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placed his hands on the surface. He leaned
     
forward, looked into Dexter’s eyes, and said, “We can sell this place for a huge profit, go
     
back to Hollywood and buy a condo, and pick up just where we left off, baby.” He
     
reached for Dexter’s hand. “We’re good together, we always have been.” Then he
     
grabbed his crotch and said, “And if that fucking ashtray hadn’t cut my dick, I would
     
have been fucking you all weekend to prove it. Rough and hard, just the way you like it,
     
baby. You’re tongue would have been hanging out of your mouth. I know what you like
     
in bed, Dexter. I know what you need, baby.”
     
Dexter pressed his lips together and smiled. He’d fantasized about this moment
     
for almost a year, the day Michael would come back to him. But then he looked over Michael’s shoulder and gazed at the smooth walnut fireplace mantel. He couldn’t wait for
     
cold weather so he could build his first fire in Keel Cottage. When he looked to the left,
     
he took a deep breath because the sky looked so blue and clear through the long thin
     
windows at the front of the turret. He’d always dreamed of having a house with a circular
     
room. He’d always dreamed of living in a place where no one cared that he’d once been a
     
famous TV star. There were other famous people living quiet lives in Provincetown,
     
playwrights and poets. Dexter was nothing compared to them.
     
Michael squeezed his hand. “What do you say? Are you coming back to
     
Hollywood?”
     
Dexter lowered his head and frowned. “I’ll think about it,” he said. Then he
     
pulled his hand back, stood up from his desk, and said, “We’d better get moving. You
     
don’t want to miss your flight.” He didn’t want to argue about the money; he was still in
     
shock. And he also knew that it was his own fault. When they’d separated, they should
     
have divided up all their assets like married couples did in a divorce. Dexter had refused
     
to do that because it would have meant they were never getting back together. And he
     
hadn’t been ready to face that fact when he’d left Los Angeles.
     
Chapter Four
     
On Monday afternoon, Dexter made phone calls to Los Angeles. He would have
     
called earlier, but because of the three-hour time difference he had to wait until at least
     
noon. The first call was to his accountant in Los Angeles to check his finances. When
     
Dexter told the accountant what Michael said, the man hesitated. He’d been Dexter’s
     
accountant for more than ten years and they knew each other socially. Then he confirmed
     
what Michael had already told Dexter. Their money was gone and Dexter and Michael
     
were broke.
     
Dexter hung up and stared out the window for a few minutes. He’d heard stories
     
about Hollywood actors losing their money, but never imagined it would happen to him.
     
His stomach turned and his fingers felt numb. He’d never had to worry about money.
     
And in the same respect, he’d never been one to waste money either. He’d always
     
shopped for bargains, he’d never spoiled Brighton with extravagant gifts, and there was
     
always a nice reserve in his checking account for an emergency. (Michael didn’t know
     
about this money; it had always been Dexter’s little secret.) If Dexter lived frugally for
     
the next year, there was enough money in his checking account to cover all his monthly
     
living expenses. And, thankfully, he didn’t have to worry about mortgage payments with
     
Keel Cottage, and he’d already paid his property taxes for the year. His accountant had
     
wanted him to take out a mortgage for tax purposes. But he’d refused. Dexter had wanted
     
to own the house outright, and he was glad he’d insisted. When he realized all this, that he wasn’t totally broke, he took a deep breath and
     
sighed. But that spare money would only last for a year or so with a very prudent lifestyle.
     
And he knew