just love me so much,’ Adam said with a disarming smile, but they didn’t listen to him, knowing that things might not end as innocuous as they seemed to this naive kid.

Now they go to a different but certainly no less luxurious hotel, and Wayne really wants to ask the driver to step on the gas harder. The atmosphere in the cabin has slowly but surely begun to change to a completely unpredictable one, and it’s unnerving.

Adam continues to hum, and his voice pulls Wayne into a net.

‘Two minutes,’ the driver says suddenly, and they both snap to attention. ‘There’s no one near the entrance, it’s a closed area.’

These words do not calm them down: a fence or a barrier doesn’t bother fans who can get wherever they need.

The car stops at the entrance. Darren gets out first, then a slightly swaying Adam and Wayne, ready to catch him at any moment. The hotel is truly luxurious but Wayne is completely unimpressed: how many of them he has already seen, with high ceilings, gold surfaces, and mint chocolates on the pillows.

The elevator is cramped for four people. In such hotels, there is always this strange man whose only duty is to press the button for the desired floor. So when they finally get out, Adam exhales noisily as if he hasn’t breathed in a couple of minutes. Darren looks at the number on the key, goes to the right room and unlocks the door, then grabs Adam around the waist pulling the star back against him with professional speed as Adam’s about to enter.

‘I’ll check the room first.’

Adam turns to look at him with a grin. ‘If I knew you could do this, I would have—’

‘Would have what?’ Darren asks with ice calm.

‘I don’t know, I didn’t think of it…’

Wayne sees his partner roll his eyes for a second, and grins. They will suffer from Adam even more than they thought.

‘Stay here, I’ll check it out.’

Adam and Wayne stay in the hallway, Adam leaning back wearily against the wall, and when Darren comes out with a brief “clear,” Adam quickly steps inside.

‘Will you have a drink with me?’ Adam calls from the back of the room, along with the clink of a glass.

‘We don’t drink at work,’ Wayne says automatically. ‘We’re in the next room. Call if you need anything.’

‘Aren’t you supposed to be with me and guard me?’

‘Only when there is an immediate threat. It is unlikely that any of the fans will climb on crampons on the 27th floor.’

‘Well, yes—then—good night.’

Darren closes the door, and they go into the next room.

As soon as the door closes behind them, Wayne lets out a tired sigh. ‘It’s just unbearable. I miss the times when we took that gang of drug dealers; it was somehow quieter and more predictable.’

‘And those nasty bastards didn’t turn you on, either,’ Darren grins.

Wayne grunts, unbuttoning his cuffs.

‘It’s a coincidence. I was thinking about coming to the silence and going to bed, which is very arousing.’

He hears Darren laugh and grins to himself, pushing thoughts of Adam out of his mind.

Just as they’re straightening their beds for sleep, there’s a knock on the door.

Wayne and Darren look at each other; Wayne goes to the door, opens it a little, and sees Adam.

‘I can’t sleep. Can I stay with you?’ Adam says and walks past Wayne into the room without waiting for an answer.

‘We were already going to bed. We have to get up early tomorrow, do you remember?’

‘Oh, of course, I do,’ Adam grimaces, immediately walking to the drinks table. He pours himself a whiskey and rolls his eyes at Darren’s voice.

‘One glass.’

‘Hey, you allowed me to have a drink later, didn’t you?’ Adam says and drains his glass in one gulp, then pours himself another.

‘Finish your drink and go back to your room,’ Wayne says coldly, walking up to him.

‘Why are you so boring! Why did Dad hire you at all!’ Adam says resentfully and takes another couple of sips.

‘Don’t you want to sleep?’ Darren asks calmly, already sprawled out on the bed.

‘Nope,’ Adam shakes his head and takes another drink. ‘Shall we have some fun? Maybe poker? Or “Truth or dare”?’ He squints mischievously at Wayne, then bursts out laughing.

