Javier took a deep breath to get into the right headspace. He set his carry-all on a chair then rolled his shoulders as best he could with his wings. He’d spent nearly a decade near the dizzying heights of the fashion world. He’d walked for Versace, Dior, Ryan Hawthorne, and Michael Kors.
He could deliver a singing Valentine’s Day telegram to some stuffed shirt financial guru.
“Let’s do this,” he said, mostly to himself, grabbed the small bow with its heart-tipped arrow, and marched into the office as Alan held the door for him.
The first thing that knocked him sideways was the size and opulence of the office. It was one of those corner deals with anastounding view of London’s Canary Wharf out both sides. Every detail of its decoration was immaculate. The color scheme was warm, with bespoke, wooden furniture that was polished to a high shine. That single room probably cost more than Javier’s entire studio apartment.
The second thing that stole the air from Javier’s lungs to the point where he forgot his name, let alone the words to the cheesy song he was about to sing, was the man sitting behind the polished desk. He was far younger than Javier had imagined he’d be, probably in his early-to-mid-thirties. He had chestnut hair with a slight wave to it that was tamed by too much hair product used incorrectly, and a strong, neatly shaved jawline. His lips were pressed in a line, though, and his hazel eyes bored into Javier.
Bored with a distinct hint of interest, but that was secondary to the stiff set of his shoulders and the tension in his hands as they gripped the side of his desk.
“What is the meaning of this?” he asked in a wary tone.
Javier swallowed. He could practically hear the screech of the train that was about to crash.
“Go on,” Alan whispered.
Javier could either turn tail and run or forge ahead with the worst idea anyone had ever had.
He forged ahead.
“Mr. Desmond White?” he asked, smiling despite his embarrassment.
“Yes,” Mr. White snapped.
Javier took a breath and threw himself into the abyss.
“I have a Valentine’s Day gift for you.” He hummed the first note, then launched into the song his client had composed especially for this horrible moment. “Oh Desmond, my Des, I love you! Desmond, my Des, I miss you!”
Mr. White’s eyes narrowed.
Javier fought not to lose his nerve, “Whatever I said, whatever I did, I didn’t mean it,” he switched into the part that probably had some serious copyright infringement to it, “I just want you back for good.” That transitioned into, “If I could turn back time, if I could find a way,” which then blended into, “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me!”
The color drained from Mr. White’s face, and his jaw went so tight that Javier was shocked his teeth didn’t explode in a puff of smoke, like some cartoon.
He belted his way through the rest of the verse of nonsense mash-ups, the sweat of humiliation breaking out on his back, then threw everything he had into the final plea. At least his rich tenor remained strong.
“We were so good together! Please take me back, Des, I love you! Let’s spend Valentine’s Day together this Saturday! From Matthew!”
Javier held the last note as long as he could, arms stretched out, bow in one hand, pretending that everything was as beautiful and glorious as Alan certainly thought it was. Alan had his hands clutched together and held in front of his face, where he bit his knuckles in anticipation.
As soon as the final note faded, the office went dead silent. Not the good kind of silence that preceded a standing ovation either. Javier wouldn’t have been surprised if the entire building had sunk into the ground. It seemed to go on forever as Mr. White glared at Javier like beams of ice would shoot from his eyes.
Then he picked up his phone from where it rested to the side on his desk, tapped it a few times, then held it to his ear.
Javier could just barely hear someone answer before Mr. White roared, “How dare you?” The voice on the other end of the line said something, but Mr. White went on. “This is unforgivable. How dare you send some glittering fool into myplace of business to serenade me with your asinine, gaslighting drivel!”
Javier felt like he’d been punched in the gut and shrunk to half his size. Glittering fool? Yep, that was definitely him. He should have canceled the job when Gordon canceled, but that would mean giving back the client’s payment, which had already gone to the office’s rent. He wanted to turn and run, save himself from the tsunami, but as with all train wrecks, he could only stand there, frozen and glittery, balls shriveling in his nappy, glued to the ground.
“We broke up for a reason, Matthew,” Mr. White continued to shout into the phone. “This is exactly the reason. Your inappropriate, over-the-top gestures have only ever been self-serving. All you ever did was take, take, take from me, and you’re still taking. You don’t love me and you never did, you only love yourself.”
He paused for breath, and once again, Javier could hear the voice on the other end of the call, even if he couldn’t make out the words. He peeked sideways at the door, wondering if he could make a break for it. As he did, he spotted Alan standing there with a look of horror, as if his personal sense of romance had just been shattered.
“I don’t care what you have to say,” Mr. White raged on. “I said everything I could the other night. I will not see you this Saturday or next Saturday or any day at all. I am through with the clinging and the emotional torture. You are toxic, Matthew, and you always have been. I am and I always will be done with you. The sooner you accept that and move on, the better it will be for everyone. Goodbye.”
He yanked the phone away from his ear and stabbed the screen to end the call.
Javier was so tempted to breathe a sigh of relief, but of course it was much, much too early for that.
