Page 6 of Not Your Golden Boy

“Friday night,” Laura told him. “We’re having both our knitting group and our shibari class friends over for what promises to be a fabulous night of knitting with people.”

Harry laughed out loud, visions of middle-aged guests rigged in various bondage positions using knitting wool popping into his mind. Knowing Maggie and Laura, that probably wasn’t far off the truth.

They said their goodbyes and parted ways once they reached the Tube station. Less than five minutes of conversation, and Harry’s day was already feeling brighter. If only he could disappear into whatever weird and fascinating alternative world his neighbors existed in, maybe he’d be happy. Freedom like the kind Maggie and Laura had only came with age, experience, and hitting the point where you no longer had any fucks to give.

Unfortunately, whether he liked it or not, Harry still had way too many fucks for far too many things. He was reminded of that mere minutes after boarding the train that would take him into the city, where Javier and Desmond had set up the offices of Rent-A-Boyfriend, when he caught a few notes of Love on the Line screaming with tinny imperfection from a fellow commuter’s phone. Any hope he had that the listener had somehow found the song on its own and might be appreciating it for the musical masterpiece Harry had always believed it was vanished when the voiceover of some other has-been celebrity hawking seats on a train drowned out his melody.

Harry gritted his teeth and pretended he hadn’t heard anything.

The improvement to his mood brought on by Maggie and Laura was gone by the time he reached the offices of Rent-A-Boyfriend. On top of his daily reminder of how insignificant he was from the train, he was a few minutes late to the meeting Javier had called him in for. He hated being late, but as usual, he put on an act of bravado and pretended it didn’t matter because he was an important celebrity and meetings waited for him.

Which was a load of bollocks.

“Mr. Bayonne, you’re here.” Michael, the hot young receptionist sitting at the front desk stood to greet Harry.

“We meet again,” Harry said with a smile that held just enough aloofness for the fame he supposedly had.

“And it’s a pleasure as always,” Michael said, coming out from behind his desk. “Javier and Desmond are already in their office with Mr. Smith. If you’d like to come with me, I’ll take you to them.”

Mr. Smith. It had to be a fake name. Which sounded about right for someone who was seeking a fake boyfriend for whatever reason. When Harry had asked about those reasons, Javier had been cagey and said everything would make sense at this meeting.

Harry expected nothing, but when Michael knocked on the frame of the open door then walked straight into the meeting that was already underway, he felt like he’d just been struck by lightning.

Nikky Smith. Of all people, Nikky Smith was sitting in one of the chairs with Javier and Desmond. The Nikky Smith, man of the hour since his show, Cooked, had become an international sensation. The Nikky Smith whose soundtrack album for the show had set download records across the internet and who had reportedly just scored a major record deal.

The Nikky Smith who looked like a young god who had just stepped off of Mount Olympus in all his perfect male beauty. The man’s vaguely Slavic features, blue-green eyes, and playfully curly hair had played a leading role in some of Harry’s more recent wanking sessions. To see the man sitting across the room from him now, looking up at him with awed eyes, as if he, washed up Harry Bayonne, might know the secrets of the universe, was heady, to say the least.

“Good morning, Harry.” Javier rose to greet him, adding a quiet, “Michael, would you mind shutting the door on your way out.”

“If you need anything, just buzz me,” Michael said in an equally quiet voice as he backed out of the room, shutting the door as requested.

“Welcome, Harry,” Desmond rose to greet him. Harry barely knew the man, but if Javier liked him and vouched for him, he was alright in Harry’s book.

He shook Desmond’s hand, gave Javier a quick hug, then turned to face Nikky, who had risen to his feet during the greetings. “Nikky Smith,” he said, advancing toward the young man with an outstretched hand and a load of pretend confidence. “I’m a big fan. Your rise to stardom has been fascinating to watch.”

“Thanks,” Nikky said, far more timid than Harry ever would have imagined as he took his hand. “It’s been a wild ride.”

Nikky glanced to Javier with a faintly wary look, like he was hungry for an explanation.

“Let’s all sit down,” Javier said, nodding to the cluster of chairs.

Harry definitely needed to sit down. He was smart enough to put the pieces together to figure out that Javier had called him in to play the role of Nikky Smith’s fake boyfriend, but that didn’t mean he had the first clue what was actually going on.

“As you know, the mission of Rent-A-Boyfriend is to pair men up as companions or partners in a whole variety of situations where one or both men need to present the appearance of dating,” Javier began what must have been the standard speech he used when explaining the company. “Nikky came to us several weeks ago because he has a very specific need he’d like filled.”

Unbidden, the vision of Harry filling something else entirely for Nikky and leaving the younger man happy and smiling jumped straight to Harry’s head. He was probably about ten years older than Nikky, but age had never really meant much to him when it came to hooking up. He wondered if it mattered to Nikky and found himself hoping the newly minted star liked older men.

Those snap thoughts were pushed to the back of his mind when Javier went on with, “I’ll let Nikky explain.”

All eyes turned to Nikky Smith.

Nikky cleared his throat, looking and sounding far, far more vulnerable than Harry expected as he said, “I need someone to help me cause a scandal.”

A slow smile spread across Harry’s face. “A scandal? So you can get a little more of the spotlight on you and make an even bigger splash?”

Surprisingly, the color drained from Nikky’s face. “No, nothing like that. The opposite, in fact.” When Harry frowned in confusion, Nikky rushed on with, “I want to do something so shocking that it tanks my career.”

Harry was thrown completely for a loop. “I beg your pardon?” he asked.