Chapter 17
seventeen
. . .
“Iswear, Javier, it’s nothing personal,” Elaina said, tears in her eyes as she stood in front of Javier’s desk, clutching her purse to her chest like it was her emotional support accessory.
“You just haven’t been able to find the sort of job for me that will build my career, and Waverly and Marsh can. ”
Javier sighed and slumped back in his chair, trying to smile so Elaina wouldn’t burst into tears outright. “I know, I know,” he said. “And I don’t blame you or hold anything against you at all.”
“Really?” Elaina asked, blinking her watery eyes. “Because I know I’m not the only model that’s jumping ship. I know a bunch of us have.”
She wasn’t lying. Since coming in on Monday after the roughest weekend of his life, Javier had had three of his models tell him they weren’t renewing their contracts. One had asked to be let out of his immediately. And it was only Wednesday.
“You have to do what’s best for your career,” he told Elaina, trying to sound like the wise older brother who only wanted what was best for her. “This is the best move for you.”
“Thanks for understanding,” Elaina said, hugged her bag tighter, then rushed forward so she could throw her arms around Javier.
Javier stood so their hug wouldn’t be awkward. Elaina was sweet, and he appreciated her goodwill. That made it easier to hug her back, then to say a few parting words as she dashed out of the office.
Once she was gone, though, he flopped back into his chair and looked at the mountain of exit paperwork on his desk. That was it. He couldn’t avoid the truth or dodge his way out of the mess he was in anymore. Rivera Talent was essentially over.
It was a horrible feeling. He’d thrown everything he had into the agency and it just hadn’t worked out.
As far as he could say, he’d done almost everything right.
He’d sought out the best people to work with, both in terms of clients and talent.
He’d worked nights and weekends, until he met Desmond, to try to get everything off the ground. He really had given it his all.
But sometimes his all wasn’t good enough.
Even thinking that hurt. Mostly because it wasn’t his agency that had him brokenhearted. Businesses came and went. Like restaurants, most new talent agencies didn’t last more than a few years unless they were extraordinarily lucky. He’d known from the word go things might not work out.
What really had him heartbroken was that he hadn’t heard a single thing from Desmond since walking out of the man’s house on Friday evening.
It was the first weekend in three months when he didn’t have somewhere to go and something, or rather someone, to do.
He’d wandered around his apartment all day on Saturday and Sunday uncertain what to do with himself.
He’d tried watching the telly, but nothing held his attention.
He’d gone for a walk, but barely saw anything around him.
He’d even headed toward the West End with the intention of picking up last-minute tickets for a show, any show, but nothing had really grabbed him, so he’d turned around and gone home.
Without Desmond, he was lost. And that was completely unexpected.
Whether it was fair of him or not, he kind of expected Desmond would be the one to drift around like a leaf in a stream when the two of them were on a break.
But no, there he was, bumbling through his days, his business failing around him, without a clue what to do with himself.
“You got a minute?” Maisy asked as she knocked on his doorframe, then walked all the way into the office.
“It’s starting to look like I have a lot of minutes,” Javier sighed, pushing himself to sit straighter in his chair.
“Yeah, about that.” Maisy came all the way into the room and sat gingerly on the edge of the chair beside Javier’s desk. It seemed notable that she didn’t choose the client chair on the other side of the desk, but rather one close enough for her to reach out and lay a hand on his arm.
“I know,” he said before Maisy could so much as hint at what she knew he was going to say. “After Elaina, we’ve only got five models still contracted with us.”
“And how many clients do we have?” Maisy asked.
She already knew the answer. Javier just looked at her instead of admitting they had none left. Not ones that really mattered, at least.
“I’m not going to tell you to ask your fancy boyfriend for money again,” Maisy said, essentially asking the question anyhow.
“I’m not a hundred percent certain he’s my boyfriend anymore,” Javier said gloomily.
Ouch. Saying that hurt so much more than he expected it to. But it wasn’t really true. At least, he didn’t think so.
“Did you two have a fight over the weekend or something?” Maisy asked with all her motherly concern. She seemed more concerned about Desmond than the end of Rivera Talent.
Then again, Javier was more concerned about Desmond than the end of Rivera Talent, too.
“I’m not even sure anymore,” Javier said, closing his eyes and leaning back in his chair. “I think we’re just giving each other some space.”
