“I can’t believe everything that happened,” I breathed out as I leaned against Nora’s work bench. Finally, I had a couple of days to myself with no events.

Some guys might have been worried about the drop in the number of jobs our agents told us about, but I wasn’t. Yet.

Next week, I’d be worried. For now, three days off sounded like the best thing in the world to me.

Even if that meant I wasn’t in the office or around at studios, which meant I didn’t have a chance of bumping into Gideon. Especially not here on the Island, which I’d so nearly let slip was my neighborhood on the plane.

Shit, this was really where lies came back to bite me. It was kind of poetic, I supposed. I deserved it for lying on my resume in the first place. If I hadn’t done that… would they ever have hired me? It was kind of moot, since I’d never know.

But going even three days without seeing Gideon in the audience or backstage keeping an eye on me, in the corner of the photographers’ rooms watching alongside Raymond or Paul or Hughie…

It was weird.

I kind of felt an ache in my chest, if I were being totally honest, but that sounded really stupid. I wasn’t that attached to Gideon, surely -- I couldn’t afford to be.

“You did launch awfully fast,” Nora said. “When are you off again?”

“There’s supposed to be a party in a week,” I answered. “Until then, whatever Raymond calls me up and tells me to do. Probably some more comp cards, and I’m transferring to Hughie’s department. He’d be my agent, as one of their top talent.”

I couldn’t resist leaning in over the workbench, my hands pressed to its surface, and kicking up a leg as I said it.

Nora laughed. “If I ever met someone better-suited than you, I don’t remember it.”

“Thanks very much.” I winked. “But yeah, it’s kind of… my life. Hot guys dressing well. What’s not to love?”

“The bickering and in-fighting.”

I blinked.

“And the betrayal. Oh, was that rhetorical?” Nora pressed her lips together.

It occurred to me that I didn’t really know why or how she knew so much about the business, and why she’d been so quick to rent to me. Hell, she’d half-encouraged me to lie on the resume.

I licked my lips. “Right. You were in the business?”

“A long time ago.” Nora clicked her tongue. “Just don’t do business with a man who won’t treat you right, that’s all. Or date.”

“Right…”

It was easy to tell she didn’t want to talk more about the subject. Instead, she pointed up at the stairs. “If you’re not working, you can cook dinner for me. I think you owe me one, making me save your houseplants.”

I laughed. “Fuck. I almost forgot about them. I’ve been--”

“On the road, I know. I’ve rescued them and put them in a good sanctuary.”

“Your room?”

“My room.” She offered a smile. “I have a recipe on the counter already.”

“No problem.” Fuck, it had been so many months since I’d last cooked that I almost forgot I could. But I could follow directions pretty well.

And now I could eat -- until I booked my next high-fashion runway job. At least in photos, they could touch me up if they wanted. Still, I’d picked up the habit of checking the calories on every package before I cooked, and cooking from fresh ingredients without those guidelines made me nervous.

This was the idea, though… get famous, but keep my roots at home. After all the caviar and champagne, after the schmoozing with rich oil tycoons and annoying little British dipshits with drug habits, it was nice to be around my landlady who didn’t seem at all fazed by who I was.

There was only one other guy who was unfazed by who I was, and I was trying not to think about him.

I tipped the bartender. “I appreciate your contribution to the, uh… shit-falling-apart fund. Which is my liver.”

The bartender laughed quietly and took the tip, then leaned on the counter. “It’s not fashion week anymore, is it?”

“No. I live here,” I told him. It was sort of true -- I was in the same hotel a designer was hosting this event in -- a release party for their newest line -- and I was eating my way around local restaurants and bars.

Not too many bars, more restaurants.

“Oh. Then you’re quite smartly-dressed normally.” The bartender smiled. “Kudos on that.”

It was true, sort of. Most of my clothes were designer brands now. A few were from grateful designers who’d been pleased to work with me. Some, I’d bought. I didn’t get to take them home from shows, though.

This party was less exciting than it had been pitched… the venue was okay, but there wasn’t anyone bigger than me in the room, and that was what I wanted. And I’d been looking forward to a chance to network for a week. I’d expected a drop in work after fashion month, but not this much.

I was the bigger fish for some other models who kept cruising me, though. Apparently they hadn’t gotten the news that I was bad news yet.

I ignored them, but I couldn’t ignore the friendly hand settling on my shoulder.

That was definitely not Hughie, Raymond, Paul…

Alex.

I almost flinched off my stool, then braced myself by hooking my ankles around the foot bar. “Oh. Hello.”

“Don’t sound too thrilled,” Alex teased gently, but he was smiling. “Hey. So, it’s been, like, a week… I thought I’d say hi.”

I rubbed my chin. “Right.” I still remembered that offer about as well as I remembered the feeling of Gideon gently rubbing my back on the plane. “The biggest thing is…”

“Let’s head over here and talk.” Alex led me toward the side of the room, carrying his drink with him while I held mine.

I nodded, then rubbed my lips with my thumb and forefinger before I finished. “The biggest thing is… I can’t abandon the agency that sent me up into the stratosphere.”

“Totally reasonable. I won’t cast any aspersions on them, since I know you must know my connection to them…”

I stiffly nodded.

