Red

By B.G. Thomas

Leslie "Red" Parks was pretty surprised to find he was considered attractive enough to be a male escort. And once he started and the money came rolling in, he found he didn't want to stop. For the first time in his life, people truly want him, and he likes that. A lot.

Kirk Toliver has never thought of himself as desirable either—which is why he is single. That, and he has spent years of his life caring for his ill mother. Before she passed away, she made him promise he would splurge on something crazy with the money she left him. So what's crazier than hiring a male escort?

But neither expected that one night together could lead to what was missing in both their lives.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
• Release date: Jan 21, 2015
• ISBN: 9781632167712

B.G. Thomas

B.G. Thomas lives in Kansas City with his two husbands—which yes, is different, but amazingly rewarding and wonderfully romantic. They have two sweet rescue dogs named Oliver (who the breed name Dorkie applies perfectly) and Frodo (who is just learning to be a dog). He is missing his soul dog Sarah Jane very much, but she will live on forever in several of his books and in his heart. He is also blessed to have a lovely daughter and they love to hang out. B.G. loves to read romance, comedy, fantasy, thrillers, mystery, science fiction, and even horror—as far as he is concerned, as long as the stories are character driven and entertaining, it doesn’t matter the genre. He has gone to literature conventions his entire adult life, where he’s been lucky enough to meet many of his favorite writers. He has made up stories since he was a child; it’s where he finds his joy. In the nineties, he wrote for gay adult magazines but stopped because the editors wanted all sex without plot, and edited his setups right out. “The sex is never as important as the characters,” he says. “Who cares what they are doing if we don’t care about them?” Excited about the growing male/male romance market—where setup and cute meets is where it’s at—he began writing again. He submitted a novella and was thrilled when it was accepted in four days. Since then the romantic tales have poured out of him. “It’s like I’m somehow making up for a lifetime’s worth of story-telling!” “Leap, and the net will appear” is his personal philosophy and his message. “It is never too late,” he testifies. “Pursue your dreams. They will come true!” You can read about whatever he’s working on right now or whatever he’s rambling on about at his website/blog at: bthomaswriter.wordpress.com Facebook: www.facebook.com/bgthomaswriter Twitter: twitter.com/BGThomasBooks He is always happy to hear from his readers!

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Acknowledgments

I WANT to give a special thanks to Dave Suntown and the lovely Matthew Randolph who made this book happen. There are no words to express my gratitude.

And of course to Andi Byassee. As usual, I could not have done this without you. I love you more than words can say and we are going to meet face-to-face one day!

And Lynn West, who brought Andi and me together! I love you too!

TEN

LES RED Parks spotted his client almost immediately, even in the crowded bar. Partly because the gentleman—Kirk Toliver—had e-mailed him a picture that actually (miracle of miracles) looked like him. Thirty-five (a real thirty-five and not an online thirty-five, which were often two entirely different things), blue-gray eyes behind thick-rimmed, rectangular glasses, and a thickish but well-trimmed beard. The type of man who blended in with a crowd, rarely noticed.

But Red would have known the man was his new client even without a picture. It was in his posture, in the look on Mr. Toliver’s face. The man was nervous. It radiated, pulsed outward from him in waves. As Red approached, he saw an empty cocktail glass on the small round table in front of Toliver, and he was all but gulping down the contents of another. As he did so, their eyes locked over the rim of the glass, and Toliver’s dark brows shot up almost comically.

It was hard not to laugh—but Red managed. First meetings were always tricky, and as nervous as his new client obviously was, how might he take laughter?

Red did smile, though. Gave the man a friendly nod.

Mr. Toliver lowered his glass and smiled back.

Cute, Red thought. In a geeky sort of way. The smile transformed him, actually. You need to send out pictures where you’re smiling.

Mr. Toliver? Red asked.

Kirk, the man said, standing quickly and almost overturning the little table. He blushed, grabbed at it to keep it upright, the empty glass rolling and nearly falling off its edge. He rescued it and said, Call me Kirk. That’s my first name.

Red knew that, of course. He would never have agreed to meet the man without that information and a hell of a lot more. Plus, Jeremy Carlington had vouched for him, and that was good enough for Red.

Kirk held out his hand, and Red took it. I can’t believe you’re here, Kirk said.

