“Hello?” the voice said impatiently, sounding rough as sandpaper now compared to the slick sound before.
“Hi!” he said hurriedly, trying to snatch words as he went. “My name is Shawn. Shawn Champion?” he added, and then winced as he realized this guy didn’t know him from a discarded brick. “I uh, I saw your ad. In the paper.”
For a second time, the voice changed. It became stately and swift, like a curled bonsai. “Certainly, Mr. Champion. Actually, you’re our first caller today. I was hoping a city like this would be quicker to respond to such a fine opportunity.”
I think I’m already sold, he thought, feeling slightly amazed. “I get what you mean, sir. I was wondering if you might want to schedule an interview or something with me?”
“Of course. What time did you have in mind?”
That’s it? His amazement grew. Drifting a little, he hurried back over to the table and peered down at the classifieds page. Sure enough, he’d skimmed over the pay-by-hour rate down in the lower left corner. His heart nearly stopped. That much? Who made that much for a beginner-level job?
Shawn came back just quick enough to realize that the silence had gone on way too long. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly, “my roommates were being pretty distracting.” He hoped Terrance couldn’t hear well enough to discern that no, in fact, there was no one being loud or even existing in the same room as him right now. “What did you say?”
“That’s alright. I said that you can come at anytime you like, as long as it isn’t very early in the morning or late at night.” The old man spoke so matter-of-factly, as though it was perfectly normal to hold job interviews at midnight or 3 a.m.
“What about just after lunch tomorrow? 1-ish or so?” He held his breath, hoping against hope, and then practically gasped out, “I’m flexible for anything, though.” Such a late time would let him do some much-needed grooming first, and that was incredibly important if he was going to make a good first impression.
“That will be fine. We will see you then, Mr. Champion.”
“I’ll see you,” he echoed. The phone clicked abruptly, the call ended. He murmured into the dead line, “Bye,” and then walked across the kitchen as though he was in a dream. Returning the phone to where it belonged seemed to take ages, and then finding his way back out to sit on the couch lasted an eternity. At some point, Carmen trotted past with Peter. His two roommates were headed out for the evening without so much as offering to let him come along, but the subtle exclusion no longer bothered him the way it used to.
If he was hired for this, he would be making more than both of them put together. It almost seemed too good to be true, and he was terribly certain that when he went to bed tonight he would wake up to find all this had been just a bittersweet dream.
Tribeca was beautiful. Even though Shawn knew approximately where the neighborhood was located, he could hardly believe his eyes when he saw how different this area was from the rest of the city. It had a distinct rustic feel to it, with the buildings done in warmer brick-tones of red and brown than the cold metal of the outlying city. The streets were clean, and he didn’t see a single homeless person. Time seemed to hold still here, as though nothing had aged a day since the 1920s.
Even the people were different.
He couldn’t afford a car of his own, so he rode the bus in his best outfit –although that wasn’t saying much- and was startled when the bus driver actually greeted him with a smile. Some lady in a middle row complimented him on how nice he looked, to which he could only stammer in confusion. And when his stop came up and he accidentally bumped into someone while getting off, no fist was raised and neither was any voice. Instead, apologies were given and accepted civilly.
“Amazing,” he whispered, and then scanned the crumpled map in his hand to figure out which apartment complex was the one he wanted. It was down the street a bit and he set off to find it, startled at how well the air felt here. Fall was coming, and normally that meant the city just got colder, the grease and sludge in the air growing congealed and dense, but when the wind blew here and sent leaves skittering he actually felt a sharpness to it. Every breath was crisp and smelled of sap, which wasn’t surprising seeing as how all the plentiful trees here had just been trimmed to help them survive the coming harsh weather.
The architecture of the apartment building was practically insane, made of nothing but fanciful grooves and gorgeous arches. Shawn looked down at his map again, confirmed that this was the place, and headed inside.
