Page 9 of Hollywood Crush

I closed the door behind me and headed down the corridor to the gym. It was in an old and hardlyused basement level of the hotel which I’d recently freshly painted white and had my friend Llywelyn help install new strip lighting in to help it look more like the modern gym expected of the cast and crew.

I got to work immediately, feeling rusty after having not exercised properly in a few weeks. I got underneath the barbell and started lifting. I loved the feeling of strain and effort that exercise gave me and soon enough after a few reps I was sweating.I really should have thought before putting the gym in an almost windowless basement, I thought. There seemed to be no way to get cool, but with sweat pouring off me I actually felt like I was accomplishing something.

I looked around the room as if someone could be hiding in the corner and ripped my vest off, draping it over the bench I’d been using. It felt good to be shirtless and in action, so I turned to the punching bag. I hit it over and over again until my knuckles stung and my arms ached. Sweat poured over my forehead and down my face, and I reached for my vest to wipe it off. My eyes were covered with the fabric when I heard the door open.

“Oh, sorry,” said a familiar voice. One that ran over itself like honey. That Hollywood voice.

“Oh, shit, no, sorry. Um,” I tried to cover myself up with the balled up vest but that didn’t quite work. Daniel was also in a vest, one which showed just how muscular he was. His shoulders were wideand round and his arms looked like they had been sculpted from marble.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” said Daniel. He gave me a tired smile. “Mind if I join you?”

“Well, I was just leaving…” I said.

“Oh. Sure.” I couldn’t tell why, but he looked annoyed.

“Actually, I have some more stuff to do. Mind if I stay?”

Something imperceptible flashed in his eyes as he nodded. I just couldn’t work the man out.

“Have you been down here yet? I didn’t think any of the actors or crew were using the gym,” I said.

“Nah. But I’ve got shirtless scenes coming up later in the week. Figured I better start the cut now,” he replied.

“I didn’t think you would need to,” I replied without thinking. I tried to look him over as subtly as I could — yup, that vest was pretty firmly clinging to those abs — but the smirk on his face suggested he had caught me. “Guess you’re quite used to people looking.”

“Like a prize cow at a farmer’s market, me.”

“Seriously, I can leave you alone if you’d rather the privacy,” I said. I wasn’t sure I could stand to work out next to him without jumping his bones.

“I’d rather the company. Spot me?” Daniel took a couple of extra weights, added them to the barbell and laid back on the bench that I had been working out on previously.

I walked to the end of the bench where his head lay and helped him to lift the big barbell off the hooks. To my surprise, he chatted between laboured breaths.

“Good…place you…have here,” he said, veins bulging in his arms and at his temples.

“Thanks,” I said. “I’ve put a lot of time into it.”

I could see that Daniel was struggling with the weight so I hooked my hands underneath him and helped him return it to the bar. He lay there for a minute panting. I was acutely aware of his position, how close his face was to my crotch. How if he wanted, and I wanted, I could shed my gym shorts now and take his mouth.

Daniel’s gaze drifted upward like he was thinking the same thing and I could feel myself hardening in my shorts. I turned around and made a show of getting us both drinks from the water dispenser. I handed Daniel his and angled my body a little bit away from him as I tried to get my own body under control. After a couple of moments of silence as we both drank and I desperately thought of Margaret Thatcher to aid me in my efforts.

Daniel moved on to one of the weight machines so I didn’t need to help him. I took a seat and watched him anyway under the pretence of being on a break between sets.

“So,” he said, distracting me from watching his arms flex forward as he pushed against the weight. “How have you found looking after a million divasthis week?”

“Fine,” I replied. I tried to think of a diplomatic way to frame my answer so he wouldn’t think I was outright lying.

“You can tell the truth. Marjorie is a fucking nightmare isn’t she?”

“The peroxide blonde old lady in room 306? Honestly, yes,” I replied.

Daniel laughed. “They like to say that people like her have done their time, honed their craft so we should respect them. I think they’re all puffed up arseholes who need less smoke blowing up their arse. You should see the way she speaks to camera people…”

My mind flashed back to Daniel’s off-putting comments on the state of Wales. It wasn’t quite as bad, but I thought he wasn’t a million miles away from the other actors. Maybe just one big role away from divadom.

“I’ve said something, haven’t I?” Daniel broke me out of my deep thought.

“What? No.”

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