by Tara Lain
“Oh yes. Hurry! I’ll see you in a few moments, Red.” She hurried out into the hall.
The stylist held out a pair of pants. “She seems great. It must be wonderful to have a grandmother who’s so excited for you. Hell, my grannie still thinks I should get married and move to Scarsdale.” She gave him a look that appeared to understand that he didn’t want to be there. Her eyes kind of said, “Gotcha.”
In a trance, Red let himself be led to the dressing area. Gran has a bad heart. What the fuck?
Fifteen minutes later, he walked into the workroom that had been set up for photography. Giuliana didn’t want his new collection off the premises. Red, on the other hand, didn’t wear anything from the collection except a pair of oversized trousers. His chest was bare and face painted. He felt pretty dumb.
Brock sat by Gran, and Giuliana was at a table facing an area where a big curved wall had been set up and tons of lights shone on it. There were five female models, all in gowns so beautiful they made you catch a breath, and the setting looked like some TV production of Midsummer Night’s Dream.
Brock rose and hurried to Red. “The client’s a little antsy, so we’ll sign the contract later. Go ahead and do the shoot.” He grinned. “Besides, your grandmother’s very excited about seeing it.”
The photographer—an older guy with the personality of an SS officer—came over and started positioning Red on the set. Actually, he called it a cove. After he got Red hanging off one of the tree branches, he went to work on the girls, who needed more positioning since their dresses were complicated.
Red hung suspended and stared into space. Everything felt wrong. A bad dream he couldn’t wake up from. He didn’t want to be there, but Gran seemed so happy for him. At least she was there. He didn’t feel quite so alone. But a bad heart? No matter how he tried, he couldn’t seem to feel fully in his body. It was worse than drinking too much champagne.
Bottom line, why was Gran there sharing her health problems instead of calling him or waiting until he got home? Was Brock proving what a good guy he could be, making Red feel comfortable? Why did that seem so fucking unlikely? Still, Brock hadn’t known Red was thinking of leaving—had he?
The photographer clapped his hands. “Show me something!” He grabbed his camera and began to lope around the studio, clicking. Red saw the women moving from pose to pose. Right. That’s what I should do. He hung one way on his branch and then another. Raising his chest, he arched his back in a deep C shape, then flung himself forward over the branch.
Gran’s voice raised in an “Ooooh.” Somebody applauded.
Red grabbed a higher branch and hung by one arm, then dropped to his knees and crawled around the female models like a cat.
Gran laughed and clapped her hands, so Red rolled on his back and kicked his feet like a happy puppy. She giggled. Then he righted himself and got more serious again.
After a few minutes, the photographer gave them a break and the women all seemed to collapse from their exaggerated poses and leaned on things. They couldn’t sit because it would crease their gowns. Jeez.
An exotic brunette sidled over. “Hi. They say you’re new, but you’re doing good for a newbie. I’m Shakti, by the way.” She grasped his shoulders and kissed in the air beside both his cheeks.
“Uh, hi. I’m Red.”
The other two female models strolled to Shakti’s side. One pretty blonde was smoking a cigarette, which surprised Red since he didn’t see people smoke much anymore. She said, “Hi. I’m Corky.”
He’d seen her on dozens of magazine covers. “Glad to meet you.”
“Thanks. So how do you stay so thin?”
Red shrugged. “Metabolism, I guess.”
She rolled her eyes. “Men. Shit, you have it so easy.”
The third woman who must have a map of the world flowing through her veins, made an impatient face. “Corky’s hung up on getting skinny.”
Red scanned Corky’s six-foot body. “Aren’t you skinny?”
Corky huffed. “Skinny enough for junior, but not for high fashion.”
The exotic model fanned her face. “That shit’s going to kill you.”
Corky whispered, “You know how Paolo hates the hard stuff.” She leaned over to Red. “So, you’re BrandFace?”
He wanted to scream, No, I’m Red Ridley. “Uh, yes.”
Shakti and the third woman glanced at each other. Shakti pursed her lips. “Be careful.”
Red’s heart hammered. “Of what?”
