A Model Escort

by Amanda Meuwissen

  “Ooo, yes, Daddy. Get me on the bed.”

  Only the faint twitch of Cal’s smile betrayed his distaste for the endearment. It was the one thing that irked him about Piper, but he was easy to make vocal in other ways and was one of Cal’s favorite clients. The fact that the things he liked best about him overlapped with what he liked about Owen was beside the point.

  His energy, his floof of brunet hair, his love of music and good art. He wasn’t sweet or timid like Owen, but the similarly pale skin could almost make Cal forget who he was with.

  Piper was easy to lift and carry toward the bedroom, legs wrapping around Cal’s waist as the contented noises he made were licked from his mouth. They had a very specific arrangement, where Cal saw him before every concert to help him relax. He’d give Piper his full attention—usually on his knees—then give himself attention while Piper got dressed.

  Tonight, like many before it, Cal had been hired to wait in Piper’s bed until the concert ended. Piper swore it helped him play better, having Cal’s mouth on him beforehand, knowing throughout the entire concert he was waiting back at the apartment for round two.

  Cal enjoyed this arrangement as much as he enjoyed all his regulars and their various desires. He’d thrived off of how appreciative Piper in particular could be for almost two years. The last thing Cal should have wished for was that the noises Piper was making were Owen’s.

  He shouldn’t have imagined slenderer thighs when he kissed his way up them. Shouldn’t have envisioned longer fingers clawing at the sheets. Shouldn’t have closed his eyes and felt his way through every attention he lavished on his partner, conjuring hazel green looking back at him and a dimpled smile. But all of that spurred him on and made it easier to be there when part of him was elsewhere.

  “Wow,” Piper exhaled when it was over. “You outdid yourself. Maybe you really did miss me.”

  “Always,” Cal said, playing his role to perfection as he pressed his lips to the inside of Piper’s thigh.

  The rest happened like clockwork—a bruising kiss before Piper went to shower, Cal stroking himself until he returned, then putting on a show while Piper looked on and slipped into his tuxedo. Even then, Cal imagined a different suit on the young man watching him—in burgundy.

  Later, left to clean up, Cal had the run of the apartment. He donned the robe that had been set out for him, downed a glass of water, then poured himself a stronger drink while he played Billie Holiday from the impressive sound system. He had hours before Piper would be back. Master of his domain, when he’d arrived, now, and later when Piper returned, this was the sort of evening Cal lived for.

  Once.

  He couldn’t help comparing views when he went to the window, because this was better than his own apartment’s outlook on the city, but it didn’t hold a candle to Owen’s.

  Claire was right, it was terrifying how much more Cal wanted from life, because he didn’t think it was a gamble he could take.

  OWEN should go to bed. His eyes were sore from staring at computer screens all day, and the last thing he needed was to stare at his TV until all hours of the night. Not that it was terribly late. He just didn’t want to go to bed early even if he was tired. He tended to stall going to bed on nights when Cal wasn’t with him, because the thought of getting under those covers alone sunk his heart like a stone in a pond.

  He didn’t do well alone.

  He’d been doing well across the board, apparently, but he didn’t feel that way.

  Pausing in his Netflix queue on one of the more recent Japan-made Godzilla movies, Owen was about to press Play when he stopped himself. Cal would love this movie; he didn’t want to watch it without him.

  Snagging his phone from the coffee table, Owen looked at the time again to be sure it wasn’t too late and dialed his sister in a last-ditch effort for sanity.

  “Are you finally ready to tell me whatever secret you and Casey have been keeping behind my back?”

  “I don’t even get a ‘hello?’” Owen deflected, despite being the one who’d called her, “or ‘how are you, brother dear, I love you and miss your face’?”

  “Cute, O,” Alyssa droned, “but no, not when you’ve been conspiring with my husband.”

  “It’s not conspiring, just… avoiding.” He was surprised she hadn’t pestered him sooner.

  “Owen.” Her voice dropped to a more sympathetic pitch. “What did you do?”

