Exposure Page 6

  “He likes his wife to wear a strap-on.”

  It wasn’t the oddest kink I’d ever photographed, but I wasn’t into voyeurism and working with Blaire’s clients was beginning to feel more and more invasive.

  “No.”

  “They’ll pay whatever we want. This can make both of us a lot of money.”

  The greed in her voice made my stomach churn. I thought only my father had that effect on me. “I said no.” I pressed on, realizing it was my chance to make a clean break. “In fact, I’m out. You can find another photographer to memorialize your clients’ fantasies.”

  “You can’t quit.”

  “Watch me. I’m sick of your bullshit.”

  “If you terminate our business relationship, I may have to revisit the terms of our arrangement,” she murmured, her voice full of innuendo. “Or, we could pursue other options to ensure my silence.”

  “Give it up, Blaire. I said I’m not interested. I never have been,” I sighed.

  “I seem to remember we shared a pretty hot night.”

  “That’s funny. I don’t remember much at all. Oh, wait,” I said, pausing for effect. “No, sorry. I almost remembered something, but I must have been too drunk at the time.”

  “You do realize I could destroy your entire family, don’t you?” she screeched. “I mean it. I won’t hesitate.”

  Fuck. I didn’t believe she had the balls to act on her threats, but I couldn’t take that chance. I didn’t give a shit about my father, but Mom and my brothers were another matter.

  “Fine. Make sure they agree to no sex.”

  “I already told you they only want posed scenes.”

  “You’ve said that before, but things worked out differently.” While her clients requested my services, it felt wrong—almost dirty—to photograph them in such personal situations.

  “What would you say if I told you I have them on the hook for twenty-five thousand?” She waited a beat before continuing. “Each.”

  “I’d say you’re out of your fucking mind. You do realize I declare that as income, right?”

  “Why on Earth would you do that?” she scoffed.

  “Oh, I don’t know, Blaire. Maybe because I’m not a fucking cheat like you. I have a legitimate business to run, and I’d rather not deal with an IRS audit.”

  “You won’t have to if you channel the money properly.”

  “Don’t you mean launder? As I said, I’m not a criminal.”

  “I’m sure Daddy Dearest will bail you out of a jam should you find yourself in one. Wouldn’t be the first time, now would it?”

  The reference to my father made my blood boil. It also raised a few questions I didn’t want to address. “I’m serious, Blaire. You need to find someone else. I’m finished with this—and you. Then you can do whatever the fuck you want.”

  I hung up before she could respond and dropped my head into my hands. I had to find a way out of the mess I was in, and sooner rather than later.

  4

  Emmy

  I pushed my office door closed and dropped my things on the desk before collapsing into my chair. I fished my phone from my bag and sent a quick text to Jules.

  Me: Hey, can you do lunch?

  Drained from the events of the past several days, I folded my arms on the wooden surface and rested my head on top while I waited for her reply. A soft knock echoed in the quiet room, and my jangled nerves made it sound louder than it actually was. Without waiting for an invitation, Tyler barged in and plopped down in one of the guest chairs.

  “Everything okay, Emmy Lou? You look a little stressed.”

  I sat up, propping my elbows on the armrests. “Yeah ... oh hell, I don’t know. I’m confused and kind of freaking out right now.”

  “Want to talk about it?”

  “Actually…” I began, just as my phone lit up with an incoming text. “Hang on a sec. This is Jules.”

  Jules: Sure. Meet at 1?

  Me: Perfect. Where?

  Jules: I’ll come to you. Mustang Grill?

  Me: Sounds good. OK if Ty joins?

  Jules: If he must [sigh]... LOL of course

  Me: See you soon.

  Jules: :-D

  I set the phone on my desk and met Tyler’s gaze. “Do you have lunch plans?”

  “No.” He shrugged. “What’s up?”

  “Jules is meeting us next door. There’s something I need to tell you both, and I figured this would be easier. That way you can both yell at me at the same time and get it over with.”

  “That sounds ominous.” He laughed.

  I waved him off. “I just need some input, and I trust you both to be honest.”

