Page 3 of Veiled

“I’m tired, Waylon.” Somehow I know it’s not the kind of tired that’s fixed by sleep that he’s talking about. His shoulders are hanging heavy, and his eyes are wary as he watches me.

I pull on my shirt and button it slowly, trying to process what the hell just happened. I did not just jerk off a client. No way I just did that.

Except I know I did.

And not only that, I came my brains out when he did the same thing to me. His guttural cry when he came is now burned into my memory.

I pull on my suit jacket and find my tie, sticking it in my pocket. “I’ll call you tomorrow,” I say to him, not sure what else to say.

“Yeah,” he says absently, and there are so many things I want to say. So many things I want to ask him, but I don’t. I just walk to the door, pull it open, and walk out.

I have no idea what he needs from me or anyone else.

That thought terrifies me to my core.

Because for the first time since I met him, I feel like I can’t help him.

And that’s just unacceptable to me.

Chapter One

WAYLON

“Okay, so apparently you aren’t going to answer your phone,” I say, sipping my wine as I sit out on the deck of Grady and Ryan’s massive home on Christmas night. It’s snowing, and I’m freezing but bundled up. “You could though, you know, give me a call. Let me know you’re alive.” My tone is dry, and to most I’d probably sound bored.

Really though, I’m just worried. Really, really worried. I’ve managed Justin for a long time—well before he decided he was done with Immoral. Done with the band. Done with traveling. Done with everything and just took off. The day after our little hookup—or the Incident, as I refer to it in my mind—he was just gone. I went to his place, and everything was packed up.

The place was empty except for the furniture that came with the place, and that was it. I knew it was a bad idea to hook up with a client, but I didn’t think he wouldn’t ever talk to me again.

He just disappeared without a damn word. It’s been months and nothing at all.

“Okay, well...” I swirl the red wine around in the glass as I stare out at the snow—thankful the deck is covered and snow isn’t currently pummeling me. I need to move the hell out of Kansas City, I swear, but most of my clients decided to live here. “I guess that’s all I can say. Merry Christmas. I hope you’re alive.”

I hang up the phone and just stare at the dark sky as the snow falls and watch my breath as it puffs out of my mouth into the cold night. There was more I wanted to say. So much more, but it’s pretty damn clear I didn’t mean much to him. I try not to let the bitterness take over.

I’m fine. I’m a strong successful gay man in my prime, and he’s not my problem anymore. Good riddance to the over-hyped brat.

I wince at my own thought because that’s what the world thought of Justin St. James—but I know him better than that. I know how passionate he is. How much he actually loves the music and can’t stand the over-the-top grand performance of it all. I know he was struggling, and instead of forcing him to talk to me...

Well... the Incident. The stupid fucking mistake. I crossed a line with my client. I know that, and I regret it. I want him to answer his damn phone so I can tell him how sorry I am, but he won’t fucking answer.

“There you are. You cannot leave me alone with the chaos. You know this. It’s in our friend contract.” I chuckle as Jenny shuffles outside through the sliding glass door. She’s of course dressed spectacularly in a stunning black shimmery dress and to-die-for heels. I mean, she could literally die wearing those things out in this weather, but the woman fears nothing.

“Where is your coat?” I ask her.

“I’m hoping I won’t be out here long. Are you fucking crazy? It’s like zero degrees.”

“Hence the coat,” I say as I motion to my warm attire and shake my head as I take in her bare arms and legs. It’s fine inside in the heat, but the woman is nuts, coming out here after me. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” she says so matter-of-factly. I hate how well she knows me. We met when her client Ryan rekindled his friendship with my client Grady and then fell in love—or they were already in love and finally pulled their heads out of their asses and decided to be together. But out of that marriage, I gained my best friend in the form of the ball-busting badass standing before me now, who’s currently freezing her ass off.

“I’m fine.” I stand up and start toward the door to make her go inside, but she stops me. Her bony little hand pushes on my chest and forces me to stop and look at her.

“What’s going on?” I sigh, knowing she won’t let me by.

“Just checking on Justin,” I answer her honestly because there’s really no point in not answering her. She already knew what I was doing out here.

With a heavy sigh, she confirms that she did in fact know. “You sweet, sweet moron.”

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