‘If we don’t get enough sleep, it will be worse for you,’ Wayne says, pushing away the thought that his anger is ultimately out of proportion to the reason for it.

‘Come on, what can fans do—’

‘Anything!’ Wayne interrupts. ‘You may not be as good as Lennon, but you can easily get hit in the head and dragged into the alley,’ Wayne blurts out, dragging Adam by the elbow to the exit.

‘What the hell! I’ll tell my Dad everything! You’ll get fired! And your boyfriend, too! You pricks!’

‘Go to bed,’ Wayne says, pushing Adam out of the room and slamming the door in his face.

‘You’re tough on him,’ Darren whistles and chuckles.

‘He needs to know what is appropriate in our relationship and what is not. We’re his bodyguards, not his homies or drinking buddies,’ Wayne says, finally settling down on the bed.

He can’t let this guy ruin their careers again. Not this time. Wayne owes Darren a favor. And this guy just doesn’t understand that this is not a funny game for Wayne…

‘The guy’s just bored. Think about it: traveling around the world with a bunch of adult men, you only get a glimpse of girls, and you don’t even have time to pick up someone. No friends, no relationships, it’s like death at his age,’ says Darren. Wayne shakes his head and exhales.

‘How do you have the ability to think about it all?’

‘There’s nothing else to think about. It’s not a dusty job,’ Darren chuckles.

Wayne smiles. ‘Good night, Darren.’

‘Good night, bro.’

Wayne stares at the ceiling and takes a deep breath. For a moment, he feels bad for being rude, but he knows he’s right. And they really need to get some sleep. As if they don’t have the ability to stay active even after three hours of sleep.

Adam

Adam stares resentfully at the door slamming in his face for a few seconds before returning to his room.

At first, he was happy with the idea that now he had security—after all, it was some kind of status, and he always loved new acquaintances. The guys even seemed dope before; at least they were younger than everyone else in the crew—he was 21, and the bodyguards were 25 or 26.

When he first saw Wayne at the concert at some of the festivals he attended, he immediately thought that this man was hot as hell. That black suit, stern expression, strong hands… He looked fantastic. And that icy look… oh, Adam wanted to melt it so badly, but he didn’t know how—and still doesn’t know. And it pisses him off.

He feels that they can get along. He somehow knows that Wayne is not as unapproachable and impenetrable as he wants to seem. Sometimes at the previous concerts, Adam noticed that warmth in his eyes and a slight smile at the corners of his lips when Wayne looked at him. Wayne definitely likes Adam, even though he wants to show the opposite.

But now he realizes that his boredom and desire to persist in following the rules are annoying. Adam’s life is already full of rules, restrictions, and inhibitions. He even drinks alcohol only when his father, Matt, who is his producer, and crew aren’t around, which is extremely rare. Being a star turned out to be much more boring than he thought: no parties, sex, and alcohol, but only concerts–limos–hotels–dressing rooms. And he sometimes wants to do something crazy…

Adam remembers Wayne looking at him in the limo and Darren grabbing him and holding him so tight that his breath caught in his throat. That’s what he thinks is really new and totally crazy… He falls back on the bed and bites his lip.

They’re so handsome in their plain black suits and their arms—hell, Adam would give anything to be in those strong arms again, but under different circumstances—but their stubbornness and boredom are infuriating. He wishes they were just like him: reckless, slightly crazy, not thinking about the consequences, but just enjoying life. They could do so many things…

Adam runs his hand under the waistband of his jeans and groans as he caresses himself, imagining Darren holding his waist tight, not letting him move, and Wayne unbuttoning his fly. Adam arches up and moves his arm faster, afraid that the fantasy will dissolve as quickly as his hope for a good evening tonight. He licks his lips, breathes noisily, and grabs the sheet with his fingers as he would grab Wayne’s jacket. After the orgasm, he laughs at his own audacity.

The alcoholic haze drags him to sleep, and right before he drifts off, he remembers how Wayne pushed him out of the room, which completely erases all the pleasant aftertaste.