  Staring at the Netflix screen, Owen sighed at the cliché picture he painted, just like having ice cream for dinner. “I took your advice. And I think I might hate you for it.”

  The truth poured out of him easier than he expected, maybe because Alyssa stayed silent while he explained how he’d hired an escort that first week in Atlas City and had been scheduling him regularly since. He told her about every late night, every event, every snuggle on the sofa or in bed, and how hard it was not to push for more when every moment with Cal was the best part of his day sometimes.

  “When I said you could hire an escort to make things easier, I didn’t think you’d fall for the guy.”

  “I didn’t—”

  “Owen.”

  She knew how hard he fell when he liked someone. He’d fallen hard for Harrison once—hard enough to give his whole self over to a man who took him for granted. Cal would never do that. Owen trusted Cal. It was himself he didn’t trust, not to find some way to screw this up, especially if it was….

  “…real?”

  “Huh?” Owen said, more distracted than he’d realized.

  “What I said was is this something you need to put a stop to before you get in too deep… or is it real?”

  “It couldn’t be real. I pay him.”

  “Okay, but if money wasn’t involved, how would you feel then?”

  Owen knew the answer, but he was experienced in rejection, even if it had been years since he’d been single. He could picture clearly the pitying look Cal would give him when he turned him down, as gently as possible of course, which would almost be worse than being laughed at. Cal wouldn’t laugh. He was too nice for that, too good at his job, but he’d still turn Owen down. People probably fell in love with him all the time.

  “Think about it,” Alyssa said. “If this is hurting you more than helping, maybe it’s time to end it. But if it is something real, don’t doubt yourself so much, okay? And next time,” she added with a touch of sass, “don’t get Casey to lie for you. You know he’s terrible at that.”

  “Sorry.” Owen laughed. “And thanks, Lyssa. Really.” She was probably right anyway—about the first part. He should cut his losses before things got awkward, before it got too difficult to let Cal go. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.

  But after the call, Owen decided to wait on the Godzilla movie, just in case.

  “MR. Mercer?”

  “Hmm?”

  Cal focused on Dick behind the desk, reminding himself that he was in the office, in midconversation, and could not afford to daydream.

  Dick fixed him with a calculating stare. “As I said, perhaps you could pick up some basic escort assignments if you’re weary and needing a break, though I understand you prefer complete package clients.”

  Right. Dick had finally pressed Cal about not filling the empty slot for Narcissus. Cal didn’t want to add a new regular. He’d even been debating who else he could cut to lighten his load more for… shit, Owen. What the hell was he doing?

  “Mr. Mercer?”

  “I’m listening.” Cal struggled not to snap.

  “Your schedule is your own,” Dick said. “You’re certainly still pulling your weight financially. I merely wished to express my curiosity and ensure nothing was out of sorts.”

  “I’m fine, just tired. Maybe I will take on some simpler escort requests for a while.”

  “Certainly. That option is always available. Mr. Kane appears to be lightening his load as well.” Dick shifted from concern to thinly veiled suspicion, tapping his desk as his attention diverted t
o the aggregate calendar on his computer. “You don’t have any insight there, do you?”

  “Why don’t you ask Rhys himself?”

  “That tends to prove… ineffectual.”

  Cal snorted, which turned into clearing his throat. “Sorry, Dick. No idea what might be going on.”

  “Naturally,” Dick sighed. “Was there anything else?”

  Nothing he could help with, just that Cal was drowning, and the only way to save him was to let him sink or make a daring rescue—by dropping Owen altogether.

  Merlin had been right about one thing: Owen would want someone untainted when he was finally ready to stop paying for company. It would be worse if Owen clung to Cal because of the trauma he’d escaped and the struggles he still faced. Maybe it was time for Cal to remove the temptation from both of them and fill his schedule with new regulars. Or maybe every option he’d been juggling was wrong, and he needed a vacation.

  Even escorts needed vacation sometimes. Cal had never taken one, but he found himself opening his mouth—

  A raised voice echoed down the hallway, drawing their attention to the door. Lara darted past as if she’d already been alerted to the commotion before things escalated loud enough to reach them. Casting a brief glance back at Dick, Cal raced out of the office to follow her as Dick gave chase behind him.

