Better Red

by Tara Lain

  Suddenly, a hard hand clamped on his shoulder. “So, you must think you’re fucking shit don’t smell, Mr. Flavor of the Month.”

  The grip on his shoulder hurt, and for a panicky second, his brain convinced him that Phil Gordat had followed him to New York. Red shrunk back and managed to yank himself from the hold.

  When he turned, he stood face-to-face with the beautiful dark guy he’d seen at the restaurant. What had Brock said? Paz Luz?

  The guy sneered and he was obviously stoned, his eyelids drooping and flecks of spittle escaping as he spoke. “You must think they just love your pretty ass, but let me tell you, trailer trash, they’ll blow their fucking noses on you and throw you in the garbage, just like they do with all of us.” He wildly swung a fist toward Red, but it was in slow motion and he stumbled and fell to the side, banging into a cocktail table and sending a tray of empty glasses crashing across the floor.

  Another grasp on his arm had Red yanking himself away until he realized it was Brock. “Don’t pay any attention to him, Remember what I told you?”

  Red nodded, but he couldn’t pry his eyes from the heap of human on the floor—one of the most beautiful people Red had ever seen.

  Brock pulled on his arm and thrust another glass of champagne into Red’s hand. “Here. Good job tonight.”

  “Thanks.” He took a mouthful and let it slide down his throat and then stared at the glass. “Best thing about the evening.” He frowned. The image of Paz Luz wouldn’t leave his brain.

  Brock rubbed a hand on his back. “Don’t worry about Paz. Everyone knows what he’s like.” He smiled, but for once, it looked a bit forced. “So, tell me. Did you suffer a lot being the center of attention and the apple of everyone’s eye?”

  “Apple of what?” Red took another slug of champagne.

  Brock snorted. “Sorry. It’s something my mother used to say.”

  Red drained the glass. “You had a mother?” He barked a laugh. “Who has an apple in their eye?”

  “Don’t rub it in.” Brock took the glass from Red. “Want another?”

  Red narrowed his eyes. Why does he want me to drink? Still, the champers sounded damned good. “Better not.”

  “Suit yourself.” He glanced at his watch. “Ready to go?”

  “Yeah.” Fuck, he’d been ready to leave five minutes after he’d arrived. “What time do we have to be at Giuliana’s tomorrow?”

  “There’s no we You have to be there at eight a.m.”

  “You’re not going to be there?”

  “I’ll be there later. You need to show up for makeup and styling.”

  “Jeez.”

  “What?” The eyebrows again.

  “It takes that long to put on my makeup? Seriously?”

  Brock put a hand on Red’s back and guided him toward the door. “You’ll be trained to do your own makeup and then it won’t take that much time, but for now, be humble and learn, okay?”

  “Sorry.”

  They stepped out into the air and the town car pulled up to the curb. Good old Magic Merlinson.

  As they stepped down to the sidewalk, Brock said, “How about you come home and stay with me tonight.” It wasn’t a question.

  Red stopped walking and stood stock-still on the pavement.

  Brock seemed to realize Red wasn’t beside him and turned back. “What?”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  Be careful. “No. I need to go back to my apartment and sleep. All my stuff is there. I need to make the bed and be comfortable so I can rest before I have to do this thing tomorrow.” He swallowed hard.

  “I have a very restful apartment.”

  Yeah, I’ll bet. His belly clenched. “I really need to go to my new place.”

  Brock gave Red that stare but then turned and marched to the car as he said, “Suit yourself.”

  When Red slid into the town car, he practically hugged Mr. M. The privacy panel wasn’t up. Whew.

  Brock said, “Drop me at my place first, Merlinson. Then Red wants to go to his apartment.”

  Oh yeah. Frost bite in the back seat.

  Brock opened a panel and removed a laptop. He immediately immersed himself in pages of what looked like stock quotes.

  Red only felt relieved as he gazed out the window. I should try to make nice and get him to smile at me. Fuck. It was just too much trouble.

  When Mr. M. pulled up in front of a beautiful brownstone, Brock said, “Be there at eight promptly.” He slid out, as Mr. M. held the door, and was gone.

