lapped at his slit and milked him. “You do that so well.”
“Excellent. Maybe I’ll be invited back.”
Braxton met Dominic’s brown eyes. “Let me buy you dinner.
In thanks.” He caressed Dominic’s hair.
“That’s great. Thank you.” Dominic knelt upright as Braxton
tucked his cock inside his briefs and zipped his pants.
“My pleasure.” He stood and fastened his belt. “How about
Thai food?”
“Sounds great.” Dominic followed Braxton out of his office.
Braxton made sure he shut everything off, and took his jacket
from the back of his chair, putting it on. “What is it you do?”
“Go-go boy at Yo-man’s in Silverlake.”
Braxton allowed Dominic to enter the elevator first and
smiled at him, regretting the invitation to dinner. He was already
anticipating the begging for a big break and representation.
~
This was why all Braxton wanted was sex.
Though Braxton feigned interest, in reality, he was bored. He
ate his dinner, nodding and smiling at Dominic’s stories of job
offers to be an actor or model, and though he didn’t mind the
company too much, Braxton would sooner have had his meal in
his condo in Santa Monica, alone.
He ended the dinner when it felt polite and not abrupt and
waved goodbye to Dominic, reminding himself to stop hooking
up with men, since Braxton lost interest immediately after the
sex.
Home, finally, in his luxury two bed, two bath condo,
walking distance to the Promenade, Braxton hung up his suit to
bring to the cleaners over the weekend, then recalled the charity
event Sophia had roped him into. Auctioned off? Given to
people as a date?
Braxton brushed his teeth wearing only his briefs and stared
into his hazel eyes. He knew why people would bid for him. But
he didn’t want the ordeal of fending off sexual advances from
horrible individuals who wanted him to be a gigolo not a date for
a cancer charity. Yeah, Sophia said he wasn’t expected to have
sex, but Braxton knew how that went.
Money.
He could never be bought. Never. Even when men offered to
bail him out when the economy tanked and his business teetered.
Offers came in for Braxton to give up his own company and
work for someone else. He was best on his own. He’d been that
way all his life.
Thinking about how hard his past was and needing to talk to
someone, Braxton finished getting ready for bed. He picked up
his cordless phone, sat on his bed and pointed his remote at the
flat-screen TV he had in a wall unit in his bedroom. The late
night comedy shows were a favorite of his, so he sat up against
the headboard on his pillows and pushed a speed dial button,
connecting to the only person in his life he trusted.
“Hi, Braxton. What’s up?”
“Is it too late? I had a shitty date for dinner and I need a real
person to talk to.” Braxton split his attention between Jon
Stewart to his conversation with Brianna.
“You are so weird.”
“I know. Do you and your hubby want to come to the black
tie charity auction this Saturday?”
“Why? Getting cold feet?”
“No. Just would be nice to have a friendly face there.” He
muted the sound when a commercial break came up.
“We can’t, Brax. Sorry. But I have a bet with him that you’ll
bring in twice as much money as the trip to Hawaii.”
He heard her laugh and smiled to himself. “Betting on a
charity auction. Yeah, that’s all you, Brianna.”
“It’s just a day to take care of the kid and do the laundry.
Some bet, huh.”
Braxton could hear her husband say something in the
background but didn’t understand what it was, though he could
imagine. “So?” Braxton asked, “You think I’ll be bought by men
or women?”
“Both.”
“I spoke to Sophia…” He ran his hand over his hair and
ignored the advertisements that seemed to get longer each year,
only dinner. I have a feeling for the money they are going to get
for me, that—”
“Don’t worry, Braxton. You’re a big boy and can obviously
set the rules. They know you’re not a gigolo.”
Braxton smiled. “No. Though I’m handsome enough.”
She laughed. “I always said you should be the model. Not the
PR behind-the-scenes guy.”
“I don’t have to. I seem to appear in every LA rag as it is.”
“You do. Always on the arm of some starlet or macho man. It
makes me laugh. You get more free publicity than our clients get
for a fee.”
“I was thinking about Botox. Take a good look and tell me if
you think I can use it when you see me in the morning.”
“Shut up. You look so good I don’t think you need it yet. I
mean, men can get away with lines, not like women.”
Braxton appreciated Brianna’s opinion. “I have that red
carpet premiere the same night as the auction. I completely
forgot, and now I have to be at both.”
“They don’t start those auctions ‘til late. Don’t worry. You
always manage to get everything done, Brax.”
“I can’t believe how swamped we are at work. I swear the
difference from now and two years ago is amazing.”
“I know, right? You were thinking of hanging it up then. I
remember. I’m glad we stuck it out.”
