Better Red

by Tara Lain

  “I know. Isn’t it awful? My gran must have packed everything I own.”

  Elbey waved at a suitcase. “May I?”

  “Sure. No telling what’s in there.”

  Elbey opened the bag. Clothes Red had never seen with tags still attached blossomed out of the suitcase. “Oh no.”

  Elbey looked at him. “What?”

  “Gran went out and spent a bunch of money on me. Damn, we can’t afford that and I don’t need them. If BrandFace wants me to look a certain way, they can dress me.” He shook his head. “Just fold them back up please. I’ll return them when I get home.”

  Elbey gave Red side-eye. “And when will that be?”

  “As soon as possible.”

  Elbey said nothing, but the silence was deafening.

  * * *

  Mark stared at the phone in his hand—again—then up at Mrs. Ridley’s house where the first lights were going on against night coming on.

  He’s gone. Red had said all the right things—he didn’t want to go, he’d be back, they’d have their date. But the bottom line was that Red was gone, and no matter how he tried, Mark couldn’t get happy about it. It was like the bad feeling he’d always gotten whenever he’d seen Phil Gordat and his crew in Mom and Pop’s when Red was working. That creepy sickness in the stomach. It was the feeling that had driven Mark to cruise the streets whenever Phil was lurking and Red was vulnerable. The urge to protect.

  Mark leaned an elbow on the steering wheel and rested his head in his hand. The real reason he’d followed Red everywhere was because he was an idiot. A hopelessly in love idiot. He couldn’t remember the exact moment when his fascination with Red’s unusual looks and his admiration at the guy’s work ethic and devotion to family had tipped over the edge, but there it was. Yes, Red was way too good for Mark and that’s why Mark had kept his distance, but Red had closed that gap when he arrived at Woods Auto and insisted on helping Mark. Now Mark was addicted. The taste of Red’s cock would never leave his mouth and the feel of Red’s sweetness would always be in Mark’s heart.

  If I could just get over the idea that he’s not safe.

  Impulsively, he pushed out of the truck and walked across the street to the Ridley house. Before he could chicken out, he rapped on the door.

  The door swung open and Mrs. Ridley stood there holding a teapot. Her face did a weird morph from an initial smile to a slight frown to politeness. “Hello, Mark. What a surprise.” She seemed to realize she was holding the pot. “Uh, would you like a cup of tea?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He almost laughed, since they both sounded as if he’d come just for a cup of tea, but the belly creeps were too strong for that.

  He followed her into the living room where she set the pot down on a coaster beside a teacup and then went to the kitchen. A moment later, she returned with another cup and poured for them both. As she handed him the cup that smelled richly of spearmint, she said, “What can I do for you?”

  “Actually, I know Red’s in the city and I wanted to see if you need anything. He left so suddenly.” That was true too.

  Again, the war on her face. Finally, it settled into a smile. “Yes, isn’t it exciting that they need Red to be there for a grand reception?” She sipped her tea and then looked up. Her jaw looked firm. “Actually, Mark, this whole thing for Red comes at such an opportune time. He’s been so uncertain about his future. I know he’s young, but I hate to see him drift along in this town doing mundane things just because he’s always done them. You of all people must realize how deadly it is to stay in your comfort zone. This will shake him up and give him a new perspective on life.” She gave a bright laugh. “And secondarily, it comes at a time when we’re actually quite, uh, in need of funds, so it will solve two problems at one time. Isn’t it wonderful?”

  Right. A new perspective on life that didn’t include something as mundane as Mark Woods. He’d asked a question and, man, did he get an answer. Mark couldn’t do anything except nod. He set down his still full cup and stood. “Sounds wonderful.” He walked toward the door.

  She didn’t even try to stop him. “Thank you so much for looking in on me, Mark. I’m touched. You’re always so kind to the Ridleys.”

  Marked paused without turning back. “Do you feel completely secure about Red’s situation in the city? Where he’s living? Who he’s, uh, living with?”

  “Of course, dear. They have a wonderful apartment for him and a roommate that Red says he likes very much. It’s good of you to be concerned, but I’d never agree to a situation that wasn’t safe.”

