by Lynda Aicher
Tyler was resting his head on the wall, eyes closed, arms crossed in a pose that was far more relaxed than Rock felt. Tyler opened his eyes and cocked a brow that said as much as Rock’s grunts did. It was a move Rock swore the man had learned from Seth.
He chewed on his words for a minute, not sure how to start, let alone where to start. The lack of annoyance or pressure from Tyler encouraged him to finally jump in at a completely random place. “How do you do it?”
“What?” Tyler frowned. “Are you talking about hooking again?”
Rock shook his head. “No. Not exactly.” He paused to get his thoughts together. “How are you so comfortable after all you’ve been through?”
“I’m still not following.”
He ground his teeth and resorted to the direct approach. “You’re gay, right?”
Tyler sat up, his hands dropping to press on the counter. “I’m bi.” The statement was precise and boarded on defensive.
“And you were an escort.”
“Where are you going with this?” There was a hard snap of anger in Tyler’s tone now. But there was also a hesitation in his voice that said he was giving Rock the benefit of the doubt and he’d better get to his point damn quick.
He fisted his hands. Fuck. He was messing the conversation up once again. He blew out a breath, wishing for a beer that came with a translator. “Nowhere bad. Look.” He leaned forward, his clasped hands holding his focus before he forced his eyes up to meet Tyler’s. “It’s cool as hell that you’re so open about everything. That you’re not ashamed of any of it.”
Tyler slowly sank back, but the tension didn’t leave his body. “There’s no point in being ashamed of what you can’t change.”
“Did you always feel that way?”
He shrugged. “I learned how to be fine with who I was or they’d all win. And I wasn’t letting that happen.”
“They?”
“Everyone.” He swung his arm wide, his lip curling in a snarl. “My dad. Society. The fucking moral police. You get kicked down long enough and you either succumb or you learn to fight back. I may be gutter trash, but I have just as much right as the rich to earn a living and love whoever I want. So yeah, I’m fucking fine with who I am.”
Tyler’s chest heaved with his final declaration, and Rock had an urge to stand and applaud. Instead he managed a lame “That’s cool.”
Tyler stared at him, eyes wide before he let out a rough chuckle and slumped against the wall, shaking his head. “Dude, you are the king of understatements.” He turned his head toward Rock and gave him a tired smile. “What’s this really about?”
What was this about?
There was a rock the size of Gibraltar sitting in his gut, and this was his chance to chisel the fucker down a bit. Maybe. He stared at his hands. “Did they mean anything? When you…when you fucked for money? The men. Did they mean anything to you?”
“God, fuck no.” Tyler’s retort was so quick and hard there was no doubting his words.
“Then how did you do it?”
A big sigh gusted through the air, but Rock couldn’t lift his head to check Tyler’s reaction. “This had better be going somewhere because I’m pretty damn certain you’re not thinking of taking up a new trade.”
Rock’s head snapped up. “Fuck no.”
Tyler snickered. “That’s one hell of a funny face. I wish I had my camera.”
“Asshole.”
“Dick.”
Rock shook his head and sat back. “Are you going to answer my question?”
“Christ.” Tyler rubbed a hand over his face before glaring at him. “I disassociated myself. Okay? Carter told me to think of each gig as a part. It’s an act you put on for the john. Otherwise they’ll take you apart piece by piece until there’s nothing left. It’s just sex.”
Instead of chipping away at the boulder in Rock’s stomach, Tyler’s words made it larger. It’s just an act. Was that what Carter was doing with him? Playing a part? He didn’t want to believe that, but the truth was he had no clue if Carter was stringing him along or being honest.
“Did you ever meet any of your clients outside of an appointment?”
“You mean, like, for fun?”
Rock nodded.
“Fuck no. I never wanted to see any of those assholes, period. No way I’d want to hang with them.”
“They were all that bad?”
