It was November. A month he dreaded every year. On the seventeenth of this month he was going to turn forty-four. He stared at the words on the computer screen and at the moment, he wasn’t even reading or seeing them. Sitting back in his leather swivel chair, Mark ran his hand through his shoulder length hair and exhaled tiredly. Having chronic insomnia was murder. He couldn’t recall the last time he had a night’s rest without pills. And even with the meds he didn’t feel refreshed or awake in the morning. Mark looked at his coffee mug, one with the company logo on it, and picked it up, taking it to the break room for a refill. As he made his way down the corridor of cloth dividers and office doors, Mark met some co-workers’ smiles; Charlie, Kevin, those silly Rothschild twins, Danny and Donny, and then entered the employee lounge. Steve, his husband, was there, filling his mug. Mark walked beside him and leaned on him. “Is today eternally long, or what?” Steve smiled. “Long.” Steve set his mug aside and filled Mark’s for him. “At least it’s Friday.” Mark rested his chin on Steve’s shoulder as Steve placed Mark’s mug beside his own at the counter. Then, Steve took Mark into his arms and held him. “What do you want to do this weekend?” Mark stared at the window, which had a view of the LA downtown skyline. “I’ve got a modeling shoot for the cologne Sunday.” “Okay.” Steve rocked him gently. “And, well,” Mark said softly, “Jackie doesn’t want to spend the night any longer.” “You still have me.” Mark met Steve’s bright blue eyes. Steve smiled affectionately. “Have I grown dull, Steven?” “Never.” “I feel old. Do I look old?” “You look incredible.” Steve kissed Mark. “Wow!” Both Mark and Steve turned to the doorway of the break room. Donny was standing with his coffee cup in his hand, having spied their kiss. Mark parted from his embrace with Steve, picked up his coffee and sipped it. Steve touched Mark’s arm as he returned to his office. “Hang in there. Only two hours left. I’ll try to think of something for us to do tomorrow.” “All right.” Mark watched Steve leave the room and stared at Donny who approached, picking up the coffee pot. Mark looked at him as he filled his mug and wondered if Donny was happy. He always appeared to have a good attitude and his brother as well. “Is it odd being part of a set of identical twins?” Mark asked. “Nope.” Donny faced him, holding his coffee cup. “Are you best friends?” “Usually. But we still have our differences. Why?” “Being an only child, I often wonder what it would have been like to have a sibling.” “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be. I’ve heard horror stories about families. Maybe when you’re a kid it’s fun, but when you get older, shit happens to fuck up relationships.” Mark thought about it. “In all aspects of life, not only families.” Donny sipped the coffee and looked concerned. “Are you okay?” “Hmm?” Mark blew on the hot coffee. “Yes. Fine.” Mark shot him his fake model smile and left the break room, walking back to his office. He could see Steve working at his desk and kept going. After he put the coffee mug down, Mark sat once more and tried to focus on his work. But, he couldn’t. He checked his watch and began growing annoyed. The week had been long, he was back to starving himself for the upcoming shoot, and if he had to face one more year of growing older, he’d sooner die. Mark stood, closed his office door and returned to his desk. He took out his mobile phone and scanned it for missed voicemail messages or text messages. He’d missed one. ‘how are you?’ Mark typed, ‘I’m going out of my mind.’ ‘why?’ Mark looked up at the glass wall of his office and then continued texting. ‘because I am old and worn out.’ ‘you’re gorgeous and vital.’ Smiling, Mark remembered something Angel Loveday had said when Mark stopped by to visit the former soft porn star at his bookstore in Redondo Beach. Angel said of his ex-lover, Captain Billy Sharpe, that Billy may claim he doesn’t want to be placed on a pedestal, but he does. Billy Sharpe; forty-six, the epitome of masculinity and power, and married to Mark’s twenty-six year old son, Alexander. Mark texted, ‘silly tart,’ smiling. ‘are you still at work?’ ‘yes. are you?’ ‘yes.’ Mark stared at their communication. Was it cheating? Mark didn’t think so. Billy fucking him was cheating. Why do we always want what we can’t have? ‘did you drive to work with steve?’ ‘of course.’ Mark thought about the text comment. ‘is Alexander working late tonight?’ ‘Don’t know. why? wanna meet?’ Mark immediately put the phone face down on his desk and looked at his computer. “Oh, God.” Mark ran his fingers through his hair and jumped out of his skin when someone knocked at his office door. Harold Parsons poked his head in. “You have a second?” “Yes. Of course.” Mark stood and ran his hand over his necktie to straighten it out. “Monday morning we have a meeting with the car company. They want to review our new campaign, but, they asked about Alex.” Mark’s demeanor changed to rage. Drew Persley, the CEO whose advertising contract Harold had sought for years, had pressured Mark into modeling in exchange for Parsons and Company getting his car advertising business. Mark didn’t like the man, and thought he was a letch. The phone on Mark’s desk buzzed with a text. Harold appeared to be waiting for an answer. Mark ran his hand over his hair. “Harold, I doubt Alexander can do it. He’s already modeling with me for the cologne, and working as the leading star in Being Screwed, and…” Mark tried not to raise his voice, “since his debut in George Ford’s Bedtime Stories, he’s being sought after for more roles in feature films.” Harold, a silver-haired, sweet older man, looked thoughtful. Mark approached him. “Harold, we need to separate our work with the car company from me being tied to my contract. I haven’t spoken to you about this…” Mark could see the concern in Harold’s expression. “But, the ads I do for Mr Persley, well, they are quite crass at times. I don’t speak of it much to anyone, but to be honest, Harold, I don’t want my son anywhere near that man.” Harold’s expression changed to surprise. Mark’s phone hummed again from a text. Mark tried not to grow annoyed since he was frustrated at the moment. “I had no idea, Mark. Is Drew making lewd comments to you?” Mark met this kind man’s gaze. “Confidentially?” “Of course.” “Yes. Yes, he is, Harold. He’s a very rude man.” “I had no idea. I’m so sorry, Mark.” “Well,” Mark said, running his hand over his hair, “There you have it. I didn’t want to say anything to you since I know he pays our company quite a large sum of money.” Harold folded his arms over his business suit. “Does Steve know?” “Yes.” Mark heard his phone hum again and grew anxious that the captain was sending him so many messages. “I don’t know what to do, Harold, but I do know one thing. I don’t want my Alexander involved with that company.” “I understand.” “Thank you, Harold.” “Then, you and Steve need to come up with a strategy for them for the Monday meeting. Something fresh and new. We don’t want to lose them.” “Yes.” Mark hated Drew Persley and wish he would take his business elsewhere, but that was selfish. “All right. Well, I’ll leave you to it.” Harold left. Mark closed the office door and picked up his phone. The text messages weren’t from Billy. They were from his son.
