Playboy For Hire

4. Quinn

4

QUINN

I smoothed my tie over and over as I waited for Ryder at the top of the metro escalator. It was chilly tonight—February had remembered what season it was a part of—and I was glad I’d chosen to wear a wool blazer over my dress shirt and trousers.

Auntie Thea had told me I looked too much like a lawyer in my full suit. I’d reminded her that I was a lawyer, but she’d tartly informed me that I was going to a party, not a job interview, and that I needed to ‘ jazz it up a little .’

I wasn’t sure if my green wool blazer counted as jazzy, but at least I had some color on me. I’d forgotten a tie clip, though, and the wind kept trying to strangle me with my own neckwear.

I told myself for the millionth time not to be nervous, that everything would be fine. No one would even be paying attention to me today. The focus would be on Grandad and Nana. And I trusted Ryder…or at least, I thought I did. But for the million-and-first time, I braced for something to go wrong.

I still shuddered when I remembered the humiliation of our meeting on Tuesday. I’d seen Ryder sitting in the corner there and actually gotten excited for a moment. The guy was hot. Younger than I was, but he didn’t have a baby face.

No, his face was classic ‘J.Crew catalog white guy.’ Light brown hair fell into his gray eyes with careless grace. His cheekbones said, ‘ See you at the yacht club .’ His jaw was covered in a seven-day stubble. And his lips were way too pink and plump to belong to a straight guy, if there were any justice in the world.

He’d looked up at me and smiled, his face warm and inviting, and I’d thought, ‘ Oh, maybe this wasn’t the worst idea I’ve ever had .” Right up until he’d opened his mouth, that was.

He’d managed to convince me that tonight would be okay. That he’d be a great fake boyfriend, or at least a passable one. That he could handle pretending to be queer for one night.

But maybe I’d just let myself believe that because he was so damn hot. Way too hot to be interested in me in real life. Maybe I’d just wanted to pretend for one night that someone like that could want someone like me.

“Quinn?”

I looked up to see Ryder come off the top of the escalator, and my mouth actually went dry. Ryder on Tuesday had been hot in a businessy way. Tonight, he looked absolutely mouth-watering. And yeah, I know I just said he made my mouth go dry but listen, he was so stunning he was short-circuiting my brain. I was allowed to mix metaphors under the circumstances.

He was wearing a navy wool suit, with the subtlest hints of black watch plaid showing in the light of the street lamps. He had no tie at all, and his crisp white shirt was unbuttoned just enough for a touch of insouciance. He’d clearly made an attempt to part his hair, but the wind had sculpted it into something wilder and it was unfairly attractive.

“Hey,” I said when my voice started working again. “You look goo—I mean, good to see you.”

“Good to see you too.”

Ryder walked right up to me, pulled me into a side hug, and pecked me on the cheek. Heat suffused me from the top of my head down to my toes. I jerked away in surprise.

“Oh, hey, sorry.” He pulled back, still smiling. “I just thought—you know, in case anyone else was around, I should seem happy to see you. Didn’t mean to get in your personal space, though.”

“No, no, it’s—it’s fine.” I shook my head. “I just wasn’t expecting it, is all.”

I’d told Ryder that we didn’t have to do any kind of PDA, and I’d meant it. He’d seemed jumpy enough about pretending to be my boyfriend without adding any physical components. I hadn’t wanted to push. And it wasn’t like my family had ever seen me with a boyfriend anyway, so they had nothing to compare it to.

I resisted the urge to touch my cheek where Ryder’s lips had been. It was my right cheek, the one with my birthmark. No one had ever kissed me there before. I could still feel the slight heat of his mouth on my skin.

“And I don’t think anyone else is coming to this function via public transit,” I added. “Auntie Thea had a limo come and pick her up.”

“A lady who travels in style. I like it.”

“She would take a limo to Safeway if it weren’t too big for the parking lot.”

“She obviously knows her own worth.” Ryder grinned. “So, boyfriend. Are you ready to go cut a rug?”

