Eli
Thursday…
Eli faced off in the ring against his opponent. The room was heavy with the smell of sweat and leather and the occasional echo of grunts. His opponent dropped suddenly and went for Eli’s knees, but he jumped and deftly avoided the maneuver. Then Eli spun and lunged, placing the man in a chokehold, using all his power and skill to bring him down. The man finally slammed his hand on the mat twice, in rapid succession. Eli released him and smiled as he licked the beads of moisture off his upper lip.
“I win. Again,” Eli murmured as he stood up and began to unwrap the tape from his hands. Once he was done, he grabbed his electrolyte drink, downing it in four gulps.
Luis Guzman, his fellow bodyguard, shook his head as he snatched a towel from a nearby chair and wiped his face. “I’m going easy on you.”
“Yeah, right.” Eli gave a small smile.
“You have a couple of new gigs coming up. Anything interesting?” Luis asked.
“Pretty regular stuff. Occasional protection detail for Oliver’s cousin, a weekday gig escorting a wealthy socialite who’s in the city for a month, and the usual celebrity circuit on the weekends.”
“Oliver’s cousin, you mean Billie?”
“Yeah.” Eli’s cheeks burned hotter. It’s the workout.
“I met him a while back. Nice guy, pretty hot-looking, too.”
Eli grabbed his t-shirt from the floor as they made their way to the lockers. “I guess. I didn’t pay that much attention.”
Yeah, right. Every time you’re in the same room as him, you can’t help but stare. Billie was effortlessly sexy, his lean body always dressed in a sharp suit, his black hair loose and wavy. But it was his body piercings that Eli thought were hot as hell and made him wonder if he had other, more interesting piercings in hidden places. Not only stylish and confident, Billie was also fun to be around. And fucking talented. Eli had a custom tuxedo designed by Billie last year, and he’d been totally cool in the face of the sexy man until it came to the inseam measurements for his dress pants. Jesus, having Billie so close to his cock was dangerous. And when he’d looked up at Eli with those jade-green eyes, Eli had a very clear vision of the two of them in a similar, but x-rated, situation.
“…What do you say?”
Eli shook out of his musings. “Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”
Luis smiled and playfully punched him on the arm. “I said, if you don’t want the assignment, I’ll switch with you.”
“Sorry, I’m under strict orders from Mason.”
“All right, bud. Thanks for the practice today. I’m gonna hit the sauna before I head out.”
“Same time next week.”
Spartan provided a full gym and demanded a regular workout schedule from every staff member to keep them in tip top shape. One of the perks of working here was the spa-like bathroom, with numerous shower stalls, a sauna, a large hot tub, and a massage room. It was a step above any gym locker room Eli had ever experienced. He dumped his clothes and bottle on the bench in front of his locker and headed for the shower. He entered the first stall and turned the tap as hot as it would go, enjoying the rush of the pounding water as it cascaded over his tired muscles. He took a deep breath in and let it out, letting go of his anxieties, hoping they’d wash away down the drain. No such luck.
Once he was done in the shower, he quickly changed into his suit and checked his phone. He’d missed one text message from his mom, one from Billie, and one from Dax Martin, a former client who also happened to be Mason’s husband and Eli’s friend.
His mom, as always, was to the point.
Mom: CALL ME. And come for dinner next week.
He perused Billie’s text and smiled.
Billie: Ready for my private escort. I could get used to this
Dax: I hear Mason’s got you guarding Billie. Next time you’re in the building, pop up to our floor for a visit!
Checking his tie one last time, he grabbed his bag and was ready to head out. Eli’s stomach clenched and he took a few deep breaths. Despite having guarded many celebrities and high-profile clients over the past five years, he was always nervous the first time. Some clients were nice and listened to his guidance. Others ignored him or treated him like their own personal valet, and a few tried to act out their bodyguard movie fantasies. He already knew Billie was friendly, so he wasn’t sure why his anxiety was still so high.
Eli pulled up to a familiar address, a luxury apartment building on Central Park West that housed not just Billie, but Mason and Dax. Eli had worked with Oliver on a case over a year ago when Dax was dealing with his asshole ex-boyfriend. Now the ex was in jail, where he belonged, and Dax’s acting career was taking off again with the release of his new movie. Dax was talented and well connected in this town but a very easygoing and unassuming person. He was one of the few people Eli felt comfortable with right away. They’d become fast friends, sharing their love for all things movies and books.
