“So it is a competitive thing,” Graeme said. He smiled and went on with, “At least it’s nice to know a major fashion designer is threatened by you.”
“I also think he just wants you,” Art teased. “And who wouldn’t want to have a tall, gorgeous, lovely man like this at their beck and call for all sorts of shenanigans?” He slid back upagainst Ryan’s side, curling around him and nearly making him spill his tea.
Ryan laughed. “I swear, I’m not half as important as you two seem to think I am. I haven’t really proved myself on my own.”
“You’re pretty amazing,” Graeme said, all blushes and softness that made Ryan want to continue what they’d almost started up in the attic.
“You’re the amazing ones,” Ryan said, glancing around for someplace to put his mug so he could get touchy-feely with both of his boyfriends.
He’d only just managed to wriggle out of Art’s embrace and put the mug down when his phone rang. It had been in his back pocket the whole time, and though he was tempted to just ignore it, something told him not to.
It was a good thing he checked. Adam’s name flashed up, making him instantly anxious.
Ryan checked with both Art and Graeme before answering, “Hello, Adam.”
“Hi, Ryan.” Adam’s voice was tense and apologetic. “I’m glad I caught you.”
“Is something wrong?” Ryan asked, a sinking feeling forming in his gut.
Adam sighed. “There’s been a change in the line-up for Fashion Week,” he said.
Ryan took a half step back and sank to sit on the arm of the big chair. “And?”
“And I’m going to have to change your spot,” Adam said.
It wasn’t great news, but Adam hadn’t said he would be cut entirely. “Alright,” he said. “When do you need to change it to?”
“Well,” Adam said, “I can’t get you into 180 The Strand anymore. The best I can do is to squeeze you in at The Wallace Collection, and the only time slot I’ve got is one in the afternoon. On Thursday.”
Ryan gusted out a breath. Giorgio worked fast, the bastard. “I…um…I guess I have to take it,” he said, brain completely frozen with the unfairness of it all.
“I’m so sorry about this,” Adam said. “The decision was just made, it was fast, and it was definitive. To be honest, I was supposed to drop you entirely, but this slot just opened up.”
“Yeah, thanks, Adam. I’ll take whatever I can get,” Ryan said, his voice sounding distant to his own ears.
They exchanged a few more pleasantries and Adam promised to email Ryan with more details, but just like that, the call was over and Ryan’s life had been lurched in an all-new direction once more. For a second, he couldn’t do anything but stand there, staring at nothing, the seeds of the panic he knew he’d be feeling in a few minutes swelling within him.
“What?” Art asked, sitting on the arm of the chair with Ryan. “What is it? What was that all about?”
Ryan took a second to gather himself before glancing up at Art, then on to Graeme. “Giorgio tried to get me kicked out of Fashion Week.”
“Already? Graeme gaped. “That was fast.”
“That absolute bastard!” Art snapped, beautifully furious for Ryan’s sake.
“It didn’t sound like you were kicked out, though,” Graeme said, moving to stand right next to Ryan.
Ryan grinned weakly and slid his arm around Graeme’s waist, pulling him close enough to rest his head against Graeme’s firm chest. He felt Graeme’s heart beat against his cheek, and against all odds, that made him feel better.
He took a breath and pulled back, standing and letting go of both his men. “I’m not out of the show entirely,” he said. “I’ve been moved to a secondary venue and given a shitty time slot, but I’m not out.”
“Well, that’s good at least,” Graeme said. “Isn’t it?”
“It’s better than nothing,” Art said, standing as well.
Ryan’s tenuous grasp on hope faltered. “Except for the fact that I have no ideas and even less time to pull this whole thing off.”
“We’ll help you,” Graeme insisted, glancing to Art and nodding. “Whatever it takes, we can help you.”