His smile was so goofy, I couldn’t help but laugh. Something about him was just so likable. It made it hard to stay mad at him, even when he said something stupid. I supposed that was probably an asset in his line of work, though. For all I knew, he was an asshole who was just good at acting.

But looking at his easy, lopsided smile, the way it crinkled the corners of his eyes and pulled at the corners of his lips, I couldn’t help but smile back. For tonight at least, I would pretend this was real.

The party was in the restaurant of the swanky Gilchrist Hotel on the corner of Florida and R Street NW. It was an old, stone building with a semi-circular drive and heavy marble columns arrayed on either side of the front door. Town cars were pulling up as we approached, dropping off passengers who were dressed to the nines.

“Are they all your family?” Ryder asked, his eyes a little wide. “I have a tux. Two, actually. I would have dressed nicer if I’d known it was black tie.”

“Not all of them,” I said. “Nana and Grandad rented out the entire restaurant and patio in the back, but there’s a smaller bar up front, and a couple of club rooms. Most of these people must be here for some other—”

“Quinn, honey, is that you?”

A call from across the driveway caught my attention, and I looked over to see a woman in a greenish-gold dress get out of a silver Lexus. She was waving at me with one hand, and adjusting a scarf around her shoulders with the other. A large, balding man got out of the driver’s seat and handed his keys to a valet.

“Oh, God,” I whispered.

“Who’s that?” Ryder asked as we turned up the walk to the hotel.

“My Aunt Marie and Uncle Harold. Uncle Harold is fine. He pretty much only wants to talk about golf and the stock market. But Marie is—”

“Oh, come here, let me hug you,” Marie said, her chunky heels ringing against the marble walk as she scurried over to meet us. “I haven’t seen you in ages. How long has it been? Since Christmas last year? That is just criminal. You only live two hours away. How come you haven’t been up to visit?” She smacked her purse against my chest and looked up at me reprovingly.

“Hi, Auntie Marie,” I said, letting her pull me into a tight hug. “It’s good to see—”

“What could possibly be keeping you so busy that you can’t make time to visit your favorite aunt?” she continued, like I hadn’t even spoken. She let me out of the hug, but kept a hold of my arms, looking me up and down like she was searching for an explanation for my inadequacies. “I know you haven’t been using that time to put any muscle on you,” she added, squeezing my shoulders. “Are they working you too hard? Not letting you go to the gym? Don’t you want to look more masculine?”

“No, not too hard, I just—”

“I read about that,” Marie said before I could finish my sentence. “Companies are putting drugs in the coffee pods and water coolers to keep their workers weak and control them. Ever since they passed that Obamacare, it’s legal now. They can feed you whatever chemicals they want, so they can keep you chained to your desk. I can send you the article if you like.”

“I don’t think that’s actually what—”

“Of course, they’re doing it at the gyms, too. Especially gay gyms. I’ve heard all about it. They poison those little smoothies and milkshakes and once they have control of your minds, they’ll turn you into sleeper agents. You’ll be able to poison all the women, because they won’t feel threatened by you. And once the women are sterilized, they’ll be in control of the population completely.”

She looked up at me with earnest eyes, shining with the fervor of belief. I looked at Ryder helplessly. I hadn’t gotten a chance to warn him about Auntie Marie, and she’d just dragged him into the deep end. But Ryder just swung an arm around my shoulders, gently freeing me from Marie’s grasp.

“Oh, I don’t know, I think Quinn looks pretty great just the way he is.” He smiled agreeably and said, “I’m Ryder, by the way. Quinn’s boyfriend. It’s so nice to meet you.”

“Oh, right.” I blinked, realizing I hadn’t formally introduced them. Ryder’s arm had felt so nice around my shoulders that I’d forgotten where I was for a moment. “I’m sorry. Auntie Marie, this is Ryder, my boyfriend. Ryder, this is Marie Loring, one of my dad’s sisters. She and Uncle Harold live up in Bucks County, Pennsylvania.”

I nodded at Uncle Harold, who seemed perfectly happy to let Marie do all the talking.