  “Of course. Call if you need anything.” The heat behind his eyes threatened to blind him as he pushed out the front door and stumbled down the steps. Red’s fine where he is. He doesn’t need you. Give it the fuck up.

  * * *

  Forty-five minutes later, Red had unpacked everything that didn’t have a price tag on it except for one pair of black jeans that Elbey insisted Red needed to keep, and Red was dressed in the amazing outfit Mr. Merlinson had given him to wear. It was a pearl-gray suit—double-breasted, of all things, but with just one button. The jacket was roomy and the pants narrow and trim. The overall effect was wildly slouchy and made Red look so ridiculously chic he didn’t recognize himself.

  Red turned in a circle. “What about shoes?”

  Elbey leaned back on the bed surveying their handiwork. “Sneakers. It’s all the rage on the catwalks.”

  “Seriously?”

  “I’d never lie to you.” A flash of a crease between their brows was all that marred the serenity of Elbey’s face.

  A knock came on the door as Red tied on his sneakers.

  Elbey jumped up and hurried out of the room. A second later, Red heard Mr. Merlinson’s voice.

  When Red walked out of the bedroom, Elbey swept an arm. “Ta-da!”

  Mr. M’s head turned, he gave Red a slow once-over, and then he smiled. “Splendid, young Red. You’ll transform the world of fashion.” He stepped back. “We’d best go. Don’t want to keep the movers and shakers waiting.” He said it with a grin, but there was something about it. “Thank you for your help, Elbey.”

  Elbey waved a hand and smiled, but it didn’t quite reach their eyes. The remark about being encouraged to compete flashed in Red’s brain, but he couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t make it worse. Red grabbed Elbey in a hug and whispered, “I’m just flavor of the month.”

  Elbey tightened their arms and hugged back.

  Mr. M. stopped at the elevator, but Red said, “It takes forever. Stairs are faster.”

  “I noticed that.”

  A flight down, Red asked, “Why isn’t Elbey invited?”

  “Well, as you so wisely suggested, you’re the new, shiny toy. But also, Elbey has revealed themselves to be a popular, but complex personality. They say things others only think.”

  “Yeah, I noticed that.”

  “Had there been other accommodations easily available, the people at BrandFace might have put you in them, but that wasn’t the case.”

  “I like Elbey.”

  Mr. M. smiled. “Perhaps that’s what they’re afraid of.”

  Red wanted to ask who “they” were, but they’d reached the bottom of the stairs and walked out into the evening air. The town car was parked at the curb and Mr. M. opened the door.

  A quick glance showed only Brock was inside, dressed to the nines as Gran would say, and once again, the privacy panel was closed. Red slid in and Brock said, “You look fantastic.”

  Red nodded. “Thanks to Elbey.”

  Brock smiled, like he got the jab. “Elbey’s a brilliant stylist. He always brings something original.”

  “They.”

  “Of course, they.” Brock pulled out a mini-tablet from the side pocket by the seat. “Now pay attention. Here’s who’ll be at the reception tonight that you need to know and impress. Of course, the primary client is Giuliana, but there are many more.” With that, he launched into a monologue on differe
nt people in the fashion industry—other designers of women’s and men’s clothing and accessories, stylists, influential members of the fashion press, photographers, and bloggers.

  Red gaped. “Are all these people going to be there tonight?” His voice squeaked on the end and his stomach churned.

  “Yes, of course. The excuse for the party is a sneak preview of Giuliana’s new line. He’ll only show one actual piece and you won’t wear it. He doesn’t want to give too much away, but we do want to create buzz. Therefore, you’ll just be circulating in the crowd, sometimes with Giuliana and sometimes with me.” Brock patted Red’s arm. “Don’t worry. We’ll take good care of you.”

  Before Red could object, protest, cry, or throw up, the car came to a stop and the back door was opened on Brock’s side by some guy who wasn’t Mr. M.

  Brock turned to Red. “There will be photographers out there. You don’t have to smile. Just look mysterious and superior and that should do the job.” He laughed softly.

  Just as Red inhaled, Brock leaned forward and kissed him full on the mouth, then turned and slid out of the car.