If anything, the foyer was even more comfortable and beautiful. The air was warm and smelled like coffee, and the carpeting was quite clearly new. There were plentiful lights, and the stairwell was not the ominous, narrow thing so often found in apartments, but rather a sweeping and startlingly broad expanse of polished wood. This felt for the entire world like a luxury hotel, and he wasn’t sure whether to feel extremely out of place or as though he belonged here.
Well, he couldn’t worry too much about that. The clock on the wall explained in a pretty chiming tone that it was exactly 1 o’ clock, and he mounted the steps. From the number given to him, he expected the apartment to be on the top floor. That wasn’t quite accurate. It was the top floor. And the second-from-the-top-floor. And half of the one even beneath that. The stairwell ended far sooner than he expected it to, becoming a lavish hallway with a dead end.
“Can I help you?”
He jumped a little, and then turned just as the voice registered as being familiar. A tall, horse-faced man stood opposite the only door on this floor. He was immaculately dressed in a suit darker than night, with crisp moon bright accents, and he kept one hand behind his back as he bowed a little.
Is…is that a butler?
None of this was quite what he expected, and hadn’t been since the very start, so he just grabbed the first thing that came to mind and ran with it. “Maybe you can. Um, I’m looking for…Eric Timmerman?”
The butler’s expression flickered, and the man looked him up and down rapidly before visibly shrugging to himself. With the ambiguous result of his inspection given, he said, “You’re Mr. Champion?”
That felt a little weird, to be talked about as if he was someone important. “Yeah, but could you just call me Shawn?”
“We shall see,” the butler said mysteriously. “We did speak on the phone yesterday. My name is Terrance. And if you’re looking for Mr. Timmerman, I will give you a hint: he’s behind one of these two doors. See if you can figure out which.”
Two doors?
Shawn hesitated and took a better look around. There was the big arched doorway, marked with the numbers he was looking for, and then this beautiful hallway with no other entrances excepting the stairwell. That was all. He opened his mouth to call the trick question and then stopped and took one last look around. If he was going to be the caretaker of something, or someone, he needed to be observant; maybe this was part of the interview screening process or something.
After another five seconds, he found it. Set back deeply in the hallway, flush against the wall, was a much more humble door that looked as though it could have been a closet if not for also having been numbered. It was another apartment, and a much smaller one at that. It was almost the type of room a butler might stay in when not attending to their master’s needs, perhaps with a connecting door between the two dwellings somewhere on the inside.
Wordlessly, Shawn pointed at the grander door.
Terrance flashed a smile that wasn’t quite amused. “Very good. You can go in if you like. Good luck.”
“What, I can just go in? It’s not locked?” He was surprised, and not quite able to hide it.
Terrance gave another one of those dark smiles. “Oh, Eric doesn’t need locks. I imagine you’ll find out soon enough if he likes you. Go in, now. Don’t keep him waiting.”
I guess I shouldn’t, he agreed, and turned to the grand door. Trepidation wanted to drag at his small feet, but he pressed himself against it and grabbed the
knob. For all its majestic, ancient weight, the knob turned easily in his hand; the door resisted him however, such a dreadfully heavy thing of pure oak that he dug in his feet and just barely managed to make a gap big enough to slip through. As it was, his round tummy scraped against the edge of the door as it careened shut behind him under the force of its own weight.
His mouth fell open. The grandeur of this entire area just kept building. This place had to cost a fortune! It was two-and-a-half floors of polish and marvel, with dark floorboards and warm walls in various shades of red, brown, and tan. There was a pool table on top of a grand rug, and nearly a dozen bookshelves just on this bottom-most floor. One entire section of wall was taken up purely by original works of photography.
What he could see of the next floor up, the décor swapped to shades of moody and calm blue. And were those bubble lights?
The top floor was a mystery, though he saw the swoop of railing as beautiful as the curve of an angel’s wing.
“Hello.”