“Well, aren’t you a tall drink of water,” Marie said, smiling up at Ryder coyly. “I bet you use the gym. You need to be on guard for—”

“Yes ma’am, I do use the gym. Gotta get my workouts in. Can’t say I’ve seen any evidence of chemicals in the smoothies, but who wants to talk about that anyway?”

Auntie Marie blinked. I didn’t think she was used to other people interrupting her .

“Tonight’s a party,” Ryder continued. “Now, why don’t I walk you inside and you can tell me all about your dress. Is that vintage Vera Wang? The Fall 1999 Ready-to-Wear collection?”

He offered Marie his arm and walked with her towards the front door, giving me a reassuring smile over his shoulder as they went.

“That was neatly done,” Uncle Harold observed as Ryder and Marie walked away. “I’ve never seen someone shut down one of her spirals so smoothly.” He gave me a sidelong smile. “I approve of your choice—and I’ll approve even more if he can show me how to do that.”

Was Ryder laying it on a bit thick, playing the gay man obsessed with fashion? Maybe—but it had gotten Marie onto a harmless topic, so I supposed I couldn’t complain. I smiled at Uncle Harold and followed Marie and Ryder into the building.

An hour later, I was extricating myself from a conversation with my cousin Layton, who was telling me fervently about the benefits of actively managed mutual funds, and looking around the restaurant for Ryder. I’d completely lost sight of him after he’d gone to get us more drinks half an hour ago.

I wasn’t worried, exactly. Ryder had been completely charming with everyone he’d met. But I felt bad that I wasn’t there to run interference. Most of my family members were perfectly normal, but there were about eighty people in this room, which meant a lot of energy, a lot of laughter, and a tangled web of relationships that would be hard for anyone to keep straight.

I wondered if Ryder had stepped out onto the patio to get some fresh air. I told Layton I’d catch up with him later and went looking. I checked the bar first, then the tables covered with trays of appetizers. Little caprese salad spears, stuffed mushrooms, and butter-covered baby radishes were displayed invitingly. I grabbed a mushroom on my way past and popped it in my mouth. No Ryder over here.

I turned, ready to complete my circuit of the room, when I saw my cousin Julie and Brandon five feet in front of me, directly in my way. Julie was laughing at something Brandon had said, and he leaned in, stroking her cheek with the back of his hand. Then he looked up, surveying the room, and his eyes met mine.

It was the first time we’d seen each other in months. Since he’d ended things with me. My heart rate sped up, and my breaths came in fast and shallow. Brandon was still as handsome as ever. The kind of large guy who looks like he played football in college. Brandon never had, though. He’d been too busy with robotics and tutoring kids in science. He worked as an engineer out in Virginia now.

Loss squeezed my heart as Brandon’s eyes held mine. But a moment later, his gaze moved on, like he’d barely noticed I was there. Did I mean that little to him? We’d been together for six months. Or was he just that determined to bury every trace of what we’d had?

Suddenly, the room was way too hot. I needed to get out. I stepped out onto the patio and closed my eyes in relief as the wind blasted my face with cold night air. I stood motionless for a minute, just savoring the stillness and silence.

Fairy lights sparkled in the low-branched cherry trees that arched over the patio. In spring, they’d burst into clouds of pink flowers, but for now, their limbs and twigs were dark and spare. There were scattered tables and chairs, and a group of abandoned cocktail glasses on a ledge near the windows, but I had the place to myself for now.

Seeing Brandon was harder than I’d expected. I’d known it wouldn’t be easy, but I’d been following him online ever since our breakup—Julie would have noticed if I’d suddenly broken that connection. So I’d seen tons of snapshots of the two of them together, even liked a few on Julie’s feed. But pictures were nothing to the hole I felt in my chest right now.

It was all still so raw. Brandon dumping me, out of the blue. Telling me there was no reason to be upset, that we’d never really been together in the first place. That would have been bad enough, but Brandon revealing that he was dating Julie instead of me? One of my few family members who lived in the DC area? It just hurt.

