Rage Over Hollywood

Chapter 4

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Walking the few blocks from the apartment to the studio Monday morning, Justin was in good spirits. He'd liked Sandy the moment he'd met her at lunch on Friday and the three new friends had spent most of the weekend together. There was still a certain amount of sexual tension simmering beneath the surface, but neither of the two men had allowed it to interfere with their budding friendship. Steve proved to be a very interesting man with vast knowledge in many areas. Justin hadn't realized how much he missed having someone he could discuss practically anything with. The various topics had effectively kept Justin's mind off the studio and the accumulating problems there.

Sandy was a beautiful girl with long blonde hair, big blue eyes and a level of intelligence that matched that of her friend and roommate. Over the course of the weekend, she'd drawn Justin into more than one in-depth art conversation and had suggested they check out some of the art exhibits currently on display in the area.

They'd spent the better part of Saturday visiting some of the more interesting tourist attractions before heading for dinner at a warm Italian restaurant and then to Aftershock for dancing and drinks. Justin had been a little surprised at Sandy's readiness to join them, but Steve had only laughed.

"She's been hanging around me too long," he'd said to Justin, but more for Sandy's benefit. "Heteros bore her now."

Sandy had merely looked at him in mock arrogance. "So do certain gay men who shall remain nameless." She'd linked her arm in Justin's and half dragged him toward the door. "Come on, gorgeous. I'm sure there's a hot stud in there with your name on him."

As he neared the studio, the happy memories of the weekend were replaced by harsh reality. Two police cars flanked the security gate and uniformed officers were holding back a small crowd of about twenty angry protestors, some carrying homemade placards that read 'Death to Rage'. He stopped where he was for a moment, surveying the scene from a distance. When he saw another studio employee being ushered through the gate, he took a deep breath and continued forward. Approaching the gate, an officer stopped him. "Name?"

"Justin Taylor."

"ID?"

Justin produced his studio ID and the cop studied it for a moment before nodding and waving him through. Justin kept his eyes straight ahead, but he couldn't block out the angry calls he was hearing.

"Did you hear that? Justin Taylor. He's one of them!"

Glancing over at the man who'd called his name, Justin saw him waving an issue of Rage and pointing at the cover while trying to stir up the crowd. Naturally, it was the cover depicting the blow job, but this one had a large X scrawled over it in what appeared to be red paint.

Though he was pretty sure it was supposed to represent something else.

With a slight shudder, he quickened his pace, showing his ID card once again to the security guard at the gate before being ushered into the relative safety of the studio lot. Once inside the building, he found Sandy hurrying toward him.

"Christ, Justin, are you all right?" she asked, concern evident in her features.

"Yeah," he said, glancing nervously back through the glass doors. "Is it like this at every gate?"

"No," she replied regretfully. "Only this one."

He nodded tersely. It really didn't surprise him. Gate E was closest to Rage headquarters and the one cast and crew were assigned to use. "Fuck," he breathed anyway.

"Yeah," she empathized. "The head honchos are taking care of it," she assured him. "They should be gone by the time you leave."

Justin glanced out once again at the angry crowd. He certainly hoped so.

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Brian was at his desk organizing the day's work and sipping his first latte of the day when Cynthia buzzed through.

"Yeah," he said, pressing the intercom button.

"It's Justin," she told him. "Sounds important."

Cynthia knew he always took Justin's calls, so her words told him she'd detected something in the other man's voice. "Thanks." He picked up the receiver and pressed the flashing red button. "Hey."

"Hey," Justin replied.

"What's up?" Brian asked with a small frown. He'd talked to Justin the previous night and the man had been in a great mood, having spent an enjoyable weekend with his new friends.

"I … I just needed to hear your voice," Justin answered hesitantly. Then with a derisive snort, he added, "Fuck, how lesbionic was that? I shouldn't have called; I'll talk to you later."

"Hold on, Sunshine," Brian said, trying to keep his tone light though he was growing increasingly concerned. "You called for a reason, now out with it."

"No queening out, remember?" Justin said, half asking, half warning.

"Let me be the judge of what's queenable and what's not, shall we? Now what's going on?"

Justin took a deep breath and let it out into the phone. "They did some interviews last week," he explained miserably. "Some of the articles in the trade magazines came out and this morning there was a crowd of protestors at the gate."

"Fuck," Brian breathed.

Justin expelled a hollow laugh. "Yeah, my sentiments exactly."

"Anyone hurt?" Brian asked.

