Page 3 of The Butler

Me: Please pick me up. I’ll be ready by 4.

Starr: U owe me.

She had no idea how much I owed her. Fifteen hundred a week plus tips, and I could get caught up on bills. “Thank you, Jesus!” I muttered, looking around at my messy apartment. The laundry needed done and I had no time. I shoved my best shit into a duffel bag with my toiletries and ran down to the rental office. This time I had good news. I hoped they’d believe me.

CHAPTER TWO: Lincoln

“He wants twenty,” Bob said.

“Million?” I asked. Bob nodded solemnly. “We were only together three years for fuck’s sake!” I stood and walked to the window of the penthouse unit of my corporate offices. The Hollywood sign was in the distance, barely visible with today’s smog. The jet lag I was experiencing was trying to pull me down into a coma and I had shit to do.

“There are Red Bulls in the mini,” Bob said, noticing my lack of focus and frustration with his news. I waved a hand at him in thanks. Robert Majors was my attorney, best friend, ex, basically my everything. He knew all the secrets and where the bodies were buried. “Do us a favor and quit fucking shiny objects, Linc. It’s becoming expensive,” he advised. “And better yet, desist from making verbal agreements to take care of the rugrats when you’re with them. That sort of shit stands up in court these days.”

“Troy was different,” I mumbled. “He seemed so….” The words trailed off in the spacious room as I decided to let it go. Bob had been right again. But I couldn’t move on. My heart hurt. “He was my college buddy, Bob, and then he fucking steals my boy? I fucking made Brock’s career,” I hissed, staring at Bob and wishing he’d support my rant. “Fuck you, Brock Mann!” I slapped at the window in anger. I didn’t know who I was more pissed at. My former college frat brother or Troy, my ex, who dumped me for him. It took two to tango, so I added Troy to my outburst as well. “Show some goddamn class, Troy,” I turned away from the window to find Bob shaking his head and looking concerned. “I thought he was the one, Bob,” I confessed.

“I know you did, buddy. I’m sorry.”

Troy Atkins. Iowa born and bred, was the blond farm boy with a body that had made me weak the day he showed up at the office looking for work. He came with only a high school education and wanted to work at my production company. He possessed zero job history, no work experience in the film industry, and was still in his teens. But Tad, my personal assistant, led him into my office anyway. Tad knew there was always a job for a kid that looked like Troy. After three glorious years with the farm-boy hunk, I’d made a grave error.

Six months ago I celebrated my fortieth birthday on my yacht. All of my Hollywood friends were there. Producers, directors, actors, rock stars, and the best looking male models. It was basically a gay smorgasbord of premium meat. The latestitactor who had starred in back-to-back billion-dollar blockbusters, and who was also a college buddy of mine who I had put in my films, stole my boy. Brock Mann, superstar action actor, was also a closeted gay.

“I should out Brock,” I stated. “Lethimgive Troy twenty million.”

“Bad idea, Linc. The guy’s making you over two hundred million a picture, and that’s net after all the bills are paid,” Bob argued. “You’ve ridden his ass to the tune of nearly a quarter of a billion a flick. Let him have the kid.”

“I fucking loved Troy though.” I flopped into an oversized chair in the company penthouse and felt old. In the past I relied on my good looks, but now my money attracts the hot guys. “I’m old, Bob.”

“You’re smoking hot, Linc. Come on, you know that. Look at you, man,” he said.

“You’re on my payroll, you have to say that.”

“What is this, Lincoln?” he asked. “This isn’t like you. He was a fucking punk and there are a thousand more out there that would kill to suck your cock.”

“This one left…me.” I could barely choke the fact out. “That’s never happened.”

“Hurts doesn’t it?” he said. “How do you think I felt ten years ago when you dumped my ass for one of your pretty boys?” He was right even though his words stung.

“Why do you stay with me?” I asked, needing more baggage for my pity party cruise.

“Because I love you. Because you’re like a brother to me, and because you need me, you asshole.”

“I do need you,” I whispered, lifting my eyes to him and smiling. “I love you too.”

Bob slapped the arm of his chair. “Okay, enough of that. Cheer up, buddy. The yacht is almost ready for your visit, and I hear that Starr loaded it with pretty boys even though we both agreed that you’re not looking, right?”

“You’re right. I need peace and quiet on this trip,” I admitted. I brought my hand to my chin and rubbed my five o’clock shadow. “Pretty boys, huh?”

“Don’t you fucking dare, Linc. Only a handful of your friends will be on board, and this is for you to unwind and continue to try and get over, Troy,” he said. He stood and pointed at me. “I mean it, kiddo.”

“You’re no fun.”

“If you want to throw another twenty million away, go ahead and fuck another grifter, but I’m not going to listen to you bitch about them anymore.”

“Troy wasn’t a grifter,” I defended. “He was too naïve for that.”

“Yeah, and you bought his farm-boy routine hook, line, and sinker. I spotted him a mile away and warned your ass, but no, you had to have that sweet corn-fed ass.”

“Tell his people I’ll go to fifteen million. Not a cent more. If they argue, let them know I’ll spend twenty million fighting their asses in court,” I said, popping the top of my Red Bull.

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