tagCelebrities & Fan FictionGale Force Ch. 02

Gale Force Ch. 02


Season One, cont.

I was in love.

Goddamn it, I knew I was in trouble when he smirk-smiled at me. I tried to ignore it but I had all of the symptoms. Dry mouth, suddenly sweaty hands, difficulty swallowing past the monumentally huge lump in my throat and shivers that made me sway unnaturally. Thankfully, I had the forethought to lean on the table and shoved my other hand into my pants pocket, attempting to look as if I didn't care.

His name was Gale Harold, an actor from Decatur, Georgia with a few movies under his belt and I didn't think I'd ever seen someone who smoldered sex. My skin tingled, my nipples instantly hardened and my heart fluttered in my chest. My brain worked to process his question and come up with an answer but I drew a complete blank. My faithful assistant, Gerry, nudged my arm, placing a wax paper-wrapped package into my hand.

"Uh, yes. Here you are. It's plain. Did you want something different?"


Gerry disappeared into the cooler and brought the large plastic box of smoked salmon that I'd made the night before and a carton of sour cream. "Here you go."


Gale moved off without a second glance at me and I just stared after him, oblivious to the fact that I was standing like a statue, gazing longingly at him. "Fuck, he's beautiful."

Michelle laughed as she helped herself to a plate of fresh melon and Thompson green grapes. "We've been saying the same thing amongst ourselves for the last few weeks."

"Yeah," Thea grinned, grabbing a grape from Michelle's plate. "And he's straight."

"No!" I gasped.

"Yes!" Thea and Michelle answered in stereo, laughing at each other. "We, Hal, Scott and Gale are straight."

"And Peter?"

"Not sure yet but we're leaning towards bent." Thea answered, nabbing more grapes from Michelle's plate. For a second, they argued with Thea winning and eating more of Michelle's grapes, then graciously going back for a refill. "But you can't tell anyone. The producers don't want anyone to know what our sexual orientations are so that the show can flourish."

"I can understand that," I gave Gerry a nod as he refilled the muffin trays as the make-up and other people started to trickle in. "But what's that going to do to your private lives? Are you not allowed to date while you're on the show?"

"We can date," Michelle started, pausing to finish her iced raspberry muffin. "But it has to be very discreet."

The make-up personnel began to call for the actors and Michelle and Thea excused themselves, heading for one of the trailers. My next ninety minutes were spent feeding the other arriving cast and crew members and my mind stayed busy with making sure that the table was filled and that everyone was happy. When the onslaught was over, we placed the leftovers in a large silver tray, getting them out of the way so that we could begin preparing the lunch service.

"He was cute, wasn't he?"

I tried to ignore Gerry's question but I couldn't get the handsome face of Gale Harold out of my mind.

* * * * *

Lunch went spectacularly well. Everyone enjoyed the day's fare and I was grateful to receive some suggestions from the cast members. Only Gale had kept his distance from us, choosing to smoke in a corner of the lot while staring into space.

"He's gotta eat." Gerry murmured and I agreed but I didn't want to encroach on his space. Actors are one of the strangest species I have ever encountered on the planet. I didn't think Gale was being an asshole; I just thought he was staying in his part, being the Brian the script called for in remaining distant from the other cast members. I picked up a sliced chicken sandwich, strategically placed dollops of mustard and mayonnaise on the side, added a pickle and a generous helping of fries and headed over, two bottles of water in my cargo pants pockets.

He didn't even look up or acknowledge my presence when I approached. I stood there for a few seconds, wondering what the hell to do and made the decision to set the plates and bottles down. It only took a minute to fold a napkin and set the silverware on it and I was walking away, my brain in a Gale-induced fog.


I turned at his shout, wondering what he wanted. I was rewarded by a rare smile, his upper lip smeared with an obscene mixture of mustard and mayo as he chewed the huge bite he'd taken out of the sandwich. "Yes?"

"Thank you."

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