Eli greeted the concierge, Mark, who waved him through. Billie’s place was on the 12th floor, so the ride was short. He knocked on the door and waited.
Billie opened it a minute later, and Eli was shocked at what he saw. Instead of his usual bright clothing and heels, Billie was dressed in a conservative pinstriped suit with black Chelsea boots. The look was so bland compared to his trademark style.
“What the fuck are you wearing?” Eli blurted.
Billie’s green eyes widened. “Don’t I look okay? I wanted to look uber professional tonight. This contract is a huge deal for my career.”
“You don’t look like yourself. You need to change, and we have time. Go on.” Eli didn’t know where this bossy side of him came from suddenly, but he couldn’t help himself. Why would the confident designer change his look? Billie waved him inside and closed the door.
“Not everyone thinks a man wearing high-heeled boots is a good thing.”
“The lead singer of the band wears makeup, and he dresses any way he wants. I mean, Brodie is hot as fuck, and he doesn’t give a shit when it comes to what other people think. Trust me, I’ve seen his interviews. If you want to impress these people, be yourself. There was a reason they chose you.”
“I know, I know. For a moment there I had a flashback of trying to fit in with everyone, and I let my insecurity take hold. You’re right. Let me change quickly. In the meantime, make yourself at home.”
Eli entered the pink living room, which made him smile. This was the Billie he was familiar with, full of vivid color. He wandered around the room, glancing at the variety of artwork on the walls and the comfy-looking blue sofa. He picked up one of the many pillows and recognized the familiar scent of Billie’s cologne. It was warm and earthy, just like the man himself. Before he had a chance to sit, Billie came sauntering back out.
“Better?” he asked and did a twirl.
Eli perused the double-breasted gold velvet suit, the color a striking contrast to Billie’s black hair and green eyes. The matching gold heels brought him closer to Eli’s height once again.
“Yes. There’s the Billie we all know and lov … admire.” Jesus, Eli, love? Really?
Billie’s face reddened, but he quickly turned to grab his briefcase. “I’m ready when you are.”
“Let’s roll.”
Billie locked his door, and they headed out into the cold March night. The drive to the band’s recording studio in Brooklyn took just over a half hour. The closer they got, the more fidgety Billie became.
“You all right?” Eli asked as he smoothly parked and turned the car off. Billie turned his head, and the look of panic in his eyes made Eli reach for his slender hand, clenched in a tight fist.
“What if they think my designs suck?” Billie blurted.
“How is that possible? You won the contract bid over hundreds of other designers. They know you’re great at what you do and can deliver. You’ve outfitted Broadway stars and their shows and many other celebrities. You got this.”
“Thanks, Eli. I’m not sure why I’m panicking, but I’ve been a mess all day.”
“It’s a huge day for you. I get it. But it’s going to be fine. Just be yourself and you’ll knock them on their asses.”
Billie nodded and gave a quick grin. “You can let go of my hand now,” Billie whispered, and Eli yanked his hand back like he’d been burnt.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. You’re very kind.” Billie took a deep breath and undid his seatbelt. “Let’s do this.”
Eli walked Billie to the entrance and texted the band manager to advise of their arrival. They stood in front of a massive black gate that surrounded a three-story brick building, similar to Spartan’s head office. The gate opened slowly, and as they walked up to the front door, a young woman greeted them and ushered them inside.
“Mr. Rourke, Mr. Morgan, welcome to Soundstage Studio. I’m Bailey. Can I get you anything to drink while you’re waiting?”
“I’m good, thanks. And it’s Billie,” Billie replied quickly.
“I’m fine.” Eli nodded and they both headed over to the sleek chairs in the lobby.
“Mr. Cross will be with you momentarily,” Bailey replied and sat back at her desk.
“Are you going to wait out here during the meeting?” Billie asked Eli.
“I can come with you if you want and sit off to the side.”
“I’d like that. I had another question…”
Billie’s words were interrupted by the appearance of a man that was familiar to Eli even though he was sure they’d never met before. Wearing faded blue jeans, a matching denim shirt, and a beaded necklace around his throat, the man walked with a purposeful stride that was confident and quick. Thick brown hair with threads of silver was styled in an undercut and emphasized his cut cheekbones and pale blue eyes. He wasn’t part of the band, but this was probably…
“Ivan Cross, Wayward Lane’s manager. Nice to meet you in person, Billie, instead of just virtually.” The manager paused and shook Billie’s hand, then turned to Eli. “And you must be Eli, from Spartan. Thanks for the heads-up text.” Ivan had a crushing grip, just like his boss, Mason.
