When Demarco saw what Alec was referring to, he thought he might still be asleep and dreaming. On the front page of Wednesday'sWashington Postwas a picture of Demarco from the night before, sitting on the bed and holding hands with Abir. The headline read:
SON OF INTERNATIONAL DIGNITARY CAUGHT
IN BED WITH MALE ESCORT
"That's last night—" Demarco said, "—at the Qatar embassy."
"Yeah, it says so in the article. So, I guess now you're an International Government Hooker."
"That's redundant," Demarco said absently, dismissing their favorite Gaga quip for the most part. "I don't get it. Why is this here?The Postdoesn't do this crap."
"That's what I was telling Tyler. Something is weird. I just wanted to make sure that you were OK."
"I'm fine. But this doesn't make any sense. I need to call Reed. Thanks for letting me know."
"OK, I'll get off. But keep me posted."
"Sure thing."
They disconnected and Demarco began skimming the article. The piece was far too sensational forThe Post. It read more like an Examiner column, touting theforbidden biracial loveof a young repressed gay Arab royal and his African-American savior.
"Gross," Demarco said tossing the tablet onto the bed and pressing Skype again on his phone.
Reed answered on the second chime. "I thought I'd hear from you sooner."
"I just woke up."
"Is thatHe-Man? I pictured you as more of aJosie and the Pussycatstype."
"I'm whatever you see me as."
"Spoken like a true professional."
"What the fuck is going on, Reed?"
"Not sure. Maybe a plant... some kind of set-up? It wouldn't be the first... but it's been a while. Do you remember anything unusual?"
Demarco thought back, but all he saw was Jack's sexy face... his blond hair slicked back, his scruffy square jaw, and his blue lupine eyes, that could easily go from cold to concerned in a flash. But mostly he remembered that final smile he gave as they said goodnight.
"No. Nothing that I can recall."
"You should lay low for a while."
"But you said set-up? Who?"
"Who knows? I'm sure Qatar has its share of enemies."
"ButThe Post?This is some after-hours bullshit, Reed. We don't matter... you know that. WhyThe Post?"
"Yeah, I thought that too. I really don't know, Demarco. Just relax... take a vacation. I'll have you back to work soon enough. God knows you're always in demand."
"You say that to all of us."
"Yeah... but it's not always true. I'll be in touch."
"OK. Bye."
Demarco disconnected and set his phone down on the nightstand. He picked the tablet back up and read the article from start to finish. The tone was bombastic and borderline vulgar—all speculation based on a photograph taken from either a window across the street or a drone. It was nauseating, and the more Demarco looked at it, the queasier he got.
