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Chapter One
“You know…with some liquid latex and paint. I could fix you right up.”
I turn to the make-up artist, who is packing her stuff into a large black trunk. She just finished the last touches on my brother for his photoshoot.
“What?” I ask her, confused. I glance back at my brother, ensuring that the models aren’t touching him inappropriately. Just because it’s for an underwear campaign doesn’t mean they shouldn’t keep their hands to themselves.
A sigh to my right and the loud click of the lock has my gaze returning to the mousy blonde. Her hair is tousled in a messy bun, and her white and blue striped t-shirt hangs loosely with lazy wrinkles over her faded and stained jeans.
“Your scar. We could cover it. Agencies pay a lot of money for good-looking twins, but I’m assuming that’s why you’re his manager. Because of all… that.” Her hand waves over her face, a finger with broken nail polish runs down from her mid-forehead, along her nose and onto her cheek.
My stomach hollows, the familiar humiliation ceasing my breath. I tighten my jaw, staring at the blunt woman. I’m not embarrassed by my scar, but I’m used to people who pretend it isn’t there, who don’t draw attention to it.
“You think I need to be fixed?” I ask through clenched teeth, my tone colder than a winter's night.
Her face pales. “I just meant— like to s-save on photoshopping.”
I cock my head to the side. “You think my disfigurement prevents me from modeling? That I can’t get the job because it’s so fucking hideous?”
She pulls her case tighter to her body, shaking her head vehemently. “No, of course not. I—“
“Get the fuck out of here. I’ll be sure to pass your name to everyone I know,” I tell her with a sneer.
Her eyes widen, knowing I just blacklisted her from working in the city. Tears stream down her cheeks as she turns away, quickly leaving the set.
“You feel good about that?”
I turn to face Hayden. He’s toweling off the water they had spritzed on him. His white underwear is soaked through, giving everyone a clear outline of his cock. I grab his shirt and sweatpants, tossing them to him.
“Immensely. We done here?” I ask him, nodding at the photographer staring at the small screen on his camera as he clicks through his shots.
He shrugs. “A couple of the models invited us out.”
I narrow my eyes as he grins.
“You declined last time. You know what that means?” Hayden teases further.
Flipping him off, I grimace at the rule I had set up with him. He loves being the life of the party, while I do not. But for the sake of appearances and his ever-growing popularity, I get to decline half the invitations that are offered as long as I accept the next one.
For the most part, it’s worked in both of our favors. But I want nothing more than to disappear into my own little world for the rest of the evening, and wallow in a bit of self-pity before waking up and getting over it.
“Can we leave after a drink or two?” I ask evenly.
His eyebrows furrow and his gaze roams over my face, catching on to my mood. “Sure, Hunter. That’s fine by me.”
While we wait for the rest of the models to change, I catch up on some emails, ignoring everyone around me. My brother is used to my off-putting behavior, lingering next to me but not including me in any of the conversations.
He nudges my shoulder when everyone is ready to leave. And we walk to the bar down the street, a small mercy that it’s not far.
The place is packed for a random Tuesday night, forcing the group to find separate seats and anything available. I walk up to two men sitting at the bar top, offering them a hundred bucks each for theirs. They grab the money before the entire deal is out of my mouth and vacate their spots.
Hayden snickers, ordering us both a scotch on rocks as we sit. “When we headed back home?”
I pull up the calendar and sigh. “Next week. We’re staying in the hotel tonight and then catching a flight to Atlanta.”
The bartender sets our drinks down and Hayden grimaces, swirling the amber liquid.
“And then how long are we home?”
