The bald man looked at him, surprised. “Vous parlez français?” Scared a bit too.
“Mon père était français, oui.”
“Ah… ben, ravis de faire votre connaissance. Je suis Jean-Marie.”
“Duncan…”
“Le garde du corps? C’est évident.” Giving him an apologetic smile, he hurried away, and Duncan walked where Spencer was being dressed behind a mobile partition.
He was arguing with the staff dressing him, throwing clothes all over the place, until they managed, and brought him to the make-up table.
Spencer didn’t look at Duncan, his eyes closed as they started putting foundation on his pale face. “Get me something to eat.”
“I can’t leave you here.”
“Fuck!” His hands trembling a bit, he laced them together. “Order it then. And more coffee. There’s a machine there. You can go that far?”
“Sure.” He didn’t even ask what he wanted, just ordered cheeseburgers, fries, large Cokes, and went to buy two large coffees. Waiting until the coffees churned out, he brought a burning paper cup to Spencer.
“Your coffee. Food is on the way.”
“You didn’t ask what I wanted.”
“With you being an ass? No.”
“Taking charge?” He smiled, but it was bitter, almost a resentment in all that hate veiling his voice.
“That’s my job sometimes.”
Spencer opened his eyes, admiring his make-up in the mirror. Smoked eyes, and dark brown lipstick. It matched his hair, let loose. The hairdresser was fluffing his waves up, and spraying some stuff on it. Spencer had tight white pants on, knee high lacquered boots, laced up and a large shirt, almost from another century.
He could be pretty, without that shitty fuckface he has all the time…Swallowing at this thought which shouldn’t have existed at all. “Uh… Food is here soon… I’ll go and get it.”
Spencer just nodded, half listening to Jean-Marie who had appeared out of nowhere. His eyes went to Duncan when he walked back, that nasty twist in his soul, seeing that brawny man’s large hands holding the paperback, with that veiled grief in his eyes.Easy to destroy. So easy.
Spencer gave him a smile. “I need something to cover my clothes.”
Duncan found a large sheet and pulled it on him, leaving his hands free on the sides. “Fine?”
“Oh… is that cheeseburger I smell? How did you know?”
“You wanted some last day. Figured I couldn’t go wrong.” Cautious, because that sudden shift in his shit behavior was unexpected.
Still, he gave him his food, and watched him eat, making sure he ate it all, drank that large Coke. Colors creeping back on that pale face, flooding his lips.
Spencer patted his belly. “I shouldn’t eat so much… but this was good.”
Jean-Marie appeared then, clapping. “En scène!”
Spencer wiped his hands on the sheet and tossed it to the ground, standing. In those high-heeled boots, he was even taller, almost matching Duncan in height. “You can watch if you want.”
He walked away then and Duncan had no idea how he could walk with those heels when he was still hangover and had downed three glasses of champagne too at the nail salon.
He followed to the side of the catwalk, watching with some other staff and designers as the models walked down to the music. He had to admit though that out of his floppy clothes and shitty mood, Spencer was stunning, in a way. Even his ass looked great in those tight pants.Fuck.Crossing his arms, he was trying to conjure Trent, of all things, his bear body to chase his thoughts of Spencer’s ass out of his head.Lanky, twink twat…Feeling a bit better, but the next outfits didn’t help, tight black leather clothes, elbow high gloves, barely dressed on top, and somehow, he had muscles, even if they seemed so lean, there was a body there which Duncan could not see before.
Waiting until his make-up got wiped and he changed back into his silk clothes. He seemed restless, fidgeting with his phone.
“I need a drink. I hope the bar is stocked up.”
