Only You by Jerry Cole (the top 100 crime novels of all time TXT) 📕

Even still, when Nick pulled up out front of Sherman’s apartment building, he tried a final time to get Sherman to come out. “When was the last time you got laid – a year ago?” he begged. “Come on! This will be good for you!”

“Good night,” Sherman laughed as he slammed the door closed. “I’ll see you Monday.”

Sherman didn’t need Nick hooking him up, but that was because Sherman already had somebody... kind of. He wasn’t dating this person, or even ‘seeing’ them, but they had called one another at least once a week for the past month and a half, and if the last conversation was anything to go off, not to mention the text messages they had been sending, then it wasn’t going to be ending anytime soon.

Once inside his apartment, Sherman hurried to get ready. He quickly took a shower and then slipped into his red silk pajamas. He then ate the freshly rolled sushi that his housekeeper had spent the day making for him. As for the cocaine? He shoved that into his dresser, knowing he wouldn’t need it tonight. He never did on the night’s that he had these calls; they negated the need for hard drugs and even booze.

And then, just as 8:30PM rolled over, he fell onto the couch and readied himself for the call he’d been looking forward to all day.

It was Bradley that he was calling, of course. Who else could it be? Since Europe, the two men had spoken on the phone to one another at least once a week, sometimes more if they had the time. In between that, there was a multitude of texting, tagging and meme sending. It was as if they were dating... only from a distance, and without having said the actual words yet.

Things were never meant to go this way. After those three days spent on the yacht, and with their trip to Bali booked for November, both men had agreed that they wouldn’t ‘overdo it,’ in regard to staying in touch. They knew they’d be seeing one another in a few months and didn’t want to risk fizzling out. But they had still agreed to call one another when they both got in... and then they agreed to call the next week just because... and then the week after and then the week after...

Well, it had now been nearly two months since they had last seen one another and they were closer than they had ever been. Tonight, they would talk, they would tell one another about their weeks, they would joke, laugh, gossip and finish with a little phone sex, as they always did. Nick might have thought he was having the night of his life out clubbing, but Sherman knew that what he had in store was infinitely better.

His phone vibrated at exactly 8:31PM, and Bradley’s name popped up on the screen. Sherman still got a little nervous each time he answered, butterflies flapping their wings and trying to escape his insides.

“There he is,” Sherman answered the call. “I was beginning to get worried.”

“I hope you were about to call the cops. Report me missing.” Bradley’s voice was a tonic far better than any drug.

“Literally a second away,” Sherman assured him. “If you were another minute later, I would have booked a flight to Melbourne for tonight. The first 24 hours are the most important in any missing persons case.”

“God, lucky I got it in time.”

“Only just,” Sherman joked.

It was as easy and natural as that. At 8:31PM on a Friday night, Sherman found himself laid out on his couch, talking to a man who lived many miles away, and truly, he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

Chapter Nine

“... it’s not enough to just know what the character wants in the moment though – we're portraying three-dimensional characters here, people. Remember that! What did they want yesterday? What do they want tomorrow? What did they want to be when they were kids? Why aren’t they this now? What’s their favorite color?! Film?! Book?! Meal?! Ask the hard questions to get to the core of your character!”

Bradley always found Ms. Perdy a little too intense for his liking, and today was no different. As she rambled on and on and on about unlocking the secret to good character acting, she paced the front of the room and waved her arms wildly; it was like she thought she was on fire, and no-one else could see the flames but her.

Of the twenty students in her class, at least half were more than on-board with what she was saying. They sat at the front of the room, cross-legged, arms tucked under their bottoms as she had instructed, eyes wide and open and trained on her as if she was a life source. She was God and they were just lucky to be in her vicinity.

The other half of the class also sat on the ground, also with their legs crossed and also with their hands under their bottoms as she had instructed. But they all sat back a little further, and more spread out then those at the front. Bradley was one of these students. He was still listening, but he did so without the risk of being stepped on.

“... I once played a character that had a single line – just the one line in a two-hour production. But if you had asked me what grade she got on her Year Twelve exams, I could have told you – and I would have added what she had hoped to get, why she hadn’t and what she was going to do with herself now! That was how in the character’s head I was.”

Sitting beside Bradley was his class-friend, Isabelle. She was that brand of actor who got into the lifestyle simply because