Braxton put the sound back on as the program resumed. “I
won’t keep you. I know you’re probably sitting with the laptop
answering emails right now.”
“Hey! Are you spying on me?” She laughed. “Just a few. I’m
really beat.”
“Don’t worry about it. It’ll wait until morning.”
“It’s my job. See ya tomorrow.”
“See ya.” Braxton hung up and smiled, snuggling into his bed
to enjoy the show until he felt drowsy and fell asleep.
Chapter 2
Friday morning, after a six am workout at an upscale spa with
Tyson Hopper, his personal trainer, Braxton showered and
adjusted his tie in the mirror in the locker room. He stared at his eyes, which some days looked green, other days gold. He ran his
fingers through his hair, never using gel on it and enjoying its
natural fullness, which covered his ears but wasn’t long enough
to brush his shoulders. He was tempted to allow it to grow long.
He had as a youth and it seemed the tide in LA was turning from
shaven heads back to full luxurious locks, thanks to a
supermodel named Mark Richfield.
Braxton had yet to meet the man face to face, though he had
seen his advertisements and billboards all over So-Cal. He had
dabbed Mark’s trademark cologne Dangereux onto his neck and wrists and sniffed it. The mix of spice and musk made his dick
move in his pants. He shot himself a dazzling grin and then left
the locker room, making sure his phone was charged, his suit
jacket folded over his arm, and his Bluetooth in his ear.
Th
e workout leaving him energized and pumped for a good
day, he hopped into his gold Porsche and backed out of the
parking space to hit the road to downtown LA.
He made a call on his way. “Brianna?”
“Yes, dear,” she replied teasing.
“You already pick up the espressos?”
“I always do. Got you a yogurt and granola breakfast too,
since I figured you always come straight from the gym.”
“Love you.” Braxton slowed for a traffic signal as he drew
closer to the highway and his ‘fun’ commute to downtown from
the gym. It was hit and miss traffic-wise, mostly miss.
“I bet you say that to all the efficient wonderful assistance.”
“I do. Oh, speaking of that…”
“Yes. I placed an ad last night and do you believe my inbox is
already full of resumes?”
“Damn!” He entered the highway ramp and took a glance at
the road ahead of him. Heavy flowing cars but no one at a dead
stop, thank fuck. “You know what we’re looking for?”
“I expect someone with experience.”
“Yes, but I’ll take good potential, trainable. Sometimes the
ones who’ve worked in this business have big egos.”
“Imagine that.”
“Shut up. See ya in twenty, traffic’s not too bad.”
“See ya.”
He disconnected his call, surprised. The internet had one heck
of a networking system. It alerted job hunters instantly when
new leads were posted, and Braxton was always impressed with
Brianna’s efficiency. But then again, hiring a body to help her
was a top priority for the woman.
A half hour later, he parked in his reserved spot, grabbed his
jacket and put it on as he headed to the elevator. A young lady
who had entered the elevator before him noticed him hustling to
catch it and held back the door for him.
“Thanks.” He hopped on and pushed the button for the tenth
floor.
“My pleasure.” She gave him a flirtatious smile and
immediately checked his left hand…presumably for a wedding
ring. Women did that. Men never did. It made him chuckle.
“Which office do you work for?” she made small talk.
“My own. I work in PR.” He adjusted his tie as they
ascended.
“Anyone ever tell you you have beautiful eyes?”
Yes. “Thank you.” He smiled and thought for a moment about
asking her out, but with the weekend he had planned, he knew it
would be impossible, then she would get upset he didn’t call,
blah, blah…same old story.
She gave him a last smile, as if hoping he would ask, right
before she left the elevator on the eighth floor. “Well, see you
around.”
“See ya.” He waved at her and the door closed.
Once alone in the elevator, Braxton’s smile fell. He couldn’t
have a relationship if he wanted to. He simply had no time.
He entered his office to see Brianna already busy on the
phone, handing him his coffee cup and yogurt as he passed. He
threw her a kiss and sipped the espresso, having a feeling she
warmed it up for him, since it was hot. He set it down next to his
breakfast, removed his jacket and dove into his work, eating the
granola yogurt and sipping coffee between.
By noon Brianna tapped at his door.
Braxton was in the middle of emailing catering services for
cast parties when he glanced up. “What’s up, babe?”
“I’ve narrowed down the candidates for the job. One is
already scheduled to come in for an interview.” She set a stack of
paper on the desk.
He glanced at it. “How much can we afford to pay them?”
“I left it open. You need to call our accountant…um…now?”
“Okay.” He leafed through the stack. “Over a dozen. Wow.”
“Those are the ones I printed. There were thirty in the first
hour.”
