Chapter 3




Drew tried hard over the course of the next week or so to enjoy just being friends with Jarrod, and not yearn over something he couldn't have. He also tried hard not to worry about the caterer being with a boyfriend who was probably cheating on him, but he wasn't as successful at that. He was torn between wanting Jarrod to find out about his lover's cheating ways, and not wanting Jarrod to find out because he'd be hurt. In the end, he didn't want Jarrod to find out because he didn't want to see the sweet young cook suffer. Clearly he really cared for this Steve, and it would break his soft heart to realize that his boyfriend was screwing around on him. Drew didn't want to see that. And at least the slime ball boyfriend was using protection, so he wouldn't give Jarrod anything...
  
 The movie was wrapping up. In less than another week, they'd finish shooting and he'd move on to his next acting job. It would be a moot point then, because he doubted that he'd end up on another set where Jarrod was the caterer anyway. Maybe that would help him get over his unrequited feelings for Jarrod faster; he really hoped so.  He was tired of mooning over someone who was totally unavailable and uninterested. It really sucked. He needed to go out and find somebody who liked him in return, but that wasn't so easy lately. He was just too busy to even think about dating.



    Drew sighed wearily as he trailed toward the catering table on the second-to-last day of the shoot. He yawned as he scrubbed at his head with one hand. It really was too early for this! Cid was a sadist.  He needed black coffee, and lots of it! Thank God Jarrod knew how to brew a good pot of coffee.  He started to call out as cheerful a greeting as he could manage, when he caught sight of Jarrod's face and the words died in his throat...

   The caterer's face was the picture of some internal misery. His beautiful eyes were full of anguish, and his kissable mouth was tight enough that it was obvious that he'd done it deliberately so that his lips wouldn't tremble. And on one cheek...Drew's eyes caught the sheen of make-up. Why would Jarrod need to wear make-up? He wasn't an actor, and he'd never worn it before. Worse...the shine of it was only on one area. Drew felt the muscles in his stomach clench involuntarily. "Jarrod?" he said softly.

  "Good morning, Drew," Jarrod said, his lips lifting in a little smile that looked more like a rictus. "Are you hungry?"

 Not anymore, he wasn't. "What happened, Jarrod?" he asked bluntly.

 The caterer stiffened. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said. "Nothing's happened."

 "Sure," Drew drawled. "So you always wear make-up? What's under that, Jarrod?"

 The caterer's hand flew up to his cheek involuntarily, hovering over the patch of make-up. His beautiful eyes dropped, and his shoulders hunched. "It's nothing," he insisted.

   Drew found himself getting angry. "Jarrod, tell me what happened," he repeated coldly. "Or I'll get a cloth and wipe that make-up off whether you like it or not."

  Jarrod flinched at his threat, making him feel bad.  But he stood his ground; he needed to know what was going on. "I..." the caterer began miserably, squirming a little. 

"Tell me," Drew said implacably but gently. He didn't want to scare Jarrod anymore than he already had. 

   "I...Steve, he..."

 "Steve? What'd he do, Jarrod?" Drew said, feeling rage beginning to build up inside of him. 

Jarrod made a soft sound of anguish, his body trembling visibly. "I...this morning, I was going through Steve's bag to collect his laundry so that I could do it later, and I found a cloth at the bottom with dried...semen on it. And a...condom wrapper, a wrapper that came from the box in the bathroom. I checked the box, and there were more gone. H-he said he'd given them to a friend, so what was it doing at the bottom of his bag? I was upset, so I shook him awake and demanded to know how the wrapper had gotten into his bag, and why the cloth with the cum on it was doing in there. And he got mad at me. he started screaming at me that I was a nosy bitch who didn't trust him, and that I should get off of his case. I yelled back at him, said that if he was cheating on me then I definitely wasn't going to get off of his case! But then..." his hand lifted to his cheek, and a single tear shimmered on his lashes, "He...he hit me."

 "He hit you," Drew repeated, rage now a white-hot flame within him. 

Jarrod nodded slightly, sniffling. "H-he s-said that I made him do that, because I was a suspicious little cunt and that I should m-mind my own business from now on. I ran into the bathroom and locked the door behind me, and he finally left after yelling at me through the door for half-an-hour. I b-bought some concealed at a drug store on my way to work...I didn't w-want anybody to see the bruise..." Jarrod said in an anguished voice.

 "Oh, Jarrod, you have nothing to be ashamed of," Drew told him gently. "It's not your fault that your boyfriend hit you. You had good reason to ask him if he was cheating on you, and it's clear from his reaction that he was definitely doing so. Listen, Jarrod, you can't go back to your apartment tonight. You can't go back to a guy who hit you, not for any reason. If he thinks he can get away with it once, he'll do it again."

 Jarrod nodded slightly, tears shining in his beautiful eyes. "I k-know that," he sniffed. "But I don't...have anywhere else to go..." 