  Red couldn’t catch his breath. He wiped the sleeve of his beautiful suit across his lips, but the gesture contrasted with the wiggle the kiss had produced in his pants. Fuck! What’s wrong with me?

  His brain whirled. I’ll go inside and tell Brock to forget it. I quit. This isn’t for me.

  Brock’s hand appeared in the open door and his finger’s snapped.

  Okay, get to it.

  Red stepped out of the town car and several cameras flashed. He blinked. Mysterious and superior? Hell, he could barely manage conscious, but he moved beside Brock, who smiled, and walked toward the entrance to what appeared to be some kind of club, but discreet and maybe private.

  As they walked toward the door, a woman with a microphone waved. “Brock, over here.”

  Brock gave Red’s arm a private squeeze, then said, “Linda, how good to see you. How did you know we’d be having our little get-together tonight? You tricky girl.” He kissed her cheek.

  She puckered her bright red lips. “You know me. I keep my ear to the ground.” She looked with laser vision at Red. “And who do we have here?”

  Brock chuckled as if she’d caught him. “You know us, Linda. BrandFace always has the newest and the best looks. Linda Waverly, meet Red Ridley.”

  She extended her hand and Red took it, trying not to look like a deer facing down an eighteen-wheeler. He managed a smile.

  “Well, aren’t you just lovely.” She showed teeth and the word predatory came to mind. She looked at the camera. “You saw it here first, friends. Have we just seen America’s next top model? Or maybe the world’s?”

  Brock said, “Delightful chatting, Linda, but we best get in there. Thank you for the words of encouragement for my boy here.” He grabbed Red’s arm, a big bouncer-type doorman pulled open the entrance, and they sailed in.

  Whoa. Inside were a bunch o’ people, talking animatedly over a loud rock quartet playing in the corner, and drinking what appeared to be gallons of champagne.

  Brock paused in an open space inside the door. A strong hand stopped Red beside him. A waiter rushed over with a tray of bubbly that looked way good. Brock grabbed two glasses and held up a hand. “Give us a few minutes.”

  Okay, awkward. Just standing there in an open space doing f-ing nothing except letting people stare at them—and they were. It was like the one quiet space in the room sucked all the awareness. A couple people at a time turned toward them and then stared.

  Red downed half his champagne in one gulp.

  Suddenly, Giuliana emerged from the middle of the pack. “Ah Brock and my beautiful boy!” He walked forward, hands extended, and managed to take both of Red’s without having to fish for them awkwardly. Leaning forward, he kissed both of Red’s cheeks, then whispered, “We won’t make too much of things yet. Let them guess.”

  Giuliana let go of Red and shook Brock’s hand. “Welcome, welcome my friend. Circulate. Enjoy.” With a smile, he rushed away.

  Ooohkay. Red drank the rest of his champagne and then grabbed another glass from a passing waiter. Um, good. Tilting the glass, he took a huge swig. Two hands gripped Red’s shoulders from behind. Lips planted on his neck.

  “What the—!” He whirled on a tall woman in a wild red caftan who looked forty, which meant she was probably sixty.

  She pressed a palm to his cheek. “You’re so gorgeous, darling. I’m Tatiana. Come with me.”

  Red looked wildly at Brock, who stepped forward. “Tatiana, dear heart. Where are you taking my boy?”

  “To make sure that he meets all the essential people.” She snuffled a laugh. “And gets plenty to drink.” She pulled on Red. “Come. Come. You’re all mine.”

  Brock laughed and made a shooing motion.

  Red wanted to yell that Brock had said he’d stay with Red, but he managed not to. Only the prospect of some more champagne made being introduced to “essential” people a bearable idea. He accepted another glass of champagne. By the time Tatiana barged into the middle of a group of older, very well-dressed people, he was feeling a lot floaty. Two glasses of champagne and no food would do that.

  Tatiana declared, “Darlings. This is the lovely Red Ridley. Have you ever seen such a face? Red darling, here are Melody and George and Billy Willy. We all just adore fashion and invest sooo many resources in making our favorite designers wildly successful.” She leaned in closer, breathing champagne breath on his face. “Tell us why you feel Giuliana is a worthy investment for our money.”