“But I also sense you know where I’m coming from now.” He jerked his thumb to the dance floor. “Let’s get somewhere more private. Nobody will hear over the music.” When I hesitated, he leaned in. “It’s just a dance.”

I sighed and left my glass behind, then strode to the dance floor, my ears protesting at the higher volume here. I still set myself into a sway. I had a little more energy -- no, a lot, now that I was eating again.

Alex leaned in to dance closely, his lips to my ear. “See, you don’t owe them anything.”

Right. I don’t owe anyone anything but my work… for the contracted time.

I had to think mercenarily. I had to support my own career, because Gideon wasn’t going to be there to bail me out when I couldn’t even pay a couple hundred bucks in rent.

“I know you have a contract. Duh. We all do.” Alex waved a hand. “But we can take care of that. We’ll get you a freer deal where Raymond and Hughie aren’t constantly hovering over you.”

I winced. That much was true. Someone or another from the agency texted a couple times a day even when I wasn’t working.

“And where people aren’t waiting for you to fail so they can fill in the next big sensation name. You know who went before you? Joaquín, Hunter? You’ll be one, too.” Alex sighed. The way he said it didn’t come off as a threat, but a friendly warning. “We’re coming up fast now as an agency. It was originally finding models to start a clothing line--”

“By Hayden. I know that part, you don’t have to dance around that,” I told him. I respected the hell out of Alex for nodding, owning and admitting it.

“Yeah. I’m dating him now. I know… your experiences weren’t great. You two don’t have to ever meet. I just think you’re perfect for us. You’re not so big your career will die from an agency switch -- not like an A-list actor, you know? You’re fucking huge, though, not small enough the same thing will happen…”

I nodded. “And you want my Instagram followers.” I’d been feeding them a steady diet of fashion week behind-the-scenes photos, and I’d picked up tens of thousands of followers by doing that.

Alex laughed under his breath. “Yeah, yours and all the other half-dozen guys I have now. Look. I can get you out of the contract… just give me your language and I’ll find the loopholes. Guarantee there’s break-and-exit clauses we can use.”

“I don’t… want to do anyone any favors. The only reason I might say yes,” I warned him, “is the opposite. If my career is tanking…”

“Oh, please. How long have you not been working? Fashion month hangover.”

I didn’t want to say I suspected that wasn’t why I wasn’t working. It didn’t sound good to repeat the headlines about myself -- the car crash, the links to drunken parties, the paparazzi photos from throughout the week, the drug speculation.

And, what the hell, I was already turning into a mess. I’d read those headlines over and over in bed, in between coming out to smile and enthuse for Nora.

It was all an act. Fuck, I was almost fooling myself too.

But I couldn’t bring down Prestige after they’d taken such a chance on me.

It wasn’t like I was jumping ship -- I was giving them a life raft and sailing the fuck away while the hole filled with water.

And Gideon…

I couldn’t look Gideon in the eye, now that I knew what he really wanted: a pretty cover boy to boost his agency’s profile, and my body at night, secretly, when nobody was looking. He hadn’t been in touch for a week and a half now ever since our flight together.

If I needed another sign that Gideon didn’t want more than a good fuck now and then, this was it.

Fuck, I couldn’t go through that again.

Speaking of Hayden...

“And there’s another thing,” Alex spoke slowly, carefully. “The rumors about me stealing shit from him? None of that was true. Yes, I hurt him, but he shouldn’t have tried to ruin my career over it. He’s petty and… hard to be with. Harder to not be with, if you know what I mean.”

I didn’t trust Alex for a hot second if he could deal with dating the asshole who’d jerked me around, hurt me physically and mentally, and downright stolen shit from me. I knew for sure Hayden wasn’t innocent. But maybe Alex was… more like me than I thought.

And leaving Prestige was the punishment I deserved for the headlines I’d pulled. The only damn thing I’d done right all month was turning down the offer of hard drugs.

My heart squeezed and I looked down, then nodded. “What the hell. I’ll email you the contract tonight.”

Alex reached out to grab my hand, then shook it. “Done. I’ll be in touch tonight and tomorrow morning to get it finalized. Just keep it quiet until it’s all done, okay?”

“Okay.”

Suddenly, without warning, he grabbed my cheek and pulled me for a quick, fierce kiss. Then, he breathed out, “Good for you.” And he turned to disappear into the crowd again.

I watched him vanish, the filthy feeling creeping up over my whole body.

It felt for all the world like I’d just made a deal with the devil.

But I’d made my mistakes, just as Gideon had warned. From the whispers I’d heard when looking up why I hadn’t gotten those jobs, I knew this was just the beginning of the repercussions.

Clive was refusing to work with me now. He was talking about how shitty my attitude was to the others, so they didn’t want to, either. Editors didn’t want a guy who was going to be trouble. Designers didn’t want to sew clothes onto half-drunk idiots. And nobody wanted to be around a guy who got into drunken car accidents and jerked around everyone close to him.

I didn’t have anyone to go to for advice. Gideon, Joaquín, Hunter… all of them were biased. I couldn’t let the truth on to Nora about what was going on behind the scenes. She didn’t know how to Google anyone’s name, thank God. She’d just tell me to get my shit together when I knew damn well I should have done that last month.

I rubbed my face and looked around the darkened room, deciding against another drink after all of that.

I’d made my bed. Now it was time to lie in it.