Dirty Dining (12 page)

Brice heart pounded. Somehow he’d managed to secure a dinner with Remy. “Y-yes. Sunday’s fine. I’ll take that.”

“I’ll put you in the schedule. I need to remind you that with special requests, we charge your account in advance.”

“Oh.” Shit, he didn’t want this visit showing up on the corporate account. He didn’t have a client to justify this visit. “Let me give you a different card to charge this time.” He dug his wallet out of his pocket and read off the number on one of his personal credit cards.

“You’re all set, then, sir.”

“Oh, wait….”

“Yes, sir?”

“Can I book Wednesday and Saturday with Remy, too? While we’re at it?”

“Three nights, sir?” She sounded like she’d swallowed a pillow.

“Yes. Charge everything to the new card.”

“Yes, sir. We’ll see you Sunday and Happy Dining!” She hung up.

Sunday. Brice would be with Remy on Sunday. Just four days away. He put his wallet back in his pocket and leaned back in his chair.

How the hell would he manage for the next four days?

He’d try to keep busy at work. He’d been avoiding a company review Ron wanted him to sit in on, but he decided to attend. He’d need to devote a good bit of time to read up on the company—one his firm financed but that hadn’t been showing the results they’d expected. Ron had been scaling back new funds, and the outcome of this meeting would decide whether or not to completely pull the plug.

The review process would occupy him for the rest of the week. But how was Remy occupying his time? If men were lining up to reserve him, he’d probably be working every night now. Brice didn’t want to think about that.

He just hoped he could call on his willpower.

B
RICE
SAT
in the meeting, listening to the officers from LKB explain the delays. He’d pored over the binder summarizing their research and the financials from the past four quarters. They seemed no closer to a marketable product than they had a year ago at the last official review.

But the medicine they were working on was important. It would extend the lives of kids with a rare type of leukemia. The founder’s son had died from the condition, and it gave him the drive to keep this from happening to other kids, as quickly as possible.

Brice’s expertise was in software, though he’d gotten an introduction to pharmaceuticals during those unbearable months in DC, where he had worked for a firm representing companies dealing with the FDA. Now Christie, Parker, and Lane—CPL to those in the Valley—wanted to leverage his broad tech knowledge and experience, which is how Ron had made the case to bring him on.

After the presentation, the company officers left and Ron led a discussion among the assembled partners about the prospects for this particular investment. Most of them were negative.

Then it was Brice’s turn.

“I vote to keep them in the portfolio. Maybe even increase their funding levels. It might help them overcome the setbacks that have put them behind in the research timetable.”

A chorus of disapproval greeted him.

“What about all the kids this product will save? Diagnoses are on the rise, and the latest research looks very promising.”

Ron shook his head. “Brice, you haven’t been in enough of these to know, but they all come in with the same song-and-dance routine. They’re always just one set of experiments away from the Eureka moment.”

“Focus on the numbers first.” Parker added. “Follow the money. How are they spending it? This company’s balance sheet is too rich. They’ve been buying a lot of unnecessary equipment when they should be investing in the right personnel, or funding university researchers to overcome the shortcomings in their products.”

“I hadn’t spotted those details,” Brice admitted.

“It takes time to learn the ins and outs of each industry. We don’t expect you to pick it up in only six months with us,” Christie said. “Besides, you’re here for your legal expertise, not your financial acumen.”

Despite Christie’s conciliatory tone, the remark sounded like a criticism to Brice.

“And don’t let them fool you about how important the product is. They are all important, or we wouldn’t be investing in them. We believe in every single product. What we need to discern is which companies will make profits for our investors.” Ron smiled, maybe so Brice wouldn’t feel like he’d put his foot so far into his mouth he’d be tasting it for weeks.

After the others left, Ron pulled Brice aside. “The senior partners will vote to dump this company, and for the right reasons. They all have excuses. The execs don’t always tell the whole truth.”

“Thanks, Ron.”

Brice went back to his office and pored over the financial statements again, so he’d know what to look for next time Ron asked his opinion in an investment review.

After such a failure of a day, Sunday couldn’t get here soon enough.

