BRANDON smoothed his hair and his clothes with barely steady flicks of his fingers, hoping he looked put together and not thrown together, which was closer to the truth. Then he walked through the front door of West TonDe Press, trying to show he was confident even though he really had no idea what the modeling suggestion would involve. The pulse of AC-driven air was quick to chill his skin as his nerves snapped.
He spotted a woman at a desk and, as a guess, walked to her.
Her head popped up from the computer she was typing on. She smiled warmly before saying, “Hi. Can I help you?”
“I’m looking for Mr. Teagan.” Brandon fisted his hand to hide the tremors.
Before she could answer, Ralph came swirling into the lobby. “Clara! Get Diane on the phone. Georgia is late! Oh. Hi there. Brandon, right?” He thrust out a hand and Brandon shook almost mechanically, absolutely speechless at the whirlwind before him. “Glad to see you could drop in for a few minutes. Clara, let me know if Diane knows where her girl is, would you?” He swept an arm over Brandon’s shoulders. “Come with me. I have all kinds of ideas I want to use you for.”
“But…. Where’s Tony?” Brandon followed, though stiffly. He felt utterly out of place amid the finery of the office and Ralph’s obviously designer composition of color and material, most of which was silk. Ralph was a glistening rainbow on steroids. Ralph clearly loved color.
“Probably in his office,” Ralph replied with a blasé wave of his hand. They swept around a corner, nearly taking out a tall potted palm in the process. Ralph tapped a knuckle to a closed door as they passed it. “That man gets lost all the time in whatever he’s reading at the moment. Devyn was the only reason he ever remembered to eat.”
Devyn?
Before Brandon could form a reply, Ralph swept him into a small studio-like room with white screens and little else. “Okay. Off with the shirt. I wasn’t kidding. I have to see what you’ve got to know where I can use you.”
“My shirt?” Brandon took a step back and jolted when he accidently bumped a stool.
“Yes, dear.” Ralph tapped his lip as though considering something deeply.
“He didn’t say anything about this,” Brandon was quick to point out. He clasped at the stool to keep it from teetering over. I thought he’d said this was legit. Brandon’s self-preservation warnings were blaring like National Weather Service bursts.
“Because I haven’t had a chance to tell you anything.”
Brandon whirled around and there stood Tony, less the suit jacket he’d spotted him in the day before, but still stunningly handsome in a simple white shirt and dark pink tie.
“Ralph got to you before we could discuss details.” He was scowling mildly at a grumpy Ralph who shrugged, though he didn’t seem close to apologizing. “Why don’t you have a seat and I’ll tell you what we do and why I asked you to come by.”
Feeling a little less rattled with Tony nearby, Brandon hopped onto the stool at his side.
“Ralph,” Tony sighed, waving at him to quit staring.
“Fine! Let me go find Georgia.” He swished out of the room. “Damn gypsy is never on time,” Brandon heard him complain as the door closed behind him.
“Sorry about all of that.” Tony grasped another stool and came to sit close by. “This,” he made a wide sweep with his gaze, “is Ralph’s domain. He’s a bossy hussy, but down deep, sweet. Basically, you’ll shoot poses or layouts and we’ll work those into artwork for our books. If you’d rather have an agent, I fully understand, and I can team you with someone who will work as your liaison, or you can work directly through me. The only difference is, you can’t take on competing assignments. Any model who works for me is exclusive for the first twelve months, then you can go anywhere you want.” He then gave a couple of well-known names who had worked with and for West TonDe.
Brandon shook himself. “And you want me to work with you?”
“Completely.” Tony rose from his stool. “Let me show you a little of what we do.” Brandon stood at his side as he got the tour. The editorial room, the clerical side. The art room, which was lined wall-to-wall with layouts and covers of work from TonDe as well as work their models had been optioned for. “We work with several different aspects of the industry. The modeling is one of our smallest, but it keeps our costs down if we don’t have to hire from an agency or purchase overused stock photos, which allows us to pay a fair share to the in-house models. I’ve also teamed up with a few indie magazines and e-mags to do their work. Everything from format to publication. The people behind it supply all the content, and we take it from there. The actual press is mine. In order to not go under from the advance of digital, we had to find other ways to adjust. We’re actually doing better now than ever.”
“Wow.” Brandon was trying to soak it in.
They ended the short walk in Tony’s office. Brandon sank down gratefully when Tony offered a chair. Brandon’s head was swimming in all the information Tony had dropped on him.
“Something to drink?”
“I’m okay.”
Tony sat behind his desk, the computer screen blank at the moment. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-four.”
