Free Question Mark by S.E. Culpepper Page A

party, a few “WTF!” texts from Mikey and James, and a voicemail from Jake Hillenbrand, a close friend from one of his early films. He was going to be in town and wondered if he could crash at Zane’s place later that month.
    “I’m sorry, Robert,” he said to his driver who glanced at him in the rearview mirror. “I’ve got to make some calls.”
    Robert waved the apology away with a nod as he raised the privacy glass and Zane reminded himself to tip well because he was about to become one of those oblivious phone talkers while he was chauffeured around. His mom would be pissed if she saw how rude he was being.
    Rushing through messaging everybody back, he was finally able to pull the slip of paper with Mark’s number on it from his back pocket. Unfolding it, his lips drew into a bright smile. Mark had scrawled out his number and in neat block letters beneath it, he’d written:
    No games, Mercenary. Waiting for your call.
    Zane chuckled and blood rose from his chest to his face and he had to turn a vent toward him so the AC was blowing directly on him. Whispering a prayer, he fumbled through entering the number and sat back to wait. Please, oh please answer.
    Four rings in and he was about to give up when the phone clicked and Mark’s breathless voice sounded in his ear.
    “Zane? You there? Can you hear me?”
    It was a very good thing that Zane had bones in his body because otherwise he would’ve melted into the carpet of the sedan.
    “How’d you know it was me?” The smile in his words was clear and Mark’s embarrassed chuckle made him want to roll down the window and howl for a minute or two. Sheeze, Zane was turning into one lusty son of a bitch.
    “I entered it into my phone this morning. It’d be just like me to lose the card you gave me—especially since I’m at a resort and housekeeping is in and out of this bungalow like sixty times a day—so I wanted a backup in my phone.”
    “Well, thank God,” he teased, the color still high in his cheeks. “How’d the snorkeling go? Near death experiences?”
    “I saw a lot of fish…and sand…and more fish. But once I was there looking at them, I sort of wondered what was next. Am I s’posed to chase them? Stir them up? It was gorgeous out there, for sure, but I don’t know. Mostly I spent the time defogging my damned goggles while the guide waited for me to catch up. Even the little kids were doing better than I was.”
    Zane’s face hurt already from grinning. There wasn’t anything fake about Mark Newland. Most of the people he knew would go on and on about the beauty of nature and being one with the tropical fish, but not this guy.
    “So you’re a real sportsman?” Zane chuckled.
    “Absolutely. The water is my second home.”
    They both laughed together until a charged silence settled on them. Mark cleared his throat and Zane waited for what he was going to say.
    “It would’ve been nice if you could’ve been here, too. I thought of you. Almost constantly. Though I tried to focus when those miniature sharks showed up.”
    Zane’s head fell back against the leather seat and he exhaled hard enough to make his throat tickle. “I really wish I could’ve stayed. I’m so sorry about all of this.”
    “Hey,” Mark said kindly, “I didn’t say that to make you feel bad. This no games thing is new to me, but that was me being open, I guess.”
    “Well, I thought of you, too. Couldn’t stop, really.” Zane watched out the window as the car joined the traffic on the freeway. Rain pounded on the windows and he found himself hoping the cocktail party would be cancelled so he could talk to Mark as long as he wanted. “I’m on my way back to my place where I have to clean up for this ridiculous party.”
    “What’s this part you want to play? Would you normally do all this schmoozing for it?”
    “It’s the story of a World War II pilot, Garrett Richtfeld. I read his bio a few years ago and it’s an awesome story. I’ve wanted to