Another huge sigh came from Tyler. He closed his eyes, his shoulders sagging. “No. They didn’t all suck. But they weren’t my friends. They were men who paid me to have sex with them. That was it. I had a few regulars I’d built up a comfort level with, but they were never more than an hour or two of small talk and fucking. They were marks I cultivated for my benefit, just like they used me for theirs.”
Marks. This conversation wasn’t helping at all. The unease rolled around with the doubt, mixing up everything Rock had thought. Was there really anything developing between him and Carter, or was it all an act to get something more out of him? Money? Blackmail? The possibilities swam before Rock, churning and crashing until he had no idea what to believe.
“Did you ever think of leading them on or—” he shrugged, a jagged rise of his shoulder, “—blackmailing them for more money?” What was supposed to be a casual question had come out stiff and choppy. Revealing, but there was no way to retract it.
The silence stretched, and he could almost feel Tyler trying to sort through the questions to find the why of them. Rock resisted the urge to pick at a hangnail, but he couldn’t look up. His head was too heavy to lift under the weight that had returned to his shoulders.
His recently found freedom was slipping away with the unwinding of his confidence. And that was what it was. The fucking insecurities he’d buried behind the hard-earned muscle and cyber-hacking skills were eating their way through.
He wasn’t good enough. He wasn’t normal. He was a disappointment. Everyone would hate him if they knew the real him. And the worst one—he’d hate himself.
“No,” Tyler finally said, a slight hesitation in his tone. “It never crossed my mind. Sex for money was an honest business transaction. I’m not a criminal, even if the law said I shouldn’t get paid for sex. What you’re talking about is a level of sleaze that is inherent to someone’s character. The opportunity is there and it could be a motivation for some, but not most. Not me.”
“Would Carter do something like that?” He didn’t know how the question got out but there it was, floating in the air molecules like it was no big deal. He closed his eyes and mouthed a curse before he swung around and stared at the screens. What did I just do?
The silence went on forever this time, or at least it seemed that way. The accelerated bounce of his leg matched the speed of his heart. There could’ve been a massacre happening on the screens and he wouldn’t have seen it. He repeatedly swallowed to keep his breathing regulated, each pause halting the rising panic by forcing him to think of that action alone. Just swallow.
Maybe Tyler would leave it alone. Maybe he hadn’t heard the question. And if that were true, he would’ve said something by now.
“Rock.”
There was a tilt of question implied in that single word. One he didn’t know how to answer so he didn’t respond. He couldn’t say a damn fucking thing.
“It’s okay,” Tyler said. “I’d already guessed.”
Rock spun around, the chair squealing with the sudden movement. He gripped the arms of the chair, ready to shove away. To bolt. To get the fuck out of the room that was suddenly too small. Close. Crushing him.
Tyler had guessed. How? What had he done to give himself away? But maybe he wasn’t talking about…about…being gay. He clung to that with a desperation that kept him from sinking completely.
“What did you guess?” he ground out. The struggle to keep everything in turned his voice to a gravelly rumble.
Tyler gave him a look that said he knew. He wasn’t stupid, and neither was Rock. It didn’t have to
be said because the unspoken word was splashed across a big fucking billboard between them. “You need to say it.”
That was so close to what Carter had said that Rock almost lost it right there. He was uncertain if the trapped turmoil would burst free in a violent wave of destruction or a simpering flow of tears. Neither was acceptable, so he crushed it back. Stuffed it down. Just like he always did.
His fingers ached where he clenched the chair, yet he couldn’t loosen his hold. He had no clue if any of what was slamming around inside of him showed on his face and he couldn’t bring himself to care. But he had to know one thing—no, two—but he would start with one.
“You going to tell anyone?”
“No.” Tyler glared at him, but it was filled with annoyance not anger. “Why would I? That’s nobody’s business but yours.”
Question number two. “Would Carter do that? Con or blackmail a client for more money?”
It didn’t matter what Tyler thought anymore. The need for an answer was greater than maintaining the last vestiges of his pride. Rock couldn’t tear his eyes away from Tyler now. He wasn’t going to miss a single clue, hint or tell that would give him his answer about Carter.
