by RJ Scott
A trip in their private jet to see their son, for an important event? Yeah, right—complete hardship.
Then he heard Josiah’s tone change. “How’s your seein’?” he asked.
Great. Not only had Josiah gone there, into the Cam-is-blind thing, but he was using that false tone, dripping with fake sincerity and with a palpable excitement that this time he might get the gossip on Cam’s current medical status.
Cam owned his failing eyesight, but he didn’t expect anyone else to. He was independent, in control, he had dreams. Yes, he could be resentful at times, but mostly he was okay and at peace with something he had no control over. Still, that didn’t mean he wanted to talk about it all the time, or have it brought up as a talking point in company.
“Doing well, thank you, Josiah.”
“Where’s your mutt? Shouldn’t she be with you all the time?”
“Gidget’s in my suite,” Cam answered.
His golden lab wasn’t needed at his side for something like this event. And hell, Gidget would likely bite Josiah if the lab sensed Cam’s impatience. Why Josiah insisted on calling Cam’s seeing-eye dog a mutt, he’d never know. Possibly Josiah was trying to downplay the fact that Cam relied more and more on his furry companion, or maybe he was just a fucking asshole who needed a good bite from a happy canine.
A hand touched his arm, and he didn’t need to see to know who it was, right on cue. Micah “Six” Carlisle, bodyguard, best friend, and all-around hero, was rescuing him.
“Sir,” Six said dutifully, “the Hythes are leaving.”
“You’ll have to excuse me,” Cam said, and slipped a hand through Six’s arm, allowing himself to be guided away and playing the blind card for all it was worth.
He and Six didn’t need to exchange words; Six had his back, and would have seen that he was trapped with Josiah. He also didn’t need to say that he needed air, just felt the rush of it as Six pushed open the side door and they stepped into the fading Dallas heat. Today had been so hot, and usually Cam loved that, but right now he was angsty and uncomfortable in his own skin.
“We’re alone,” Six said.
“Such an asshole,” Cam muttered under his breath.
“Remember it’s all for charity,” Six said right next to his ear.
Cam felt the wall in front of him and turned to lean against it. Up here on the tenth-floor balcony of the Stafford Royal, he could still hear the hum of the streets below, the sound of distant sirens, the buzz of conversation behind the closed doors, and he concentrated on all of those things for a moment.
“Okay?” he asked, covering everything with that single word. He was asking who was there that he still needed to talk to, who was donating, who was leaving, who was staring at him as if he was a cripple, and Six dutifully reported everything.
“The Hythes really did leave,” Six started. “Sheila looked ill—said she’d eaten shellfish at lunch. I personally think she was covering for the seven glasses of Chardonnay she downed on an empty stomach. Josiah and Dilys are the power couple in the room—some nudging from company rivals, and I think we can get Josiah to double his donation if we mention John Hythe gave over fifty thousand. Oh, and Eddie Miller has a new girlfriend, or so he says.”
Eddie was a portly guy, well into his seventies with a huge stake in a local tech company. He’d been one of the internet bubble survivors and banked millions on a regular basis. He was one of the nicer rich guys that Cam knew; not in the asshole leagues of Josiah and Cam’s dad. Cam could remember him from when he used to visit the family, way before his eyesight had started to fail. Something had happened, though, between Eddie and Cam’s dad, and they’d stopped being close friends a long time ago.
It was probably something to do with money.
“What do you mean, so he says?”
“She’s an escort. I’ve seen her up on the twelfth floor on four separate occasions.”
“Which one is she?”
Six categorized every non-paying guest in various ways. There were hookers, dog walkers, business colleagues, personal beauticians—he knew them all and had his finger on the pulse of the Dallas Stafford Royal.
“Blonde Twenty-Three,” Six answered. “She’s good. Seems really into him, and no one else has guessed. He probably paid a lot for quality.”
“Good on him,” Cam muttered. “Maybe I should hire someone to stand by me to stop Josiah asking questions about my sex life. I need a twink, wearing a cut off T-shirt, tight leather pants…oh, and he needs to wear makeup. That’ll shake the bastard up with his have you found a filly shit.”
“Yeah, hiring a hooker is not happening on my watch,” Six said. “Ready to go back in?”
The door opened and the noise of the event tumbled out, spoiling the peace. Also, someone sounded angry.
“Ice in Dallas,” the drawling Texas accent announced.
“It’s a thing,” a more measured voice responded. “Hey, Cam. Six.”
Cam smiled then. He’d recognize that voice anywhere, he genuinely liked Riley Campbell-Hayes and his husband Jack, although they’d only met a couple of times since the two had got married. Before that, he and Riley had done some partying; things better left in the past.
“Hey,” he said back.
“Evening,” Six said in his rumble of a voice.
“You get this?” Jack said, clearly still in the middle of the heated debate he had going on with his husband. “Riley is organizing a charity event at a hockey game. Ice. Dallas. Does no one see the irony in this?”
Cam didn’t for one minute want to pretend he liked sports. Not anymore. He could listen as much as he wanted, but the sports he’d enjoyed, hockey being one of them, were visual things for him. He’d stopped listening when he couldn’t watch. He smiled anyway; Riley and Jack were there supporting his event, he’d damn sure support theirs.
