Page 94 of Rival for Rent

By the time they finally took him back to one of the observation bays, it was ten p.m., and I was actually starting to feel a little tired. But I closed the curtains in my bedroom and set my camera up to take more pictures anyway. Me on all fours, arching my back, ass to the camera. Me lying supine, legs spread, hand at my crotch. Me pulling my cock out of my briefs and stroking it in another video.

And as I did it, I remembered why I’d made that first video, back in college. I’d never felt particularly hot, but the idea that someone wanted to look at me naked gave me a confidence that was intoxicating. And with Mason, I knew these pictures and videos would stay between us.

They drew Mason’s blood and redid the X-ray soon after bringing him back, then left him sitting in the bay for another hour, not coming back to tell him the results. Again, I told myself that was a good sign. And this time, Iwastired enough that I thought I might actually fall asleep. I told Mason, who promised to wake me up when he got back, and sent me a string of kisses.

I didn’t fall asleep right away, of course. Mason had been a good distraction, but for the past few days, I’d been checking for news stories about myself every few hours. So, lying in bed in nothing but my underwear, I pulled up a browser and typed in my name. A few more stories had been reported on the video, but thankfully there was no new information.

There were a ton of social media posts, though. People decrying me as a degenerate. People demanding I step down as head of my company. People saying the Butterfly Center was right to cut ties.

It all twisted my stomach, making my heart hurt. I tried to remind myself that I’d be fine. That I had Mason. That it would eventually blow over like he said. But it was hard to believe that when I was staring at post after post about how awful I was.

I clicked over toDC Wardrobes for the Win’sprofile. They were the one organization that hadn’t cut ties with me yet—at least not officially—though they were getting plenty of mentions asking why they hadn’t. So far, Amber hadn’t responded to any of those, but I figured it was only a matter of time.

Marinating in misery, I scrolled through their timeline, checking to see if they’d mentioned me at all in the last week. They hadn’t, but they’d been doing plenty of promotion. There were pictures of multiple clients with testimonials about how they’d been helped. One interview tugged at the heartstrings—a twenty-one-year-old college student who’d been disowned by her family when she came out as trans. Sabrina Myers, her name was.

I blinked. She had the same last name as Detective Myers.

“Small world,” I murmured.

“Very small,” said an unexpected voice. “And yours is about to get even smaller.”

I looked up in shock and saw Detective Myers standing in my bedroom door, holding a gun.

21

MASON

Iwas sitting in the ER at George Washington University’s hospital, which was about as cheery as you’d expect an ER to be late at night. The fluorescent lighting overhead did a fantastic job of making everything—and everyone—look worse for the wear. The faint odor of antiseptics clung to the air, mixing with the stale smell of burnt coffee that had clearly been sitting too long. Nurses and techs rushed by at breakneck speed, their rubber shoes squeaking like hamsters on a wheel.

At least I was finally back here. I’d sat in the waiting room forever, and for a while, I thought they might send me home without even seeing me. Honestly, I would’ve preferred that—I’d be back with Kai by now. But apparently, they really did want to dot theiri’sand cross theirt’s, so here I was. Waiting.

I wasn’t hooked up to anything—not even an IV—which had to be a good sign. But the curtain covering my bay didn’t do much to muffle the incessant beeping of monitors, the hacking coughs from other patients, or the periodic sirens wailing outside as yet another ambulance pulled up.

I glanced down at the bed I was sitting on, the back raised most of the way up. The thin padding offered little comfort, and my ribs were still complaining about the beating they’d taken not that long ago. The scratchy hospital sheet seemed like it was designed specifically to keep anyone from getting too comfortable, as if the whole situation weren’t uncomfortable enough already.

Nurses and techs had come by to poke and prod me. They were efficient, but about as warm as the lighting. Blood drawn, chest X-rayed, rinse, repeat. Every time I tried to get more information, I got the same rehearsed hospital speech. They might as well have been reading from cue cards.

We won’t know more until we do some tests. Probably nothing, but it’s good to be sure. Hold still. This won’t hurt too much.

I’d hissed as the needle went in and wondered what exactly their definition oftoo muchwas.

After all the tests were done, they stuck me back in this curtained-off bay with nothing but vague promises that a doctor would return soon to give me the results and let me know if I needed to stay longer.

That had been an hour ago.

I fidgeted. I knew that in a busy ER, I was a low-priority patient. I wasn’t bleeding from a gunshot wound or walking around with a bone sticking out of my leg. I could hear snippets of other emergencies unfolding nearby—a paramedic giving a rushed report about a car accident victim, a toddler crying, begging their parents not to let the nurse give them a shot.

But still, would it kill someone to tell me if I was secretly harboring a tumor?

I tried not to think about the fact that the longer I waited, the more serious it might be.Probably just a shadow,they’d said. They’d made it sound like it was nothing.

So why was I still waiting?

I shifted on the narrow bed, wincing as my ribs reminded me I was supposed to be restricting my movements, and thought about Kai back home. I knew he’d been anxious tonight, even if he was trying to hide it. I hoped he’d finally calmed down enough to get some sleep. I smiled faintly, picturing waking him up and showing him just how much I’d missed him.

This whole happiness thing still felt strange—even wrong. I didn’t feel like I deserved it, and part of me was still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Every happy moment felt like a fragile glass ornament, something that might shatter if I brushed against it the wrong way.

But I could see Kai’s face in my mind’s eye—the way his smile crinkled the corners of his eyes, the warmth that softened the sharp edges of my fears. My chest filled with something vivid and unfamiliar. It hurt in the best way. I didn’t ever want to let him down again.

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