The photographer clapped his hands. “Return to the grindstone, boys and girls.”
Red touched Shakti’s arm. “Of what?”
She looked around, her eyes wide. “Everything.”
They went back to posing, but he couldn’t get his brain in the game. He changed clothes, his exotic makeup contrasting with an immaculate tuxedo. Then they actually put him in a gown with a deep neckline and left his chest bare so it was obvious he was male—or at least had male anatomy.
These poses put him in closer touch with the women, who wound in and out with him. He whispered in Shakti’s ear. “Please tell me. Be more specific.”
Frustratingly, she moved away into another pose.
It took a few minutes, but finally she positioned her lips near his ear. “Everything. Contracts. Pay attention.”
He gave a quick nod and re-posed.
This went on for another half hour. Despite the nerves at being unsure about what to do next and the pure adrenaline at Shakti’s warning, by the time the photographer called it quits, Red was verging on boredom. As they each walked toward their dressing areas, Red shook his head. “Do you guys do this all day?”
Corky chuckled. “Yeah, well you can put up with a lot of boring for what that boredom can buy.”
He pushed into the back room and started stripping off the gown. The female models had been dressed in a different room. Not for any sense of modesty since that was obviously the last thing anyone worried about, but because the women’s designs were kept elsewhere and he was the only dude in the shoot.
Could he put up with the boredom? How badly did he want money? And what the hell did Shakti mean about the contract?
The makeup lady slapped goop on his face and took a few minutes scraping it off.
Red spoke softly. “Do you work for BrandFace?”
She chuckled. “Oh no, honey. Mere makeup people are a dime a dozen. I’m lucky that House of Giuliana likes me and hires me for their shows.” She went back to returning him to Redness, then said, “Why?”
Careful. He shrugged. “I’m just about to sign a contract and want to be sure I’m getting a good, uh, deal.”
“Can’t say from experience.” She worked another few seconds, then leaned in as she wiped makeup from his ears. “I hear you should read the fine print.”
“Thanks.”
Finally, he was back in his own comfortable clothes, but his insides were anything but comfortable. Slithering electric eels clearly warred in his guts, but he tried to keep his brain working.
With a deep breath, he pushed open the door. His gran rushed toward him. “You were wonderful, Redmond. Amazing.”
She hugged him and he hugged back, whispering, “Gran, tell me you’re tired and want to go back to my apartment and rest.”
“What? Why?”
“Tell you later.”
She frowned, but he stepped back. Brock was right there. The Wolfeman smiled. “Exceptional. You made me proud. For next time, we’ll give you some new techniques, plus approaches to relieve the boredom.”
Gran said, “Boredom? That looked like so much fun. How could it be boring?”
“Like with anything, Nora, when you get good at it, it can become rote and then loses its excitement.” He pressed a hand to her back, urging her forward.
Red said, “Brock, Gran’s pretty tired. She wanted to go back to my place and rest.”
Gran looked up at Red with wide eyes. “Right. Very tired.”
Brock smiled. �
�No problem. We’ll just get a quick signature from you, Red, and then I’ll have Merlinson drive you.”
“Thanks, Brock.” Red pushed sincerity into his smile. “I’m afraid I’m a numbers guy, so I need to review the contract carefully. I’ll take it with me and go over it with Gran.”
Brock’s face stayed impassive, but he hesitated for just one moment too long. Then he said, “Sure. Fine. I’ll get it.” He walked into that conference-style room Red had been in on his first time there.
Gran whispered, “What’s going on?”
“Later.”
Brock walked out, all casual and relaxed. “Here you go. Give it a solid once-over.”
“Will do, thanks.” Red glanced at the neat stack of pages. “Wow. It’s long.” He riffled the bottoms where the page numbers were, then frowned. “Uh, actually, it’s longer. One page seems to be missing.”
Brock said, “What?” All innocence.
Red held out the paper. “It looks like the next to last page before the signature got missed.”
Brock waved a hand. “No worries. The assistant must have forgotten it when she copied. But it’s just the blah, blah, blah fine print.”
