Smoke and Shadows Read Free Page A

concerns about his own sanity, it took Tony a moment to figure out what Amy was talking about. “Who? Zev?”
    â€œDuh. He’s a nice guy. Oh, but wait, why would you notice a nice guy who likes you when there’s . . .” She paused and smirked.
    â€œWhat?” Tony demanded as the pause lengthened.
    Behind him, the front door opened and a familiar velvet voice said, “Man, you would not believe the traffic out there! I almost had to take the bike up on the fucking sidewalk at one point.”
    Answering Amy’s sarcastic kissy face with a single finger, Tony turned.
    Lee Nicholas, aka James Taylor Grant, Raymond Dark’s junior partner and the vampire detective’s eyes and ears in the light, was six foot one with short dark hair, green eyes, chiseled cheekbones and the kind of body that owed as much to lucky genetics as his personal trainer. Although the show kept him in preppy casual, he was currently wearing a black leather jacket, faded jeans, black leather chaps, motorcycle boots . . . When he unzipped the jacket to expose a tight black T-shirt, Tony felt his mouth go dry.
    â€œHey, Lee, how many cows were killed for that outfit?”
    â€œNot a one.” He grinned down at Amy, showing perfect teeth and a dimple one of the more poetic on-line fan sites had described as wicked. “They all lived long, fulfilled bovine lives and died happily of old age. How many migrant workers did you exploit for all that cotton?”
    â€œI picked every blossom with my own lily white . . . CB Productions, can I help you? Left you on hold?” Mouthing oops she waved both Tony and Lee away from her desk.
    â€œSo, you’re off the set.” He handed Tony his helmet in full realization that it would be taken and carried for him. “Has Peter finished up early?”
    â€œNo. Uh, late. That is, he’s going to be finishing late and he wanted me to tell you that you wouldn’t be needed on the set until after, you know, lunch.” Tony smiled weakly, fully realizing how he sounded. He’d been taking care of himself, one way or another, since he was fourteen. He’d seen things that redefined the word terrifying. He’d fought against the darkness—not metaphorically, literally fought against the darkness. Well, helped . . . He was twenty-four years old for Christ’s sake! And yet he couldn’t talk to Lee Nicholas without coming across like a babbling idiot. Idiot being a particularly apt description since the actor was straight with a well documented weakness for the kind of blondes he couldn’t take home to Mother.
    Lee’s mother was a very nice woman. She’d been to the studio a couple of times.
    Tony suddenly realized that Lee was waiting for him to reply to something he’d totally missed hearing. “What?”
    â€œI said, thank you for carrying my helmet. I’ll see you on set.”
    â€œRight. Yeah. Uh, you’re welcome.” And the dressing room door closed, the scuffed paint less than a centimeter from his nose.
    Tony had no memory of leaving the production office.
    He walked back to the sound stage; his shadow lingered outside Lee’s door.

    â€œHey, Tony, you up for some second unit work tonight?”
    Marshmallow strawberry halfway to his mouth, Tony turned to see Amy approaching the craft services table waving a set of sides—the night’s schedule reduced to pocket size. “Out on Lakefield?”
    â€œThat’s the one. Arra’s going to blow the beemer. You’ll pick up a little overtime and get to watch a symbol of bourgeois excess take a hit. Hard to beat.”
    â€œBourgeois excess?” He snorted and chewed. “Who talks like that?”
    â€œObviously, me. And if you’re going to give me a hard time, I’ll call in another PA to do it.”
    Tony waited. Picked a marshmallow banana out of the bowl.
    â€œOkay, Pam asked for you and CB wouldn’t let me