Justin heard the underlying question there and smiled despite his dismal mood. "No," he answered. "I'm fine. But thanks for asking."

"Twat," Brian replied with as much affection as he dared show.

Justin sighed. "They had signs, Brian. 'Death to Rage.' And copies of the comic with big red Xs painted on them. One of them heard me giving my name to the cop and started yelling 'he's one of them'."

"Assholes," Brian grated. "What's being done?"

"Sandy says the studio bigwigs are taking care of it and the cops are already involved so they should be gone by the time I leave."

"If not, I don't want you walking back to the apartment by yourself," Brian said firmly. "Have security call you a fucking cab and I don't care that it's only a few blocks."

"I will," Justin promised, not about to argue with common sense.

Brian was silent for a moment, trying to rein in his frustration. He hated that all this was happening so far away and he was powerless to do anything. "You sure you're all right?" he finally asked.

"Yeah," Justin said with a small smile. "I am now."

Brian smiled, too. "Good. But watch your back. I'll call you tonight."

"Ok," Justin answered. "Thanks."

"Later, Sunshine."

"Later."

Brian hung up the phone and leaned back in his chair with a sigh. This was not the way he'd planned on starting his day. Glancing at the pile of work in front of him, he began to consider the possibility of moving up his flight by a few days. A knock on the door broke his train of thought.

"Yeah?"

Ted popped his head in. "Morning. Can I talk to you for a sec?"

"Sure," Brian sighed wearily. "Come on in." He straightened up and lightly folded his hands on the desktop. "Well?" he prodded, raising an eyebrow expectantly.

Ted cleared his throat as he stood in front of the desk. "Uh, Leo Brown is on line two. He's got a new line of ski wear he wants to launch before fall and he won't talk to anyone but you."

Brian nodded. That wasn't so bad.

"There's more," Ted continued reluctantly. "He wants to schedule a meeting some time this week."

"Here?" Brian asked, though he suspected he already knew the answer.

Ted grimaced and shook his head. "Chicago."

"Fuck!" Brian shouted, sweeping a stack of contracts from his desk in frustration. So much for heading to L.A. early.

Ted took a step backward. "It shouldn't be more than a couple of days, Bri. And if you have to put off your trip to L.A. until next weekend, I'm sure Justin will under…"

"This has nothing to do with Justin," Brian lied, his tone somewhat calmer but still angry. Knowing none of it was Ted's fault, he relented with a sigh. "I'll take care of it, Theodore. Thanks."

With a nod, Ted left the office and Brian took a deep breath before picking up the phone. "Leo," he spoke into the receiver with a practiced exuberance he was far from feeling. "How can I help you?"

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Brett Keller found Justin in Richard's office. "Hey," he said, moving to hug the younger man. "Are you all right?"

Justin shot an embarrassed look in Richard's direction. They'd all come through the same gate and he hated that he was being treated differently by those who knew his past. "I'm fine."

Richard made a feeble excuse and left the room, touching Justin's shoulder lightly as he left.

"I know it couldn't have been pleasant," Brett was saying.

"No more unpleasant than for you or anyone else," Justin said irritably.

Brett scoffed lightly. "Hell, I'm used to it. This isn't the first controversial movie I've worked on." He paused for a moment. "As for everyone else, they weren't the victim of a hate crime not so long ago."

"I prefer survivor of a hate crime, if it's all the same to you," Justin retorted curtly.

Raising his hands in a gesture of surrender, Keller said, "Sorry. My mistake."

He realized it was doing no good taking it out on the director and let out a long breath. "No, I'm sorry. Sometimes I just … I just wonder if it's all worth it, you know?"

Brett nodded in understanding. "Yeah, I've asked myself that on more than one occasion," he admitted. "But in the end, it all comes down to this. Are the views of those trying to stop the movie more important or more relevant than those of us trying to make it?"

He considered the words. "No," he finally answered.

Brett smiled. "And just for the record, I've been talking to the producers about the suggested revisions to the script."

"And?" Justin asked hopefully.

"It's going ahead as originally approved with all the violence and butt-fucking intact."

Justin grinned at that. "It wouldn't be Rage without it," he commented.

"No, it wouldn't," Brett laughed, clapping Justin on the back. "Now, I think we need to put this morning's nasty business behind us and get on with the show. They're working on the set for Rage's lair on soundstage two. Why don't you go and check it out. Make sure everything's up to snuff. We don't need any more surprises."

Justin nodded, but paused before leaving the room. "Do you think this is the end of it?"