  “You know me well, Lou Lou. What time?”

  “One.”

  He rose and stepped to the door, turning toward me with his hand on the knob. “Keep your chin up. I’ll see you in a few.”

  “Hey, Ty?” He cast a glance over his shoulder. “Thank you.”

  Even though he really didn’t do anything, he gave me a warm smile and blew me a kiss. “Anytime, dollface. Now if you’ll leave me alone, I’d like to get a little more work done before we leave for lunch.”

  We both laughed as Tyler closed the door behind him, leaving me feeling a bit more relaxed from our brief interaction. Spending time with Tyler had always been that way. There was just something about him that soothed my soul and made me feel like nothing was too big to handle.

  I blew out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding and flipped open my notebook to begin transcribing my notes from Ian’s interview.

  Located across from the famed Mustangs of Las Colinas, Mustang Grill had been a favorite lunch spot since I started at the magazine three years ago. The atmosphere was like a hip cross between a sports bar and Bennigan’s—always lively, great tunes, and awesome pub-style food. Tyler and I ate there whenever we felt the need for extra carbs.

  Most of the usual lunch crowd had dispersed, so we had no trouble spotting Jules waving at us from a table near the bar. Drawing closer, I noticed she’d taken the liberty to order each of us a cocktail—a dirty martini for me, and an amaretto sour for Tyler. I typically wouldn’t indulge in alcohol at lunch during the work week, but I was going to make an exception. I knew I’d need it to bolster my shaky fortitude for the uncomfortable conversation I was about to have with my two best friends. I was already dreading the ass chewing that was headed my way.

  Jules stood when we reached her, giving each of us a quick hug and kiss on the cheek before we settled in our seats. She didn’t waste time getting right to the point, an obvious holdover from her position as a charge nurse.

  “What’s up? I know there’s no tone in text, but you usually don’t ask about lunch unless you need to talk about something.”

  I reached for my drink with an unsteady hand and took a long sip to delay answering. Okay, I took two sips. I needed the courage. Drawing in a deep breath, I placed the glass on the table and blurted, “I saw Ian today.”

  Tyler’s eyes widened, his eyebrows disappearing beneath his bangs and his glass halfway to his lips. “You mean hot as fuck Ian from Friday night?”

  My lips drew into a tight smile, and I pointed both index fingers in his direction. “That’s the one.”

  Jules set her glass on the table and smacked her hands together. “Hot damn! Tell me, tell me, tell me. How did that happen?”

  “Well, it was rather unexpected,” I began, fidgeting with the menu. My eyes darted between my two friends. “He was my interview this morning.”

  “He’s Miles Shaw?” Tyler gaped. “Holy fuck. Girl, you hit the jackpot.” He leaned forward, waggled his eyebrows, and whispered, “How did he look? What did he say when he saw you? Are you going to see him again?”

  Laughing, I shook my head in exasperation. “He looked…” I closed my eyes, reliving the memory. “He was wearing a white polo, untucked of course, a pair of faded jeans, and he was barefoot. Why the hell is that so sexy?”

  A blissf
ul smile crossed Tyler’s face. “I know what you mean, girl. A hot man with bare feet gets me every time, too.” He refocused on me. “So? What else? What did he say?”

  Jules swatted his arm. “Would you let her talk?”

  Tyler scowled at her in return and directed his attention to me once more.

  I took another deep breath, followed by another smaller sip of my drink before launching into my eventful morning, telling them all about seeing Ian again, our tense pseudo-argument, the interview, and his resulting invitation. My friends stared back at me, their expressions growing darker with each word that fell from my lips. This wasn’t going to be pretty. Thankfully, I was spared from their wrath by the reappearance of our server. As soon as we ordered and were alone once again—well, as alone as possible in a public place—I knew my reprieve was over.

  “Emmy,” Tyler sighed. “I don’t get you. The man is fucking sex on legs, and you have to think about it? What the hell?”

  “Tyler,” Jules murmured, his name a gentle rebuke, before turning her gaze to mine. “What’s going on, Em? You wanted to talk about this, remember?”

