12. Evan
When Evan woke,it was with a slight headache because he’d had far too much to drink the night before. Frowning and sitting up, he looked at the water on his nightstand and wondered when he’d had the presence of mind to take such good care of himself. Normally, after a big night out, he was lucky to make it to bed, much less keep himself hydrated.
Now that he thought about it, though, he remembered Nick, with his vaguely concerned expression, taking his shoes off, and… they’d been talking about masturbation. And Nick’s grandmother? Evan couldn’t remember, but the fact that Nick had been there was both surprising and, honestly, kind of nice.
Groaning, he hauled his creaky carcass out of bed and grabbed a silk robe that had been a gift from a client then made his way to the kitchen, where Nick was sitting with the paper, eating toast and a grapefruit. Nick was the sort of guy who ate, dressed, and read the paper, like a 1950s businessman. That notion gave Evan an idea—something he could add to the collection of work he was calling Suburbia until he came up with something better. He smiled to himself as he leaned against the doorframe.
“Good morning,” Nick said upon catching sight of Evan. He folded the paper, looking him up and down. The gaze felt a bit condescending, but it came with a small amount of consideration as well. “Feeling better?”
“Much. Thank you for your help last night.”
“You’re welcome.” Nick reached for his coffee. “I’m nearly done in here, so I’ll get out of your hair. Let you nurse that hangover in peace.”
If Evan hadn’t known Nick was constitutionally incapable of joking, he’d have sworn that was meant to be funny. “Thanks. Big day?”
“I’m meeting with the prosecutor in Sydney’s case. And I’m going to see about getting her that bus pass.”
“Cool.” Evan hung back while Nick rose and brought his dishes to the kitchen sink. “Um, good luck.”
Nick nodded, and to Evan’s surprise, he offered him a half smile as he rinsed off his plate and stuck it in the drying rack. “I’ll see you later.” He wiped his hands on a dish towel and went to pick up his briefcase. “Have a good day. Hope the hangover clears up.”
Evan’s smile widened, and he watched Nick disappear out the side door. He could get used to this less-confrontational Nick, and while he couldn’t say where the good mood was coming from, he liked this version a damn sight better than the agitated contrarian he’d been living with for nearly two weeks. Once Nick was gone, Evan moped around for a bit then ate some toast and took a shower to rid himself of the booze sweats before deciding that he ought to take his daily walk even if he didn’t feel great. Exercise was good for hangovers. So he threw on some clothes, laced up his sneakers, and headed out.
The walk helped, as he’d suspected, and soon enough, one mile turned into two then three as he wound his way through the adjoining neighborhoods. When he reached a small strip of shops and restaurants, he headed into a café in the hopes of finding a bottle of water. The café had a small to-go area with pastries and drinks, and he was mulling over whether a croissant was worth the calories when a semifamiliar voice piped up behind him.
“Evan?”
Evan straightened and turned to find a man silhouetted by the sun streaming through the windows. “Uh, hi?”
“Hi.”
The voice stepped forward and revealed itself as belonging to Colin Caldwell, a sort-of friend Evan knew through Max. Evan had helped Colin meet his partner, Simon, though it had been less of a meet-cute and more of a business arrangement. In other words, Simon was a former client of Evan’s, and Evan—during one of his “I’m quitting” spells—connected him with Colin, who was looking for a job. Unlike Evan, who’d never in his life fallen for a client, Colin had been smitten with Simon, and as it turned out, the feeling had been mutual. Now they were head over heels in love, according to Max, and Evan was happy for them, even if it was a little too Pretty Woman for his taste.
“Colin, hi,” he said, leaning in for a hug.
Colin obliged, pulling him into an embrace that smelled of something expensive and woodsy. Evan indulged himself with a sniff and a squeeze, noting the pleasant firmness of Colin’s back muscles. He really was the all-American boy, with his tousled blond curls, those big eyes, and a smile that could light up a room.
“What are you doing here?” Evan asked as he pulled away.
“I work nearby. I’m meeting a friend for lunch.”
“Oh, right, at the, uh… you work with animals, right?” One of the skills Evan had picked up while escorting was the ability to memorize mundane facts about other people, and he seemed to recall Max saying something about Colin’s career aspirations.
“Sort of. I’m a grant writer for a wildlife rehab.”
Right.Because Colin was a Very Good Boy who did Very Noble things, which was probably why Simon liked him so much. That, and the fact that Colin was a fabulous little submissive exhibitionist. At least, that was what Evan had heard through the grapevine—which was actually the Max-vine.
“That’s great. You’re liking it?” Evan asked.
“I—”
“Evan! Is that you?”
