“Oi.” Ko shook his head. “But seriously, I have a meeting with him today. I figure I’d take him out to lunch and talk to him personally. Apparently, he’s a little hesitant about doing this.”
“Hesitant? Seriously? What’s to be cautious about?”
“Being the face of anything is a huge responsibility.”
“Did Julia Roberts contemplate Lancome?”
Ko rolled his eyes. He just couldn’t help it.
“All I’m saying is that Hansamu may have a small space, but our brand is world renowned. Princes are wearing our lines. Any model would be crazy not to want this—and to have it simply handed to them…?” Stella said.
“Not everyone is like that. Jackson has a job that he loves with people he adores. If he agreed to come on board, it would mainly be as a favor to Thaddeus,” Ko replied.
“Uh-huh. And the money—what’s that? Chump change?”
“Stella…”
“No. The point I’m trying to make is, the guy needs a good smack to the back of the head to get some sense into him.”
Ko knew she wasn’t convinced so he gave up. “Clear my schedule for the rest of the day, would you? I have this meeting then I’m heading home. India is still kicking my ass.”
“Ain’t time differences a bitch?”
Ko laughed. “And the jetlag. Don’t forget the jetlag.”
“Never.” Stella grinned and stood. “I’ll clear your schedule. You were supposed to talk to Ivor today…”
“Call him and see if I can have that chat with him before I leave for lunch today. The meeting with Jackson is at one so maybe I could talk to Ivor at eleven-thirtyish?”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
When he was finally alone, Ko fell into his leather seat and grabbed his bag. He removed some designs he’d been working on and stared at them. It seemed since the possibility of having Jackson Stark as the new face of Hansamu, Ko couldn’t stop thinking of sexy new styles for men. Each piece would flow over Jackson’s body inside Ko’s head and sat just perfectly. He smiled at that thought and set the drawings aside. If he was going to make it to lunch on time, he had to clear a few things off his plate first.
One phone call morphed into a meeting then finally his conference call with Ivor. The Hansamu website needed to be spruced up and Ivor was in charge of that. Ko wanted minor changes, prices to be fixed and to go over the specs for their sale that was coming up in less than a week. Though the sales team—and by team he referred to one person in her office—had everything set up, Ko was paranoid. That call ran a little late and when it finally ended, he had to motor it out of the door. He never liked rushing—that was why he had appointments. Still, he stopped at his place, changed, then headed into the center of Bathsheba. Thankfully, traffic was light. All the tourists were gone and he made it to Bronte’s with ten minutes to spare.
Accepting a seat by the window overlooking the mountains, he shed his leather jacket and hung it over the back of his chair.
“Would you like a drink while you wait?” the server asked.
“Yes please. Um—do you have apple juice?”
“We do.”
“Can I have a glass? The colder the better.”
The young man nodded and left Ko alone. As he was getting settled on his chair, Jackson walked into the place and Ko tried his best not to stare. He picked up the menu and pretended as if he hadn’t seen Jackson at all. Though he had the menu up, his brain was counting down to the moment Jackson would be seated across from him.
“Mr. Takao. Your guest…”
Ko lowered the menu and pushed back his chair. He rose to shake Jackson’s hand. “It’s good to see you, Jackson.”
“Don’t you mean it’s good to see you again?” Jackson asked, releasing Ko’s hand.
Ko chewed on his bottom lip, not sure how to take the question. Jackson’s voice had dipped an octave lower with the comment, but Ko could have been hearing things. Instead, he smiled. “Yes. I’m sorry to seem like a bit of a stalker. The visit was a business thing, I promise.”
“I see.”
“Please. Have a seat.”
“Would you like a drink to start?” The server wanted to know of Jackson.
“Water, please.”
Alone with Jackson, Ko closed his menu and inhaled. He already knew what he wanted—it was the same damn thing he ordered when he was in a pinch and didn’t think his stomach could handle anything heavy—chicken Caesar salad.
