“You’re gonna do great,” I said. “Don’t freak yourself out. You have a really fresh style, a vision—”
He interrupted me with a frantic hand motion. “I see a vision. He shines.”
I turned, and sure enough, there was Henry in all his golden-haired, sexy-pimp glory. He was wearing a current season Armani suit and a purple tie, and he walked like he’d just left a limo full of fawning beauties. He probably had. I grinned as he pulled me out of the booth and hugged me.
“Chere, love. You look great. How are you?”
It said a lot about Henry, that we were still friends even though I’d stopped escorting for him. He hugged me nice and tight, a real hug, and then turned to Andrew.
I performed the introductions as Andrew ogled him worshipfully. Henry had it going on, in more than just the looks department. If he wasn’t constantly involved in illegal enterprises, I might have developed a crush on him myself.
Henry cast a bemused glance around the place. “Nice shithole you picked.”
“The food’s good. We eat here all the time.”
He rolled his eyes. “Students. Anyway, it was great to hear from you. What’s up? Is everything okay? You must be nearing graduation.”
“Yes. Andrew is too,” I said, gesturing across the table. My friend preened. “One more semester to go.”
“You like it?”
“Yeah, I do. The tedious classes are over. Most of our classes now involve making actual stuff, which is fun.”
“Still into the shiny things?”
Andrew smothered a laugh, since we’d called Henry “shiny” twice.
“I love shiny things,” I said effusively, which made Andrew giggle harder. “So how’s business with you?”
The waitress came to take our order, and then Henry pitched into a very candid recitation of the most recent client contacts, and new hires, omitting names of course. He caught me up on some of my old coworkers, all of whom were doing well. His pride in his business was evident. I guess that was why I’d always enjoyed working for him, at least until the end. Andrew followed our conversation with goggle-eyed interest.
“How often do you hire new people?” he interrupted at one point. “Or, more specifically, do you ever get requests for really submissive, really obedient gay male subs?”
Henry looked Andrew up and down with interest. “As a matter of fact, we do.”
I held up a hand. “No. We’re not here for that.”
“I have some clients who’d love to get a hold of that hair,” Henry said, eyeing Andrew’s crowning mop of curls.
“I said no.” I waved a finger at Andrew. “You’re about to graduate. You’re going to be an artist, not a rent boy.”
Henry and Andrew exchanged a look that made me want to slap them both.
“This isn’t a recruitment lunch,” I said to Henry. “We’re here to ask for information about someone. One of my old clients.”
“You know I can’t give out personal information, Chere. People trust us to protect their privacy.”
We paused as the waitress arrived with our sandwiches and greasy fries. Henry gave his plate a doubtful glance and sighed. “You’re talking about your final client, I assume?”
I didn’t want to ask it, but the question burst out anyway. “Did he continue using Sublime Services after I left? Did he start seeing anyone else?”
“I can’t talk about that kind of thing,” he said, reaching for the ketchup, “but if I could, I’d probably answer no.”
Henry looked at me a little too closely as he wielded the ketchup bottle. I busied myself scraping mustard off my sandwich and dripping it onto my plate. I didn’t want to care if W had seen one or a thousand escorts after me, but I did care. Maybe he’d simply gone to another agency. I felt a flush rise in my neck and cheeks, because I knew Henry would see right through my façade of disinterest.
“We were wondering if you ever noticed anything about him that might indicate where he was from,” Andrew asked. “Or what he did for a living.”
“I’m sorry. I’ve told you everything I can about Mr. Cumming. It’s not unusual in this business for clients to guard their privacy. If he never told Chere anything about himself, I’m sure that was intentional.” He tossed down a greasy French fry and turned to me, crossing his arms on the table. “I believe he stopped seeing you because he felt too embroiled in your life. I should never have allowed the two of you to go exclusive. If he started to care for you…even a little…”
“He loved her,” Andrew said, ignoring my quelling look. “He adored her. He gave her poetry.”
“We don’t encourage love in our escort-client relationships,” Henry replied sharply. “In fact, we discourage it.”
Andrew looked chastened, like Henry was already his boss. I wanted to yell at him to wise up. He didn’t have the makings of an escort. He was too bright, too sensitive. I had a panicked feeling, like I’d better cut our lunch date short.