by Lynda Aicher
“How so?” He frowned, the apprehension churning around the breakfast he’d just finished.
“I trust Tyler, he trusts you.” Rock shrugged. “It was approval by association.”
That was more than most guys had when they booked him. Carter mulled that over in his mind and put it together with what he already knew about Rock. The faint sense of violation that had first settled within him was replaced by a warm feeling that he couldn’t describe. This almost shy, deeply closeted man had trusted him, picked him, to open up to.
He was worth coming out of the closet for. That thought was just kind of…Wow. No one had ever believed he was worth that.
“So?” Rock finally said as the silence stretched. “You have plans for the day?”
Carter glanced out the large windows displaying a rare clear sky and lots of sunshine. He went with the conversation change, grateful to let the topic drop. “Not much. I’ll probably work out for a bit then head out and try to find some good shots. The contrast of the sun on the snow is usually good for some interesting photos, especially around rundown areas.”
“Shots?” Rock’s brows went up. “Like photography?”
He realized what he’d let slip out. His stomach clenched and he picked up his empty plate to take it to the dishwasher. “Yeah.”
“That’s cool. I didn’t know you did that. You don’t have a website or anything.”
Carter closed the dishwasher and shrugged, brushing off the importance. “It’s just a hobby.”
“So where do you go?”
He turned around to see real interest in Rock’s eyes and wasn’t sure how to take that. “Just around,” he hedged.
Somehow it was different talking to Rock about his photography, which was stupid, given the discussions they’d had about Carter’s job. But it was one thing for his friends in the condo complex to know of his interest in photography, since they didn’t know about him being an escort. Letting Rock in on his secret passion was another thing that revealed more of the whole him.
“Do you go out often?”
Rock’s persistence was both annoying and touching. The man followed him out of the kitchen and leaned his shoulder against the wall to watch as Carter put his boots on.
“Depends.” He laced up his boots and stood. “Why?” He shouldn’t be suspicious, but he wasn’t used to men being that interested in anything he did except for how he could make them come.
Rock looked away and shrugged. “It sounds like fun.” He straightened and shoved his hands in his pockets before glancing back to Carter. “If you ever want company or you know, help, let me know.”
The obvious layer of discomfort that clung to the man had Carter smiling. His worries faded away as he snaked his arms around Rock’s shoulders. He tilted his head until he caught Rock’s gaze. “Are you offering your services then?”
Rock’s eyes went wide before he hugged Carter in tight, his face changing to one that held a clearly lascivious intent. “Any time you need me.”
Carter’s snorted laugh was cut short by a hard kiss that left him panting when they parted. He cleared his throat as he forced himself to step away before they ended up right back in bed, which wouldn’t be a bad thing if they were standing on firmer ground with this whole relationship thing.
“I should get going.” He backed away and fumbled through the motions of getting his coat on. “I might head out on Sunday, if the weather cooperates.” He tried to make the statement casual but he kept his focus on the extremely hard task of zipping up his coat.
“Yeah?”
Carter looked up to find a rather large grin plastered across Rock’s face. The expression lightened and changed the whole man. The prominence of the scar faded behind the shine in his eyes and the honest joy that radiated outward. It left him stunned, his pulse racing for no reason. He managed to give a nod since he couldn’t seem to speak.
“Great. Let me know when. I can be your valued assistant.”
He laughed at Rock’s eagerness. “Does that mean you expect payment too?”
Rock stepped forward and grabbed Carter’s ass to pull him in close, rubbing their groins together. “The only payment I need is this.” The grin dropped from Rock’s face faster than Carter could blink. Rock dropped his hold and stepped back so quickly he almost stumbled in his haste to move away. “Shit. I didn’t mean it like that.”
There it was. One random statement, and his damn job towered between them like a fucking marquee. Carter wouldn’t acknowledge the embarrassment that flashed hot and seething within him. Or the shame. He refused to let this man, or anyone for that matter, make him feel that.
“I know.” Carter turned toward the door, his back straight. “I should go.”
“Carter, wait. Damn it.”
It was the raw edge of desperation in the tone that had Carter pausing. He could sense every step that Rock took as he moved closer. The electricity seemed to spark to life, making the hairs on his nape stand on end as the current shimmered over his back.
“I’m sorry for saying that. My reaction sucked,” Rock said into his ear. “But we need to talk about this.”
As much as he wanted to be with Rock, he wasn’t certain he could stand to hear what the man had to say. No one ever had anything favorable to say about his profession.
Rock must have taken his silence as consent because his strong arms slowly closed around him to pull him into his chest. Fuck. That should not feel so good.
“I just don’t like to think about what you do.”
Anger hit at those well-chosen words and Carter lashed out to cover the pain that struck even harder. He gave a harsh laugh that failed to cover the scorn. “I’m a whore. You can say it. I get paid to fuck men. That makes me a whore.”
“Damn it.” Rock tightened his hold when Carter struggled to get free. “Let me finish.”
Rock released him after a moment, and he stumbled forward to brace himself against the door, his chest heaving. He hated that word—whore. It was used to shock and degrade people. So why was he flinging it at Rock and dragging himself down with it?
