Chapter 21
Circus
I’ve been to LA a couple of times, but Rowan clearly never has.
He’s like a dog with his head hanging out of the window, and it makes me laugh to see the sheer enthusiasm.
He didn’t go silent on me after what happened the other night, which was a total surprise.
And when he showed up at my house that night to watch a movie, I couldn’t pick my jaw up off the floor.
But he has been cagey about what happened at home.
Which is a worry.
That I’m pretending not to think about.
We offload all our stuff at the hotel and take the cab to Preston’s office. He’s set up a couple of shoots for us before the big one starts tomorrow.
“Circus!” He pulls me into a hug and then turns to Rowan. “And the boyfriend. Well, well. I might not swing that way, but you sure did pick a good one. If we could all look like that, am I right?”
“I’m happy just to look at that,” I answer.
Rowan looks torn between laughing and walking out of here. And since we’re here to play boyfriends, I take full advantage and slide my hand into his.
“Come on, sweetheart. This won’t be the last time you’re shamelessly checked out today.”
We take the elevator to the eleventh floor and step out into the Entertainment Management offices. It’s as busy as it always is, and as we cross the foyer, a woman rushes past with a clothing rack.
“Why do I feel like I’ve stepped onto the set of The Devil Wears Prada?”
“Aww … and somehow people don’t know you’re gay.” I bop him on the nose. “A lot of agencies outsource the photography side of things, but EM keep it all in-house. It was one of the perks that attracted me to signing with Preston in the first place.
“Speaking of …” Preston says, jumping into the conversation. “Rowan is going to need to sign a contract with me in order to go ahead with the Gucci job.”
“A contract?”
“Don’t worry, standard stuff. All the same clauses as Circus’s, and I’ve never steered him wrong yet.”
Rowan looks uncomfortable. “I’m not looking to do the modeling thing full-time.”
“No worries, I can sort out brand placement for your photos. But be aware, that means no slogans, no advertisements, not so much as a water bottle from a competing brand if you’re being paid for space on your page.”
I squeeze his hand. “It’s not as complicated as it sounds.”
“Hmm. Sounds more complicated than I was planning.”
“Well, you can thank Circus. I’d already told Gucci you were a solid no and had you written out of the contract.”
Uh-oh. I rack my brain, trying to come up with an excuse.
“Sorry, what?”
“He said he wouldn’t do this without you, so I had to call my contact and tell them to fire the other model they were about to hire.”
I can feel Rowan’s eyes on me, and I wait for his questions, but they don’t come.
Either he didn’t pick up on the awkwardness, or he doesn’t care. I’m not about to argue.
Before we start with the photos, Preston drags Rowan into his office to sort out the paperwork. I try to get out of it, but Rowan’s grip on my hand is tight and he pulls me through with him.
I almost go cross-eyed listening to it all again. Rowan asks more questions than I ever did, and I swear it takes a lifetime for them to move on from the EM contract to the Gucci one.
“There’s a mistake here,” Rowan says. “It says the job is worth two hundred thousand, total.”
Uh-oh.
Preston quickly checks his copy. “Nope, that’s correct.”
Rowan glances at me. “Didn’t you say it was two hundred each?”
“Umm …” I pretend like I’m trying to remember. But seriously, who looks at a contract in that much detail? “No, I’m sure I said all up …”
“You didn’t.” Something seems to dawn on him. “Preston, how much was that swimwear gig worth?”
Preston can clearly tell he’s being put on the spot. “Ah, it was …”
I let out a massive sigh. “It was fifty K. All up.”
“What the—”
“I don’t need the money!”
“And I don’t want charity.”
“It’s not charity, you worked for it. And at that time, I thought you were leaving.”
“Is this a fight?” Preston asks.
“No.”
Rowan stares at me. “Yes. This is a fight, Circus. You lied.”
“Because I knew you wouldn’t take it. For fuck’s sake, I have more money than I know what to do with, and you know what?
When you get that money because your parents died, you start to become really bitter about it.
That fifty is yours. The next two hundred, also fucking yours.
Don’t argue with me on it. I’m not doing this for the money, I’m doing it for the reach and the followers and the opportunities.
” I fold my arms and turn away from him, not wanting him to see my face.
Yeah, I lied. So what?
The thing is, I hate money. I know I’m in the position where I can hate it, and I get others aren’t so lucky. But it makes me feel sick that every time I look at my bank balance, I’m reminded that it’s because of my parents’ money that I now have so much.
But fighting with Rowan … my stomach clenches. Because I’m suddenly realizing that I can’t lose him too.
I hear the scratch of a pen as he signs, and then my chair is being dragged backward. Rowan tilts it back so he’s looking down at me.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. Are you?”
“I will be.” He leans down and kisses my forehead.
Relief sweeps over me.
“Should we do this thing, then get out of here?” he asks.
The chair legs hit the floor, and I get up to bury my face in his chest. He hugs me close, and the anxiety finally loosens.
But the realization hangs on tight.
There are very few people in my life who I actually consider close. People who would do anything for me. Leon is top of that list, followed by Jules and Royce. The other guys are my friends, and they’re great, but if I suddenly disappeared, would they really care that much?
With Rowan it’s different.
It’s not about how much he cares about me, it’s about how much I care about him.
Because while I’m sure Leon would do anything for me, I’m not so sure Rowan would. Coming out, leaving his family, introducing me to them as his, I can’t see that ever happening.
But I need him anyway.
The shoot is easier than anything we’ve done yet. Preston organizes Rowan’s portfolio shots first, and then I join him.
Since we’re in April, he’s got a queer brand lined up with a whole lot of Pride month merch.
“The whole point of these clothes is you’re out and you’re proud. I want love, guys. We need these to say that people who wear these clothes will find their forever person.”
I look up at the exact moment Rowan looks at me.
His stare is intense, and when he reaches a hand out for me, he doesn’t drop eye contact. “My forever person, hey?”
“I mean, I’m a real catch. Mommy and Daddy issues. Total package.”
“I see your issues and raise you family drama.” He pulls me into his arms and moves his mouth closer to my ear. “Cock. Balls.”
I snort out a laugh. “What are you doing?”
“Whispering sweet nothings into your ear.”
“That’s your version of ‘sweet’?”
“Big ol’ hairy nuts.”
I can’t wipe the smile off my face. “You done now?”
“Butthole.” He kisses my ear. “Now I am.”
We change up the poses, alternating between pretend candid shots and ones that are more staged.
And it’s easy. I’ve worked with other models before, but this is intuitive.
We read each other and joke around. It doesn’t take much to get a real smile, and every time we look at each other, it’s easy to pretend that this whole fake thing is real.
Dangerous thoughts.
Because I don’t doubt his interest for a minute.
If this were a better world, we’d both be out, and there wouldn’t be anything in our way. But as much as I’m starting to feel for him, trying to make a relationship happen while he’s still in the closet will be too much for both of us.
It never works.
And I don’t know how much longer we can continue pretending like it will.