   "Yes, you do," Drew replied. "You can come and stay with me for awhile until you can get a place of your own."

  Jarrod stared at him in surprise. "But! I can't do that, Drew!"

 "Yes, you can," the actor assured him. "You're a friend, Jarrod. And you help out your friends when they need it. Besides, I know you'd do the same thing for me if our positions were reversed. Right?"

 "Well, I..." Jarrod hesitated, wringing his hands together a little in front of him. "Are you sure? I don't want to put you out."

 Drew snorted. "You won't be," he said, meaning it. Having this lovely creature staying with him would be something of a hardship for him, but he couldn't let poor Jarrod try to figure out where he was going to go and what he was going to do, when he was still reeling from having his boyfriend hit him. "After work, I'll take you to your apartment to collect your stuff. Don't worry; I'll make sure that Steve doesn't hurt you again. It'll be a pleasure," he added, a vicious undertone in his voice. 

Jarrod's eyes were wide. "Sorry," he said with a rueful shrug. "But I'm super-pissed at your boyfriend for hitting you. I 'd really like to slug him right now," he added.

 Jarrod laughed suddenly, in a cracked sort of way. "I don't think I'd object to that as much as I might have yesterday," he commented wryly.




     After that, Jarrod perked up a little and got him some coffee and donuts. Drew drank the coffee, and forced himself to eat the donuts so that the coffee wouldn't irritate the lining of his empty stomach. He watched Jarrod the whole time in concern, but the caterer seemed happier and more relaxed now that he had somewhere to go. Drew smiled at him as he handed Jarrod the empty Styrofoam coffee cup. "I'll see you later, Jarrod," he said. "Will you be okay?"

 "I will now. Thank you, Drew," Jarrod replied gratefully.

    "Hey, what are friends for?  See you a bit later," he waved and walked off, just wanting to get this day done so that he could take Jarrod home and pamper him. 



   He was happy that he remembered the lines correctly for the scene they were shooting. Most of his mind was taken up with thoughts of Jarrod. Drew was happy to finish the scene up and hurry of to craft services, less interested in lunch and more interested in seeing how Jarrod was doing. As he approached the table, he saw someone standing in front of it. This person was wearing a leather jacket and a scruffy pair of jeans, and he appeared to be saying something angrily to a distressed-looking Jarrod. 

Drew's brows snapped down, and an ugly light entered his eyes. He strode over to the table, hearing the person in the leather jacket saying: "Listen, bitch, you get your ass home now! I don't give a fuck about your job, you and are I going to have a little talk..."

 He yelped, cut off in mid-sentence, as he found one of his arms drawn behind his back in a hammer-lock. A voice hissed in his ear: "Hay, Steve. How's it going? Now, before I break your arm and say it was an accident because I was trying to stop you from threatening Jarrod, maybe you should think about whether you want to keep all of your limbs intact or not. Is it worth it to you? If not, I'd suggest you get your ass off of this lot and stay the hell away from Jarrod, or next time I might break something more important than your arm."

   "Who the fuck are...oww!" Steve yelled as the vise-grip on his arm tightened even more. 

"I'm a friend of Jarrod's. And I don't appreciate you hitting him or coming to his work to threaten him," Drew replied coldly, his voice savage. "In fact, I don't appreciate it AT ALL. You have two choices here. Leave now, or get your ass handed to you. Which will it be?"

   "Drew," Jarrod began urgently.

   "It's fine, Jarrod. Steve and I are just having a conversation here. Aren't we, Steve?"

 The other man gurgled a bit in reply, because he was having trouble talking due to the intense pain in his arm. "Steve, nod your head if you intend to walk away."

 He nodded, desperately, his face bone-white. "Oh, good. I'll let go of you now, but if you try to make a fuss I'll have security run your ass off, since you're not supposed to be here anyway," Drew told him.  "And if you try to complain, I'll explain to them that you hit and threatened your boyfriend. They'll understand. They might even decide to use their tazers on you to give you a bit of a life lesson," Drew dropped Steve's arm, making the other man stagger and grip it with his good hand. 

 "Get lost. And when Jarrod comes over tonight to collect his stuff, be gone. It'll be between five and six. If you're still there, I might decide to give you as good as you gave him." he growled, stepping back.

Steve threw him a frightened, hate-filled look over his shoulder, then scurried away without saying another world. Drew watched him go, scowling, then turned to Jarrod. The poor caterer looked anxious and rather scared. Drew could understand that; Jarrod wasn't used to seeing him like this. He smiled as reassuringly as he could. 'Sorry about that, but I think I restrained myself pretty well considering what I WANTED to do to him. I wanted to tie him into knots. The world's first human pretzel," he said with a self-deprecating shrug.

   Jarrod stirred. "I'm not upset that you did that, Drew," he replied. "In fact, I kind of liked watching it. Does that make me a bad person?"

 Drew laughed. "Not at all, Jarrod," he replied warmly. "Not at all."   


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