Not Just A Pretty Face

1. Leonel

The waiting room was painted in fresh but cold, dark grays and blacks. Just around the corner, I glimpsed silver staircase railings. I'd taken the elevator up, but light flooded into the waiting room from the windows above the stairs, at the front of the building. Natural light was rare for New York City, so it must have been that certain half-hour in the day when the sun was at just the right angle.

When I glanced back to the secretary, leaning back behind his desk and pushing his hair back and forth, my eyes fell to the stark white translucent acrylic that curved around the front of the desk.

It felt like the whole place had just been built a month ago, but this was Prestige Modeling Agency. It had been around for years. Its CEO, Gideon Hale, was a legend. He'd built the place from the ground up with four buddies, starting out in an old industrial building in Brooklyn.

And, shit, now he ran one of the top -- if anyone asked me, I'd say the top -- male modeling agency in NYC.

And I was about to get an interview here. Me, of all people. A kid with three hundred bucks and a couple of boxes of clothes to his name, and an exceptional talent for styling the same few pieces.

I trailed my fingers along the cool metal chair, tapping them to try to calm myself down. When that didn't work, I recited the job ad in my head.

Wanted: coolheaded self-starter with exec assistant experience.

I fit probably none of those requirements, but fuck it, I was desperate. I'd doctored my resume a little... adjusted the job titles and descriptions, if you like.

I wasn't even that guilty about it. As far as I was concerned, survival came first. If that required me to lie a little, fine. I'd do whatever it took to get a job. Especially here, surrounded with the best-looking guys in the industry.

And, you know, money.

But at least half my interest was in being surrounded by gorgeous, usually gay, men. And so far, I hadn't been disappointed.

In my first-round interview -- just handing over my resume, consenting to a criminal record search, the usual shit -- the HR guy, Sean or Shea or something like that, had been stunningly gorgeous.

Now I was waiting for the second interview. I supposed that was a good sign.

The secretary glanced over his desk at me, but when I caught his eye, he looked away again.

I shifted, crossing my ankle over my knee and spreading my arms along the back of the chairs to either side of me.

Come get me.

This guy was a total bottom, though, and I really wanted to be fucked today. Christ, I had to go get laid at a club tonight or something.

"Leo? Or Leonel? Do you mind being called Leo?" It was the HR guy again. I pushed myself to my feet and put on my best charming smile for the blond, who beamed and swayed. The guy turned to gesture with one finger, getting me to follow him to his office.

I snuck a glance at the nameplate on the way back.

Right, Shay. I took a moment to settle myself in the chair opposite his desk. The door closed, so whisper-soft I barely heard it click.

"So, Leonel, I've had a look at your resume and skills list." Shay came around the desk and sat in his comfortable leather chair.

"Mhmm?" I answered, brushing my fingers through the close-cropped hair at the back of my head.

Shay rolled closer to the desk and flicked through papers. "You seem like a great fit for the job. I'd like to get you to meet the man you'll be working for, if all goes well in this interview. All right?"