“Holy crap. At least we can be picky.” He read the names and
brief summaries of experience. “Okay, let me call Lauren and
see how much we can swing. I assume we need them full time?”
“I’m hoping we do. If not…?” She shrugged. “I’ll take
anything I can get.”
“Okay.” He checked his watch and already felt rushed. He
was losing the day and knew his weekend was shot with so many
events occurring he wouldn’t get anything done. And on
weekends? None of his contacts worked anyway. Everything
slowed to a crawl but him.
He picked up the phone and tapped his fingers on the desk
impatiently.
“Lauren Glass, may I help you?”
“Hey, it’s Braxton. You have a minute?”
“Sure, what’s up?”
“How much can we afford to pay a new employee?”
“Hang on. Can you give me a minute to open your account
file?”
He nodded and made a small noise in affirmation, and kept
typing on his computer as she worked out the numbers.
~
Fabian Rhys had done as much research on Braxton Todd’s
PR firm as he could online. He located the job opening on
several LA employment sites and scrambled to get his resume in
top order and submit it before the listing vanished. The job
market was still a tough battle and he was sick of temping at
offices. He wanted a real job, with challenging work, to keep
him interested.
Though the actual job requirements were enticing and right
up his alley, Fabian looked into the owner himself. And was not
impressed. The tabloids were not favorable to this PR man, and
it was ironic that an individual who promoted celebrities,
keeping them in the spotlight and looking good, couldn’t do the
same for himself. He was portrayed as a conceited, spoiled brat
who fucked men and women, appearing to be the ultimate
playboy and heartbreaker.
“Well, I’m asking for a job, not a date.” But he wasn’t keen
on working for a dick.
He adjusted his tie and suit jacket in the rear view mirror of
his older model Lexus and stuck a breath mint on his tongue. He
shut off his phone, picked up his briefcase, which had his resume
in it, even though he had emailed it, and climbed out of his car.
There was no reason he could not get this job. He was thirty-
five, had a bachelor’s degree in business administration with a
minor in computer science. He was adept at everything from
creating ads and graphics to composing proposals for clients.
Why he was working at a temp agency? He put it down to the
bad economy. It was the reason everyone was in the dumps now.
And he wasn’t ready to take a job for minimum wage simply
because it was permanent. Not with the resume and experience
he had to offer.
He stood a moment and looked up at the high-rise office
building, its glass and concrete façade. Wind blew strongly down
the east-west corridor but spring turned to summer quickly in
LA.
Inhaling, intending on giving it his best shot, Fabian entered
the lobby and stood at the elevator. He was ten minutes early, but
hoped that translated to pu
nctual and reliable, not overeager.
After riding solo in the elevator to the tenth floor, Fabian read
the suite numbers on the walls and found the correct one. He ran
his hand thought his hair, straightened his suit jacket and entered.
~
Braxton spoke to a client as he tapped his computer keyboard
simultaneously. “I will have to check the schedule, Brad. The
amount of premieres this month and red carpet—”
Brianna poked her head into his office, making him lose his
train of thought. “Hang on, Brad.” He addressed Brianna, “Yes?”
“I have an applicant here to meet you.” She gave him a
discreet thumbs-up and peeked behind her.
“Uh…okay.” He nodded, gestured ‘one minute’ and went
back to his call. “Look, Brad, let me look into my schedule and
see when I can fit this in. Can I call you back?”
“Sure, Braxton. But call me today. You’re impossible to get a
hold of and your voicemail is always full and rejects my calls.”
“I know. I’m interviewing for another assistant right now.
Hopefully that will change.”
“Hire someone!”
Annoyed at the scolding, Braxton disconnected the call and
took off his earpiece, tossing it on his desk in frustration. He
stood, straightened his tie and suit jacket and ran his hand over
his hair. Opening the door to his office he immediately spotted a
strikingly handsome man wearing a designer suit, with
conservatively cropped brown hair and bright blue eyes.
The man rose to his feet and extended his hand in greeting.
Brianna said, “Braxton, this is Fabian Rhys. He’s interested
in working with us.”
The handshake was masculine and warm. No clammy palms
or limp grasp. Braxton met Fabian’s eyes. “Nice to meet you.
Why don’t you come in and have a seat?” Braxton was handed
his resume and an application form from Brianna. She gave him
a look. ‘A look’ that meant she liked Fabian. But hiring the first
applicant to walk through the door? Yeah, the guy was
handsome but they needed a hard worker, not a prima donna who
had an ulterior motive for working there and wanted to be a star.
Braxton gestured for Fabian to enter first, admiring his ass as
he did, closing the door behind him. He read the first few lines of the application Brianna had him fill out and saw Fabian was
thirty-five. Peeking up, he gestured to a chair and said, “Have a
seat.”