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Alex stutters for a moment before spinning away. “Adonis!” he yells, storming toward the folding chairs where our coworkers are congregated.
Niko’s head whips away from his conversation with Dixon, eyes flaring wide. “What did I do?”
As Alex lays into Niko, I grab Kipp’s arm to keep him from veering toward the table of bagels. “Not until after,” I tell him.
He pouts. “But…”
“You want Jerome to yell at you?” I ask, leading him to a couple empty chairs.
He shudders as he takes a seat. “God, no. That man makes me feel like a schoolboy, and not in a good way.”
I snort as Nathaniel walks into the room, followed by Jerome. “All right,” the latter shouts. “Seats.”
Everyone scrambles, performers and crew alike, except for Nathaniel, who stays at Jerome’s side, a clipboard of notes in hand. Jerome’s eyes sweep the room before pausing on Kipp. He raises a brow but doesn’t say a word about him being here.
When Nathaniel hands Jerome the clipboard, our boss starts the meeting. “Let’s get right to it. I’ll be hiring some new talent soon.”
Ears perk at that.
“With a few of our colleagues having left recently, including Malibu and Himbo, and with Dix informing me he’ll be wrapping up in a year or so—”
Jerome doesn’t get another word out before Alex shouts, “What?”
“Oh Lord,” Dixon mumbles.
Alex makes an unintelligible sound.
“As I was saying,” Jerome says loudly, giving Alex a pointed look to hold it for now, “I’ll be scouring for new talent and opening up auditions. Expect some new faces around here soon.”
Kipp raises a hand, and Jerome eyes him dubiously.
“Yes?” our boss asks slowly.
“How do auditions work? Not asking for myself, but I’m curious. Is it like”—Kipp mimes jacking off, ending with what I assume is an explosion of cum—“or do you have them read Shakespeare or something?”
Jerome simply blinks as Nathaniel fields the question, Alex snickering behind us. “It’s essentially a combination of the two,” the assistant producer says. “We assess comfort when it comes to nudity and performance, as well as gauge acting talent with a scene partner. No Shakespeare, though. Anything else?”
Kipp shakes his head. “Nope. Cool, cool. Thanks.”
Nathaniel nods, and Jerome gets back into our meeting points. He covers which recent videos were the biggest hits on our site, and what that means moving forward. He mentions an awards ceremony coming up, and he congratulates Bill on his anniversary. The cameraman fields well wishes as the meeting comes to a close, and Alex beelines right for Dixon.
“Let me explain,” Dixon says evenly.
“Explain what?” Alex counters, hands on his hips, his tiny body practically vibrating with anger and what I suspect might be a good dose of sadness. “Explain why you didn’t tell us first?”
“I only told Jerome earlier today. I was getting there,” Dixon replies.
Alex doesn’t look pleased, but he does deflate a little. “You’re seriously leaving us, Grumpy Bear?”
“I’m leaving the studio, not you,” Dixon says as Niko squeezes his leg in support. “It’s time for me, small fry. It won’t be for at least another year, but I’m looking into other job options. I’m ready to be done.”
Alex huffs before wiping at his face. “Damn it,” he mutters, unceremoniously climbing onto Dixon’s lap and wrapping the bigger man in his arms. “I’m going to miss you.”
“Is it going to be like this for the next year?” Dixon asks, sounding resigned. He pats Alex on the back twice.
“You bet your ass,” Alex replies. “Expect hugs, random showerings of affection, and plenty of we love yous. I’ll be shoving so much happiness down your throat, you’ll choke.”
“Joy,” Dixon deadpans. Niko smacks a kiss on his cheek, not even hiding his amusement. Dixon looks about as excited as one might expect from an upcoming enema patient.