“I was surprised when Thaddeus told me you wanted to speak with me about your line,” Jackson admitted, fingering the edges of his menu. “I mean, aside from Men Tower, I haven’t done any real modeling in almost three years.”
“Isn’t it like riding a bike?”
Jackson smiled.
Ko’s heart soared.
“Not really,” Jackson said.
The server returned with their drinks and went away.
“Well, from what I saw at the shoot, you’re a natural. You follow instructions and you get the job done.” Ko took a drink from his glass. “That’s all we can really ask.”
“Right.”
“I don’t want to pressure you,” Ko said. “But I need to mold Hansamu into my own image, so to speak, and the guy we have is not what I need.”
“But me—you need.”
Ko trembled. If only Jackson knew. He licked his lips and decided to try again. This time he pulled one of the ad campaigns with the other guy from his bag and slid it across the table to Jackson. “Let’s think like the regular man for a second. He works hard. He wants to look like he plays hard, even if he doesn’t. Hansamu wants to tell the regular Joe that yes, we can make you look like you walked off the pages of GQ, so we want the right face and body to say that. If you were Tom from Boise, accountant, husband to a soccer mom, father of two-point-five kids, would you want to buy anything this guy’s selling?”
He watched as Jackson picked up the poster and stared at it. For a moment neither man spoke. Ko took a breath and leaned back in his chair.
“I see what you’re saying. He doesn’t seem trustworthy.”
“Precisely,” Ko said. “I know you don’t need the money but it’s a good paying gig and it would look good on your resume, I promise.”
“And just to put this out there. I’m gay—you know that, right?”
“So am I. I don’t see what this has to do with—”
“You said Tom from Boise has two-point-five kids and a wife.”
Ko laughed. “It was just a scenario—the first thing that popped into my head. Everyone can wear my suits. Gay, straight. Black, white, humans, aliens—everyone.”
“I don’t know,” Jackson said. “Aliens may need a few more arm holes.”
Ko laughed. “Right. But you get what I mean.”
“I get it. Okay. Do you have a sample contract?”
Ko tilted his head. “I can have my assistant send one over as soon as tomorrow morning.”
“Good.” Jackson turned the ad over and pulled a pen from his breast pocket. He scribbled on the back then slid the ad back across the table. “That’s my email address. I’m going to have Uncle Darius’ lawyers take a look at it, and if everything is on the up and up, I’ll take the job—not that I don’t trust you. But you can’t be too careful, you know?”
“I know, and I understand completely. I’ll also have her send you over a breakdown of payment. We don’t know what the campaign will be yet, but we already have a female model to work with you.”
“Priya?”
“You know Priya Chetan?”
Jackson nodded. “She was at Thaddeus’ launch with her brother. Smart woman—after speaking to her, you begin to see the world in a whole new light. It’s strange.”
Ko laughed. “That’s our Priya, yes.”
“It would be an honor to work with her.”
Hearing that, Ko inhaled deeply and finally relaxed. With business out of the way, they focused on food, and soon they were laughing and chatting as if
they were lifelong friends. Ko took that moment and ensured he enjoyed every second. This was as close as he figured he’d get to dating the young stud.
He frowned but hid it with the dessert menu. Though he didn’t feel like ordering anything from it, he settled on a double scoop of vanilla ice cream with caramel sauce and crushed, salted peanuts.
Jackson took the picture back from Ko and turned it over to write again on the back of it. This time he smiled when he stopped and slid the picture to Ko. “That’s my personal number. Feel free to use it anytime.”
Ko flushed and hoped Jackson didn’t see it. He was a grown-ass man blushing at some presumable flirtation.
For shame!
When lunch was over, Jackson stopped to gather something from the hostess. He walked out of the doors to join Ko on the sidewalk with a black helmet underneath one arm.
Jackson Stark just got a whole lot sexier. Shit. Ko wanted to groan.