Evan looked over to find Minette, Colin’s and Max’s other former roommate, who was equal parts kitten and pit bull, making a beeline for them.
“And hi, Pookie,” she continued. That was for Colin, who got a kiss on the cheek before she turned back to Evan. “I didn’t know you were joining us.”
“I’m not. We just ran into each other.”
“No such thing as coincidence. Come on—surely, you can spare the time. I’m starving.”
When Evan didn’t raise a protest, she took each of them by the arm and then to the hostess stand, where said hostess didn’t get a word in before Minette started waving at a striking dark-skinned woman—Indian or maybe Pakistani—sitting in a booth.
They headed over to her, and introductions were made. The waiting woman was Amara, a friend of both Colin and Minette, who ran Simon’s charitable foundation. She greeted Evan with a handshake, asking him a few questions about himself then pausing while the waitress came over for their orders.
“So, how do you know these guys?” Amara asked once the waitress was gone, turning her attention back to Evan.
“I’m friends with Max. You know him?”
“Mostly by reputation,” Amara replied. “But I’ve met him a few times now.”
“He introduced me and Simon,” said Colin. “Evan did, not Max.”
“Wait, you know Simon?” Amara leaned forward.
Well, that was awkward, considering Evan had no idea how much Simon had or hadn’t shared about his previous proclivities for hiring prostitutes. Probably not much. Social graces, and all. So Evan lied. “I do. I’m an artist, and he bought some of my work.”
“Oh, that’s awesome. He has such good taste.” She glanced at Colin. “Well, his interior decorator does. Does he have any of your pieces up in the house?”
Colin coughed into his water. “Uh. He has one in the study at home, I think.”
That absolutely wasn’t true, but Evan appreciated the quick cover. Minette, who both knew what Evan used to do for a living and—judging by the smirk on her face—knew how awkward this was for him and Colin, cleared her throat. “The new pieces you’ve been posting on Instagram look amazing, by the way, Evan.”
He forced a smile. “Thanks. I’m working on a series kind of inspired by a recent move. I have a new studio these days.”
“Where?” Minette asked.
“It’s the attic of this old Craftsman a couple miles from here. I’m living in the house too. It’s kind of a disaster inside, but it’s very… well, the ambience is good.”
Amara leaned forward. “I want to see. What’s your Instagram handle?”
Evan told her, and she pulled out her phone to follow him then spent a few seconds scrolling through his feed. “You’re right, Min. These are great. Do you have an agent, Evan?”
“No, not at the moment.”
“You should. Actually, a friend of mine from college deals in fine art—I’m going to send this to him.” Amara talked fast, and Evan managed a thank-you before she was off and running again. “He’s always on the lookout for up-and-coming talent. He likes to invest before they make a name for themselves so his clients see the valuation of their acquisitions increase.”
Evan’s first instinct was to say she shouldn’t bother. He hated that fine art had become an investment portfolio tax haven instead of an interest. However, common sense said that he was going to have to sell a damned painting sooner or later if he wanted to land in New York, and rich backers who sought to pad their pocketbooks were how the art world worked nowadays. Or if he was being honest, it was how the art world had worked for centuries. Michelangelo hadn’t turned down the Sistine Chapel, protesting that the Pope was too corporate.
So he nodded. “That’d be great, actually.”
“I’ll text him right now.” She tapped the screen a few times then grinned. “Done and done. Be on the lookout for a text or a call from a guy named Reed Barton.”
“That was quick. Thanks.” Corporate networking often seemed like a magic trick to Evan—if you blinked, you missed it, and sometimes it amounted to a whole lot of smoke and mirrors. Still, he appreciated her efforts.
“Just promise me that once you’re rich and famous, you’ll donate a piece or two to the annual Vessey Foundation charity auction.”
“The foundation has a charity auction?” Colin asked, raising a brow.
“Not yet, but it’s part of my five-year plan.”
“Of course it is,” he said as their egg rolls arrived.
They fell to eating, and Evan’s work didn’t come up again, which was fine. He was content to listen to stories about a grease fire in the kitchen where Minette worked as a junior chef, Amara’s bad first date, and Colin’s worry that Simon was trying to kill them both by booking a skydiving lesson.
“He’s really taking this whole ‘live life to the fullest’ thing too far,” Colin said, reaching for the check, which the waitress had just dropped on the table.
“I think it’s cute. Like, he loves you so much he’d splat into goo just to show you a good time,” Minette replied. “Can I pay for my part?”
“Nope.” Colin took out his wallet and set a black card on the tray. “Nobody else ask either.”
Evan smiled but didn’t protest. It paid to have a billionaire as a boyfriend, after all, and as the person who’d introduced Colin to Simon, he would consider a free lunch his commission.