“No.”
“Don’t lie.” Jace pushed off Remington’s bed and reached out, tweaking the corner of Remington’s tie to straighten it. He patted it flat with the palm of his hand.
“I’m not.”
“You know he’s straight. He’s going through a divorce.”
Remington made another sound, then ducked out from beneath Jace’s arm and fled into the living room, but their apartment was small and Jace was there before Remington could get to the front door.
“I think he’s a donor,” Remington muttered, shoving all of his personal effects into his pockets except for his phone. He held that in his hand and tapped his fingers nervously against the screen.
“What?” Jace pulled his phone off of the charger and scanned a message from Callahan that was filled with heart eye emojis. The time indicated they were barely ahead of schedule, so they needed to get downstairs and start on their way toward the restaurant.
“For the museum,” Remington said.
They stepped into the hallway and locked the door. Jace checked the knob to make sure everything was secure, then he followed Remington down to the parking garage.
“I’ve never seen his name on any of the plaques.”
“He’s anonymous,” Remington said. “I only know because I saw the paperwork come through with a shipment of books we got before.”
“And you…want to impress him?” Jace hedged, slipping into the passenger seat of Remington’s car.
“No, I just…” Remington muttered something unintelligible—and completely out of character—under his breath and turned the car on. He pulled out of the garage without clarifying what he’d said, but his grip on the steering wheel had Jace thinking there was something more to the story.
“Sebastian is a generous man,” he finally said. “He offered to pay for the rush on the prints I need done for the show in two weeks.”
After returning home from Callahan’s, Jace had called the gallery, a place called Roland’s, and he’d discussed the particulars, the expectations, and the pay. He’d been shocked to hear the dollar amount, but definitely couldn’t turn it down. The gallery owners, a gay couple, assured him he’d probably sell off most of the prints he displayed, especially if he chose to favor the pieces which displayed the male form.
He’d blushed, thinking about the pictures he’d taken of himself and the ones he’d taken of Callahan. He promised he wouldn’t use those, but after a flurry of exchanged texts, Callahan had promised Jace could take more that night after dinner. Jace promised to obscure Callahan’s identity, but it would be fairly obvious to anyone in attendance that the body he photographed wasn’t a random stranger. He didn’t take casual photos that way.
“But he’s taking credit for that,” Remington said. “This is secret.”
“I’m sure there’s a reason.”
“I’ve looked him up. The St. George family isn’t big on philanthropy.”
“I’m not surprised.” Jace looked out the window as Remington pulled into the parking lot at the restaurant and found a spot. “Sebastian’s brother is a dick.”
“Rhys?” Remington clarified.
“Let’s not talk about him. Everyone is sour on him right now.”
“I’m sure that won’t be hard.” Remington put the car in park and exited quickly, a nervous hand flying back up to fidget with his tie.
“Leave it alone.” Jace smacked him and hooked their arms together as they strode to the front door of the restaurant.
“It feels important,” Remington whispered.
“It’s impossible to not love you.” Jace pulled them to a stop on the sidewalk and turned Remington so they faced each other. He held his best friend by the arms and gave him a small shake. “This is going to be fine, and besides, Sebastian hasn’t been himself lately anyway, so don’t read too much into how he acts. I don’t want the illusion of the man you think he is ruined.”
“It’s not like that.”
“Remington,” Jace chided.
“They were special books.”
“And you’re a special guy.” Jace looped their arms together again and they went into the restaurant.
