Page 6 of Break the Rule
“Unfortunately, I am aware. Do you remember when you hid in the bathroom to text me about Amanda giving you shit because it was a black tie affair, and you showed up in a silk paisley shirt, linen pants and Crocs?”
“It was a very stylish ensemble,” Charlie grumbles. “I’m the artist, shouldn’t I be allowed to have creative freedom?”
“And you do, three hundred and sixty-two days of the year. This showcase is huge for you, Charlie.”
“You know I don’t care about notoriety.”
“I know, and I love that about you,” Andrew says. “But do you care about having electricity? Food? Art supplies?”
“I care about art supplies,” Charlie concedes.
“Right, then you know that selling one or two of your paintings to this specific clientele can take care of your bills forsix months, Charlie. Put on the suit andrealshoes and play nice with the rich people. Then when it’s over, you can go back to your normal heathen self.”
“I really fucking hate it when you make sense,” Charlie sulks.
“Also,” Andrew starts, grabbing a clean dish cloth to wipe the counter in front of Charlie. “You need to brush your hair.”
“Fuck off.”
“Suit, shoesandhair.”
“What the fuck, Annie?”
“You can do it, Charlie.”
“I don’t wanna do it.”
“Maybe you’ll impress that pretty boy of yours. How could he possibly look at you in a suit and not want to give you his number? He might even beg for yours.”
“You’re trying to manipulate me.”
“Is it working?”
Charlie can feel the corner of his mouth twitch up. “Yes.”
For the umpteenthtime in ten minutes, Charlie tugs at his tie. His throat feels like it’s being suffocated, and not in the fun way involving naked bodies and orgasms. Ties should be illegal, as should dress shoes. Looking down at his feet, he frowns. He cannot believe Andrew got him to wear these. He supposes the upside to having an identical twin the exact same size as him is being able to borrow what he needs from Andrew so he’s not forced to buy something he doesn’t want to own. The downside is that it’s left him in a pair of Andrew’s shiny black dress shoes that make Charlie look fucking pompous. He’s pretty sure they’re a designer pair since Andrew likes that shit, and he doesn’t want to think about how much money the stupid thingsmaking his feet feel like they’re wrapped in cement cost. His feet are hot and sweaty, and he desperately wants to stretch his toes. Why the fuck do people wear shoes like this? It’s actual torture.
“You look like you want to strip yourself naked in the middle of this gallery,” Andrew whispers while passing him a glass of wine.
“I do,” Charlie says, begrudgingly accepting the wine because it’s the only thing to drink being served tonight. He’d much rather have a cheap beer or even a can of Coke. Still, he’s fucking thirsty and could use something to help settle his irritation.
“Well don’t, even your notoriety tonight won’t spare you a public indecency charge,” Andrew says, as if concerned that Charlie might actually strip off his suit in the middle of his own showing. He’s tempted, but he’s not stupid. Before he can point that out, Andrew is once again speaking. “Any sign of your mystery man yet?”
“No, but there’s a bigger crowd here tonight than I expected. I’ve also been doing what you said and playing nice. I had to listen to one woman bemoan the difficulties of deciding which of her three homes she wanted to spend winter in. Another man asked me if I had a favorite golf course in the area. Do I look like I play golf?”
“Yes,” Andrew answers, hiding his smile behind his wine glass.
“Asshole.”
“I hate to be the one to remind you, but both our parents are lawyers. We grew up in an upper-middle class tax bracket, and our parents belong to a country club. You were literally on the golf team in high school.”
“One semester my freshman year,” Charlie hisses. “To make Dad happy. But my soul withered away and died in polo shirts. No offense.”
Decidedly unruffled by Charlie’s outburst, Andrew merely hums.
“That guy in the corner has been staring at you all night,” Charlie observes, eager for a change of subject.
“The guy in the cream suit?”