Brett didn't answer right away. "I won't lie to you, Justin. These people don't give up easily. The studio is paying for extra security on the movie set and throughout this area of the building, but don't let that lull you into a false sense of complacency. Nobody can predict how far they're willing to go."

It wasn't the answer he'd been hoping for, but he accepted it as an honest one. "Yeah," he said, turning to leave the room.

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When he walked into the commissary at lunch time, Sandy waved at him from a nearby table. After waving back to indicate he'd seen her, he got his lunch and joined her.

"I was hoping you'd come down," she said. "I've been thinking. I practically drive right by your place on my way home. Why don't I drop you off? I'd appreciate the company."

Justin smiled knowingly. "How much company will I be in the thirty seconds it takes to get to my place?"

She blushed slightly for a moment, and then shook her head. "Ok, so it's not for company. But I really would feel better if you weren't walking back and forth with all the shit that's going on."

"I wasn't planning on it," he admitted. "I thought I'd just call a cab."

"Oh, sorry. I didn't realize you had vast amounts of cash at your disposal. By all means, take a taxi. While you're paying him ten bucks one way, I'll be sure to wave as I drive by."

He raised an eyebrow. "Sarcasm doesn't become you," he teased.

She only smiled. "But did it work? Did I make my point?"

"You did," he nodded in mock resignation. "And thank you. I'd appreciate both the ride and the company."

"Never underestimate what you can cram into thirty seconds," she said, raising her glass in a mock toast.

With a laugh, he clinked his glass with hers and they settled down to a pleasant lunch.

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Cynthia knocked and made her way into Brian's office. "I've made the flight and hotel reservations," she announced, putting the details on his desk. "I only booked two nights. If you need more, you'll have to arrange it. The return ticket is open-ended. Just call this number when you have a better idea when you'll need the flight."

"It's not my first trip, Cyn," Brian retorted irritably. "I think I can handle it."

"No need to get pissy with me," she shot back amicably. "It's not my fault the timing sucks."

He sighed. "Yeah, I know," he admitted. "Hopefully I'll be back in a couple of days."

"Just in time to hop on another plane," she teased. Sobering slightly, she asked, "Is everything OK? Justin sounded a little… I don't know … off, this morning."

"Some trouble at the studio," Brian explained, knowing how much his assistant cared for his lover. "Word's out that they're making a gay comic into a movie and some of the good citizens of California are taking exception to that."

"Is he all right?"

"He's fine," he assured her with a small smile. "There were protestors at the studio this morning and it shook him up some."

"No doubt," she commiserated.

"The studio's looking after it," he said, trying to sound nonchalant.

"But you wish you were there to look after him," she said with a smile. When he cast a warning look in her direction, she rolled her eyes.

"He's a big boy, Cyn," Brian pointed out. "He doesn't need me or anyone else there looking after him."

"Doesn't stop you from wanting to, though, does it?" she said softly. Wisely, she left the office before he had a chance to reply.

Shaking his head, he picked up the sheet and studied the details of his upcoming trip. He needed to be in a meeting with Leo Brown first thing in the morning and the only flight Cynthia could get that would put him there was a late one. The scheduled time of the flight would put him in the air at the very time he was supposed to call Justin. "Just fucking great," he muttered, picking up the phone. He wasn't surprised when it went straight to voicemail. Justin had a habit of turning off the phone unless he wanted to use it or was expecting a call. He knew he could call the apartment, but he'd only have to leave a message there, so he might as well leave it on the cell. "Hey," he spoke into the receiver. "Something's come up. I have to fly to fucking Chicago tonight for the Brown Athletics account. I'll call you when I get in but it might be late. Later."

Hanging up, he realized how disappointed he was that he hadn't been able to speak to his lover. Vowing to make up for it later with some hot phone sex, he continued to get things ready for his impending absence from the office.

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Having agreed to meet Sandy in the lobby shortly after five, Justin had some time to kill and headed for the soundstage where the lair was being built.

"Hey, Victor," he greeted the security guard who's usual post was the lobby. "What are you doing here?"

"They've beefed up security around here," the older man explained. "I'll be guarding the set for the next few nights."

"Do they think that's necessary?" Justin asked with a frown as he glanced at the set. So far, it wasn't much more than a wooden frame.

Victor shrugged. "I don't ask questions," he said with a smile. "I just go where they send me. I know they've also got night security in wardrobe and the art department."

Justin was dismayed that things had gotten to that point, but knew it was important that they not cave to a few malcontents. "I guess they know what they're doing," he said with a sigh.