J
EREMY
’
S
WEEK
went by slowly. He attended the two tutoring sessions he had and spent the rest of his time in the lab. Now he had a small financial cushion so he could spend more time on research instead of low-paying hourly work. He’d keep doing that as long as he worked at the Dinner Club. In the big picture, it was a small price to pay for the opportunity to further his research. He didn’t even care about his dissertation and doctorate. Sure, he wanted those, but it wasn’t why he spent hours in the lab.

If his research was successful, he’d be able to save the lives of millions of people.

Assuming he got the necessary results before his funding ran out. The latest news from PharmaTek said this might be the last semester, but he wasn’t allowed to start looking for a new sponsor until they released him from the confidentiality restrictions. He could only discuss his project in academic circles. If he wanted to publish or speak at a conference, he had to get approval in advance.

He had plenty to write about and had produced research leading to several patents. PharmaTek seemed to have patent papers for him to sign or approve every month. With the emphasis on the paperwork, sometimes it seemed they were more interested in the patents and potential money-making opportunities than in saving lives. But this was how the research game was played between academia and technology firms, and he had to play by the rules in place. With government funding for scientific research so scarce, researchers scrambled to find companies to fund their projects.

The cuts in his funding for instrument time had slowed his progress, which led to further cuts when he couldn’t keep with PharmaTek’s expected timetable. How the hell could he succeed under these conditions?

It was one reason he’d broken down and taken the job at the Dinner Club. He hoped the Sunday dinner with Hunter Green would go well, and then next week he would meet two of the men on his approved list. They were both regulars, though neither had a favorite boy. If he liked one of them, he could stop worrying about money and focus on his research instead of trying to build a financial safety cushion in case his project got dropped completely by PharmaTek.

It also meant he could do volunteer shifts at the Berkeley AIDS clinic, which he’d dropped in order to take on more tutoring. It was a slippery slope of tradeoffs.

Just a few more days until he’d see Hunter Green.

Picturing the handsome face and bright smile made concentrating on work difficult, especially when his pants felt three sizes too small. Yes, Mr. Green was good-looking and sexy, and he got Jeremy’s motor racing. That night they’d spent together had been so strange. He would happily have jumped into bed with the guy under other circumstances. And Green was turned on by Jeremy too. But neither of them had acted on their desires until the middle of the night, in the dark. It could have been so much more.

Sunday night would be different. Jeremy would do what he wanted. And for the first time, he wasn’t ashamed to admit he wanted a lot from Mr. Hunter Green.

L
ATE
S
UNDAY
afternoon the limo driver tooted the horn to let Jeremy know he had arrived.

Jeremy wasn’t sure why he suddenly merited a personal driver when he could take his new bike and BART the way he had before. Maybe they didn’t want him showing up with sweaty balls and bike grease on his ankles, though there were plenty of showers at the club if necessary. But he couldn’t deny he liked the idea of being driven around.

Sunlight twinkled off afternoon waves on the San Francisco Bay as the limo sped across the Bay Bridge. It was a view Jeremy rarely saw. Bikes weren’t allowed to cross this bridge, and BART went under the bay. He could get used to this and reminded himself not to. The Dinner Club might not work out as a permanent solution to his money troubles.

Once in San Francisco, the limo had to pick up two other boys scheduled with Jeremy: Law and Rand. Jeremy felt a momentary pang of guilt over Green not wanting Law again, then got over it as soon as Law sat next to him.

“Remy, I hear you’re on the A-list now. Congrats, dude. Been busy since the other night?”

“No, this is the first dinner I’ve worked since then.”

“What’s holding you back? Didn’t Thomas tell you about the booking tips?”

“Yes, but I couldn’t rearrange my schedule this week.”

“For that much money, I’d rearrange my face.” Law made a crazy, cross-eyed face that had Jeremy laughing.

“Let’s hope no one takes you up on the offer,” Jeremy replied.

They were still laughing when Rand opened the door and hopped in the back with them.

“Hey Remy, Law.” He knocked on the glass separating them from the driver. “Rick, how about unlocking the booze?”