  Red wanted to care. Hell, Brock Wolfe was the keeper of the keys to Red’s success. His so-called success. But his head still felt fuzzy, and his stomach churned, and making the effort to please Brock would require—what? A handjob? A blowjob? Basically, nothing he wanted to give.

  “Are you all right, Red?”

  Something about Mr. M’s soft, concerned voice made Red want to cry. Must still be drunk. “I had a bit too much champagne.”

  Mr. M. gave a soft snort. “It’s hard to resist when they’re giving it away, but you’ll learn. Drink too much and eventually it shows on your face.”

  Red fell silent, then said, “Brock wanted me to go home with him.”

  Maybe Mr. M. gave a soft sigh. “Obviously, you decided otherwise.”

  “Yes.”

  “Umm. How are you feeling about that?”

  “Career limiting, I imagine.” Red’s turn to sigh.

  “Not necessarily. At present, you’re a very valuable commodity. Mr. Wolfe may not like your refusal, but he won’t interfere with his profits.” He paused. “I expect.”

  They rode in silence for a minute, and then Red said, “What if I don’t care about my so-called success?”

  Mr. M. chuckled. “Then no one has any control over you, do they?”

  “I want to be able to get there. Not caring.”

  Mr. M. pulled to the curb in front of Elbey’s apartment. Red’s apartment too. He turned and leaned over the back of the seat. “While you’re getting to that state of consciousness, I suggest you sleep and not worry. You have a new job tomorrow and it will take all your energy.”

  Red said, “I don’t imagine Brock will want you to come get me in the morning. Can you describe how to get there on the subway?”

  “If I’m not here, you should take a cab.”

  Red shook his head. “No money. Brock ran me out of Ever After so fast, I didn’t have time to get money from Gran and I haven’t been near an ATM.”

  Mr. M. dug in his pocket and produced two twenty-dollar bills.

  Red held up a hand. “I’m not going to take your money.”

  “I assure you, this is Mr. Wolfe’s money.”

  “In that case—” Red slid the bills into his pocket. “Thanks Mr. M. I’ll think on what you said.”

  “Sleep well, my dear.”

  Red gave a small salute as he slid out and then let himself into the building. After the stair climb, he gently rapped just to warn Elbey and then used his new key in the apartment door.

  Elbey, fully garbed in pink kimono, was in the small kitchenette pouring hot water into two cups. “Heard you coming. I’m making us some tea. Go get comfortable.”

  Funny, Red had almost forgotten he was dressed in BrandFace’s beautiful suit. Or maybe it was Giuliana’s. He wasn’t sure. In his room, he undressed and pulled on some sweats, and then padded back to the living room where the tea was waiting.

  Elbey sipped from a mug that said, “I don’t spew profanity. I pronounce each word like a fucking lady.” They said, “So how was it?”

  Red shrugged. “I liked the champagne.”

  Elbey laughed—hard. “That’s my boy. Ever cool.”

  “I want to walk away, Elbey. I really do.”

  Their brows rode so high they disappeared into Elbey’s long fringe. “Breach of contract.” They drank a bit more.

  “Haven’t signed it yet.” Red grinned, but then the grin faded and he sighed. “If I don’t want succes
s, then Wolfe can’t control me.” He didn’t say he was quoting Mr. M. Didn’t want that to get back to Brock.

  “Oooh. Has Brock been trying to control you?”

  “You’re kidding, right? I wasn’t supposed to be back here until Sunday. He dragged me away from my grandmother, my job, and my friends today for this stupid party. Then—” He drifted off.

  “Then what, darling?”

  “Then he tried to get me to go home with him.”

  “Jesus. Brock is usually a lot more rational. He doesn’t do anything that could be interpreted as—” They stopped themselves, reached over, and set a hand on Red’s foot that was propped on the sofa.

  “I don’t want to fuck him.” Red sucked in a breath and then exhaled. “At least I mostly don’t.”

  “Well, chances are he’d be fucking you, so—” They shrugged.

  Red frowned.

  “I’m sorry, dear. I don’t mean to make light of it.”

  Red clenched his fist around the handle of the mug and a wave of terror and elation washed over him. “I’m going to quit.” He inhaled noisily.