"You finished for the day?" Victor asked.

"Yeah," Justin said with a nod. "Just waiting for my ride."

"Good. I'm glad you're not walking, and that they're letting you out of here at a decent time for a change."

Justin smiled. Victor was probably old enough to be his grandfather and sometimes acted the role. Justin had made it a point to talk to the man at least once each day and after the first week, they were on a first-name basis.

"Too bad you have to be here all night, though," he said to the older man. "I imagine it could get pretty boring."

"I brought a couple of magazines," Victor replied with a smile. "I'll be fine."

Justin glanced at his watch and saw it was nearly time to meet Sandy. The last thing he wanted to do was keep her waiting after she'd been kind enough to offer him a ride. "I have to go," he said. "See you tomorrow."

He met Sandy in the lobby and they walked to her car, both taking note of the extra security posted around Gate E. "Feels kinda weird," Justin said, referring to the uniformed guards. "A regular police state."

"It'll die down," she assured him, taking his arm as they walked. "There's always somebody complaining about something in this business."

Justin doubted that what was going on was a regular occurrence, but he didn't argue the matter. A few minutes later, Sandy pulled up in front of his building.

"Thanks," he said with a smile. "I appreciate it."

"My pleasure," she assured him. "You can never be too careful."

"Tell Steve I'll call him later."

"Will do. I'll pick you up here tomorrow at 7:45," she suggested.

"'K. See you then."

"Night."

She watched as he headed for the lobby door and was just about to pull into the street when something caught her eye. Stopping, she saw three men move from the side of the building toward Justin. She watched as Justin turned toward them and an angry exchange began. "Shit!" she exclaimed, slamming the car into park and jumping out. Before she had a chance to interfere, the man doing most of the yelling had landed a sucker punch to Justin's midsection. "Hey!" she yelled, running toward them. Having nothing to use as a weapon, she did the only thing she could think of and pushed the 'panic' button on her key ring. Immediately, her car horn began sounding with the potential to draw more attention than the trio felt comfortable with. Just as she reached them, they turned and fled.

"Justin!" she called, kneeling beside him. "Are you all right?"

It took a moment for him to answer as he struggled to get enough air into his lungs. "I'm fine," he finally breathed, getting unsteadily to his feet. She noticed him wince and clutch at his abdomen.

"You're not fine," she scolded.

The blaring car was still attracting attention and a small crowd had gathered. "I called the cops," one man said, approaching them. "You all right, kid?"

Justin nodded, still clutching his stomach. "I'm fine." He noted Sandy's skeptical look and tried to reassure her. "Really."

She pushed the button to turn off the alarm and Justin could hear the people gathered murmuring amongst themselves. He heard the word 'mugged' a few times but knew it was no random act.

"Here, sit down," Sandy encouraged, leading him toward one of the benches that flanked the front door. "You'll have to give a statement to the police."

Justin nodded and did as she instructed. Meanwhile, the crowd was dispersing, realizing that no one had been seriously injured.

"Did you recognize them?" Sandy asked, sitting beside him.

Justin nodded his head slightly. "The guy who hit me was at the gate this morning," he said, remembering the man who'd called his name.

"What did he say?"

The Good Samaritan handed him a bottle of water and Justin smiled his thanks before taking a small sip.

"He asked what right we had making a movie like that."

"How'd they know where you live?" she asked.

"I don't know," Justin replied. The same thought had occurred to him and he didn't like any of the possible answers.

Once the police arrived, they took statements from Justin, Sandy and the man who'd called 911. After determining that Justin wasn't in need of an ambulance, they left to file the report.

"Let's get you inside," Sandy said when it was just the two of them left.

"I'm OK," he assured her. "You go ahead."

She studied him for a moment. "You sure?"

"Just knocked the wind outta me," he replied, managing a small smile. "I'm fine, now."

She hesitated another moment before nodding. "Ok, but call if you need anything."

"I will. Thanks. I'll see you tomorrow."

When she'd left, he made his way into the building and up to his apartment. It was with a sigh of relief that he locked the door and set the alarm.

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Justin was just getting out of the shower when the phone rang. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he answered on the third ring. "Hello?"

"Justin? It's me. Sandy told me what happened. Are you OK?"

"I'm fine, Steve," Justin assured him.

"Sandy says it had something to do with the movie."

"Yeah," Justin said. "One of them was at the gate protesting this morning. I guess, after the cops ran them off, he figured it would be easier to discuss the matter one on one… or in this case, three on one."

"How'd he know where you live?"