“I don’t understand,” Maisy said, crossing her legs and resting her hands on her knees like a therapist. “If you didn’t have a fight, why are you giving each other space?”
Javier opened one eye to look at her, then decided he really could use someone older and wiser to bounce the whole thing off of.
He drew in a breath and started with, “Desmond was supposed to receive a big award for ethics in the financial world at a fancy supper on Friday night.”
“Yes, you told me,” Maisy said, all serious and concerned, which was disconcerting, considering she was dressed in an odd combination of royal blue slacks, pink, floral print shirt, and chartreuse cardigan.
“He declined the award,” Javier told the story. “On the stage, after he’d been introduced and everything.”
“Oh, wow! Why?”
“He said he doesn’t deserve it.”
Maisy pulled back quickly, like she’d suddenly smelled something off. “That doesn’t make sense. You’ve always said Desmond is a lovely man.”
“He is! He definitely is. But that rotten ex of his has done a number on his mental health.”
Maisy snorted. “Isn’t that always the way of things.”
“Well, that ex was there at the awards ceremony,” Javier went on. “He thought he’d spill a little tea all over the place by telling me that Desmond was guilty of insider trading last year.”
“That’s illegal, isn’t it?” Maisy asked with a frown.
“It is, but after Desmond told me the story, I’m not sure he’s as guilty as he thinks he is. I think abusive ex Matthew and unscrupulous financial competitor Angus wheedled it out of him somehow.”
“That’s awful,” Maisy said, as into the conversation as if they were talking about two people on a cutthroat reality show. “And is that why you two quarreled and split?”
“No, we quarreled and decided to give each other space because Desmond ran off the stage and out of the building, heading home and leaving me behind.”
“Oh,” Maisy said slowly as understanding dawned. “He ditched you in his darkest hour.”
“He was scared,” Javier said, slumping back again.
“I know that’s what it was. He thought I wouldn’t want anything to do with him anymore.
That’s where Matthew damaged him, by the way.
That bastard sliced my man’s self-esteem to shreds and left him feeling like he isn’t worthy of love. Or something ridiculous like that.”
“Men aren’t very good at handling their emotions,” Maisy said, shaking her head.
“I beg your pardon?” Javier stiffened his back. “Not all of us are Neanderthals. Some of us are very good at managing our mental and emotional health.”
Maisy stared flatly at him. “Tell me again why you’re sitting here telling me all this instead of knocking on your man’s door to try to talk sense into him?”
Javier could see what his friend was getting at, but he still objected. “I did go to his house. Right away on Friday. We talked about it, and because neither of us were in the right state of mind to deal with anything, we decided to take a few days to get our heads on straight.”
“It’s Wednesday,” Maisy pointed out.
“Your point?”
She stared at him. “Honestly. If Melanie and I were as boneheaded as you and your Desmond, we would have missed out on some of the best parts of our life together.” She shook her head, then asked, “Have you talked to him yet?”
Javier didn’t have a quick reply. He hadn’t. He’d sent Desmond a text on Sunday night, but it had just been a check-in and a goodnight. Desmond had replied with a short text saying he was okay, that was it.
Hardly the stuff of relationship history.
“He’ll call me when he’s ready to talk,” he said, suddenly feeling less certain about that than he wanted to be.
“Or maybe he’s waiting for you to call him and he thinks you won’t because you’ve decided you’re done with him,” Maisy pointed out.
Javier froze. Shit. She had a point. As much as he wanted to think both he and Desmond were grown adults who could approach bumps in the road with maturity and grace, the fact of the matter was that they were just people.
Just people who had already made mistakes and were licking a whole lot of wounds that they’d received lately.
And part of their original deal with each other was that they would only be in each other’s worlds on weekends.
Well, fuck that. The deal had been broken already. They were well and truly involved in every aspect of each other’s lives now, not just the fun, good parts. He owed it to Desmond, to the man he loved, to speak to him as soon as possible.
“I need to get out of here,” he said, pushing himself to stand. “I’m going to take a long lunch and go over to Desmond’s office and see if he’ll talk to me.”
“That’s the first smart thing you’ve said in this entire conversation,” Maisy said, getting up with him. “But what do you want to do about, well, everything here.” She glanced around the office.