Page 9 of Bobby Green
“That wasn’t creepy at all,” he drawled. He didn’t sound like California country, but Vern could hear the sound of someone who hadn’t seen a lot of city in his youth either. “C’mon, Kane—you’ll scare the poor guy.”
“Yeah, but, you know. You said you’re looking for guys who do girls.”
“Youdo girls, moron. We don’t have to work that hard.”
“Boys pay more,” Kane said, taking a philosophical pull on his juice. Anactualjuice, not a smoothie, something with lots of protein powder but no food. “But, you know. He’s kinda hot. Andlook.”
Vern had to smile at the long-suffering expression on the blond guy’s face as he swung his head around and, without shame or subterfuge, checked out Vern’s crotch.
And widened his eyes in appreciation.
“So?” Kane asked, looking from Vern’s package to his friend and back. “C’mon, Dex. Tell me I’m wrong.”
Dex grunted. “You’re not wrong.” There was a buzzing in his pocket, and he pulled out his phone, frowning. “Shit.”
“If it’s him, tell him to fuck off,” Kane said, an edge to his voice.
“It’s not him. But Ethan and Chase are there for the shoot, and we’re late.”
Kane’s disappointment was palpable. “Damn. How’s that happen? We work out, we have juice—just goes so fast.”
The expression on the blond guy’s face was fond. “I got no idea. But here. I’ll give him John’s card. Couldn’t hurt.”
He walked up to Vern, who had given up pretending to ignore what they were saying.
“Kid, c’mere.”
Vern had been bussing the small store and was about to walk around the counter to take the tubs in to wash. He paused at the entryway and turned around to face Dex, the blond guy, who had been friendly when he ordered and kind to the big gorilla who just didn’t seem that bright.
“What can I do for you?” he asked formally, because damn, he needed more hours, and his manager, Courtney, was eyeing him with suspicion from behind the counter.
To his surprise, Dex looked vaguely embarrassed. “Look, kid—if this offends you, do me a favor and forget we talked. I like this store, and it’s near my house and my gym, and it would really suck to have to change where I get my cleanse, okay?”
Vern nodded bemusedly, wondering what this guy could say that would piss him off. “Not a problem,” he said. “This convo never happened.”
Dex smiled appreciatively. “Solid.” He reached into the back pocket of jeans that looked too fancy to be jeans and pulled out a slick red leather wallet. “Look, this is the card for the company we work for. It’s not… uh, a PG-13 kind of place, but if you look at the website, you’ll see we’re, uh, equal opportunity. And it may be, uhm, up your alley, and it may be, well, not—but if it’s up your alley. At all. And you feel like maybe it’s something you’re interested in. And you don’t want to sue me for harassment, here.” He pulled a pen from the jar by the register and wrote a number on it. “This ismynumber, and I can set up an audition for you.”
Vern got a hit of aftershave and clean male sweat and swallowed against a wave of want he’d never anticipated.
“Uh, sure,” he said, thinking he’d call that number no matter what just to get anothersmellof the furiously blushing Dex.
Dex nodded, seemingly in relief. “So, uh….” He squinted at Vern’s name tag. “Uh, Vern. Do people still name their kids Vern?”
“Means ‘spring,’” Vern said, feeling foolish and off-kilter. “My mom wanted to go to college—likes to read fancy books.”
Kindness sparked in Dex’s blue eyes. “Of course. Well then, it’s a good name. But you’ve got your hands full, and we both have to bail. I’m going to tuck this card in your front shirt pocket—shit. You don’t have one. Okay, don’t take this as being fresh or forward. If you turn around, I’ll tuck this into yourbackjeans pocket, and you can look at it at your leisure. Is that okay?”
Vern nodded dumbly and turned around, presenting his ass, as it were. “Yeah. Sure. Thanks.”
Dex winked. “Don’t thank me yet. Right now I could be just some pervert who’s hitting on you ’cause you’re hung like a fuckin’ bear.”
He could feel Dex’s fingers pull the pocket back and push the card under the flap of worn fabric. The movement was executed smoothly and was over before Vern could even imagine the feeling of those hands sliding tenderly over his backside and squeezing his asscheeks with intent—but that didn’t mean his body didn’t jump to conclusions.
“What was that about?” Courtney asked as Vern shuttled his body back to the sink. “Was he hitting on you?”
Vern swallowed back a vehement “I wish!” He had a girlfriend. “I’ll have to look up his website and see,” he said gamely, but he remembered the way the two guys had checked out his body—checked out his package. Remembered Dex’s grim and practical discomfort when talking about “equal opportunity” and “notPG-13.”
He had an idea.
