Page 34 of Aaron
EIGHTEEN
Aaron had been distracted all evening. That much was clear to Brad and had been from the moment that he’d laid eyes on him. He seemed completely lost in his own thoughts, and Brad had no idea how to draw him out.
As far as he could tell, Aaron wasn’t the sort of man who could be drawn out. He would talk about what was going on with him in his own time, if and when he wanted to. Any attempts to make him talk would just annoy him. Brad had watched Ken try often enough to know that much.
But there was no time for him to try, even if there was a point. They had a show to put on, the last stop on this continent, and the Tokyo fans were insane for the Lost Boys. Something about the sound of the pop music seemed to appeal to a lot of them, and not only was the venue sold out, but it promised to be a crazy show.
“Break a leg,” Brad said to each of them, but he, as he always did, especially sought out Aaron’s eyes. Over the last few months, Aaron had always given him a secret little smile before he turned and went onstage, but not this time. This time, he didn’t acknowledge Brad at all, and Brad watched, frowning and anxious, as the man he was growing to care about more than anything else left once more to cater to an adoring crowd.
Aaron was not someone that Brad should be falling for, and he had known that long before he had started. Aaron’s heart was not free to be given to anyone. It was more than possible that Aaron was warning Brad off, retreating into himself to keep things from going any further than they had.
Brad should probably back off. Let Aaron have his space. Or else he would risk driving him away completely, which, to be honest, Brad knew that he should probably be ready for anyway.
With a sigh, Brad watched as his lover escaped him, went back onstage, and he waited in the wings as he always did. Always ready to swoop in, to take Aaron into his arms. Pathetically ready, even.
His phone buzzed at him, and Brad slid his hand into his pocket and tugged it out. Fighting off a very unprofessional groan, he pressed the glowing green button that would accept the call. Like it or not, his boss was not someone that he could ignore, as much as he might want to.
“Lara,” he said, keeping his voice smooth, no panic audible at all. He hoped. She was like a shark smelling blood when it came to weakness, though generally more benevolent than that, but he knew already that she wasn’t happy with him. He should have had Aaron’s signature on a long-term contract ages ago.
“Brad. Can you guess what I have in front of me?” Lara asked, her voice that particular smooth, satiny sort of softness that Brad knew meant that things were about to get interesting.
“No?” he tried. It was the honest truth, after all, and he couldn’t even begin to guess. By her voice, though, it probably wasn’t a good thing.
“A photo.” Her voice was still silky, but it was silk overlying a hand, a fist, of iron. “Just one, thankfully, and it hasn’t gotten to the paparazzi yet, but can you guess what’s in the photo?”
Brad’s mind raced, and his heart hammered so hard in his chest that he didn’t even dare to open his mouth. If he did, she would be able to hear his nervous pulse in it. There were, truthfully, many things that the photo could be of. He had thought that he and Aaron hadn’t been seen, but they really could have been more careful. He could remember more than a few delicious times that they hadn’t been very careful, but he probably shouldn’t think about that while on the phone with his boss.
“I don’t know,” Brad finally managed, though he thought that perhaps he had let the silence stretch on for just a little bit too long. It had taken that long to get his voice back under control, though.
“A picture of you with a certain Lost Boy. You have your hand on his back, and you’re leading him somewhere. Into a hotel room.”
Shit. Shit, shit, shit. It wasn’t as bad as it could be, but it was bad enough. Brad forced himself to breathe deeply, to try to think, but his mind was panicking, screaming at him that he was trapped, that he was caught, and that he was going to lose his job.
“Lara—” he started, but she interrupted him, and she was one of the few people that Brad would allow to do that.
“What’s your relationship with Aaron, Brad? Why were you leading him to a hotel room? Was it his, or yours?”
Brad let out all of his air all at once. Onstage, the Lost Boys were singing, starting the concert, and he ducked into a room where it was a little bit quieter, where he could at least hear himself think.
“Lara, listen to me. I’m just trying to get him to sign the contract. Yes, I’ve been spending time with him, but only to get him on board.”
It was a lie, of course. And a risk, though a calculated one. He was betting that that would distract her, and it did, but too late he remembered that that wasn’t necessarily a good thing in this particular instance.
“The contract.” Lara’s voice had gone very sweet and very smooth again, and Brad was sensible enough to be instantly wary once more. “What about that contract, anyway? So far, what we have is four contract extensions, one for each month that you’ve been trying to get that signature.”
Brad winced. He knew that she was right and that she was pissed off, and even that she had every right to be so. Brad hadn’t been pushing Aaron nearly as hard as he should have been.
“I know. I’m not sure that Aaron is going to sign at all.”
The words surprised Brad. Was he giving up? That wasn’t the sort of thing that was normal for him, but there was Leah. Aaron wasn’t going to give up on her, which was becoming more and more clear. And Aaron had been pulling away so much.
There was a silence that seemed to stretch between them, an elastic band pulled and pulled until it was so taut and stretched out that it seemed that it must snap.
“Find out,” Lara finally spoke. “Get an answer from him either way. No more contract extensions. He signs the contract until the end of the tour, or the two-year one. Those are his choices.”
Brad sighed softly. Aaron wasn’t going to like that, and pushing Aaron into something that he didn’t like was a surefire way to make the man stubborn and taciturn. But Lara was right. It was time to know for sure what was going on. And, for Brad, not just professionally, but also personally, romantically.
“Done,” Brad assured her and then ended the call before she could ask any more penetrating questions. Or before her shrewd, quicksilver mind could pick up that he’d avoided a lot of the questions that she had asked.