  “Really?” Elbey’s eyes bugged out of their face.

  “Yes.” He felt the muscle in his jaw jump, but he leaned forward and clenched his fists. “I’ll go in there tomorrow and tell them I’m sorry, but I’ve decided not to accept their kind offer.”

  “Wow. You’ve got balls, beautiful.” They shook their head. “So, you’re going back to small town, fast food, and hand-to-mouth.”

  “It’s not that bad.” Red smiled softly. “And there’s the guy.”

  “Oooh, now we’re getting to the facts. So, you’ve got this guy behind the scenes. No wonder you’re not falling for the wiles of the Wolfeman.” They looked some combination of avid and anxious.

  Red ran a hand over the back of his neck. “He’s kind of devastating, but Mark’s so special.”

  “Mark? That’s your guy?”

  Red nodded and it felt like Mark’s sweet magic poured into his chest, just because Red was thinking about him. “Yes, that’s what I’m going to do.” Suddenly, the sweetness became a sense of relief and peace. The right decision, at last. He gave a loud chortle. “Thank you for the tea. I think I better get some sleep now. I’ll pack everything back up in the morning after I’ve told Giuliana and Wolfe that I’m not taking the contract.” He rose, walked to the door of his bedroom, and then threw his fist in the air and yelled, “Yes!” Laughing, he walked inside. “Night, Elbey.”

  “Night.”

  Red turned just in time to see an odd look on Elbey’s face.

  Red shivered. Elbey’s expression had said, “Watch out.”

  Red pulled out his phone and texted, I don’t want to be here. I want to come home. Will you still be my boyfriend?

  He stared at the screen. And stared.

  With a sigh, he tossed it on the bed and pulled off his clothes.

  From the bed came a small ping. Red dove for it so fast, he slipped and fell face-first on the bed, but he pulled the phone over his head and stared. On the screen was one word.

  Yes.

  Red kicked his feet like a little kid.

  * * *

  Climbing out of the cab in front of Giuliana’s, Red handed over one of his twenties through the window.

  “Ya want change?”

  The fare had been $6.50. “Uh yeah.” Red quickly calculated 20% of the fare and added more because it was New York. “Keep nine bucks and give me the rest.”

  The guy handed him a dollar. “Nine out of ten.”

  Red sighed and leaned on the edge of the window. “If you look at the bill in your hand, you’ll notice it’s a twenty. I know this, because all I had were twenties.” He extended his hand into the cab. “Ten more dollars, please.”

  The cabbie got a half-angry and half-resigned look and opened his hand. “Oh, yeah, sorry, kid.” He handed over a ten-dollar bill.

  “Thanks.” Red stood and turned toward the brownstone. At least I’m not a total sucker for every con artist in New York. He sucked in a breath. The next step would be a lot harder.

  Gather balls and tuck into big-boy pants.

  With shoulders back, he stalked to the door and turned the latch. Locked. He knocked.

  The door opened and Corey leaned against the frame. “Hel-lo. Are you ready to work your ass off?”

  “Uh, well—”

  He stepped back and waved Red through.

  Red walked past him, but said, “Thanks, Corey. Actually, I need to talk with Giuliana and Wolfe.”

  “Darling, the bigwigs never get here at this hour. Come on.”

  Red glanced around. The place did look pretty deserted. He hopped to keep up with Corey who swept down the long hall and opened the door at the end.

  Here’s where everyone was.

  Makeup artists laid out their pots and potions, while a woman with a platinum mohawk who’d been introduced as a stylist the other time he’d been there was sorting through a rack of belts.

  Corey turned. “Take everything off above the waist and sit. They need access to your skin.”

  “But I need to talk to Giuliana.” Red waved his arms as Corey bustled around. “I’m not, I mean—” His stomach clenched. This wasn’t how he’d pictured this going, but he didn’t want to tell Corey he was quitting and have him text Giuliana before Red even had a chance to explain. Well actually, he’d kind of like to tell Corey he quit, leave, get his stuff, and hop the train back to Ever After before anybody got there, but the big-boy panties must be working, because that felt chickenshit and childish.

