“What?” Jace’s eyes widened into saucers.
“They denied us the grant the museum applied for. My boss doesn’t think the department will be able to retain funding.”
“What does that mean?” Jace asked.
“I’ll be out of a job,” he answered.
“Shit.” Jace turned around with a sigh, his shoulders turning inward.
“It’s fine,” Remington assured him, leaning forward and tugging the end of Jace’s earlobe. “If anything, it’s a good time for you to move in with Callahan after all.”
Jace tensed. “Why? Where are you going?”
“Nowhere,” Remington said. “It only means there’s changes all around. There’s not a lot of archival jobs in Myers Bluff.”
“You can’t leave.”
“I don’t want to. I don’t plan to. I’m just trying to be practical, Jace. Think about the possible outcomes of all the ways this can go.”
“That is practical,” Sebastian murmured from beside him, his teeth clenched around the tip of the straw.
Remington glanced over, giving Sebastian a quiet onceover, making note of the vintage Rolex that hung loose around his left wrist. His fingers twisted the straw around, and his eyes darted to the side, stare locking on Remington.
“Planning for eventual outcomes,” Sebastian finished.
Remington pushed open the back passenger door. “I have to get back. Grant told me to see if I could find alternate funding options. Thanks for the coffee, Jace.”
“Grant,” Sebastian said with a laugh.
“What?”
“Grant is looking for a grant.”
Remington made a noise in his throat. “He hates his name.”
“He should hate his job,” Sebastian offered. “All he’s doing is high-class panhandling.”
“That’s a way to look at it,” Remington said agreeably, even though he disagreed. He got out of the car and bent over, sticking his head through the door and leveling a sharp look at Sebastian. “But it’s worth it, you know. These manuscripts are important references. They’re an integral part of the history, not just of literature, but of this country as a whole. You can analyze societal trends and shifts through the words of poems, determine unrest within the government in the stanzas…”
He stopped himself, knowing if he got going he’d be unable to stop. His plan hadn’t been to read Sebastian the riot act, but he hated the way no one understood or appreciated the necessity of his job. His hand tightened around his cup and he darted his attention to Jace in the front seat.
“Thank you for the coffee,” he said again.
“Movie night later?” Jace asked.
Remington nodded, then slammed the car door closed. The resulting noise was not a gratifying one, Callahan’s luxury car having soft-close doors that barely made a sound. He straightened and took a deep breath, then walked out of the alley with more purpose than he felt, determined to find a way to fund the department.
Chapter Six
Sebastian is a Budding Philanthropist
Allan,
Considering the fact we’re only online, I can’t think of anything off the table. Not like you can really humiliate me from wherever you live, but… even if you could, I don’t know if that’s something I would like. This is all new to me—men, these kinds of games. I’m unfamiliar with the rules of engagement here. I will try. I want to try. I think my life needs something new. Maybe you’re it. As for something inconsequential? Never been a fan of crew socks.
- George
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