Tony nodded. “A little younger than I’d pegged you for, but it’s not a problem. I’m not asking as part of the application process either, but to see how you’ll fit into certain niches. With your looks, those amazing eyes, and your features, you’re going to be catching attention very quickly. Do you think you’re up to it?”
Brandon wanted to sit on his fingers but instead curled them over the studded leather armrests of the chair to keep them still.
“You said it would pay better than both my jobs. What about school, and what hours are you talking?”
“Let me guess, you’re making a thin hair above minimum wage at either. Am I right?”
Brandon nodded, aware the man before him was more in tune to the world than many of the people he worked with. How old are you? He wanted to ask, but didn’t. It had been a long time since a man like Tony had crossed his path. Too bad he was going to be working for him… if he agreed to all of the terms.
“And how much sleep do you get?”
“Twice a week, I can catch a full night.” Saturday nights were the worst. Deliveries until one in the morning.
“Otherwise….”
Brandon glanced away. He knew it wasn’t ideal, but it was what he had to work with.
“I’m not going to push, but this could work for the both of us,” Tony said gently. “A good man once gave me the help of a strong shoulder and patience. I want to do the same for you.”
Startled by the admission, Brandon said the first thing that came to mind. “Why?”
“Because, honestly, you remind me of… well… me.” The corners of his lips dared to twitch before rising. “Drowning between work and school, exhausted and getting nowhere fast. I just wanted to get somewhere. Someplace beyond nowhere.” He leaned back into his chair, a contemplative expectancy in his eyes.
Brown eyes like that shouldn’t be able to see the world, or the soul of a man, so clearly.
“I get the feeling you wouldn’t be working two jobs plus maintaining your school schedule if you didn’t intend to be somewhere. What are your goals?”
“A finance major. Not being dead broke by the time I get there.”
That made Tony chuckle. “Why don’t you think about it? I’ll need you here once or twice a week to discuss assignments and layouts with Ralph. Outside of physical shoots, the rest is your time.”
“And that will pay me enough to drop both of my jobs?” He knew he sounded cynical, but he couldn’t help it. If it sounded too good to be true, it usually was.
Tony gave him a pay scale. “You’ll start at the bottom of that, and if you show up, work with Ralph without giving him more gray hair—please don’t, because I hear about it when models give him those hairs—and accept assignments as they come up, which saves us time locating someone with an outside agency, you’ll rise on that scale. The only things we do not allow are excessive drinking or drugs. The first is terrible for your skin and either can kill you.”
“How much of me would be showing?” Brandon thought to ask. Ralph did seem pretty determined to see his chest.
“No full frontal nudity exposure. You might be naked to take pictures at some point, but there’s always blackout or fades used in the artwork or props for the shoot. We don’t shoot porn. We do publish a well-known line of male-male romances. Those covers are considered our trademark work.”
“Male love? Like gay?” Brandon leaned forward in his seat. This was something he’d never heard of. A gay press? Really? They existed? He seriously needed to get out of his apartment and his textbooks more often.
“In case you missed it, Ralph is a queen.” Tony winked. “There’s a few others in the company, but we don’t divulge secrets.”
“Cool,” he whispered. He wouldn’t have to be worried about harassment. His reaction seemed to make Tony’s smile broaden.
He leaned on his desk on braced elbows. “How does it all sound so far?”
“Too good to be true,” Brandon replied.
Tony smirked and shifted in his chair again. “That sounds just like what I once said,” he admitted. “I will never deny I had help getting here, but this is mine. Sometimes, all we need is a little help.”
A shadow flitted over Tony’s gaze but then faded, leaving Brandon to wonder just what had caused it, and where this incredible paragon of good fortune was who had once stood with the man behind the desk.
Brandon considered what Tony was offering. A far less-stressful regimen for school. A job that paid, if not a grander scale, better than the slave wages he was working for at his current two jobs. Plus he would have time to study, time to focus on his actual classes. And one of the best perks yet, he’d get to work with the man sitting behind the desk.
Brandon straightened and said, “Okay.”
“Okay?” Tony repeated, distracted. Brandon had apparently pulled him out of some wandering thoughts as he’d gone over the pros-and-cons list.
Brandon smiled easily. “Let me show Ralph my fish belly.”
Tony laughed quiet and rough. Brandon stood when Tony did, followed him into the halls once more, and was delivered into Ralph’s waiting care.
“Be gentle on him, Ralph. He still needs to fill out paperwork if he’s not too traumatized when you finish with him.”
Ralph scrunched his face up at Tony. “Go away. Leave an artist to work.”
“Scream if you need anything,” Tony offered, then with a smile, he vanished beyond the doorway.
“Okay, let’s see what we have to work with. Off with the shirt, sweetness.”