Exposed (13 page)

“I’m fucking
wiped
,” Paulo groaned.

Standing, walking, and posing took a lot more toll on the muscles and joints than anyone realized. It was one of the things all models loved to bitch about: the public didn’t appreciate how much work they put in.

“Come on,” Gabriel coaxed, nudging Paulo’s side. “For a few minutes.”

“This place is laaaame,” Paulo slurred, but pushed himself to his feet. “Fine, bitch.”

“Bitch,” Gabriel snickered and slapped Paulo’s shoulder, steering him to the floor and grabbing Jon’s hand to tow him along to the dance floor, too.

The music was thumping, pulsating through them already as they stumbled onto the brightly-lit floor to start swaying until they picked up the beat.

Gabriel was easily the best dancer, if he did say so himself. Paulo was all right, with a little natural swish to his hips, and Jon seemed to only know how to grind or do some weird-ass cha-cha that always cracked them up.

The lights shifted colors and flicked around randomly, the LEDs underfoot shifting rapidly from color to color in time with the beat of the music.

The three of them took up a lot of space on the floor, dancing like nobody else was there. Gabriel threw his head back, moved his arms, and stomped without care, his heart and spirits lifting easily. Just moving his body did a world of good for him.

He didn’t know how long it was before Paulo hauled them off the floor for a couple more shots, then drunkenly slurred a suggestion about going back to his room. Jon wouldn’t stop giggling at that even when Gabriel cuffed the back of his head.

It was hard to tell up from down even when they reached the cooler air outside and stumbled past the line, arm in arm and ignoring the wolf-whistles and a couple photo flashes from the line. No doubt from other guys here for the shows who knew them.

It was pretty easy to adjust to being spotted on the streets. Gabriel didn’t usually engage with fans unless they weren’t holding cameras and looked genuinely overwhelmed in a sweet kind of way. The kind of fashion bloggers who had camera phones out already recording him as they yelled to him… well, Julius didn’t want him talking to them, and Gabe was inclined to agree. They were the crazy ones.

Gabriel didn’t even remember getting through the hotel lobby to the elevator, they were laughing so much about the three of them heading to one of their rooms. Thank God Paulo already had a couple of liquor bottles stashed away, so they didn’t have to try to make a run for more at this hour.

The hotel room door slammed behind them as Paulo let go of them to go bend over and rummage through his suitcase for the booze.

Jon slapped his ass on the way to the bed, then crashed on his front. “Ooooh. Fuck, I’m at the bed-spinning stage.”

Gabriel laughed and sat on the edge of the bed, glancing around the room. It was already a mess—a bedsheet discarded, several empty booze bottles lying around, the TV on the floor, clothes strewn across the chair and desk, and empty salad and pizza boxes. Salads for him, pizzas for… well, his guests. Red wine stains on the carpet and a couple of broken glasses against one wall. Shit, something had happened earlier.

“Puke it back up,” Paulo shrugged casually, pretending to toss the bottle at him.

Jon squeaked and rolled over in an ineffective flail to catch it before he realized what Paulo had done and kicked him. “Fucking dickweed.”

Paulo snorted with laughter and rubbed his face, looking around until he spotted glasses to pour each of them a couple shots of vodka. Then he shoved glasses into each of their hands and crawled onto the bed.

“You ever get the fuckin’ maids in here?” Gabriel shook his head.

“No. They’ll steal my shit.”

Jon snorted. “I still think it was that intern you fucked that weekend.”

“Wha—?” Gabriel exclaimed. “What? Tell me the story.” The two of them had great stories from the last couple of years. It killed Gabriel with laughter every time.

“He lost some shit last time he was in Milan. A couple shirts—”

“
Designer
shirts, Jon. Designer.” Paulo groaned and knocked back his drink. “From s’m… great designers.”

“Blamed the maids, but he took home this
hunky
little skanky thing… jeans so tight even
I
could see he was uncut…”

Gabriel whooped with laughter at Paulo’s expression as Paulo flicked the last few drops of vodka out of his glass at Jon’s face and tried to tackle him. “Fuck oooooff,” he groaned.

“I bet you anything he stole the shit.”

“Police ever find anything?” Gabriel laughed, once he could breathe.

