“Mmm-hmm…” Alec agreed. His palms massaged down the length of Keyes’s back, then up again. A rubdown he liked a whole damn lot, almost purring at the sensation.
Making love to his mister was everything, regardless of the reason that got them in bed that night.
~~~
Dev
One week later
“Hmm. The designs are impressive,” the senior Mr. Layne said, moving around printed pages of the digital files Dev had sent last night.
Keyes and Dev sat in Dev’s workspace inside his ink parlor on one end of a video call. Mr. Layne, their latest client, was on the other. They were using a video chat program that Dev had arranged. The only problem was that Dev hadn’t properly anticipated the length of time of the call. And his cheap ass hadn’t bought full access to the app. Their allotted sixty minutes were running out. If they didn’t wind it up soon, the video call would cut off, making them look unprofessional. Buddha knew they needed no help in that category.
Dev’s tight schedule gave him five extra minutes between the video call and his next scheduled tattoo. Per his parlor manager, Millie, the client was already waiting in the reception area. Millie was hovering close by, disinfectant in hand. She wanted to clean before the client sat for the tattoo.
Besides all those obstacles, he couldn’t run late today. This was his evening to be with the girls. Mrs. Phiri ran a tight ship, with no leeway in the schedule. The disapproving stare she’d give him always had lingering effects. He’d feel bad all night. Better to just be on time and avoid disappointment.
Focus on the video, jackass, and close this bitch down.
Mr. Layne was Alec’s boss’s old man. He wasn’t old, per se. Probably Dev’s old man’s age. Oh man, his heart smiled at the reminder of what his father had gone through. The thought sent excited goose bumps springing up along his forearms.
At least the smile stayed on the inside this time. Not the giant grin he usually gave when he thought about his old man’s newest forever home.
Goddammit, Dev, focus.
Layne.
Age.
Right. Maybe the guy was closer to seventy than he looked. The bike he had commissioned was as extraordinary as it was pricey. Out of all the sales they had made, Layne’s new sled was by far the most custom and costly. Layne was easily spending a hundred large. And if he stopped with the simple tweaks, they might get a deposit for half the total cost. Layne wasn’t in it for speed. He wanted a flashy cruiser, decked out in silver and gray. It was quite a bit for a man who had never owned a bike before.
They had rules in place from a business perspective. The biggest one was the hardest for Dev’s continued understanding. The secrecy behind each project was to hide all their designs from Alec. Keyes wanted Alec to have a total concept surprise. It was getting old and more difficult to accomplish. Alec was like a trained bird dog, determined to sniff out the truth. The whole thing was ridiculous. And complicated. Lies stacking on top of lies. They were damn hard for him to remember, and he sucked at lying.
Keyes had insisted that all three of their new customers sign NDAs—a non-disclosure agreement on the details of each bike built until the beginning of next year. Keyes had an extreme talent. The designs would sell themselves if anyone had the chance to see them. Mr. Layne was chomping at the bit to show his friends and his brother the new ride to make them green with envy.
“I think I want the solo spring seat in matte black. How will that impact the overall look?” Mr. Layne asked. “I only need a single seat. My wife won’t ever get on the back.”
Dev quickly ducked his head and began changing the design on the digital pad.
“I like that change,” Keyes said, watching Dev work.
“It’ll be badass and more comfortable,” Dev answered. “I prefer a solo spring seat myself. I’m redrawin’ it now in black. I’ll toss in another drawin’ with the gray/silver seat color. I think both will complement the look you’re goin’ for. Think about it. We have time.” Dev worked the screen and sent the changes.
“Mr. Layne, our video’s runnin’ out of time. If we lose you, we’ll call you back,” Keyes said. Dev tilted his head toward his business partner. Why did they need to extend the time?
“What’s going on in here?” They both turned their heads toward the screen to see a man coming inside the room behind Mr. Layne.
“Shh. I’m in a secret meeting with TDTK,” Mr. Layne said, barely glancing over his shoulder. “Shut the door behind you. I signed an NDA.” The confusion on the younger man’s face was comical. “It’s only my son, Arik. He’s the one who pointed me toward your shop.”
“If you’re looking for privacy, you’ve failed spectacularly,” Arik added with severe sarcasm. Dev instantly liked him. The door shut with a slam. “You own this entire building. You have an office. A large one. Bigger than mine. And about fifteen conference rooms of varying sizes. Why’re you in my office?”
“I don’t want to alert anyone to my purchase. Your uncle’s gonna shit when he sees what they’ve done,” Mr. Layne said, an inner joy and prideful smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
“There’s a flaw in your plan,” Arik said, coming to stand behind his father. “I’m seeing your project.”
“You don’t—”
Luckily, the screen went dark, and Dev shot out a hand to keep Keyes from reinitiating the video call.