  By the time they reached the front, Daphne was on her feet, talking animatedly with security over the phone, while Lara had a man with shorn platinum hair pressed to the wall with his arm twisted up behind his back. Being a half head taller than the petite woman in no way gave the man an advantage, which he’d obviously already learned.

  “Are you aware who you’re manhandling, Miss Tyler?” he seethed against the wall.

  “Everyone looks the same to me, Mr. Compton,” Lara said, while her hold remained secure and her words bit out close and sharp at his ear, “either worth my time or not. Guess where you fall at the moment?”

  “I’m a client,” he growled, as if that excused his bad behavior. “And I’m dissatisfied. I demand—”

  “Why don’t you take a nap until security arrives?” Lara said, and in one sure move, she pressed her forearm to his windpipe until he passed out, where she released him, checked his pulse, and left him on the floor.

  Dick straightened his suit with a nod at Daphne, who’d just finished alerting security. “Everything all right, Miss Tyler?” he turned to her.

  With a crack of her wrists, Lara smiled. “Perfectly under control, sir.”

  It wasn’t the first time Cal had seen Lara deal with an unruly client who’d made their way to the office to cause trouble. Cal didn’t even know who this man was serviced by—formerly serviced by, clearly. Certainly formerly now.

  The point was, he wasn’t shaken by the confrontation or violence. What shook him was that the only thing he could think about while staring at the unconscious man at Lara’s feet wasn’t him or even Merlin, but Harrison Marsh and what little worth that man had attributed to Owen.

  The emails had dwindled, but Cal knew men like Harrison. He was looking at one right now. He didn’t want to leave Owen in the lurch, but he didn’t want to be a crutch for him either. He… he was all turned around, unable to form a plan that made sense, when he was always, always in control. Owen made him feel like he was free-falling, and he couldn’t understand why he liked that so much.

  “Calvin?” Lara asked, gripping his arm to drag him back down to earth.

  “Keep my schedule clear tonight,” he said, and turned on his heel to head out the door.

  “Mr. Mercer!” Dick called after him, but Cal was already gone.

  He wasn’t scheduled to see Owen tonight, but he had no other appointments, and he needed to sort through this, needed to find out where they stood, untwist what he and Owen were to each other so he could make a clean break if that’s what was needed. If Owen had grown too reliant on him, he should break things off anyway.

  That’s what he expected to find when he ended up outside Owen’s door—a broken man, desperate as always to see him. But as soon as Cal finished knocking, dressed more casually than usual in a simple black sweater and jeans, he realized that the sounds coming from inside the apartment were not that of a lone man watching TV.

  Owen had company. What the hell was Cal doing here?

  Backing up, seconds from bolting, Cal was blasted with an increase in volume of group laughter when the door opened and Owen’s smiling face confronted him.

  “Cal!” Owen exclaimed before his smile fell in lieu of guilt. “Oh no, did I forget I had you scheduled tonight?”

  “No, I….” Cal jumped in to soften Owen’s rambling. “You didn’t. We didn’t. I shouldn’t… be here. You have friends over.” He could see Frank and Paul over Owen’s shoulder and another couple he couldn’t quite make out.

  “Well, yeah, but… you’re a friend.” Owen renewed his smile with a shy glance at the floor. “You should come in. I wanted to invite you, but I wasn’t sure if that would be… weird?”

  “Who is it, Owen?” Frank called from inside, though he could clearly see Cal. He was grinning, though, so Cal didn’t think the man was being facetious to be rude.

  Owen was doing well even without Cal’s presence, settling in fine and making new friends. That was… good. That’s what Cal had hoped to find even if he didn’t expect it because it meant he wasn’t holding Owen back.

  But then… maybe Owen didn’t need him anymore.

  “It’s Cal!” Owen said before seizing Cal’s hand to pull him inside. “Come on. It’s okay. Please?” He gave Cal this private little smile, squeezing his hand until Cal had to smile back and go along with him to please the pounding of his pulse. “You remember Frank and Paul.”