  Jesus, that also reminded him that he had to call Gran to give him train fare home. Maybe he could work a double shift all week to pay her back. Oh crap! If he even had a job. What if Mom and Pop had already given away all his shifts?

  Red focused on Corey who stood with his hands on his hips, staring at Red like he’d lost his frigging mind. Corey snapped, “I don’t care if you need to talk to God—and that would be almost as hard as talking to Giuliana at this hour—go sit and get the fuck to work.” He marched out of the room and the makeup artists looked at Red with compassion. Impatient compassion.

  Red pulled off his sweater and sat. At least he had time to practice what he was going to say to Brock and Giuliana.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Two hours later, Red still sat in front of the makeup mirror, chewing his lip—and chewing nails. He looked like some kind of freaking woodland satyr, all gold and silver eyes, pearl cheekbones and tinted lips, while his hair stuck out around his head like a permanent windstorm. Fuck!

  He’d pictured explaining his situation to Brock, maybe even having Brock help him tell Giuliana that Red was grateful, but this life just wasn’t for him, and then sweeping out the door and hailing a cab. Now, he’d have to spend time getting this crap off his face. On top of that, he’d texted Gran a couple times about needing train fare and gotten no response. Zero.

  “There. Don’t you look amazing?” Miki, the makeup lady, grinned at him in the mirror. He’d tried to explain to her that this was all useless since he wasn’t going to be able to do the shoot, but she’d pretty much ignored him.

  The stylist with the hair took hold of his shoulder. “Great. My turn. Let’s get you dressed.”

  Red stood, then stopped. “Hang on. Is Brock Wolfe here yet, because I need to talk to him.”

  She nodded. “You can talk to him right after we get you styled.”

  “No!”

  The woman’s blue eyes widened.

  Red took a breath. “Sorry. But I keep saying that I need to talk to Wolfe and Giuliana and no one will listen. I need to talk to Wolfe before I do one more thing!”

  She held up her hands. “Okay. Okay.” She pointed at Miki. “Could you go grab the Wolfeman? Tell him his protégé is asking for him. Insistently.” She gave Red an annoyed look.

  Red tried not to be embarrassed. Hell, not like he hadn’t just told them twelve times. Again, he looked at his ph
one and sent another text to Gran. When he finished, they all stood there, staring at the door to the room like idiots.

  Finally, the door opened and Brock walked through, leaving it open behind him like he expected to leave again immediately. “Hi, Red. Don’t you look great.” He smiled mechanically. “What’s up?”

  “I need to talk to you.”

  “Yeah, I need to talk to you too. I have the contracts drawn up and Giuliana has signed. We just need your signature.” He stepped back as if leaving. “Get dressed, and then we’ll get that handled and move you onto the set.”

  “I need to talk to you!”

  “Oh, right. So, talk.” He glanced at his watch.

  Red glanced around at the people who appeared to be working, but their ears did everything except flap. “Privately.”

  “Red, I don’t really have time for this.” Brock’s tight mouth looked like he was humoring a child.

  Red stepped closer and spoke softly. “I need to tell you what I decided. This just isn’t what I want and I’ve changed my mind and—”

  “Red, dear.” The high delighted voice came from the doorway. “Oh my gosh, look at you! You’re magical. Like a woodland creature!” Gran rushed into the room and clamped her hands on his bare arms.

  Red stared at her, then glanced at Brock, who was grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “What—what are you doing here?”

  Her wince hurt his heart.

  “No, no, I mean how did you get here?”

  She laughed. “By helicopter. It was so amazing and exciting. And now I get to watch my grandson be photographed for a major fashion magazine. I’ve never been so thrilled in my life.” She pressed a hand against her chest and seemed to take a deep breath. “I guess I better calm down. Not good to get overexcited.”

  “What? Why?” Red’s own heart slammed against his ribs.

  She looked around and pulled Red away from Brock. “I haven’t told you, sweetheart, but they want me to get some tests for my heart. I’ve been putting them off, because—well, just because. But honestly, Redmond, this opportunity for you is the answer to prayer. I’ll explain more later.” She pulled on his arm and laughed when she got a handful of glitter. “Don’t we need to get you out there?”

  The stylist appeared beside Red. “I still have to get him dressed, ma’am.”