There, in front of one of the shelves, a novel in one hand was the most beautiful man in the entire world. His hair was like shifting flame, haloed by the expensive lights. He wore a suit as though it was the most casual thing in the world, and it was expertly fitted so that when he moved, the cloth shifted and allowed his muscles to ripple and bulge. His jaw was strong and proud, and even from here Shawn could see that his eyes were like chips of pure emerald.
Very suddenly, he realized there was about to be something very obvious happening in his pants if he didn’t distract himself. “Hello!” he blurted out. “Hi! Uh, I spoke with your butler...I mean, Terrance, and he…”
Those beautiful eyes narrowed. Shawn watched, utterly mesmerized, as that gorgeous man slowly replaced the book he held –reverently sliding it into what could only be a designated, alphabetical spot on the shelf- and then strode over. The closer he got, the more Shawn had to look away until he had no choice but to stare at the ground. And even that wasn’t good enough. Eric was huge. Immense, towering. He covered ground with long, loping strides, and soon was upon him.
“Of course,” Eric Timmerman said, his voice low and sultry. His lips pursed out in a pout. “Terrance told me you were coming. Of course, he neglected to mention you would be late. Are you always late?”
Not by three minutes, Shawn thought, confirming the exact time with a glance at an enormous grandfather clock. “No, sir.”
“Good. Don’t let it happen again. Now, then.” Eric clapped his hands together a little. The sound was barely audible, but Terrance appeared seemingly out of nowhere, startling Shawn. “Can I get you anything before we begin? Tea, coffee, juice, water, soda, beer? Terrance, do we have any of that poppy seed cake left?”
“A slice or two,” the butler said in his hoarse voice. “Enough for these purposes, at least.”
“Well?” Eric turned back to Shawn, who was reeling and dizzy from too much information all at once.
“Uh, no. Thank you. I think I’m good…”
Eric interrupted him, still wearing that kissable pout. “He wants coffee. We both want coffee.” The butler disappeared quickly up the steps, moving like a much younger man.
Irritation managed to trickle through Shawn’s fog of surprise. That was a bit rude, he thought, examining Eric out of the corner of his eye as the man inspected his nails and then rubbed them on his shirt. A guy like this can afford to be rude as much as he wants to, though.
Suddenly, Eric moved away without warning. He went to sit at an enormous sectional placed near the pool table, and sat down with his long arms draped over the back. His legs spread as he relaxed down like a king upon his throne, revealing a sizable bulge.
Shawn couldn’t hide his own arousal now, not after seeing that. He just had to hope that…
“Come here and let’s begin,” Eric called over lazily. “I’m tired of this already.”
He could have turned around and walked away right then and there, but he didn’t. Something held him back from that, a thirst to know more, and so he found himself practically scurrying across the room to sit at an arm chair near the couch –no way was he going to sit anywhere, this spoiled, dubious man could reach him.
Terrance appeared just as he was sitting down, bearing two mugs of coffee. Shawn took one, grimacing inwardly at the thought of drinking this stuff. He just watched the butler disappear back towards a different corner of the apartment and down a darkened hallway, while Eric took a massive sip from his steaming cup and then set it down on the coffee table with a thump.
“Let’s begin,” he said again. “How tall are you?”
“Five feet six,” he answered, too caught off-guard to realize what he was answering at first.
“I see. And your weight?”
Excuse me?
He looked at Eric, meaning to challenge him, but those emerald eyes slashed across his and he just looked down again with his fight knocked away. It was so terribly easy to bully him, but there was nothing he could do for it right now. “180 pounds.”
“And how much of that is package?”
Just like that, his emotions did a complete turnaround. He still felt bullied, intimidated by this man just like he was scared of most others who even came near him, but it was a different feeling now. Here, there was nowhere to run. In every situation before, he could always go and hide somewhere rather than face treatment like this, but now that option was taken from him. His back against the wall, he bristled. “Sorry, but I don’t think you should ask me that.”
“Oh?” Eric said, raising his eyebrows.” The man seemed to rethink what he was about to say, and then gave a shrug. Another slug of coffee disappeared down his throat. “I suppose we’ll get to that in time.”