  “I don’t know. I feel like it’s borderline unprofessional,” I shrugged, dropping my chin into the rise of my chest. “I just don’t know if I’m ready,” I murmured, more to myself than either of them.

  All mirth left Tyler’s face, and he leaned forward, pointing an accusing finger at me. “Listen to me, Emmy. I love you. You know I do, and I will always support you. But you have got to let go of Brett and the power he has over you.”

  “But—”

  “I’m not finished,” he warned, scolding me like a small child. “I only know what I learned from the short time I was around Ian. He never batted an eye about me being gay. Every other schmuck you’ve ever been with—including Brett—treated me like shit. I’m pretty good at reading people, and I truly believe his reaction was honest. Now I’m not telling you to run off and marry him, but damn it, maybe you could give the man a chance.” Lowering his chin, he cocked an eyebrow. “And you and I both know your reasoning about it being unprofessional is bullshit. You’re a damn good writer, and as long as you remain objective, there shouldn’t be an issue. Besides, I seriously doubt Kyle would give a shit.”

  I knew Tyler was right—about that at least—and nodded, drawing in another deep breath. “There’s something I didn’t tell you about Saturday.”

  Jules raised a brow and exchanged a glance with Tyler. “What? About Ian?”

  “Yeah. He asked for my number before I left his hotel.” I plunged forward, bracing myself for a lecture. “I turned him down, saying it was just a one-night stand, and that I wasn’t looking for a relationship. On my way home, I almost turned around and went back, but I talked myself out of it. I remember thinking if it were meant to be, we’d run into each other again.” Tyler gaped while Jules stared in stony silence, her arms crossed in front of her chest. “So now we have, and I don’t know what to do about that. I felt like there was some kind of connection when we met, but I can’t decide if it’s just physical or if it could be something else.”

  “And he asked you out—on a date—today?”

  It was my turn to gape. “That’s it? That is your reaction to what I just told you?”

  “No, no.” She buried her face in her hands, then slowly dragged them down to her chin. “Emmy, I don’t know what to say that I haven’t already. I feel like a broken record. I have watched you push men away time and time again. Yes, some of them have been complete douchebags, but ever since you broke up with Brett, you aren’t willing to even try another relationship.”

  “I don’t even know that Ian wants a relationship. For all I know, he just wants a friends with benefits arrangement.”

  Jules wagged a finger. “That’s beside the point. You dismissed it out of hand before he even had a chance to state his intentions. Now you’re telling us he asked you out without either of you knowing you were going to see each other today. The fact he asked clearly means he’s interested in something with you. Have you considered that he might be a good man? Maybe he isn’t like Fucktard. Not all men are evil beings bent on sucking the life force out of us, you know.” She sighed in frustration. “Look, Em, I’m here for you regardless, you know that. I will always have your back, but I would hate to see you miss out on a chance at happiness.”

  “I’m just afraid,” I whined, irritated at myself for still feeling this way. “Brett destroyed me. I can’t go through that again.”

  Tyler leaned forward and rested his hand over mine, giving me a gentle squeeze. “I know, baby girl, the abusive asshole did a number on you. But that doesn’t mean every man is the same. A broken heart sucks—I’ve been there. And it doesn’t matter if you date someone for three weeks, three months, or three years, it’s still going to hurt. You’ve got to allow yourself to move on. If you continue to hang on to the pain out of fear, it will fester until one day you’re a sad and bitter old lady, completely alone.” His other hand gestured between him and Jules. “Neither of us wants that for you. We want you to be happy. You deserve that.”

  A few tears gathered and threatened to spill from my eyes, prompting me to dab at them with my napkin. “I’m not sure what I’ve done to deserve you guys, but I love you. Thank you.”

  Tyler gave me another squeeze and released me so he could lift his drink. “You’re welcome. But if you’re not going to make a move, I may have to see if I can get him to switch teams.”

  Jules gave him another playful swat. “Dork.” She laughed, then looked my way. “Em, just give it some thought. That’s all we ask.”