“Count me in for two seats,” he said, and extended his hand. Riley and Jack had arrived late, something to do with their children; Cam didn’t ask. It wasn’t a party where anyone could talk properly about anything serious.
The two men shook his hand in turn. They made small talk for a while before someone’s phone rang and they had to excuse themselves to talk to someone called Max. One of their children, Cam thought.
He turned to look out at the city. In the dark he couldn’t see a thing—sometimes in daylight he could make out blurry shapes if he looked sideways on—but he remembered how beautiful the city was, and it was that beauty he recalled now. There was no way in hell he could handle kids himself, but even so he was confident he would be better at it than his own dad had been.
He inhaled the warm air, rolled his shoulders, then linked arms with Six.
“Let’s get back in there.”
The event only ran for another hour, and in that time Cam only got stuck with Josiah and Dilys on two more occasions, and managed to finagle it so Josiah did indeed double his donation after he casually let it slip how generous other donors had been. He chatted to Eddie’s new girlfriend, Fiona. She was clearly well educated and had a lovely laugh. He liked her; he often assessed people by how genuine their laugh was. When she spoke about the charity, and there was not one single ounce of pity in her voice for him and his situation, he liked her even more, and he told Eddie so.
He could hear the blush in Eddie’s voice—it was a thing, that soft chuckle that spoke volumes. Clearly Eddie was happy with Fiona, escort or not. That could only end badly, although Eddie was certainly rich enough to pay her to be with him for a very long time.
Only after everyone had left and the busy room was filled with the noise of staff clearing the tables, did Cam finally relax.
Gidget was ecstatic to see him when he got back to his room. She’d been his since she’d passed all her assessments, and was almost three years old now. Gidget was his eyes when he needed them, her harness marking her as a seeing eye dog. She was also the giver of a lot of affection, and right now Cam needed that.
Adam had le
ft another voicemail, pleading with Cam to listen, saying that he hadn’t meant to hurt Cam, that he’d been desperate.
Funny how Adam’s voice left Cam feeling cold now, the betrayal and grief a heavy mix in his chest.
He sat on his bed and the mattress dipped as Gidget joined him, snuffling in a walking circle before finally curling next to him with a soft huff. He stroked her idly as he pressed the button for the next voicemail, a nicer message from the charity he funded asking him to visit for a photo shoot. He could do that—be the face of the foundation, him and Gidget.
Of course, the text from his sister asking if he still wanted his plus-one invitation to the engagement party was a kick in the balls. He knew she wasn’t asking the question maliciously—she was flighty and girly, but she loved him, and they were as close as half siblings who had grown up in separate households could be. They shared a dad but had different moms, who hated each other, being wife one and wife two respectively.
The actual wedding was being held at home in the wealthy suburbs of Dallas, on their dad’s sprawling acres, September time. Cam doubted the fact of whether he had a plus one or not would cause a huge issue for the engagement party, but he wasn’t going to question her. She already had her hands full with the wedding. He loved his sister, and there was no way he was adding to her stress.
But if he didn’t find someone to date between now and next week, he’d just amend the table settings himself, or at least get one of his staff to do it for him.
For a moment he imagined himself moving chairs, crockery and cutlery, and couldn’t help smiling at the possible shitfest he could create.
Anyway, this was from the sister who had fallen in love and got engaged to her kind-of step-brother and hadn’t told anyone about it. Only when they’d had to tell everyone what had happened had it become apparent that there had been no engagement party to be enjoyed by everyone who needed to be seen at these things. Cue family drama and the engagement party that was happening in just over a week.
He pulled himself back to thinking about the plus-one.
Yes, he texted, and added a smiley face. At least he hoped it was a smiley face—he’d sent her a poop emoji last week by mistake, or so she told him.
He’d laughed it off, but jeez, if he couldn’t even manage to get an emoji right with his voice software, then he really was a lost cause. He’d definitely instructed the phone to send a smiley face; nothing in his memory told him he’d used the word shit in any way. At least she was the nicest of his siblings, although that would change when she was married, but that was another story for another day.
His sister texted him straight back, and he played the text through the phone. The mechanical sound of it, stilted, removed the personal punch of the message. She could have been laughing at his reply, or feeling pity, or hell, she could well be excited by the prospect that her big brother had a boyfriend he was bringing to the event. Who knew?
Is it Six? the mechanical voice said.
He hated that his sister had even asked if Six was his plus-one. He was thirty-one and he’d had boyfriends before—why assume he was bringing his bodyguard-slash-best-friend? He could have a boyfriend for all she knew.
So he lied, because lying made the pity he imagined go away, and it created an entirely new narrative for his life, one that could be looked on fondly and not laughed at.
You think I really loved someone who can’t even walk in a straight line?
His ex’s words meant nothing to him. Not when he’d been questioning why the guy had stayed with him as long as he did anyway.
No, it’s not Six, he sent back.
A boyfriend? What’s his name? Is it someone I know? She’d added ten smiley faces. He counted them as the mechanical voice spoke each one.
He couldn’t exactly tell her that, as he’d just made the guy up. You’ll find out, he hedged.