“Nope,” Paulo groaned. “That’s why I lock the bastards out now.”

“Yeah, you’ve done a great job locking them out,” Gabriel giggled, scooping up a receipt from the top of a pizza box. “Did you like the… triple pepperoni pizza?”

“
I
have parties, unlike you, loser,” Paulo told him loudly and tried to flick the empty glass at him now.

Gabriel snickered. “Parties where everyone has their dicks out?”

Jon gasped dramatically, then couldn’t stop laughing. Gabriel smirked at him.

Paulo pretended to look offended. “So sometimes I blow a couple guys and they give me real good shit in return. I’m a consenting adult.”

Gabriel laughed, collapsing on his back once he downed the glass. “The fuck time is it?”

“One-thirty.”

“Fucking Christ,” Gabriel groaned loudly, pushing himself up to slowly sit up. “Well, if neither of you’s gonna give me any joy, I may as well sleep in my
own
damn bed.”

“For all, what, three hours?”

Gabriel cringed and rolled off the bed, slowly standing up and steadying himself on the dresser. “Hey. Three hours is better than nothing. Big day tomorrow.”

Jon fluttered his fingers and blew a kiss. “Tomorrow, bitch.”

“Tomorrow, darling,” Gabriel winked and sashayed out to his own room. It took him a minute to get the card to work with the reader on the door so he could stumble in, strip off his clothes, and hit the bed. The alarm clock was already set—he’d made sure of that before he left.

Hanging out with Paulo and Jon was the most fun he could have legally. Well, sometimes not even that, but it was fun nonetheless.

This
was the life.

* * *

A
s it turned out
, the morning was hell.

Gabriel was getting really damn good at functioning while still drunk, then hungover. By the time he hit the runway, he was just tired, but makeup hid that sin as well as any other.

It didn’t matter how much shit he’d done before he faced the public—they still loved him. He could be hungover as fuck, puking an hour before, but they looked at him like he was made of diamonds and angel tears.

The way Jordan ought to have looked at him. The way… once or twice… he’d caught Briar looking at him.

That
wasn’t a comparison he was willing to draw.

Midmorning, during downtime between tech and the doors opening, none other than Austin Hall walked up to his open dressing room doorway. It wasn’t like Austin was as big as him, but he’d been around longer. Of course he knew who Austin was.

Still, Gabriel made him introduce himself.

“Yes?”

“Gabriel? Austin,” the scrawny blond introduced himself, holding out a limp-wristed hand for a brief shake as they assessed each other. Austin was actually hotter in person than in photos. There was something entrancing about the way his eyes fixed on him.

But one fact was seared into Gabriel’s brain, affecting the way he saw him: this was Briar’s ex.

Everyone
knew about their very messy, public breakup last year… and about Austin being a fucking thief. Briefly, Gabriel wondered if Austin had been Paulo’s clothing thief.

“You have a minute to talk?” Austin asked. He seemed a hell of a lot more grounded than all the anonymous internet comments had made him seem.

“Of course.” Gabriel slid his hands into his pockets, shifting his weight onto one foot. “Mmhmm?”

Austin kept his voice quiet. “I have an offer for you. You don’t have to respond yet—or ever—but I want you to think about it. I’m sure you’ve heard of my new modeling agency… your friends Troy and JJ have signed with us now.”

Gabriel inclined his head. It was hard to miss the poaching going on under everyone’s noses.

“I’d like to take you on and let you fly, instead of using you to build other guys’ reputations. You have to know Exposed only wants to boost their other models’ profiles by having you on their staff, instead of letting you take the jobs that are best for
you
.”

Gabriel shifted to his other foot, a frown crossing his face.

It was kind of true. He got the big, important gigs—cologne, which was huge and well-paid, and the runway events he’d just worked, for example. But he never had much of a say in choosing them. And often, alongside him, Exposed would send a couple of other models—new guys, or older ones like Paulo who were trying to cling to their fading fame while it lasted.

“I’d like to build up a company of guys who’ve scraped bottom, run
by
guys like us. Not guys who’ve never known bottom in their lives and sit on some high horse,” Austin scoffed.

The desire to defend Briar burned in Gabriel’s chest, but that last lecture, and the fucking
you’ll only have yourself to blame
just to cap it off?