“Yeah, I like fine print. Sometimes it’s the best part.” He smiled sweetly. “Do you think she could copy it for me, please?”
Another deadpan look preceded Brock walking huffily back into the conference room. Red squeezed Gran’s hand. A minute later, Brock returned and handed Red a page. “Here.” He didn’t say, “I hope you choke on it,” but it was implied. “I need Merlinson, so I called you a cab. It’s outside. I’ll pick you and Nora up at six for an early dinner. How does that sound?”
Red glanced at his watch. That gave him two and a half hours to get them both the hell out of New York.
Chapter Twenty-six
Red sat back on his bed, and Gran stared at him from the one chair in his room. Elbey was working, so they had the apartment to themselves. Good, because he didn’t know who to trust. Even Gran made him feel antsy.
In the cab, he’d started reading the contract and just finished it. He’d made a lot of marks, especially in the fine print section where they’d specified that BrandFace would function as something called a Mother Agency, thereby receiving a portion of anything Red ever made in modeling, no matter who he worked for. As fucking if. Not that he cared for himself because he wasn’t signing it, but Red hated that they were getting away with pulling crap like that on other models. He tossed the contract on the bed.
Gran looked super anxious, nearly frantic, sitting on the edge of the chair wringing her hands. “Are you ready to talk now? Come on, I need to know what’s going on.” She barely sounded like herself she was so stressed.
He wanted to ask her what was up, but he owed her some explanation first. With a hard swallow, he exploded out the words she didn’t want to hear. “I don’t want to be a model and I don’t want to work for Brock Wolfe. Ever since I got here, people have been warning me away from him.” He held up the papers. “This contract is, well, let’s just say it’s written very much in favor of Brock and BrandFace.”
“That doesn’t seem unusual. You’re brand new. But show him you’re smart enough to negotiate.” Like before, her knuckles showed white, she clutched her hands so hard.
He shook his head. “Even with the best contract in the world, I don’t want to do this work. It’s stupid and repetitive and the people are, well, not like me.”
“Not yet. You’re a small-town boy—”
“Not ever. They’re all about money and stress and position and finding ways to overcome their boredom and stay so fucking thin it’s a miracle they don’t disappear. Excuse me, Gran, but I don’t want to be like that. I—”
Gran dropped her head and started sobbing into her hands.
Well, hellfire.
He slid onto the floor in front of her and took her hands. “Gran, what’s going on?”
She tried to catch her breath and pressed a hand to her chest again.
His brain exploded, and he grabbed her hand. “Holy crap, is it your heart?”
She sucked air once, twice, then managed to say, “In a way.”
“Should I call a doctor?” He started to his feet.
She yanked on his sleeve. “N-no.” She finally seemed to get some air. “There’s some things I haven’t told you, Red.”
He nodded.
She glanced up, then down. “Last year, my doctor told me I should cut back on work. It was because of my heart, but I didn’t tell you.”
“How bad is it?” He could barely breathe.
“It’s not terrible. A leaky valve. They might have to replace it.”
“Open heart?” He blinked the tears.
“Maybe. But the doctor said I could make a big difference by reducing stress and watching my diet. All that.”
“So that inspired Granny in Jammys?” How could he not have seen? She’d always lived moderately and healthily, but she’d become much more stringent.
“Yes.”
He frowned. “And that’s when you retired.”
She nodded.
“So good.” Oh God, they could solve this together. “There’s no reason for you to stress over the blog at all. We’re making it fine. I’ll find more bookkeeping work and study business in college and we’ll keep doing great.” He kissed her knuckles.
“We’re not doing great.” She stared at the floor, and he’d do anything to take that look of despair off her face.
“W-why?”
“I told you that I had enough savings and retirement income to keep us going. I lied. I mortgaged the house.”
“What?” Everything in him froze. “That’s your grandparents’ house. You own it free and clear.”
“Not anymore. I used the money to keep us going and paid the loan payments from my retirement and social security, but—”
“You don’t have enough income to pay it back.” He knew that. How could she not know it?
