Friday mornings were supposed to be the best day of the week. That was largely irrelevant for anyone in the entertainment or fashion business like me, but there was the vague hope they wouldn’t go to complete shit before I’d even had my coffee.
Any day Alex’s name showed up on my caller ID was bound to be the shittiest of shitty days. Before 9 a.m.? Yeah, that hadn’t happened in months.
“What is it?” I answered, my tone harsh.
“Good morning to you, too.” It was unmistakably his voice.
I gritted my teeth, reminded myself to breathe so I didn’t break a tooth, then massaged my jaw one-handed and answered, “What?”
“I have some interesting news to share.”
“I probably don’t care.”
“Even if it involves your precious boy toy?”
Like it or not, that did grab my attention. “I assume you mean Leonel.”
“Good job pretending you didn’t put your dick in that. I know you. Pretty young face shows up in casting? No way you won’t be all over that.”
Not with anyone since him. Or most guys before him… I knew my silence was complicity, but I wasn’t going to lie, either. If Alex was recording this conversation, he could twist my words any which way.
“I get it, you still miss me,” I answered instead. “What do you want?”
“Well, I just signed a contract with a certain someone from Long Island City… Oh, I’m sorry. I mean Tribeca.”
It took me a minute to figure that one out. “What?”
“Oh, oops. How about this, I told you so?”
My heart was dropping through my stomach, even as I pretended I didn’t know what he meant.
No. Not again.
I’d given Leonel space, but maybe he’d been secretly asking for the opposite. Maybe I’d just completely fucked that one up.
“I told you, Leonel will be mine. You owe me -- oh wait, you gave me more than fifty bucks. I bet a lot of guys pay a lot more than that for him. I’m about to find out.”
My breathing went heavy, so I yanked the phone away from my ear and slammed it on the cradle. There was the tiniest moment of satisfaction -- a heavy old-fashioned phone had that one thing going for it. I hung up on people every few weeks, when I was trying to force a deal, and there was nothing like it.
Okay, no. This was serious shit I was in right now. If Leonel had just signed a contract…
I had to talk to him, and now.
He’d just been at an event last night, hadn’t he? I wracked my brain for a second to recall the hotel name, then shoved my shoes and jacket on. I didn’t even bother locking up my office after myself as I strode down the hallway, my every sense focused on getting to that hotel before Leonel checked out.
I would be the first to admit my driving was a little erratic, but I was sober and careful considering the traffic in downtown New York City.
I had to circle the block three times to find some fucking parking, but when I did, I was off like a shot, sprinting into the hotel lobby.
It wasn’t like Leonel would be invisible once he left the hotel -- he still had to get paid, and I had his address from his resume. And the taxi that had dropped him off after we got in from the airport almost a couple weeks ago now, maybe I could find that taxi record.
YOU ARE READING
Not Just A Pretty Face
Storie d'amore[COMPLETED] Leonel James desperately needed a job. After his boyfriend stole his money and took off, he needed to figure out how to pay his rent. Gideon Hall, CEO of one of the most famous modeling agencies Prestige, is looking for an executive assi...