The two shook hands and Ko watched as Jackson jogged across the parking lot to a black motorcycle. He tossed his leg over it and the tightness of his jeans then perfectly accentuated Jackson’s muscled thighs. Ko trembled and remained rooted to that spot, staring until long after Jackson had slipped his helmet on, lowered the visor and the cycle had roared to life. Soon, Jackson disappeared in the distance and Ko was left feeling as if he had been stripped naked and licked.
Chapter Four
With a quick stop to check in on the progress of a few things at the office, Jackson headed home. He had a night in with Charlie, and if he didn’t hurry, he would most certainly be late. Sure, Charlie was never on time and they often joked that Charlie would be late for his own funeral, but Jackson had things he had to get done first.
As he entered the front door, his cell phone picked up his wireless signal and bombarded him with notifications. There were emails, Facebook updates, Instagram updates—why did he even have Instagram? He never posted anything instantly for he hated everyone in the world knowing where he was at every given second of the day.
“That’s what I get for not putting this crap on silent,” Jackson muttered. He scanned through all of them as he entered the kitchen, dumped his keys on the island and opened the fridge for a bottle of water—all without looking up. Once the coolness was in his hand, he spared it a glance to ensure it was indeed water, used his hip to bump the door closed, then climbed onto a stool.
There were quite a few emails since the last time he had checked but the one that drew him was from a Stella Priest. The subject heading said Sample Contract from Ko Takao. He instantly opened it and scanned it. Everything seemed legit but just in case he forwarded it to Darius’ lawyer. After sending Stella a quick reply to confirm he had gotten the contract, he ignored the rest of the messages, plugged in the phone to charge, then put some effort into preparing for his night with his best friend.
He stopped to turn on some music then hummed to himself while putting some beers to cool along with a bottle of wine.
True to form, Charlie was half an hour late and when he finally walked through the door he was speaking on the phone to someone in German. Jackson assumed it was a business thing, hugged Charlie tightly, then headed up the stairs. He was barely at the top when Charlie called his name.
“Where you going?” Charlie asked. “The king is here.”
Jackson laughed. “Ass. I still have to shower.”
“Oh, okay. I’ll be down here when you get out.”
“Don’t be a dope. Grab a beer and come on up.”
“Jack, I—”
Jackson cocked a hip and rested his hand on it. “I thought we were past all this awkwardness.”
“Okay. I’m coming. Sheesh. Just stop giving me the Darius Stark glare.”
Jackson laughed and continued up the stairs. By the time Charlie entered his bedroom, Jackson was shirtless and digging through his closet for a pair of track pants. He glanced over his shoulder to see that Charlie had climbed into the center of the bed, set his laptop before him and was sipping from a beer.
“How was your day?” Jackson asked.
“Same old. I’m having an issue with one of my international students,” Charlie said. “I’m tempted to cut my losses and pray when he repeats the course he’ll have another professor.”
“Why do you keep beating yourself up like this? You do the best you can then hope it works out.”
“I’m an idiot?”
Jackson laughed, pulled his Nike track pants out and shook them. “Finally! Damn—thought I left them at Uncle Darius’ again.”
Charlie merely laughed.
He took a quick shower and by the time he was finished and dressed, it was well into the evening. The music downstairs had stopped since he hadn’t bothered filling the other four trays. He didn’t really see the point. Usually after one album finished, he needed the silence to kind of digest what he’d just heard.
The two set to work on dinner.
“So, you met with Ko Takao…” Charlie said, dropping a handful of pasta into some boiling water on the stove.
Jackson, who was busy chopping up some oregano, stopped and chewed on his bottom lip. “Yup.”
“Is he as sexy as the media makes him out to be?”
Jackson frowned and went back to what he’d been doing. “I didn’t notice.”
“Oh, man, you’re a liar.”
“What? We went for a business meeting. I didn’t have time to check out the goods for you.”
Charlie sighed dramatically. “Seriously? Was he at least good-looking?”
“Yes.”
“Okay then. Continue.”