Tyler hitched a boot onto the edge of the counter and wrapped his hands around his knee. Again, the position was casual, but it was a false show that didn’t hide the white-knuckled grip or the tense line of muscles down his arms. He didn’t rush with an answer, and every second added to Rock’s dark fear that he’d been such a fucking sucker. An easy mark Carter had pounced on.
When Tyler spoke, there was a tentative quality to it, like he was walking through a minefield, uncertain where to place his next step. “I can’t see Carter doing something like that, but I don’t know for sure. I know him to be a good guy. He helped me more than once when he didn’t have to. But I don’t know his background or his history. He’s a friend to me and has never done anything to make me doubt the truth of that friendship.”
It was a straightforward response that didn’t come close to answering Rock’s question. Tyler had implied Carter was a good actor. Maybe his friendship was just another act that had everyone fooled.
“I’m making another guess that you’ve met Carter,” Tyler went on. “More than once. That things went well, too well, and now you’re questioning it. Guess number three is that you’ve seen him outside of a paid engagement.”
He waited, but Rock wasn’t responding in any way. Tyler’s guesses were so spot-on accurate that he couldn’t get past the nailed-to-the-wall feeling that sucked the air from his lungs.
Tyler nodded. One small chin bob that said he’d take Rock’s silence as confirmation. “The only thing I can tell you is that I never would’ve hung out with a client unless there was something real there. Once you’ve been with enough guys, it becomes easy to assess a man within minutes of meeting him. A good escort has to be able to do that.” He blew out a long breath that fluttered the edge of his bangs. “There’s something you have to understand.”
His hard stare drilled into Rock, compelling him to give a small nod, indicating he was still listening.
Tyler closed his eyes before he continued. “Being an escort is very isolating. You can’t be honest with anyone about what you do. You have to be careful about what you say, where you go, and there’s always that worry that you might get caught or, worse, what you might catch. Every appointment is a leap of faith that the guy is decent. That you won’t get the shit beat out of you. That you’ll be able to get it up and make it out. It’s as much about survival and what you have to do both emotionally and physically to get back home.”
Those were all things Rock had never thought about. Carter had mentioned the safety issue, but the rest were things he’d blindly ignored or failed to even consider. “Did you enjoy any of it?”
“It wasn’t horrible,” Tyler said. “The hardest part is getting past what society thinks you should feel about your actions. The actual sex itself wasn’t that different than one-night stands and anonymous back alley fucks, except I got some cash when we were done.”
Anonymous back alley sex Rock knew about. Although it’d been years, he could still remember that filled but empty feeling that went with the acts. Sexually satisfied yet emotionally empty. There was nothing personal about the exchanges. He got that.
But he had loads of emotions—too many fucking emotions—involved with Carter.
“So, Carter met with you for fun?”
“Fun?” Rock blinked.
Tyler chuckled. “You didn’t pay him to be with you.”
There was no way to stop the flood of heat that burned up his neck to the tips of his ears. It sounded so incredibly pathetic when said like that. He hung his head, but there was really no point in hiding anything from Tyler anymore. This would make it two people who knew his deepest secrets. What a fucking week.
“Yeah,” he mumbled. If there’d been even a speck of noise in the room, Tyler probably wouldn’t have heard him.
“Hey, Rock.” When Tyler didn’t go on, he was finally compelled to look up. The smile Tyler shot him was a complete surprise. “That’s good.”
Rock grunted. He couldn’t commit to that assessment. Not yet.
“It’s cool, really.” Tyler swung his foot out and kicked Rock in the leg. “All of it.” He lifted his hands over his head, the long stretch showing the toned lines of his waist.
“Even the paying Carter part?” Rock sprung the question quick while the other man was distracted. If he didn’t hear it, that’d be okay.