Ugh. Briar
didn’t
know what it was like to be him.

Yeah, he was hot and he’d given him his big break, but he didn’t
owe
Briar his life. It was
his
talent Briar was exploiting right now to justify the cost of hiring Exposed guys.

“I’ll think about it,” Gabriel promised, keeping his expression neutral for now.

Austin nodded, then reached out to shake hands again. “Good man. Talk to you sometime, I’m sure. Break a leg,” he winked, then disappeared out of the dressing room again.

Gabriel sat heavily in the chair, gazing at himself in the makeup mirror.

He wasn’t sure he trusted Austin, but neither was Gabriel sure Briar was completely self-sacrificing as he helped build up Gabriel’s career.

Unemployable.

It still sounded like a threat, even rattling around his brain a day later. It made the animal inside him, quieted by big paychecks and all-expenses-paid travel, start to gnaw at his chest with that ever-present fear.

He couldn’t go back to life before this.

“
W
hat do
you think about having Noel take him over, Julius? He’s a big enough star now… I think you’ve done your job.”

Julius clicked his tongue, looking first at Noel, the head of their top talent department. Then, he glanced back to Briar.

He didn’t seem to want to speak his mind; Briar knew that expression by now.

“Honestly?” Julius answered after a minute. “Gabe’s the biggest pain in my ass, but he
is
sweet underneath all that bullshit. I worry about him.”

Vince, who was on Julius’s other side, looked pointedly at Briar and raised a brow. Briar hoped his cheeks weren’t too red. He hadn’t told Vince anything at all had happened between them, but Vince had his guesses.

“Mm,” Briar hummed. He slowed as they approached the side door to the hotel, then reached out to shake hands with Julius. “Well said. We’ll talk about it after this week.”

Julius was looking over his shoulder, though. The unmistakable shocked, worried expression on his face made Briar glance back just in time to catch a familiar face ducking into the building.

Fucking Austin. He should’ve known he’d be here.

“Why’s he here?” he flatly demanded.

Julius grimaced. “I checked the lists… he’s on tonight.”

“For his boyfriend?” Vince murmured, casting Briar a quick apologetic glance.

“Jordan O’Malley,” Briar muttered. “The two of them are good together though. Pair of assholes.”

“He’s arriving pretty early,” Vince frowned. “If he’s on this evening only…”

There were photographers nearby starting to look at them, so Briar clapped Julius’s shoulder. “Whatever. Go on in, get our guys out there. See you backstage afterward.”

He smiled briefly at the cameras when they turned to him and put his arm around Vince and Noel, clapping both their backs and leading them straight down the red carpet.

They ignored the general line and the cellphone camera flashes and noise coming from the general public, heading straight inside.

“Mr. Fields. You and your associates are seated through that way, but you’re a bit early. If you’d care to enjoy a drink first, the bar is through this way, sir.”

Briar smiled at the pleasant usher who was addressing him. “Thank you. Vince? Noel?”

“Drinks sound great,” Noel nodded.

“I think you could use one,” Vince added. He clapped Briar’s back and led the way to the bar.

* * *

“
T
he show
after ours is Jordan O’Malley,” Vince hissed into his ear as he dropped into the seat next to Briar’s—pleasingly close to the front left of the stage, where the more important guests sat.

“No shit,” Briar whispered back. “That’s why Austin’s here.”

“No, but he was
invited
here.”

Briar saw his point. He’d assumed the little leech was scraping together funds to pay for his own show, pay his own celebs to attend… but no. Of fucking course not. Jordan and Austin had wormed their way in somehow, despite deserving to be stuck in little regional shows.

Maybe it was thanks to Austin. Austin could suck dick and get Jordan an invitation.

Briar tried to calm himself down. Since the show was supposed to start about now, they only had fifteen, twenty minutes at most to wait, then another twenty minutes before it was over and he could head backstage.

Now that he knew Austin was probably backstage with Gabriel, Briar’s suspicions were piqued. It wasn’t like Gabriel’s past with Jordan was that secret. He wanted a chat with Gabriel before they shuttled him off for Fabio’s show later this afternoon.