Jackson spared his friend a glance before shaking his head. “I asked him to send me over a sample contract and I’d have Darius’ lawyer take a look.”
“And?”
“He did and I think it’s a pretty great deal.” Jackson finished the oregano and piled it to one end of the board before reaching for a tomato. “I personally didn’t need them to tell me that but had to cover my ass, you know? Anyway, I’d work predominately for him, and since I wouldn’t be able to do any other modeling work until my contract is over, he’s paying me one-point-eight for the whole campaign—well technically, it’s in money and other benefits but it all adds up.”
“One-point-eight—million?”
Jackson nodded as the sharp blade slid through the tender flesh of the red fruit then hit the board. “He gets me for a prolonged period of time and he’s projecting this to be huge.”
“Damn, brother.”
“Right?”
“And there aren’t any red flags?”
“No legal ones that I can see. Waiting to hear back from the lawyers, but I don’t anticipate anything popping up.”
“Damn.”
Jackson inhaled.
“Okay,” Charlie said. “Why do you still sound hesitant? Is it cutting into your Stark gig?”
“Not really. I can use vacation time for traveling, and as a designer I can basically work from anywhere. I would just have to travel with my computer and all the crap I’d need, but Darius doesn’t mind. The contract for Hansamu is for two years.”
“Then what’s holding you back?”
“I don’t know. The other day when I was doing the Men Tower shoot, Ko was there.”
“Wait. You didn’t tell me this.”
“I didn’t think anything of it. I mean, we didn’t talk or anything. Apparently he spoke to Tasha ahead of the shoot and asked if he could stop by. When I came into the room, I saw him and at first I didn’t know who he was. I just figured one of the workers at the place was curious and decided to take a look-see.” Jackson rubbed at the back of his neck self-consciously. “Then the shoot began and I could feel his eyes on me. Like he was touching me and shit—it’s stupid. Anyway, he just stood there, watching. Then, before he left, I looked up. Kinda to let him know that I could see him.”
“Maybe even to tell him you felt him liking what he was seeing?”
“That’s an
asshole thing to say, Charlie.”
Charlie tossed up his hands. “Why? Because you don’t think a man wants to know that his advances are noticed?”
“No. Jesus! He’s way older than me and I’m not his type.”
“How would you know what his type is?”
“I just—I know, all right? After that, he left. I mean, of course there was nothing there. Ko was scoping out the talent he wants to use for his branding. That’s all it was but inside my head—it was so much more.”
“Fine. If that’s all it was, why are you still pussy-footing around accepting this deal?”
“I don’t— I’m an idiot.”
“Well, I can’t disagree with you there.” Charlie sighed then continued, “This is a great deal, man. What other model can say they got something like this without even looking? That the owner of the label handpicked them to face the line without auditioning or headshots or any of the regular drama that comes with this world.”
Jackson didn’t say anything else on the matter. They cooked in silence but Jackson’s mind was a flurry of activity. They ate and talked, even watched a movie. Once they were settled in for the night, Jackson laid on his back thinking of Ko Takao and the sadness he remembered in the man’s eyes. Well, at first it had been sorrow, but from time to time that had faded and something else had filled Ko’s gaze that Jackson couldn’t quite put his fingers on. Still, his decision to model for Hansamu should have nothing to do with Ko and more to do with the financial side of things and the exposure rewards that came with the job.
At around three in the morning, Jackson’s phone chimed. It was an email from Darius’ lawyer stating he could find nothing to make the contract damaging to Jackson. Everything was straightforward and it was his professional opinion that the contract was valid and legal.
“There,” Jackson muttered, crawling out of bed to grab his laptop from where it usually sat on his dresser. After booting it up, he sent Ko’s assistant an email.
Dear Ms. Priest,
Please advise Mr. Takao that I would be honored to work for him on his new campaign. Please let me know a suitable time that I may come in and have a talk with him.
Thanks,
Jackson Stark
Lost In You Page 4