Because there was no getting away from the bare truth of what he did. He sold his body for money. He could legitimize it in his head as much as he wanted. But right now, it really didn’t matter what he thought. Not with Rock standing behind him, ready to pass judgment.
“You’re not a whore to me. With me,” Rock emphasized.
The insistent words froze him more than the arms that came back to hold him. The hard thump of his heart echoed in his head as he struggled to process the meaning behind what Rock said. He squeezed his eyes closed and battled back the hope before it could take hold.
He tightened his fist around the doorknob but didn’t turn it. Staying would only result in more pain, yet he couldn’t get himself to leave. Finally he gritted his teeth and turned around. If they were having this conversation, he was facing it head on.
Rock stepped back, crossing his arms over his chest and spreading his stance. There was a hard set of determination on his face that pulled his brow down and his lips tight. He was a man prepared to do battle. “Do you understand what I’m saying?” He nailed Carter with a stare that dared him to turn away. “You choose to be with me. I get it. That makes it different. If you can honestly tell me that last night, this morning, was nothing more than a fuck to you, then go ahead and leave.” He waved his hand toward the door but never once looked away.
“How?” The question fell from Carter’s open mouth. How did this man understand what others couldn’t? He snapped his gaping mouth shut and took a shuddering breath. “How do you get that so easily? It’s true, but I’ve never…” He shook his head and rubbed a hand over his face. “I never met anyone not in the business who could understand and accept that.”
Rock lowered his arms to his side, his shoulders slowing inching down from their tense hold. “Tyler,” he said by way of explanation, as if that was enough. It was. “How many guys have you dated since yo
u’ve been an escort?”
Carter’s sarcastic snort was out almost instantly. He shook his head and looked away. It was far easier to stare at the abstract splash of blue, green and black in the painting hanging on the wall than to meet Rock’s gaze. “I haven’t dated anyone in over nine years. The second time a guy slammed out, leaving a trail of disgust and loathing behind, I was smart enough to realize dating would never work while I was in the business.”
“So why are you here?”
He looked back to Rock, his lips quirking in a faint smile. “Honestly, I don’t know. Maybe you were just too damn handsome to resist.”
“Ha!” Rock’s sharp retort was accompanied by a brisk hand swipe over his scar. “I know that’s a lie.”
“Bullshit.” The anger was back; this time it wasn’t at Rock but for him. He stepped up, cupping Rock’s face in his hands, forcing the man to look at him. “Don’t you dare say that. That mark on your face has nothing to do with who you are inside.”
Rock’s eyes narrowed. “Just like what you do doesn’t define who you are?”
The quick-step turnaround maneuver that Rock had just performed with words had a smile spreading across his face. He slowly shook his head as Rock gripped his hips, his hold tightening until Carter accepted what he said.
Somehow, they had reached a tentative understanding.
“Right.” His amusement came through in his voice. “And you claim to suck at conversation. You fast-talked me around that without any problem.”
Rock chuckled softly as he pressed his forehead to Carter’s. “I had to. You were going to leave.”
“Do you really get it?” That last bit of doubt slipped out, but Carter had to know for certain before he lost any more of himself to this man.
The kiss Rock pressed to his lips might’ve been the sweetest one ever. “Yes. I get it.”
And the man didn’t even know about his plans to leave the business. How unbelievable was that?
He pulled Rock in and let him know exactly how much he appreciated the chance he’d just given them. Sometimes kisses said more than words ever could.
Chapter Seventeen
“So where are we headed?” Rock glanced at Carter as he buckled his seat belt, only to have his chin caught and his mouth captured in a welcome that had him forgetting about going anywhere. The kiss was slow and consuming.
“Morning,” Carter said when he eased back.
He sat there dazed, a goofy smile covering his face as Carter shifted the car into drive and pulled out of the parking lot. They’d sent numerous texts over the last few days, but he hadn’t wanted to admit how much he’d missed Carter. Yeah, he was turning into one big sap. He gave himself a mental shake and finally got his buckle clasped.
“I didn’t make it out the other day,” Carter said. “So I was going to head down to this abandoned building by the river.”
Another hint of spring had arrived that morning in the form of a clear day and a promise from the weatherman of a temperature over fifty degrees for the first time this year.
Rock gave a cursory glance into the backseat to see a couple of camera bags and a tripod before he sat back. “How long have you been into photography?”
Carter shrugged. “It started in high school when I got my first Nikon digital camera with an adjustable lens for Christmas.” He glanced at Rock. “I was majoring in photography before I ran out of money and was forced to drop out.”
“Is that when you got into the escort business?”
He rolled his shoulders, the muscles tightening down his jaw. “Yeah.”
The rawness in the answer had Rock reaching over to lay his hand on Carter’s thigh. Carter’s head snapped around, his eyes questioning in the second they focused on Rock before he turned back to the road. Rock was tempted to pull his hand away, but he didn’t. He wanted to touch Carter, to comfort him when he needed it.
“I can’t imagine having to make that choice.” Rock spoke honestly. The military had saved his ass when he was younger.