He folded his arms tightly as the lights went down and the music volume increased. By this point, it was hard to impress him with any particularly new concepts, but the lighting was nice.

And there was Gabriel, walking out first with all eyes on him and muted gasps. He was practically shirtless, the shirt on him was so flowing and loose and thin, highlighting the black, thin leggings clinging to his calves. With each step, his heeled boots stomped across the stage, his shoulders thrown back and head up.

That spark of defiance burned brighter than ever, his jawline magnificent.

The camera shutters clicked from everywhere as music droned in the background, but Briar’s focus was utterly on the sex appeal that dripped from Gabriel’s loosely-curled fingertips and shone from those bright eyes.

Briar suspected he wasn’t the only one who wanted that intense fuck-me gaze to be turned to him.

But Gabriel stopped at the end of the runway, threw his head another half-inch back and jutted his hip, turned his face left and right, and then he was walking back down toward Briar.

Briar could have sworn Gabriel’s eyes flickered to him in passing, but that was probably a trick of the light.

He let out his breath once Gabriel had passed him and was backstage, finally paying attention to the other models.

They were all
good
—no,
great
. Every one of them commanded silence from the audience and rapt attention, but none of them was Gabriel.

Briar averted his gaze to someone else when Gabriel came out the second time, but it was no use—he was staring like a schoolboy, his fingers tightly curled around his phone in his pocket for something to hold onto.

What goes through his head? What does he focus on?
The questions were only natural. Most of all, he wanted to know if Gabriel was still pissed at him.

It was a stupid, childish worry. He’d had much worse fights with people during fashion month and they just never talked about it again. It was mutually understood to be everyone cracking under the pressure of the month.

But Gabriel was still new, and struggling with a rapidly swelling ego. He might well take everything way more personally than it had been meant.

Briar almost tuned out the rest of the show until ten minutes later, when Vince clasped and shook his knee to get his attention for the finale parade.

Gabriel glowed with pride at the applause. The sparkle in his eye made Briar envy him for just a moment, remembering that overwhelming relief and satisfaction. It didn’t matter how many dozens or hundreds of shows he’d done… he’d always felt that glow of pride in a job well done after every one.

He had to talk to Gabriel now, Austin or not, or seeing him at the presentation later was going to be intense.

Once the lights went up, he slapped Vince’s shoulder lightly. “See? Another show under our belts.”

“They did great.”

“Paulo especially,” Noel nodded.

Briar hadn’t even noticed, but he nodded, too. “All of them,” he winked.

“Of course. All of them,” Vince smirked.

Briar rose to his feet. “Right. I’m going to have a word with them backstage. I should be able to catch Gabe, at least. He’s got a couple hours before he has to be driven to the presentation? The ride’s already booked?”

“Yep,” Vince confirmed, pulling up the calendar on his phone. “Still can’t believe they only wanted Gabe and a few of my boys. Really wanted to keep the budget down.”

Briar rolled his eyes. “We’re thinking twice about letting them hire us next year, then,” he murmured under his breath while the other guys leaned in.

Vince nodded. “But the exposure…”

That
was
part of the plan—giving their lesser-known models the chance to shine. Sure, he had Paulo and Jon as top models, and then a couple mid-tier guys. But male models didn’t get paid as well. The industry was a lot harder to dominate the way he needed to in order to keep Exposed profitable, not just famous. If he could have two superstars signed at once…

Briar sighed and nodded. “Right. I guess. Okay, I gotta go.”

“Want me to come along?” Vince offered while Noel watched them.

Briar hesitated, then shook his head. “Probably best not to. Don’t want him feeling cornered ag—yeah.”

Vince eyed him but nodded. “You know where to find us.” He led Noel off toward the bar again while Briar strode out through the lobby and around to the door backstage.

The security let him through with a nod. That was one of the perks of fame—no longer having to show ID.

Gabriel was almost there, too.

It was almost unprecedented, except by himself, of course. Over the course of the month, Gabriel had become the darling of the fashion world. Everyone saw him as Briar’s protégé, even if he’d never actually mentored him.

Backstage was way more fun than the audience. The area was shared by several ballrooms and presentation rooms, meaning there were designers flying in and out of dressing rooms, PAs desperately seeking spare needles or missing accessories, and makeup artists patting powder into their palms while looking harried.

