Chapter Seven
Eliot answered the door on Thursday evening to a man with greying hair and a fantastic beard, wearing a thousand-dollar suit that had obviously been tailored to fit.
He had no idea who the man was, but he definitely had good—and expensive—taste.
“Eliot O’Connor?” the mystery man asked.
Eliot nodded.
The man reached into the inside pocket of his coat and extracted an envelope with Eliot’s name written on it in block letters. “Courtesy of Danny Harper. It’s all there, but I won’t be offended if you count it.”
Eliot’s eyes widened.
He honestly hadn’t been sure whether or not he’d get paid. He hadn’t spoken to Danny after their first date, though he’d been watching the social media coverage and gossip. Nothing was official yet, but there were a lot of people doing a lot of talking about them.
Being the center of attention like that was strange. Eliot wasn’t sure how Danny could stand it all the time.
“Oh, umm. No, that’s fine, I trust him. So you’re…”
“His manager, Walter Holland.” Walter offered his hand. Eliot took it, gritting his teeth at the too-firm grip.
He probably shook the hands of sports stars all day, so it shouldn’t really have been a surprise that he nearly crushed Eliot’s.
“Did you want to come in?” Eliot asked, praying to any force in the universe that might be listening that the other man would say no.
“I have to be on my way,” Walter said.
Breathing an internal sigh of relief, Eliot smiled. “That’s okay. Uh, thank you for bringing this to me. And thank Danny for me if you see him before I do.”
“Will do.” Walter nodded, raising his hand as if to tip his non-existent hat. “You have a good night, now,” he added, stepping away from the door.
“I will,” Eliot assured him. “Thank you again.”
Walter waved as he turned and headed down the hall. Eliot watched him go for what he felt was the appropriate amount of time, and then shut the door behind him.
He headed to the living room and counted the money in the envelope. As promised, it was all there. He hadn’t expected otherwise. Right now, he was in a position to ruin Danny if he hadn’t been paid. He hadn’t told any lies yet, he was just a poor broke writer doing what he had to in order to survive.
Not that he intended to do that. Danny seemed like a basically good person who had good reasons for doing what he was doing. Besides, what they were doing was harmless.
Eliot had taken a lot of time to think about it, and he was sure now that it wasn’t wrong. It wasn’t anyone else’s business who Danny was dating, and if he wanted a smokescreen, then he was entitled to one.
The obsession with the private lives of certain individual people was one of the things Eliot had never cared for about his own profession, so it was fitting that he had a chance now to do something about it. Even this small thing, for one person.
He settled back down on the couch to deal with some emails, but found that he couldn’t quite stop thinking about Danny. This was a thing they were really doing now. He should at least thank the guy himself, even if it was only through text.
Eliot picked up his phone and sent off a quick note to Danny, not mentioning specifics. It wasn’t likely that anyone would get hold of their text messages, but Danny seemed concerned about the possibility, and Eliot didn’t want to be the one to screw it up.
The fact that it wasn’t wrong didn’t mean it wouldn’t come back to bite them. Being gay wasn’t wrong, either, but that didn’t stop coming out from being risky.
I hope Walter didn’t scare you, came the response.
He was charming, actually, Eliot texted back. He wanted to ask what Danny was doing, or how his day had been, but those were things reserved for real boyfriends. Today had been a stark reminder that he and Danny were involved in a business transaction, nothing more.
Oh. Well, good, Danny responded.Hey, I have a home game this week. Are you free Saturday?
Eliot chewed on his lip. He was free Saturday, and it was nice to be asked instead of having to arrange things himself. He’d been worried that all the organization was going to end up falling on his shoulders.
I’m free most Saturdays. He was lucky that Cocky kept a weekend staff, which he’d never been a part of. The extra money might have been nice, but working every day of his life wouldn’t have been fun for long.