And it wasn’t like Brandon was a supervillain. He could be genuinely sweet. There was a reason I’d been attracted to him in the first place, and it wasn’t just his looks.

But he’d always been driven. He wanted to run for Congress one day, and he wanted the image that came with that. Adoring wife. Two-point-five children. A white picket fence and a golden retriever. And none of that included a secret queer affair in his past.

I sighed. Brandon had known Julie for just as long as he’d known me. We’d all met at a networking event for young Black professionals a year ago. And Brandon was bi. It wasn’t unreasonable for him to have feelings for her.

But it still hurt. Seeing how happy they were together. I wanted Julie to be happy. I just wished it weren’t with him.

“There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you.”

I jumped at the sound of Ryder’s voice behind me, and turned to see him standing at the edge of the patio, a glass of merlot in one hand, a seltzer in the other. His hair was darker under the night sky, and some of it was damp, pressed to his forehead with sweat.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to abandon you. Just got a little hot in there,” I told him.

“No worries.” He walked over and handed me the glass of wine. “Though I might have challenged your Uncle Harold to a limbo contest later tonight. I can’t be trusted when left alone in social situations.”

I snorted softly. “You told me on Tuesday that was specifically where I could trust you.”

“I believe you’ll find, if you review the conversation thoroughly, that I said I was good with people. And I am. Your uncle loves me now. But I never said I could be trusted.” He laughed, then peered at me when I didn’t join in. “Hey, are you okay?”

He looked at me with concern.

“What? Yeah. Why?” I took a sip of my wine, hoping I didn’t look as flustered as I felt.

“Your eyes. It just looked—” Ryder brought a hand halfway to my face, then let it fall. “For a second, it looked like you’d been crying.”

“Just allergies,” I said. God, had I been? How embarrassing. “So what else have you committed us to while I was gone?”

“Nothing too terrible. Just Sunday brunch with your mom and dad, a double date with your cousin and her boyfriend, and Christmas at your aunt and uncle’s in Frederick.”

I gaped at him. “What? Which cousin? A double date? Why would you—”

“Hey, hey, I’m kidding,” Ryder said soothingly. He held up three fingers. “Scout’s honor. I was just joking. Though I may actually have gotten myself invited to your Nana’s virtual book club.”

“At least it’s virtual,” I said, huffing slightly with relief. Jesus, Ryder had scared me for a second.

“Their next book is ‘ The True Confessions of a Pastor’s Mistress ,’’” he said. “It sounds kind of fun, to be honest. Sort of trashy, which is always a plus.”

“So is that the kind of thing you do in your free time?” I asked. “Limbo classes and book clubs? Or are those work-only activities?”

He laughed. “I wish. But no, if I’m not working, I’m usually doing schoolwork. Or at practice. My soccer scholarship is how I got out of my hometown. Either that, or I’m at the gym. Gotta keep the assets in shape in the off-season.”

“Oh, come on, you must do something for fun,” I pressed.

“Not really.” Ryder shrugged. “Though maybe that’s because I’ve been brainwashed by too many gym smoothies.”

“Oh, I’m sorry about that.” I winced. “I meant to warn you ahead of time about Auntie Marie.”

“It’s fine. Like I said, I’m good with people.”

“You could have been a little less flamboyantly into her clothes, though,” I couldn’t help adding. “But I guess it worked, so I shouldn’t complain.”

Ryder frowned. “Was I flamboyant?”

“You tried to name the season and year her outfit was released. I’d say that’s a little much.”

“I didn’t try to name it, I did name it. Correctly. Is there something wrong with that?”

“I guess not. But you don’t have to lean so hard into that stereotype about gay men.”

Ryder gave me an unreadable look. “I wasn’t trying to be a stereotype. I was genuinely interested. I pay a lot of attention to how I dress. I kind of have to, in my line of work. And some designers have really distinctive styles. Anyway, I was just trying to get her onto a safe topic.”

“Safe?” I asked.

