Innuendo Read Online Free PDF Page A

sink. “What are you making?”
    “Oh,” she said, turning back to her work and collecting her thoughts. “Just finishing up some broth for tomorrow. I'm going to poach some fish—that Hawaiian fisherman I use is Fed-Exing me some onaga and ahi he caught this afternoon. Isn't the world a wonder? He caught it at four this afternoon and it'll be here in fly-over land by ten tomorrow morning.”
    “I'm sure it'll be great.”
    “Are you hungry? Can I get you anything to eat?”
    “Nope, I'm all set, thanks.” He glanced at the wall clock, saw that it was just about ten. “Where is everyone?”
    “I'm not sure where Vic is—I think he just went up to his room. Charlie's downstairs watching a movie.”
    Vic was Tim's main bodyguard, a skilled professional who traveled with him and who organized security whenever Tim appeared publicly. Charlie was the number two guy, not only Tim's personal trainer, but also in charge of household security; he was hired a year ago after Gwen and Tim started having trouble with a stalker.
    “I think Maggie and Gwen are upstairs.”
    “Thanks.” He grabbed an apple from a bowl on the counter and started out. “If you see Vic, tell him I need to talk to him.”
    “Sure.” A moment later she called, “Breakfast at five again tomorrow?”
    “Yep. Gotta be on the set at six.”
    He passed through the pantry, a long room with shelves of dishes and two dishwashers, then entered the dining room with its tall ceiling and mahogany paneling. Next he stepped into the entry hall, an enormous space nearly twenty feet wide and some thirty feet long. It was ridiculously big, this place, much more than they needed, with an indoor pool and ten bedrooms, but the producers had just wanted to make sure Tim and his entourage were happy. And the owner, the top saleswoman for a cosmetics company who'd totally rehabbed the place just several years ago and who was now off in the Aegean, had been only too eager to lease it for fifty thousand for ten weeks.
    Tim just hoped to hell it wasn't a mistake coming to the Midwest and doing this film.
    With a face that was too often described as all-American, rich brown hair, a lean, hard body, and a smile that could light up any room, not to mention any screen, Tim Chase was everyone's heartthrob. By everyone's count, he was one of a few truly bankable stars whose name alone—like Harrison Ford, Julia Roberts, Tom Cruise, and Mel Gibson—could open a movie. But his successful fare had always been action heroes—an underdog soccer player in one film, a DEA agent in another, a diplomat in one of his latest. Yet here he was in Minneapolis shooting
The Good Heart,
the story of a gay man who watches not only his lover die from AIDS but his conservative, judgmental father, from whom he has been estranged for over ten years. It was the riskiest of roles for him, there was no doubt about it, and his agent and manager had deeply questioned whether he should play the role of a gay man.
    “Fuck it,” he had told them all. “This is an Oscar-winning role if I've ever seen one. Besides, it's a story that should be told.”
    “But, Tim,” whined Jed, his agent, “you know I'm as queer as a three dollar bill, and I'm not sure this is good for you. What about all your fans, what about your sex appeal? You're one of the four or five most valuable franchises in Hollywood. This is not good, this is not wise. All those girls in middle America are not going to be cool with this.”
    “I'm married, Jed. I have a kid. Everyone knows that.”
    “Yeah, but, Tim, you do this and the rumors are going to start flying again. Trust me, the tabloids are going to have a heyday.”
    “Don't you see, Jed? My fans aren't going to think I'm gay because I'm playing a gay part. If anything, this is going to make them think I'm straight… and kind of gutsy. And when they're bawling their eyes out at the end of the film, they're going to love, love, love me all the more.”
    “It's your