“Not supposed to, Rand. You know better than to ask.”

“Just one little shot each. That’s all.” Rand grinned as a compartment in the back of the limo clicked. He opened a small door and pulled out a bottle of single-malt and three glasses. He poured a healthy splash in each and put the bottle back. “To Remy!”

“Thanks, but I’m not sure I’ve done anything that merits a toast.”

“Sure you have,” Rand replied. “Most guys don’t start getting requests right away. I hear you may already have a couple of regulars in line.”

“That’s great, Remy,” Law sipped his whiskey.

Jeremy took a sip. “Wow, what is this stuff?” He’d never tasted anything like it. Very smooth, but smoky and dark. He reached for the door, but it was locked.

“Lagavulin,” Rand replied. “Islay whisky is the smokiest. This is pretty good stuff. Not super expensive, since it’s in the car and they can’t keep the clients from drinking it all up.”

“You know a lot about whisky?” Remy asked.

“You’ll learn. The gentlemen offer it, or they might have a bottle in the room.”

“I try something different every time I can,” Law said. “The club only has the best stuff, things I wouldn’t order myself when I go out. One of the perks of the job.”

“Along with good meals and rich, clean gentlemen to wait on.” Rand sighed and leaned against the dark leather seat, clearly enjoying the luxury. “Not to mention car service on nights you get a request.”

“It’s just for requests?”

“Yes. There’s an extra booking fee. You get half, and the club gets half. They want to encourage us to get the bookings.”

“So the other guys tonight aren’t requests?”

“Not necessarily,” Law replied. “Some clients send their drivers to get you.”

“One or two,” Rand countered. “That hardly ever happens.”

“It happens for Kit.” Law grinned, and Jeremy laughed. Apparently Kit was quite a character, infamous among the clients and the boys.

“So who requested you guys?” Jeremy asked.

Law shrugged. Rand replied, “Burnt Siena.”

“How can you not know, Law?”

“I didn’t ask. I don’t really care. Thomas knows who’s a good match for me, and I trust him. I’d sure like to get Sky Blue, though. You totally lucked out, Remy.”

Jeremy nodded. He agreed. If only because Sky Blue had clearly gotten Hunter Green a little jealous. “I did, didn’t I?”

The limo made a sharp turn, descended into an underground parking structure, and stopped.

“We’re here,” Law said. He grabbed his overnight case and opened the car door.

“Where are we?” Jeremy had never been here before.

“It’s the club’s private parking.” He pointed to a line of parking spots along a far wall. “The men can drive here and take the inside elevator. No one sees them come in or go out. The garage entrance is through the alley. It’s all very discreet.”

On the ground level of the club, the boys exited and headed for the dressing room. Kit was already there, along with two other boys: Rico, a Latino guy with thick black hair and the most beautiful mouth Jeremy had ever seen, perfectly shaped lips that made Jeremy wonder what it would be like to kiss, and Taylor, who had milky-white skin and long silky blond hair. He looked about twelve to Jeremy, which probably made him popular with some of the clients.

“Hey hey, Julia!” Kit gave Jeremy a full-body hug and held on longer than was necessary or appropriate, especially since he was naked. Kit was pretty much always naked, except when he wore the skimpy little costumes.

“Why’re you calling me Julia? It’s really Jeremy.”

“Oh, he thinks you’re Julia Roberts’ character in
Pretty Woman
and you landed the big fish in his fantasy version of reality.” Rico grinned. “Hasn’t shut up about it.”

Taylor nodded, causing his fine hair to flutter and float around his face. He didn’t say anything.

“I’m not Julia Roberts. I don’t even know how this is going to go. It’s one dinner.”

“I heard you’re an Only for Hunter Green,” Kit replied.

“What’s an ‘Only’?” Jeremy asked.

“Means he’ll only make a reservation if he gets you,” Law explained. He dumped his case next to one of the mirrors and went over to the wall where the assignments were posted.

Green only wanted Jeremy? That certainly brightened up his mood. He picked a mirror and joined Law at the wall. “Hey, Sky Blue is gonna be here tonight!”