She nodded. “I’m behind on payments. Hansen’s been helping me deal with the mortgage company and they were being very accommodating. When Chritasy talked about monetizing my blog, I thought that could be the answer, but I can’t do it, darling.” Tears ran down her face. “I can’t seem to get inspired when I know that I’m writing for money. It’s so lame as you would say, but I keep trying and—” She pressed her hand to her heart again. “Suddenly, night before last, Hansen called me and said the mortgage company is ready to foreclose.” Tears ran down her face. “I don’t know why. I thought we had time. We’re going to lose our home, Redmond. The place my parents and grandparents grew up. The place I was raised. And you were. All because of me.” Now she sobbed.
He rubbed her back, but his breath came in gasps. “How did I not know this? You should never have been carrying this burden alone.”
“I had the mortgage bills sent to a P.O. box.” She looked at him with pleading eyes. “I was going to tell you, but then you told me about Brock Wolfe. It was the answer to prayer. It was like the universe telling me that my belief in your talent wasn’t a fantasy. But—”
Red ran a hand over his hair. But now her idiot grandson didn’t want to do the one thing that could make everything all right, because he was too addicted to being a small-town, stuck-in-his-box guy who wanted to go home and be with his small-town boyfriend.
Deliberately, he inhaled through his nose. She’d given her whole life for him. “No problem, Gran. The money they propose to pay me in this contract is good, but when I get done negotiating, it should be better. We’ll make up the money fast. Maybe I can negotiate for an advance and that will keep the wolves from the door.” He almost laughed at his own stupid analogy. Almost.
“No. No. I’d never ask you to do something you don’t enjoy. I didn’t raise you to make your life about money.”
“Maybe I should have made it more about money.” I’m such a selfish idiot. He managed a smile. “I should just be grateful that the universe gave me a gift
that seems useful and can keep us eating. I bet I’ll love it after I give it a real try.”
A tap on the bedroom door made him try to get the smile to his eyes. “Come on in, Elbey.”
The door burst open and there they were. “Hi, darling. And who is this divine person?”
Gran’s mouth opened and then closed.
Elbey sailed to Gran. “You have to be Gran, am I right? I’m Elbey, your grandson’s roommate.” They leaned down and hugged Gran.
She swiped at her wet cheeks. “Why hello, Elbey. I’m so glad Red has found a good friend.”
Red said, “Gran and I were just discussing how lucky I am to get this contract with BrandFace.”
Elbey slapped a hand on their chest, which reminded Red too much of Gran. They said with great drama. “You’re not going to tell Brock you’re lucky, are you?”
Red snorted. “Wouldn’t think of it.”
“Good.” They laughed and Gran looked back and forth between Elbey and Red.
Red got up and said, “Gran, come stretch out on my bed and take a rest. I’ll go talk to Elbey for a while. Then we can get ready for dinner. Don’t worry. I’ll wake you.”
Elbey waved a hand. “Make yourself comfortable right there, dear. Red can sleep in the extra bed in my room tonight. He knows I don’t snore.”
Elbey left, and Red turned to Gran. “You never told me how you happened to come here today.”
“Oh, Brock called and said he was sure you’d be thrilled and much more comfortable to have me with you on your first big day. He really insisted I come.”
“I’m glad you did, dear.”
A worry crease popped between her brows. “If I hadn’t broken down, you might be gone by now and I wonder if that wouldn’t have been a better thing.”
“No. We take care of each other. Always remember that.”
“I love you so much, Redmond.” The face he’d always loved smiled up at him.
“Love you too. Now get a little sleep.”
“I am kind of tired.” She kicked off her shoes and lay down.
Red covered her with a throw and then walked into the living room, closing the bedroom door. Elbey must be changing because they weren’t in the room. Red stared at Elbey’s door they’d left ajar. He liked Elbey a lot. He didn’t want to think badly about them. But the fact was, no one else knew Red was thinking of leaving. Well, except Mr. Merlinson and Red couldn’t get himself to believe Mr. M. would have ratted. Elbey had to have told Brock. Red needed to be careful who he confided in. Of course, once he signed the contract, he’d have damned little to confide, and if Elbey hadn’t ratted, Red wouldn’t know about Gran.