“Well, if you’re good, we’re ready for you.” Ivan motioned to the hallway.
Billie turned to Ivan. “You don’t mind if Eli sits in with us, do you?”
“Of course not.”
“Who am I presenting to tonight?” Billie asked as Ivan escorted them down a long hallway and into a dimly lit meeting space. Papers were strewn over the top of the large table along with several mugs.
“Sorry for the mess. Brodie and I were working here earlier,” Ivan said as he gathered up the papers. Eli noticed the lines of words and musical notes. Holy shit, Wayward Lane’s next hit single might be lying in that pile of paper.
“And to answer your question, tonight it’s just me, Brodie, and the band’s PR rep, Hammond Vicks. The rest of the guys are recording, so you’ll meet them next time. The tour is only two months away, so we need to get our asses in gear.”
Billie and Eli sat at one end of the table and Ivan the other. The door opened and Eli had to muster up all his security training to remain impassive at the sight of his favorite singer. Brodie James, lead vocals of the latest and greatest band in the U.S., sauntered into the room with a cocky swagger, like he owned the place. Which he probably did. Tall and broad, in ripped black jeans, a purple t-shirt, and neon green running shoes, Brodie looked casual and relaxed. His black hair was cropped, with an intricate design shaved into the sides. He wore his trademark eyeliner, which made his hazel eyes pop. A second man followed Brodie into the room. This must be the PR rep Ivan mentioned. The man had a pinched expression on his sullen face that brought the vibe of the room down a few notches. Eli noted how the man’s eyes assessed then dismissed him. That was nothing new.
Ivan stood up and made the introductions. “This is Billie Rourke, the fashion designer, and Eli Morgan, from Spartan Security. Billie, Eli, meet our lead singer, Brodie James, and our public relations rep, Hammond Vicks.”
Handshakes were made all around.
“You’re quite the cutie,” Brodie murmured as he held onto Billie’s hand and blatantly perused his body. Eli’s protective instinct took over, and he glared at the rock star, who glanced at him and winked.
“I know, but thank you anyway,” Billie replied with a quick grin. Brodie barked out a laugh, releasing Billie’s hand and grabbing a seat beside Ivan.
“How about when we’re done here, you and I go grab a drink?”
Billie shook his head. “No thank you. This job is too important to me to screw it up by screwing around. Pardon my language, but I think we need to set clear boundaries right now.”
“Ignore Brodie’s antics,” Ivan replied. “He flirts with anything that has a pulse.” Ivan glared at the lead singer, who was now staring at him in return.
“I wouldn’t have to if I had your complete attention,” Brodie replied with a sneer as he leaned in closer to Ivan.
“I cater to you 24/7. How is that not attentive?”
“You’ve always got your clothes on.” Brodie’s smart-ass reply caused everyone but the PR rep to chuckle. The atmosphere shifted as Eli watched the intense stare-down continue between the provocative rock star and his older manager.
“Enough adolescent humor. Let’s get down to business.” Ivan grumbled.
“Yes, sir,” Brodie replied and licked his lips.
Fuck, this was more entertaining than Eli anticipated.
“See? I can behave.” Brodie paused as he leaned back and continued to eye fuck the manager. “I just need your strong hand to guide me. Us temperamental artists need stroking on the regular or we get cranky. I mean, my ego needs stroking.”
Ivan’s face reddened and Eli suddenly felt like an interloper in a very private conversation.
“Are you done?” Ivan asked Brodie as he rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his hair, tugging the ends. Poor Ivan had his hands full dealing with smart-mouthed Brodie.
“No, Van. I could go all fucking night.”
The weight of the suggestive remark hung in the air as Brodie leaned forward into Ivan’s space again. Until Billie clapped his hands and shattered the tension.
“I hate to interrupt your fun little sideshow, but can we get to the designs I’ve drafted? As you mentioned, Ivan, we’re on a tight deadline.”
Billie pulled out his tablet and tapped on the screen, then turned it toward the other end of the table.
“I’ve created two dozen sample designs, twelve for Brodie and the other twelve for the rest of the band members. I’ve had a look at previous concerts and other events, and I think the style is in line with the band’s look but with a few interesting twists for added stage impact.”
Eli watched as Ivan grabbed the tablet, swiping to review, then passing it on to Brodie. Their faces gave nothing away until Brodie finally looked up and opened his mouth.
“What the fuck is this?”