Briar strode to Gabriel’s dressing room, knocking on the half-closed door and pushing it open.

“I fuckin’ told you, Julius—”

Gabriel was half-dressed, shirtless and in his regular jeans as he spun on his heel to face the door. The second he saw Briar, his words died and his eyes widened, a flicker of fear in them.

Shit. That wasn’t right. Briar frowned and slowly entered the room, then pushed the door shut behind himself. “Everything all right?”

“Yeah.” Gabriel let out a quick sigh, the expression gone again—hidden behind a face of boredom and annoyance at the interruption.

“I heard Jordan and Austin are around, doing the next show.”

It hadn’t been hard to learn about Gabriel’s past connection to Jordan. Briar had found out almost right away. He felt bad—by all accounts, the guy was as much an asshole as Austin.

Gabriel bit his tongue and nodded once, sharply, but he looked wary. “If you’ve come to bond over shitty exes, it’s not a good time.”

“When is? Tonight?” Briar suggested, smirking slightly. “I wanna know what Austin’s said to you.”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “What business is it of yours?”

Whoa. That was defensive. Briar folded his arms and leaned against the door, keeping his distance so he didn’t make Gabriel feel more cornered than he already was.

“Has he been approaching you about his agency? Because I’d be really fucking surprised if he doesn’t want to take away the best thing I’ve got.”

Briar’s heart did a weird leap when the words spilled out of his lips. He didn’t usually talk without thinking, but fuck, it was easy to take that more than one way.

And it wasn’t untrue. Briar hadn’t even kissed another guy since Gabriel walked into the office. That was commitment like he hadn’t shown anyone since Austin. Gabriel just didn’t know yet.

“You’re jealous,” Gabriel stated flatly.

Briar tapped his toe against the floor slightly, then scuffed the sole of his shoe against the floor. He had to give it a moment’s thought before he rejected the idea.

Maybe Gabriel wanted that.

“A little,” Briar hummed, letting his gaze drag slowly down that sculpted torso to find Gabriel’s cock pressed among the folds of his too-tight jeans, then back up to his face. “So, speaking of bonding over shitty exes… we could do it now, somewhere else. You have a break before the presentation.”

“You’re hitting on me.” That was another flat statement, hard to read. Gabriel shifted his weight onto one hip, folding his arms across his chest, his thumbs swiping his chest near his nipples.

Briar paused and lifted a brow. Awfully formal. Then, he nodded.

“Fuck off,” Gabriel told him and turned on his heel to sort through his bag for a t-shirt. He held up to himself, then opted for another. “And tell Julius that Paulo and I will be back in fuckin’ time. We’re not preschoolers.”

There was another knock on the door, and Briar dragged a hand down his face. They didn’t have time to talk through whatever was pissing Gabriel off.

Briar pulled the door open and nodded as Julius swept inside, standing aside to let his manager work.

“Okay, you guys can go, if you’re back at the hotel in time for your ride.”

Gabriel grabbed his bag and breezed out without another word, his arm brushing along Briar’s on the way out.

Briar tried to tamp down the shiver of pure
want
that passed through him at the musky, sweet, spicy smell of Gabriel and the warmth of his arm brushing along his. It sort of worked.

“Paulo! Let’s blow this pop stand.” Then Paulo’s voice, saying something that made Gabriel laugh in that high-pitched, fake tone that made Briar cringe.

Once Gabriel and Paulo were gone, Briar raised his eyebrows at Julius.

“Yeah,” Julius laughed under his breath and rubbed his face. “Don’t ask me. I don’t know.”

“I kinda pissed him off the other night,” Briar admitted, his voice low. “And possibly now.”

Julius gave him a
really?
look and Briar frowned apologetically. “Fine,” Julius concluded. “I’ll play it gently and let him cool off.”

“It’s show week pressure.” Briar rubbed his face, then reached out to slide his arm around Julius’s shoulder and clap his back. “You’re doing an awesome job. Everything looks flawless from the audience side.”

“Not for lack of effort backstage,” Julius sighed, hugging Briar around the waist and bumping his forehead to his shoulder for a moment. “Thanks, though. That means a lot.”