  Every eye in the circle bored into him, which made him feel even more seasick. He giggled slightly. “They didn’t tell me there’d be a test later.”

  “Yes, well—” She raised her brows.

  The floor tilted as Red looked at her. “I’m no expert on investments, right? But I’m really good at math. And I know that things cost more when they’re rare. Agree?”

  She nodded with a small smile.

  “So, I’ve worn some of Mr. Giuliana’s clothes from this collection and let me tell you, they make me feel like a million bucks. Like I’ve never looked better.” He bobbed his head until he was nearly nose-to-nose with Tatiana. “And I’ll tell you a secret. That’s not just men’s clothes. So, if you wanna invest a million, why not do it in the guy that makes both men and women feel like a million? Got it?” He tipped up his glass, but it was empty. The guy named Billy Willy, a paunchy dude with a bald spot, took the glass from Red’s hand, and inserted a full glass in its place.

  “I better not. Too much will make me sick.”

  The other woman, Melody, whispered, “If you meet me outside the bathrooms in fifteen minutes, I’ll give you something that will make you feel good without making you sick. How does that sound?” She glanced around. “For now, here’s a little something to take the edge off.” She dropped a pill in his pocket.

  Truth? It sounded really good. Maybe for a minute he could forget all the turbulence in his head and just be happy. But he wasn’t dumb. She was talking about some kind of drugs. “Prob’ly not.”

  She smiled. “I won’t take that as a definite.”

  Chapter Twenty-four

  A strong hand on his shoulder turned Red around and he looked straight into the deep pool called Brock’s eyes. Pools. I like pools. Wish I could go swimming right now so my head wouldn’t be so fuzzy.

  “Thank you all for making my protégé feel at home. I’m going to borrow him, okay?”

  Tatiana simpered, “Well, if you insist.” She kissed Red on the cheek, and he managed to be sober enough not to wipe it off. “But we’ll miss him.”

  Brock just smiled and pulled on Red’s arm, which made him stumble. Brock glanced over. “We better get you something to eat. Come on.”

  “Okay.”

  Brock reached over and wiped the cheek Tatiana had kissed. “Lipstick.”

  “I wanted to wipe it off too.” He smiled at Brock. “But I thought it’d be r
ude.”

  “It’s taken care of.” Brock led Red to a side room where a huge table groaned under a buffet of food. Brock picked up a plate and started scooping salad, cheese, and slices of what looked like roast beef. He handed the plate to Red with a fork and napkin, then put a few things on another plate and started nibbling. “Eat.” He waved his fork at Red.

  Red dove into the food and it tasted better than anything. He hadn’t had time to eat at Mom and Pop’s. Jesus, had that been the same day? He grabbed a hunk of beef and inserted it into his mouth. Good. Really good.

  Brock gave Red a wry smile. “I hear you were making some very complimentary comments about Giuliana.”

  “How’d you hear that?”

  “My spies.” He chuckled. “Someone overheard what you said to Tatiana and her gang when they put you on the spot.”

  “Yeah. That was a pretty shitty thing to do.” Red waved his fork at Brock. “And you left me alone with them. You said, yeah you said you were gonna be with me, but you left me with them.”

  “And look how well it turned out.”

  Red chewed and frowned. “Coulda beena disaster.”

  “But it wasn’t. I remembered from the video that you’re quite good on your feet. And you proved me right.”

  Red muttered, “Coulda been.”

  Fortunately, he got some food in his stomach, because a couple minutes later, Giuliana grabbed Red by the arm and hauled him around for the rest of the party, introducing Red as his “new muse,” whatever that meant.

  After an hour, Red’s cheeks hurt from smiling and the combination of champagne, food eaten too fast, and pure fear tied his stomach into a hot knot of disgust. Some of the people seemed nice, but so many of them laughed with no light in their eyes, drank as if it was a job instead of a pleasure, and fawned on him like a new expensive play toy.

  He managed to escape and hide out next to a large potted plant near an open window. Man, even crappy New York air smelled good after all the perfume and booze.