Tyler slump forward and rolled his head on his neck. “Why wouldn’t it be?” He glanced up, his eyes partially blocked by the fall of his bangs. “Stop worrying about what everyone else thinks and focus on what you feel. Most people don’t know shit, and your real friends won’t care.”
Rock wasn’t certain if Tyler was talking about the sex or being gay, but his statement worked for both. It was just a hell of a lot harder to do than say.
“Are you seeing Carter again?”
The embarrassment returned, flushing hot up the back of his neck. His older brother used to tease him mercilessly for the girlish reaction. Real men don’t blush. That went right along with real men don’t fuck men, either.
Rock met Tyler’s gaze and nodded. “We have a date on Wednesday.” He’d said that out loud and his world hadn’t crashed around him.
“Just a date? A plain-old couple kind of date?”
The smile hit him as the truth finally loosened the tightness holding that big fucking rock in his gut. “Yeah.”
“Well, hot damn.” Tyler grinned and shoved off the counter. “Have fun. Carter’s a good guy. I don’t think he’d steer you wrong.” He tried to stifle a yawn, then gave up and let it out. “You okay?”
Not by a long shot, but he was better than an hour ago. He nodded, because “yeah” was getting repetitive. Tyler headed for the door, his steps lagging with the tiredness that seemed to have hit him.
“Hey, Tyler,” Rock called out. The man turned, a lazy smile on his face. “Thanks. For…being a pestering dick and, well…” He swiped a hand over his nape, his skin warm again. “Not making fun of me.”
Tyler’s brows shot up. “Why would I make fun of you?”
Now Rock felt really stupid. He shrugged and mumbled, “Never mind. Thanks.”
“Have fun on your date.” Tyler opened the door. “I won’t even bug you for the details. Well, maybe I won’t.”
The door was almost closed when Rock jumped up and ran to grab it. “Hey, Tyler.” He stepped into the hall to catch the man half into the elevator at the end of the hall. “Don’t say anything to him.”
Tyler shot him an affronted look. “Of course not. Stop worrying.” He let the elevator close, and Rock slumped against the wall.
The low purr of a vacuum cleaner flowed down the hallway, reminding him how late it was. Someone would be in soon to take the morning shift on the cameras, but he’d forgotten who. Overnight customers had
to be out by nine, but as long as there were people in the rooms, someone manned the security screens. The hours were usually boring as hell, and many times he did them. He could always find stuff to do on the computers. Codes to break, information to hack, secrets to uncover. He was an ace at that stuff.
The people stuff, not so much. But he was getting better with Carter. Maybe there could be something between them if he stopped stressing over and analyzing every little thing. He wanted that happy feeling back that he’d had after the kiss at the diner. That had been nice.
It made it all worth trying.
Chapter Twelve
It appeared to be Carter’s turn to wait in the freezing night. The days were slowly getting longer and warmer, but darkness had arrived more than two hours ago, which left the air biting cold without the sun to counter the effects. The complete lack of even a hint of spring had him wishing for a long vacation in the Caribbean. He wasn’t a fool, though. He needed every cent of his savings if he was going to survive once he left the agency.
Seventy-nine more days. It was like a small victory every time he rounded down to a new set of tens.
He scanned the parking lot and couldn’t stop the smile that rose in tandem with the flutter that kicked away the worry in his stomach. They’d texted a few times, but just like before, he hadn’t been certain Rock would show.
His broad form seemed to cut through the night, his confident strides matching his pulled-back shoulders and raised chin. This was the military man marching in and he turned more than one head. Including Carter’s. He inhaled too deeply and the icy air sliced through his lungs, making him cough. Crap.
His reaction to Rock was growing stronger, not fading. The more he learned about the man, the more he wanted to keep learning.
“Hey,” he called out when Rock got closer.
“Have you been waiting long?” Rock gave him a tentative smile that caused his scar to crinkle on his cheek.
Carter shook his head and turned to open the door. “Not long.” The smell of popcorn rushed out to meet them before they even entered the theater. “There’s plenty of time to grab some snacks before the movie starts.”