"I'm not sure," Justin said, though he was pretty sure he knew. "A few of us got harassing phone calls last week. We figured somebody got our numbers from the personnel files."

"And your address would be there, too," Steve surmised.

"Yeah," Justin agreed. "I changed the number, but I'm not fucking moving for these assholes."

"Want me to come over?"

Justin smiled. "No, that's Ok. Brian's calling later. I think I'll just grab something to eat and get some sleep while I wait."

"You sure? I could bunk on the sofa if it would make you feel better."

"The door's locked and the alarm's set," Justin assured him. "I'm fine. Thanks, though."

"If you need anything, just call."

"I will. Good night."

"Night."

Justin ended the call and flopped onto the bed. He was still angry about the confrontation more than anything. Rage was, after all, partly his creation and he'd be damned if he was going to let some homophobic asshole ruin it for him. He'd risked way too much to take the job in L.A. He'd almost lost Brian over it.

Brian

He'd be pissed if Justin didn't tell him what happened and he found out later. On the other hand, hearing it over the phone would likely make it seem worse than it really was. After a few moments thought, he decided he'd take his chances. There was no way he'd give him any more reason to worry than he already had.

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Brian checked into the hotel room in Chicago in a less than happy mood. The flight had been delayed to start with, and then he'd had to sit beside some asshole who wanted to talk politics the whole flight. That would have been bad enough if he hadn't been a staunch Bush supporter. The fact that he was made the flight unbearable and nearly left Brian with a bloody tongue.

After hanging his garment bag in the closet, he took off his jacket and tie. He was still unbuttoning his shirt as he picked up the phone to call Justin. Glancing at the clock beside the bed, he hoped the blond was home.

"Hello?" Justin answered, not recognizing the number.

"Hey."

"Hey," the younger man said with a smile. "I take it you made it to Chicago?"

"I'm in the hotel room as we speak," Brian informed him. "Room 343."

"How was your flight?" Justin asked, propping himself up against the headboard.

"You don't want to know," Brian muttered. "How was the rest of your day? Any more trouble after this morning?"

Though he hadn't planned on volunteering the information, he felt bad about lying in the face of a direct question. "Nothing serious," he said evasively.

"Which means something you don't want me to think is serious."

Justin sighed. "Some guys were waiting to talk to me when I got back to the building."

"Talk, huh?"

"Well, it kinda started out like talking," Justin hedged. "More like yelling, I guess."

"And escalated to…?"

Justin closed his eyes. "He sucker punched me, but I'm fine, I swear."

"Fuck, Justin! How far is this going to go before somebody puts a fucking stop to it?"

"There's only so much they can do, Brian. There's extra security all over the studio. They can't possibly follow every asshole on the street who might happen to be against the making of a gay movie."

"So, what? They don't care that people are getting attacked at their place of residence? That's fucked."

"It's not that they don't care," Justin explained as patiently as possible. "But they can't prevent every crime, Brian, you know that."

Brian knew it all too well. He'd been there when Justin had been… hurt and he hadn't been able to stop it. How did he expect anyone to do anything when they weren't there?

"Were you alone?"

"Sandy dropped me off," Justin informed him. With a small chuckle, he added, "She set off her car alarm to scare them away."

"I like her already," Brian said, admiring her quick thinking.

"Anyway, it's over and done with. If the cops pick anybody up, I'll have to go down and make a positive ID."

"Where'd he get you?"

"Stomach," Justin answered. "Just knocked the wind out of me, that's all."

"That's all, my ass," Brian countered. "I've been hit in the stomach. Those muscles will be tender for a day or two."

Justin shifted on the bed and winced as Brian was proven right. "Yeah, I guess."

As unhappy as he was with the evening's events, Brian was glad it hadn't been worse. "So, I guess the sex is out, huh, Sunshine?"

Justin smiled at Brian's words. He knew his lover was trying to give him something more pleasant to think about. "Oh, I don't know. I bet I could still manage to bring you off with two stomach muscles tied behind my back."

Brian chuckled. "Not that that doesn't make for a lovely visual, but you should get some sleep. I'll call you tomorrow."

Justin hesitated for a moment like he always did at this point in their conversation. "Brian, I … "

"I know," Brian said softly. "Get some sleep, Justin"

Justin smiled. "'K. Brian?"

"Hmm?"

"I know, too."

"Night, Sunshine," he sing-songed in a mocking tone.

Justin just smiled, recognizing a patented Kinney avoidance technique when he heard one. "Night."

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