wheel as I headed south
toward Newport Beach. Dom had rented one of the
McMansions along the coast for a weekend shoot,
and while I didn’t want to make the drive, he’d
offered me quite a bit more than my usual pay if I
came up for the day.
I drew the line at overnight stays. Wasn’t
going to happen.
My phone rang when I was about twenty
minutes out of LA. It was Archer. Archer, of
course, was the last person I wanted to talk to. I
knew he’d keep calling if I didn’t answer, though.
He always did.
“What do you need, Arch? I’m on my way to
a shoot.”
His sigh was long and lusty. “I thought you
were going to let me borrow your car today. I told
you I wanted to use it for a date.”
“A date?”
“Yeah, a date. Well, you know. I’m taking
Dusty to Manacle. I think he’ll dig it.”
The thought of Dusty, tiny, soft, gentle, at a
place like Manacle, made the hair on the back of
my neck rise. I’d only been there once, long enough
to pick Archer up when he’d needed a ride. It was
so not my scene. Bondage, restraints, lots of spikes
and leather. Even for Archer it was on the rougher
end of the spectrum.
“Arch, are you sure? That doesn’t seem like
Dusty’s kind of place.”
He scoffed. “You don’t even know Dusty.”
“Neither do you.”
Archer chuckled low. “I know he kisses like
a fucking porn star. I’m looking forward to the rest
of the show.”
The slice of pain surprised me. My brother
had to have seen my face the other night. He knew
exactly what he was doing. “You’re not going to
find out in my car. I have to work. I told you that
earlier.”
“You know what? Whatever.” Archer made a
snorting noise. “I don’t want to pick up a guy in the
shaggin’ wagon anyway. Peace.” And with that he
hung up.
The shaggin’ wagon. Seriously? Okay, so I
drove a station wagon. It was a Volkswagen, only
a few years old, and it was nice, dammit. Plus,
there was room in the back for all my equipment.
Archer could get a car for once, and then his
fabulous image wouldn’t be weighed down by my
practicality anymore. I vowed to start looking at
the apartment listings as soon as I got back from
the shoot.
Dom’s weekend McVilla was lovely, if a bit
generic. Reproduction stucco and Sienna marble
on the outside, with teak floors, sea-grass
furniture, and washes of pale blues and beach-
glass greens all over the walls. It wasn’t my style.
I preferred the Art Deco of old Hollywood, but it
wouldn’t suck to live there. Especially with the
infinity pool in the backyard, complete with a
guesthouse on the other side of the yard. Jesus.
And this place is up for rent? It made my
apartment look like a closet.
“Hey, Asher!” The voice calling from the
other side of the pool surprised me. Josh. I’d
nearly forgotten about him with my turmoil over
Dusty, but there he was, golden and adorable,
jeans barely clinging to the round curve of his…
okay, I noticed. It was really hard not to. He
bounded around the pool to where I was, standing
in the double doors off the kitchen. Before I knew
it my arms were full of sun-warmed Josh. And I
swear, if I hadn’t turned my head into the hug, I’d
have gotten a kiss too.
“What are you doing here?”
He grinned. “Your pictures got me hired. I’m
going to make some good money this weekend.”
I couldn’t help but notice the grin hid
shakiness. “You okay?” I reached up to cup his
still downy jaw. Every protective instinct I had
wanted to help this kid. He rubbed his face into my
palm, like he hadn’t been touched in a long time.
“Just had a few shitty years.” He took a deep
breath and seemed to pull himself together. “But
things are looking up, right?”
Not exactly what I would call it.
“Trevor Diamond, we’re ready for you in the
pool house.”
His tension came back immediately. “I guess
I’m up,” he said. “See you in there.”
Slight shakiness had turned
toward Newport Beach. Dom had rented one of the
McMansions along the coast for a weekend shoot,
and while I didn’t want to make the drive, he’d
offered me quite a bit more than my usual pay if I
came up for the day.
I drew the line at overnight stays. Wasn’t
going to happen.
My phone rang when I was about twenty
minutes out of LA. It was Archer. Archer, of
course, was the last person I wanted to talk to. I
knew he’d keep calling if I didn’t answer, though.
He always did.
“What do you need, Arch? I’m on my way to
a shoot.”
His sigh was long and lusty. “I thought you
were going to let me borrow your car today. I told
you I wanted to use it for a date.”
“A date?”
“Yeah, a date. Well, you know. I’m taking
Dusty to Manacle. I think he’ll dig it.”
The thought of Dusty, tiny, soft, gentle, at a
place like Manacle, made the hair on the back of
my neck rise. I’d only been there once, long enough
to pick Archer up when he’d needed a ride. It was
so not my scene. Bondage, restraints, lots of spikes
and leather. Even for Archer it was on the rougher
end of the spectrum.
“Arch, are you sure? That doesn’t seem like
Dusty’s kind of place.”
He scoffed. “You don’t even know Dusty.”
“Neither do you.”
Archer chuckled low. “I know he kisses like
a fucking porn star. I’m looking forward to the rest
of the show.”
The slice of pain surprised me. My brother
had to have seen my face the other night. He knew
exactly what he was doing. “You’re not going to
find out in my car. I have to work. I told you that
earlier.”
“You know what? Whatever.” Archer made a
snorting noise. “I don’t want to pick up a guy in the
shaggin’ wagon anyway. Peace.” And with that he
hung up.
The shaggin’ wagon. Seriously? Okay, so I
drove a station wagon. It was a Volkswagen, only
a few years old, and it was nice, dammit. Plus,
there was room in the back for all my equipment.
Archer could get a car for once, and then his
fabulous image wouldn’t be weighed down by my
practicality anymore. I vowed to start looking at
the apartment listings as soon as I got back from
the shoot.
Dom’s weekend McVilla was lovely, if a bit
generic. Reproduction stucco and Sienna marble
on the outside, with teak floors, sea-grass
furniture, and washes of pale blues and beach-
glass greens all over the walls. It wasn’t my style.
I preferred the Art Deco of old Hollywood, but it
wouldn’t suck to live there. Especially with the
infinity pool in the backyard, complete with a
guesthouse on the other side of the yard. Jesus.
And this place is up for rent? It made my
apartment look like a closet.
“Hey, Asher!” The voice calling from the
other side of the pool surprised me. Josh. I’d
nearly forgotten about him with my turmoil over
Dusty, but there he was, golden and adorable,
jeans barely clinging to the round curve of his…
okay, I noticed. It was really hard not to. He
bounded around the pool to where I was, standing
in the double doors off the kitchen. Before I knew
it my arms were full of sun-warmed Josh. And I
swear, if I hadn’t turned my head into the hug, I’d
have gotten a kiss too.
“What are you doing here?”
He grinned. “Your pictures got me hired. I’m
going to make some good money this weekend.”
I couldn’t help but notice the grin hid
shakiness. “You okay?” I reached up to cup his
still downy jaw. Every protective instinct I had
wanted to help this kid. He rubbed his face into my
palm, like he hadn’t been touched in a long time.
“Just had a few shitty years.” He took a deep
breath and seemed to pull himself together. “But
things are looking up, right?”
Not exactly what I would call it.
“Trevor Diamond, we’re ready for you in the
pool house.”
His tension came back immediately. “I guess
I’m up,” he said. “See you in there.”
Slight shakiness had turned
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