  Cal was summarily dragged to the living room where the couple sat on one section of Owen’s large L-shaped sofa, and the other couple—

  “Lorelei,” Cal stuttered to a stop, recognizing the young woman as soon as he saw her face.

  As floored as Cal was to see her there, she seemed entirely unfazed to see him. “Good to see you again, Calvin.”

  “You know my trainer?” Owen said. Of course—his self-defense trainer. Cal should have guessed it was the same Lorelei, but he’d never known her profession. “How do you two know each… uhh….” He trailed off as his mind supplied the wrong conclusion.

  “No, we—”

  “Cal works with my sister.” Lorelei saved him. “Lara.”

  “Oh,” Owen said in painfully obvious relief. Then his eyes widened. “Lara Tyler?”

  “Tyler is my maiden name,” Lorelei said.

  Cal’s eyes drifted over the group, to Lorelei who knew, to her husband who obviously knew as well now that Lara had been mentioned, and with the way Frank wore an amused, bitten-back smile and his husband looked on like this was all too fascinating not to stare at, it became glaringly clear that everyone in the room knew Cal wasn’t Owen’s publicist.

  “I should go.” He turned for the door.

  “What? Why?” Owen clutched after him, gripping his wrist tightly for a moment, only to let his fingers retract in apology. He moved close to Cal anyway, eager and uncertain but not as small as the man Cal had first met. “You don’t have to leave. It’s just Trivial Pursuit. You can stay if you want to.”

  Didn’t Owen understand they all knew what he was? Maybe he didn’t. Maybe he was too naïve to get it. But the flush to his cheeks seemed to say otherwise, and he simply didn’t care.

  “Are you sure you want me to?” Cal asked.

  Owen looked effervescent tonight, relaxed in one of his newer, nicer pairs of jeans but with a Star Wars T-shirt and zip-up sweater. “Why wouldn’t I?” he said, too sincere, too good. “It’s an evening for friends. As long as you want to be here, I… want that too.”

  This was not what Cal had come here for, but then he didn’t know what he’d come here for. Answers. Direction. Absolution maybe. Owen’s smile held all those things.

  “Okay.
I’ll stay.” In a rush, all the tension drained from Cal’s shoulders just by making Owen look that happy. He let Owen take his coat, then sat with him on the sofa beside Lorelei and, “Tommy, was it?”

  “Nice to see you again,” he said. They’d met briefly through Lara.

  “You too.”

  There wasn’t judgment in anyone’s eyes, least of all in Frank’s, despite the man’s dopey grin—Cal saw that now.

  “It’s actually Lord of the Rings Trivial Pursuit,” Frank said.

  Glancing at the board on the coffee table, Cal asked, “Books or movies?”

  “Both,” Paul said excitedly.

  “Well in that case—” Cal chuckled, meeting Owen’s gaze from where he sat close enough at Cal’s side for their hips to touch. “—none of you stand a chance.”

  IT felt like their first night all over again. Tentative and thrilling and so much fun. The only difference this time was that Owen got to share how wonderful Cal was with other people, and so differently than at some stiff social event. Cal also crushed it on the Tolkien lore, which made him even more perfect, something Owen never would have thought possible.

  Not once did Owen think about schedules or the other clients Cal saw, at least not until everyone else was getting ready to leave, abandoning him to Cal’s company after a completely not-date date.

  Then it was definitely like their first night, because how did Owen proceed from point A to point B without making a fool of himself? The topic of money when nothing had been scheduled beforehand loomed over them like a storm cloud. It had been easy to push that aside while playing games and eating and enjoying drinks with the other couples. The other couples—as if they were a couple.

  Lorelei and Tommy left first, followed immediately by Frank and Paul. It did not help that Frank winked at Owen on his way out either.

  “Small world,” Cal said from the kitchen, having brought glasses to the sink to help clean up. “Or maybe it’s just this city.”

  “Y-yeah.” Owen scratched the back of his head as he moved toward Cal. “Maybe I can meet Lara sometime.” Or was that weird? Was Owen making things weird?