  Our food arrived, and soon our conversation turned to other topics, namely Tyler’s anecdotes about Avery. The levity was refreshing, and as I listened, part of my mind considered the possibilities Jules and Tyler mentioned during our tense, but not totally uncomfortable talk about Ian.

  Maybe they were right. Maybe it was time to take a chance.

  5

  Ian

  I woke, disoriented and gasping. The echo of a scream hung in the air, and it took a few moments to realize I was the source. My hands were still shaking when I shoved them through my sweat-dampened hair. Holy hell. A chill ran through me and settled in my bones as images from that long-ago night played on a continuous loop in my mind. The car spinning out of control, the tires unable to find purchase before rolling into the adjacent pasture. Mason, my youngest brother, hunched over the steering wheel, blood covering his face. His best friend, Brad, twisted and mangled in the back seat. The total feeling of helplessness when I called for the ambulance. Then later, the pain, anger, and utter hatred I felt for my father over the loss of the one thing I never thought I would want yet would never have—because of him.

  Nausea overtook me, and I sprinted to the bathroom, making it just in time to expel the remnants of dinner. Convulsions wracked my body until only dry heaves remained. There was nothing left. I forced myself to stand on unsteady legs and made my way to the sink where I splashed cold water over my face and brushed my teeth, trying to eradicate the rancid taste of the past. Funny, I thought leaving Austin would wipe the slate clean, but the past never stayed buried, did it?

  It was still dark, and I wasn’t sure of the time, but I knew sleep was futile. The dream—scratch that, nightmare—had conjured too many images, too many emotions, and I had no desire to revisit that place again. I stepped into the shower and twisted the lever, letting the cold water wash over me until it warmed and cooled again. The jarring temperature distracted me from the memory of the night that changed the course of my life. I’d always been told that everyone has their demons. It seemed as though mine would haunt me forever.

  I parked across from the converted warehouse that served as the home of Release. It looked just like every other warehouse in Deep Ellum with its distressed brick facade, industrial details, and huge, four-pane windows—blacked out, of course. The only marker denoting the business residing within was the tasteful, red neon sign p
erched above the brick-enclosed vestibule entrance.

  Standing beside that entrance, towering over the handful of patrons making their way inside, was my best friend, Parker. A former Army Ranger, he owned a full-service security business, and from the look of things, he was filling the role of bouncer. The fact that he made himself that visible indicated something was off.

  “Hey, Park,” I called, striding across the cracked pavement. “What’s up?”

  He shook his head, dodging my question. “Ace. Heard you were going to be here tonight. What’s Blaire gotten you into now?”

  “Man, don’t start that ‘Ace’ shit.” I laughed. “You don’t even want to know.”

  “I don’t envy you at all.”

  “Want to trade? I’ll guard the door, and you can take pictures? I’ve got thirty minutes to train you.”

  “Fuck no. You don’t have enough money for me to do that shit.”

  We both laughed and shook hands. “How about we catch up tomorrow? Flying Saucer around seven? There’s something I’d like to talk to you about.”

  “Yeah, sounds like a plan.” Parker clapped my back. “Better get in there before Queen Bitch of the Universe comes looking for you.”

  “Smart-ass.” I laughed. “Catch you later.”

  I hiked the strap of my camera bag higher on my shoulder and stepped into what felt like another world. Regardless of how many times I’d been there, I couldn’t help but be impressed by the world Blaire created. Theatrics were definitely her specialty. The walls were draped with fabric swags, most of which were made from velvet or satin—red, of course—festooning the club in decadence, like a throwback to the golden age of cinema. Large movie screens playing erotic black and white movies hung on gilded panels at various locations in the room. One end of the building had been sectioned into private rooms while the remainder served as open performance areas delineated by specific decor motifs inherent to the lifestyle, including cages and other frameworks to accommodate chains and shackles, plush furnishings surrounding a small stage with a solitary brass pole, and an area dedicated solely to the practice of Shibari. From what I could tell, any kink, any desire, could be satisfied within that room.