“At the time, it didn’t seem that bad.” Carter laid his hand on top of Rock’s and laced their fingers together, his grip strong. “I thought I could make some money, finish school and be done. It wasn’t a big deal.” The soft sound of disgust also held a dryness that said he’d been so naive.
“So what happened?”
Carter checked his mirrors and signaled his exit off the highway. He let go of Rock’s hand to maneuver the car through the streets before he finally released a long, tired sigh. “I don’t really know.” His voice had a distant quality that Rock understood. Sometimes life went off track without a clear definition of when it happened. “I didn’t actually decide not to go back to school. It just never happened. At first the money went to paying off my debts. Then I wanted to get ahead so I wouldn’t be broke again. Next thing I knew it was almost four years later and school couldn’t compete with where I was. I had an excellent income that gave me the security I hadn’t had before and a job I was good at. I was twenty-six when my first five-year contract ended. I signed another because at that point it was all I knew.”
Rock scanned the landscape, his thoughts drifting over his own life. “I can understand that. I joined the army right out of high school because it was all I knew. Raised an army brat by two parents who were both brats, enlisting was never a question.”
“You never thought of doing something else?”
“Not back then.”
They pulled into an empty lot littered with broken pavement, garbage and overgrown weeds long dead and half-buried under dirty snow. A chain-link fence that looked like it would fall over with one strong kick separated the lot from the four-story building behind it.
The air was brisk but pleasant when they got out, and Rock stretched his arms, inhaling the scent of decay and dirt as he did. Carter slung his bags over his shoulder, and Rock came around to take the tripod out of his hands.
“Have you come here before?” He followed Carter as he walked down the fence line to a piece that had been curled back. They slipped through the opening and started toward the building, their boots crunching in the crisp snow along a path already worn down by others.
“Once, but it was in the summer.” Carter glanced up as he led them around the perimeter of the building, sticking close to the wall where the snow wasn’t so deep. “I want some winter pictures.” He stopped at a metal door that was once painted gray but was now predominately covered in rust. The hinges creaked in protest when he pulled it open and stepped inside. “Make sure you shut it behind you.”
The hollow clang of the door closing echoed through the barren space. Carter was already heading toward an open set of stairs visible in the dim light shining down from the floor above. The dull thud of his boots marked his path as he disappeared up the stairs without a pause.
Rock took a moment to map the layout and let his eyes adjust before he moved forward. There were a few slivers of light showing through the boarded-up windows, which kept the room from being completely dark. The first floor was mostly open, marked by structural beams and a few walls defining what used to be separate rooms. Like most vacant buildings, the expected graffiti and gang tags in various colors of spray paint decorated the walls.
In many ways it reminded him of the war-destroyed buildings that cluttered too much of the Middle Eastern landscape he’d been deployed in. Only there, the empty shells of buildings were often charred black with soot and included missing roofs or walls.
To his left were a couple of old metal desks in a corner that boxed in a squatter’s pad. The pile of sleeping bags and black trash bags indicated that it was still in use, which also explained the footprints and path in the snow. He could only guess at how much it sucked to be homeless and living outside during the cold winter months. On impulse he walked over to the mats and stuffed a couple of twenties inside one of the sleeping bags.
“You coming?” Carter’s voice sounded distant as it drifted down the stairs.
“Yeah,” he called. He took the stairs two at a time and halted on the second floor when he couldn’t spot Carter. “Where are you?”
“Top floor.”
He bounded up the next two flights to emerge in a long hallway lined with missing doors and more graffiti-covered walls.
“I’m over here. Last room on the right.”
Rock followed the sound of Carter’s voice to the one of the few rooms that was almost glaringly bright. He blinked a few times, shielding his eyes from the sudden blast of sunshine.
Carter was at the open rectangle that had once been a glassed-in window but was now an empty frame. He had his camera raised to his eye as he twisted the dials on the lens. With the sun passing over his dark hair, his focus on his task, he was a picture himself. Beyond him, Rock could see the towering glass, brick and metal buildings that populated the downtown Minneapolis skyline.
More graffiti was painted on the crumbling drywall around the window, which only highlighted the decay of the building when compared to the view outside. This was what Carter had meant by capturing contrasts.
Carter had on his brown bomber jacket again with jeans and heavy winter boots. He’d braced himself against the window frame as he leaned over to get his shot. Among the yellowing walls, debris-littered floor and wreckage of the building, he looked out of place.
Rock slipped out his cell phone and snapped the picture that was now burned into his memory. Carter lowered his camera but didn’t look away from the skyline, and Rock clicked another picture.
He pulled up the photo and studied the image he’d captured. What jumped out in the digital 2x3 inch picture was so obvious it almost screamed at him. He caught his breath, glanced up and saw it.
Discouraged. Not dejected, just rundown and tired, like the building he stood in.
There was no one thing that blasted the information. It was everything together. The dirty graffiti walls with the shiny new buildings displayed just out of reach. Carter’s wistful expression, countered by his slumped shoulders and tilted head that spoke to a weight he was tired of carrying. It was dashed hopes with opportunity just out of reach.