Ass, she replied, and he could almost imagine the teasing in her voice as if she’d said it herself.
Love you too, Sis.
Only when he’d placed the phone on the bed did it hit him.
He had a week to get someone to go with him.
Adam had turned Cam into a hermit when it came to men. He’d tried to steal from Cam, forging his signature to a deal he was brokering. Thank goodness Six had spotted that one. Problem was that Cam had fallen in love with Adam after a couple of months of wondering what the man saw in him. He’d been so perfect, attentive, good in bed. Well, okay in bed. Actually, pretty crap in bed—the kind who got off and went to sleep. But mostly he’d been fun and interesting, and there’d been no pity in the man at all. Not at first. But you see, a blind man can never truly tell intention, and Adam had been one hell of an actor.
Cam had fallen in love quickly and with the conviction that he’d found someone long-term. At the end of it, though, he’d realized he’d just been desperate for a connection. That was all. What he’d got had been a man who’d wanted his money and had been willing to fuck Cam if it meant he would sign on the dotted line for lucrative deals.
Luckily, Six had been all over that shit.
Poor blind Cam who needs someone to look after him all the time.
Maybe Cam had sabotaged the relationship with Adam. Maybe he’d known he was pushing Adam when he’d refused to lend him money, but Adam had turned out to be a complete asshole.
He’d find someone, someday. A man he could fall in love with for real. But that moment wasn’t now.
Now he just needed a plus-one who knew the score. Six would hate this, but as Cam cuddled into Gidget, he thought about Eddie and his pseudo-girlfriend, and inspiration made all rational thoughts flee his head. He knew what he needed to do.
“Siri, make a note to talk to Six about the escort idea again.”
Then he snorted a laugh.
That was some funny shit.
CHAPTER THREE
Of course, the next day when Cam sought Six out in the security office, his idea didn’t go down quite so well.
“This is the worst idea you’ve ever had,” Six snapped. “I won’t enable this.”
Cam shrugged; at the end of the day, friendship or not, he paid Six to work for him. Still, he wasn’t ready to pull that card yet, so he attempted to lower the stress he heard in Six’s voice.
“It’s not as bad as the time I nearly walked off the balcony of that Chicago penthouse,” he joked.
Six cursed under his breath. “No.”
“Yes.”
“Cam—”
“Six, find me someone good, talented, nice looking, who can be my plus-one without questions from everyone. Someone classy.”
“Cameron Clayton Malcolm Stafford, this is the worst idea you’ve ever had.”
Cam knew he was in trouble when Six used his full name, so he changed direction. Manipulation wasn’t his go-to option, but he had a few cards to play.
“Adam hurt me,” he said. He was genuine in that statement. He’d liked Adam, trusted him, or rather he’d wanted to believe him.
“I know he did,” Six said, and his tone had softened a little.
“I’m not ready to do that again,” Cam added. “This is a compromise that works for everyone.”
“I can’t believe we’re doing this.”
“We’re not doing anything—I’m doing this, and I can’t believe we didn’t think of it earlier.”
“Jeez, Cam, you have money and a reputation as a good guy—any of the men who fawn all over you would be better than a fucking hooker.”
“No they wouldn’t, because I’d end up hurt,” Cam said, and wouldn’t let himself be dragged into more conversation. He’d made up his mind, and nothing Six could say would change it. Okay, so it had been a snap decision when he’d asked to meet Six in security, but the basics of it were something he’d been considering ever since the charity event.
He had to do something.
“I have to just accept that I’m not going to find someone who wants me for me,” he began.
&nbs
p; “Don’t do this,” Six warned.
But Cam forged ahead. Six was the only person in this entire world he could be honest with. “A blind gay man with money is, at the end of the day, a blank check with not much else going for him.”
Six pushed at his chest. “I hate it when you say shit like that. You know you don’t believe that.”
“You’re right; of course I don’t believe it.”
“You deserve so much more.”
His friend was so damn loyal, never wanted anyone to think badly of Cam.
“Six, I’m out there looking and waiting, and I’m sick of being taken for a ride. One day I want what couples like Jack and Riley Campbell-Hayes have. I want to fight over ice in the desert, and kiss, and be in love, and not have someone rip me off for my money or take advantage. I’ll have it one day, but right now I need someone I can rent just for the event.”
Six made a weird sound that was half sigh, half curse, then he moved away from Cam to the bank of screens.
“Well, you need a reputable escort agency. I have numbers I can phone.”
“No, I need someone with no ties to anything—no company, nothing.”
“Brunet Seven is here again,” Six said. “But me telling you that doesn’t mean I think you taking a hooker to your sister’s engagement party is a good thing.”
“Six—”
“You know damn well your dad has people watching you, looking for evidence you can’t cope. I can only put them off the trail for so long, because they report to me.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Jesus, Cam, what if your parents realize he’s not a real boyfriend? Or hell, what if they think he is and they run background checks on him—”
“Stop. You would be the one to run those; they trust you for that.”
“Oh Jesus, I’ll be an accessory to the madness.”
Cam had to change the subject, because Six sounded as if he was losing it. “Tell me about Brunet Seven.”