Red nodded. Of course I am, he replied, gracious—the way he’d been taught. Yet even now, after a year, it was hard to believe someone was looking at him the way this man was looking at him. Like he was famous or something. And he wasn’t. He was a kid from small-town, USA—that’s all. Very small town.

Could he have ever imagined this life back in high school?

The answer, of course, was no.

Red moved to sit down and was charmed when Kirk zipped around to his side of the table and pulled the chair out for him. He was used to men twice Kirk’s age making such a gesture, but not a man in his midthirties.

This close, he could see Kirk really was a nice-looking man. Not People magazine’s sexiest man of the year, but not plain after all.

So why me? Red wondered. It couldn’t be that the man was hard up. Kirk didn’t exactly stand out in a crowd, but he was hardly an eyesore. Yes, he was wearing some pretty dorky looking glasses, his suit had to be at least ten years old, and the slight strain of the buttons over his belly said there would be no washboard abs or gym body revealed when Red got him undressed. But he was cute in his own way. Bears would fight each other for the chance to take him home.

Of course being a bear, or bearish, didn’t mean one was attracted to bears.

Can I get you something? To drink? Kirk smiled again, a slight tremor in his voice.

Red almost said Lagavulin. Asking for the expensive Scotch seemed to please most of his clients—let them know he wasn’t some down-on-his-luck street hustler looking for enough money for his next fix. But he wasn’t so sure it would have the same effect on Kirk. As a matter of fact, the man’s clothes didn’t speak of wealth. Not even an upper-middle-class lifestyle.

Jeremy…. Did you steer me wrong?

Could Kirk afford what he’d told Red on the phone he wanted?

Rum and Coke, Red said instead.

Kirk nodded quickly and practically ran to the bartender.

Red wiped hands already starting to sweat along the legs of his slacks. Meeting new clients always made him nervous—So don’t worry about being nervous, Mr. Toliver. You’re not the only one!—even though he’d established a pretty safe routine (learned from his mistakes as well as advice from others) and figured out his method of operation. He didn’t pretend it was the way professionals in New York or Singapore or Paris did things. But using Matthew as a role model and taking guidance from Jeremy, he’d found a way that worked well.

Some of us like to use agencies, Matthew had told him. And agencies have their pluses. But then again, you work for them—and a lot of the time that can mean getting mixed up with the wrong kind of people, if you know what I mean.

Red had been too naïve to get what he meant.

"Crime people, silly. Bad guys. And bad guys you can owe. I say, work for yourself. And whatever you do, pay your taxes!"

Red hoped Kirk Toliver wasn’t a mistake. But no, Jeremy had brought him to Red’s attention. Told him he knew someone who was anxious to meet him.

Now, should he be anxious instead?

Kirk was back with their drinks. I hope Bacardi’s okay, he said, sitting down.

Bacardi. A premium. Not the standard, low-end well liquor. Maybe he’d misjudged the gentleman.

Bacardi is wonderful, Red replied.

Kirk held up a lime. I didn’t know if you liked yours with, and I didn’t want him to ruin your drink if you didn’t like—

Red smiled broadly, and Kirk went silent as if someone had clicked a mute button on the man. Red shook his head. No lime. Thank you.

Kirk’s mouth did the fish-out-of-water thing, and then he cleared his throat. God, he said in a voice so low that had they been at The Male Box—a bar that turned its speakers up to the blasting point—instead of The Corner Bistro—a piano bar—there would have been no way Red could have heard him. I can’t believe it….

That I don’t want a lime in my drink?

"That you’re here. That I’m here. Sitting with you. I can’t believe I’m doing this." He reached for the knot of his simple navy blue tie, adjusted it so that it was actually slightly askew, ran a finger under his collar as if it might be just a bit too tight.

Well, you’re here, Red assured him. I’m here.

Kirk smiled again, but the corners of his mouth seemed to war slightly, and he got a strange look on his face. It reminded Red of his mother’s dog—one she had rescued, one that had been abused, always worried that it was about to be smacked instead of petted.

What’s your story, Mr. Toliver?

An escort, Matthew had carefully explained, "is more shrink than anything else. Yeah. They want sex. Sometimes weird sex. I had a client who wanted me to babysit him. I was a little wary at first, but