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“And we really didn’t want to wait,” Lorenzo said. “We’re actually planning to keep it pretty casual, so two months shouldn’t be a problem.”
“All we really need is our friends and family and a wedding officiant. After that, we can order pizza for all I care.” Will and Lorenzo beamed at each other.
The wedding conversation continued as Phoenix drove us across town. When he turned onto Castro Street, the SUV immediately ground to a halt. As usual, San Francisco’s gay neighborhood was bustling with activity. Traffic was backed up, and the sidewalks were crowded, including a long line at the Castro Theater’s box office. I chuckled when I glanced at the marquee and saw they were doing a Moana singalong.
Phoenix muttered, “I really should’ve taken a side street,” as we rolled forward about three feet, stopped, and then repeated the process. “I have no idea where I’m going to park, either, so I’m just going to drop y’all off in front of the restaurant and then hope for the best. Feel free to start without me, since I might be a while.”
“No chance. Dinner can wait until you get there,” Will said, as he squeezed Phoenix’s shoulder. “Also, in case I haven’t said it enough, thank you so much for driving us around the entire time we’ve been here. We really appreciate it.”
Phoenix said, “I was happy to have something to do. I barely earned my keep as your assistant. You were just so normal and nondemanding. Not once did you phone me at two a.m. and send me on an errand because you had a craving for a gluten free cheese bagel.”
I asked, “Did someone actually do that to you? If it was Harper, I’m so sorry about encouraging you to go back to work for him.”
“It wasn’t him, but that did happen. This was earlier in my career, before I realized I could say no to silly shit like that and set boundaries.” The SUV rolled forward three feet and came to a stop again, and Phoenix swore under his breath.
A minute later, Gabriel glanced out the passenger window, then turned back toward it and exclaimed, “What the hell!”
We all followed his gaze, and when I spotted what had caught his eye, I whispered, “Oh no.” A storefront’s huge display window, which was probably eight feet high and six feet wide, was completely filled with a poster of Gabriel wearing lingerie.
I recognized it immediately as one of the first photos I’d taken the day of our Fallen Angel photo shoot. It was shot from the side and slightly behind him, and he was leaning on the balcony railing dressed in heels, high-cut black panties, sheer thigh-high stockings, and an equally sheer robe. The curve of his ass was on full display as the robe blew back in the breeze. Even though his face was turned away from the camera, he was perfectly recognizable to anyone familiar with the large tattoo of black lilies that ran from the side of his hip almost to his knee, since it was front and center in the photo.
Gabriel bolted from the car and ran to the shop. I caught up to him a few moments later, and he stammered, “What’s this doing here? I don’t understand.” Then he moved closer to read the tagline across the bottom of the poster, which said: Fallen Angel Lingerie—Coming This Summer. He turned to me and asked, “What’s going on, Riley?”
I blurted, “I didn’t know he’d do this. I told him not to get carried away!”
“Told who?”
“Roger. I met with him last week to ask for some manufacturing contacts, and apparently he went totally off the deep end.”
Gabriel stared at me in disbelief. “I told you not to involve him! So, you totally ignored that and went behind my back?”
“I was just trying to help.”
His voice rose, catching the attention of people passing us on the sidewalk. “I was perfectly clear about not involving my ex-boyfriend! And you must have known it was wrong, since you didn’t tell me about your meeting.”
“I didn’t know how to help you, and he did.”
“That doesn’t matter! I didn’t sign off on any of this, including displaying that photo in the middle of Castro Street,” he said. “It wasn’t even one of the shots we posted on social media, because I decided that outfit was too trashy. How could you give it to Roger?”
“I didn’t, I swear! I handed him my phone to show him the photo shoot, and he emailed some pictures to himself. He wanted some photos that clearly showed the outfits, so his contact in apparel manufacturing could see the types of products we wanted to produce.”
He looked disgusted as he asked, “You let my ex download pictures of me in lingerie?”
“I know it sounds bad, but you and I had posted some of the photos, so I thought it was okay to show him.”