“I’m sorry again, but I really don’t think this is going to work out for either of us unless I know more.” The words fell from his mouth in a firm rush. “Like, who exactly am I going to take care of?”
“Why, me, of course.” Eric looked surprised, and it looked to be the first bit of true emotion on his face in days. “If you accept, of course.”
Shawn hesitated.
Truly, honestly, he disliked this man a lot for his bad attitude. At the same time, he was intrigued and terribly attracted and just downright curious. The extravagant pay helped, and so did the idea that he might be able to make quite a bit in a very short amount of time. If this job turned sour, he would at least maybe have just enough time to figure things out from there.
It was such a stretch, such a terrible risk, but if it meant getting away from Carmen and Peter…
Well, the choice was already made for him.
“Okay. I accept.”
The next couple of days hung in a delicate balance. Carmen and Peter were treating him better than ever before, perfectly content now to hold off on tormenting him just a little bit longer while he waited for the call to come. After accepting the job, Eric informed him that he would be notified when they were ready for him to move in. There were some preparations to be made, though they wouldn’t take long.
He fretted a little bit over what that meant; still certain in the back of his mind that this would turn out to be a sex thing. The bad thing was he wasn’t entirely sure he would hate for that to happen. His new employer was as desirable as any human ever was and ever could be, with that predator’s gaze and striding walk. Maybe getting to know him better physically would be rewarding in its own way. God, he hoped so. If there was sex involved, he prayed it would be fantastic.
In the meantime, he had that play audition to go to. Compared to Tribeca, this place was a dump. Of course, comparing anything to Tribeca was terribly unfair, but this was a worse area than usual, very nearly a ghetto. Nevertheless, Shawn headed down to the theater building and walked in.
The walls badly needed a new coat of paint, and the carpet was worn to shreds so thin in most places that the floorboards were visible beneath. There were posters on the wall, the vintage sort a collector would be proud of if only th
ese had been taken care of in any manner whatsoever. And, it was dark. In fact, it was so dark that he could barely tell who else was waiting in the main room with him. The doors to the stage and seating areas were closed, soft voices murmuring behind them as the men and women in charge of the future production readied themselves.
Shawn found a spot by one of the square support pillars and leaned back against it awkwardly, his stomach tight with nervousness. He held the designated page from the screenplay script tightly in one hand, badly wanting to read it again even though he could recite it backwards. There just wasn’t enough light to do that, even though it would help calm him down. Or not, since he knew himself better than that.
He folded his arms and hugged himself tight, trying to keep the doubts away. Mere recitation wasn’t enough. He had to act, but even that wasn’t good enough. To actually be an actor, one had to believe. He needed to convince himself fully and truly that he was the gallant knight, broken and emotional as he monologued out his equal loves for his lady and his fights; he needed to be just as torn as his character was, arguing confusedly with himself over which aspect of his life he just simply couldn’t live without.
And he couldn’t. He knew that. He was no warrior, just a little man with too-big dreams and self-esteem issues.
Damn, he sighed.
“I’d know that sigh anywhere,” a woman’s voice teased.
He looked up to see a lanky form peel away from the shadows at the edge of the room, heading in his direction. Part of him wanted to greet her like the old friends she ought to be by now, while the rest of him knew better than that. Georgia was everywhere, it seemed like.
“Hey,” he said weakly. “I didn’t know you were here.”
“I’m everywhere,” she said, lightly teasing as she settled against the adjacent side of the pillar. “I didn’t think you would be, though.”
He frowned a little. “I’m just trying like everyone else.”
She made a small, contemplative sound in the back of her throat. Coming from anyone else, he would have seen it as a sign of thoughtfulness. Not Georgia, though. They had been around each other enough -not quite as rivals since they were always after different parts, but certainly not as friends- for him to know that she only made that sound when she was about to say something dismissive.
Omega Wanted: Bad Boy Mpreg Romance Page 28