“My dad’s kind of like that,” Ryder said. “He started spending a lot of time online and wound up in some weird places. Didn’t take long for him to go off the deep end with conspiracy theories. But if you try to bring him back to reality, counter his beliefs with logic, he just digs in harder.” He sighed. It made him sound older than he was. “The only way to have a normal conversation is to engage him on other topics. But even then, it’s hard.”

“Oh. I didn’t know that.” I cocked my head to the side. “But I suppose I don’t know much about your family.”

Ryder grimaced. “I don’t talk about them for a reason.”

That piqued my curiosity. He was so affable and easy-going. Was he close with his mom? Did he have any siblings? How long had his dad been living in a separate reality?

But Ryder clearly didn’t want to talk about it, so I didn’t ask.

“Usually Marie is happy just telling me how scrawny I am,” I said ruefully. “But when she gets going on one of her conspiracy tears, she can be hard to stop.”

“Does she do that a lot?” Ryder looked offended on my behalf. “Tell you that you need to be more masculine?”

I looked away. “She doesn’t mean it in a bad way. She’s just kind of—”

“Critical?” he offered.

“Yeah, but it’s not serious. She’s always been like that, my whole life.”

“I don’t mean to speak ill of your family, but that doesn’t sound ‘ not serious .’ It sounds like a kind of crappy thing to say to someone you’re supposed to love.”

I shrugged, uncomfortable with the turn the conversation had taken. “It’s better than Auntie Thea’s friends telling me how gorgeous I am all the time.”

Ryder looked dumbfounded. “How is someone giving you compliments worse than someone telling you you’re too skinny?”

“Because at least Auntie Marie isn’t lying.” My tone was sharper than I’d meant it to be, but I couldn’t help it. “At least she’s being honest about how I look. I’d rather have that than have people lie to my face.”

“Do you think you’re a troll or something?” Ryder asked.

“No, I just—look, can we not do this?”

“Not do what?”

“This teen movie thing where you tell me I’m actually secretly gorgeous if I’d just take off my glasses? I appreciate the thought, but I don’t need your pep talk. I know what I look like, and I’m fine with it.”

“You evidently don’t know, though.” Ryder’s stare made me want to crawl into a crack between the patio pavers and curl up like a pillbug. “Quinn, you’re a good-looking guy. And I like your glasses.”

My right hand tightened on my wine glass. I shoved the left into my jacket pocket. “I guess the pep talk is included in the package I bought.”

“This isn’t—I’m not telling you this because you paid me to be here tonight. I’m telling you, my honest opinion is that you’re a good-looking dude, and anyone who tells you otherwise isn’t just being a dick, they’re lying to you. I’m sorry you’ve got a self-esteem issue about this, but I guess that’s not surprising if you’ve had people telling you your whole life that you’re not good enough.”

“Okay, can you not judge my entire family based on one evening’s interactions?” I snapped. “I didn’t push you to talk about your family when you obviously didn’t want to. You actually don’t know anything about me. And I don’t need you telling me how tragic it is that no one’s seen my true beauty under my ugly duckling exterior.”

“I’m not judging anyone. I’m just trying to tell you—”

“I have a fucking birthmark the size of Texas on my cheek,” I said, pointing right at it. “Don’t give me some bullshit lie about how you never noticed, or how I’m making it into a bigger deal than it is. It’s been there my whole life. You don’t get to tell me it doesn’t play a role in how I look.”

Ryder let out a long breath, then held his hands up like he was surrendering. “I really don’t think it’s that bad, but it’s clear you don’t want to talk about it, so that’s fine. You didn’t pay me to argue with you all night.”

“You could stop doing that too, while you’re at it.”

“Doing what?”

“Reminding me all the time about how you’re only here because I’m paying you. That I couldn’t get a date on my own, much less a boyfriend.”

“You’re the one who keeps bringing it up. I’m not trying to—”

“Save it.” I was too angry to talk to him anymore. “Go join my dad’s model train enthusiasts’ club or whatever. Just do it somewhere away from me.”

With that, I tossed back the rest of my wine and stalked inside.