Page 39 of Say It Again

“Well, looky there,” the judge said as he peered down through his glasses at the picture. “Adorable, isn’t he?”

Aaron melted into a grin. His imagination was behaving a bit like a child, itching to indulge in some fictitious life that didn’t exist, as if to say, But can’t we just pretend for a moment? What’s the harm in pretending? Pretending what it’d be like to be boyfriends. Maybe they’d live together. Maybe they’d be the type of couple to take weekend trips to the beach and host summer barbecues with badminton and homemade sangria. Maybe one day, they’d find themselves on one of those beach vacations, and as the ocean rolled over itself in the background, one of them would lean in and say, You. You are it for me.

“Yeah, thank you. He’s, uh, he’s a professional dancer.” Aaron sucked his teeth to keep from smiling so big. “He’s actually buying the dance studio where he works, so he’ll have his own place. It’s a big deal. I’m proud of him—”

“So, how much for you both?”

Aaron’s smile died as something icy leaked down his spine. He cleared his throat. “Excuse me?”

“For the both of you at once, how much are we talking?”

“We’re not.” Aaron blinked, widening his eyes in a warning glare. “We’re not talking about that.”

“Fuck. His mouth.” The guy didn’t catch Aaron’s warning glare because he was too busy ripping the glasses off and zooming in on the photo. “Does he get loud? I bet he gets loud. Shit, I’d probably pay just to watch you hold him down and—”

“Hey!” Aaron snatched the phone back, making the guy flinch. It was probably a tad overblown, the way his anger spiked, but screw it. It suddenly felt like the most natural thing in the world to say to his federal judge of a client, “You absolutely do not talk about him like that. Do you understand me?”

The judge’s eyes rounded. After a moment, he mumbled under his breath, “Whoa. Take it easy.”

“In fact, forget his face. Forget I mentioned him at all because, like I said, he’s a dancer.”

“Okay.” The guy showed his palms. “Holy shit, Aaron. Can you take a breath? I just thought since you do what you do that your boyfriend would—”

Aaron turned his glare to full force, and the guy snapped his mouth shut. His clients weren’t his friends. He didn’t have any of those.

He scraped a hand through his hair. “I have to go.”

“Are you mad?”

He worked his shirt overhead. Mad was probably a decent description. Over it was probably even more fitting.

“So you are mad. Geez, you’re worse than a woman. My wallet.” The judge nodded to the dresser. “Bring it to me, won’t you?”

Aaron eyed the guy as he swiped the wallet from the dresser. Holding another man’s wallet always felt strange. Somehow more intimate than holding his hand.

His client shuffled through cash, taking inventory. He offered it over. “You can have everything in it.”

Aaron pricked an eyebrow as his gaze bounced from the guy to the wallet and back. “How high are you?”

“Moderately high?”

“You already paid me.”

“I’m very aware of how much money you take from me, young man. So is my accountant. Good thing it’s my brother.”

Aaron snorted.

“Go ahead. Open it.”

He pried it open, and his heart jump-started back to the moment. To what was important. So important that he bit down on his tongue until it hurt as he gazed into the wallet. It sucked to care so deeply about a few cuts of paper. It sucked that paper was so intertwined with his self-worth to the point that he refused to say no. He couldn’t say no.

His body craved money as much as it craved connections with other people.

“Oh, would you look at that?” The guy smirked. “Does he suddenly have time to spare?”

The only issue? In a fight between money and connection, money always won.

“So generous of you,” he said with as much spunk as he could manage as he plucked the bills from the wallet and stuffed them into his pocket. “I can stay for a while. What would you like me to do?”

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