Page 30 of Steam

“I’m easing quite a few of our standard procedures because Mr. Holman has vouched for you, Mr. Miller,” Eric says.

“I appreciate that.”

“So, you’re welcome to make a decision now and set up an appointment, or you’re welcome to hang up now and call me back at your convenience.”

“Can we do this tonight?” Logan says, working hard to sound casual.

“Without a doubt,” Eric says. “I ask that you’re sober and alone for our first meeting, as well as your first appointment. If that’s the case this evening, I’d be happy to head to a location of your choice as soon as we hang up.”

“Yeah, I’m sober. I live in downtown Reno,” Logan says. “You could come to my condo—if that’s OK?”

“Certainly,” Eric says.

“I live in the Montage building. Are you familiar with it?”

“Very,” Eric says. “I can be there in as soon as ten minutes.”

“I’m in 3505. Park in a guest spot underground and buzz me.”

“I’ll do that,” Eric says. “See you in a moment, Mr. Miller.”

* * *

When Eric arrives, Logan understands immediately why Wyatt gets along with the man.

He is physically intimidating but professional and personable—just like Wyatt. The type of person you want on your side if it comes to a fight. And although he’s dressed nicely in tortoise shell glasses and a modern-cut jacket, the man holds himself like a boxer and surveys Logan’s condo with the predatory eyes of a cop.

He’s taller and wider than Logan with a large, nicely trimmed beard. Not exactly what Logan imagines when he pictures someone who manages escorts, and yet someone more than capable of defending his clients.

Logan has the money for him already, and had prepared himself to be quizzed thoroughly by the other man. He offers Eric a glass of water and a tour of his condo. The man accepts both.

Logan walks him through the unit, all elegant floor-to-ceiling windows and modern furnishings. It barely looks lived in and Logan likes it that way. Eric is complimentary of the view, but sweeps every corner with that assessing gaze.

There’s no drug paraphernalia, no secret dungeon. The worst of Logan’s vices is tucked in his liquor cabinet.

Well.

And halfway across the world in Manchester.

When Eric is satisfied that Logan is sober and at least a passably upstanding individual, they begin to talk business. Logan presses the bills into Eric’s hand, saying that he wants to see someone tonight, here. Eric nods, asks him what he’s looking for.

Logan tries to think of how he’d describe Oliver to a stranger without explicitly describing the other man.

Young, Logan says. Exotic, maybe. Tan. Slim. Energetic.

“But not Max,” Logan adds, at the end of his list.

Eric raises an eyebrow at that.

“I mean, he’s Wyatt’s… uh.”

“It doesn’t have to work like that, Mr. Miller,” Eric says. “It sounds like Max is what you have in mind.”

“I know. Just. Someone other than Max.”

Eric nods.

“If energetic is what you want, I have someone you’ll like,” Eric says. “He’s free tonight. We can be back in half an hour and I’ll send him up, if you’re ready.”

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