Desperate Enemies 3 by Adam Carpenter (latest ebook reader .txt) 📕

idea was working in his mind. Then it went to a darker place. “In fact, that's just what I'm going to do.” He began to unbuckle his trousers. “I gave you the best assignments. Made you who you are today.” His pants dropped to the floor.

Sawyer's head was spinning. “I made you money! My sexuality has nothing to do with this.”

“It has EVERYTHING to do with it, you dumb fuck! Hot straight guy. That's why I made you earn every assignment you got. The harder you fucked me, the better the jobs you got. That's the way it works in this business. The money, well, that was a bonus.”

For services rendered. Max didn't say it but Sawyer could hear the cold words in his head. He backed against the table, shocked.

“Now you're just another lousy model who works for me. You know what I do to the other guys I represent? I fuck them.”

“You fuck them over.”

“No, I just fuck them. And they take it because they want me . . . no, they NEED me to represent them.” He grabbed Sawyer. “Now I'm going to fuck you too.”

“Max, stop!”

They struggled. Sawyer remembered Dylan saying that most fights last less than two minutes, though it seems a lot longer in the heat of the moment. The human body tires out quickly, the human spirit fades if it doesn't sense a clear advantage. Maybe faster if your pants are tying up your ankles, Sawyer hoped. When Melbourne grabbed his star model by the throat, Sawyer efficiently knocked his hands away by sharply raising his arms. That backed the agent up a few steps.

Hey, this MCMAP stuff really works

Max squinted at Sawyer, “Come on, take it like a man. Or you're out. . . so to speak, and I doubt anyone else will represent you now.” He feigned an advance on Sawyer. “Your contract with Tyler Wood is as good as dead. I'm going to offer it to Ray Rhodes.” Ray was Sawyer's stiffest competitor at the Melbourne Agency.

Sensing a thread of defeat in Sawyer, Max Melbourne rushed the model.

Sawyer tried to remember all the things Dylan had taught him. But the most important escaped him—stay calm. As Max pressed forward, Sawyer decided to try that throw he and Dane had been practicing. He stepped forward, toward his aggressor, reaching out to grab the older man's wrist. But just as he had done against Dane, Sawyer planted his foot incorrectly. The maneuver ended in a stalemate. Rather than throwing Max, he ended up face to face with him.

“Enough!” Melbourne demanded. The agent roughly turned Sawyer Block around, facing the desk. He viciously pulled at the model's pants.

“Max, don't do this.”

“Hey, kid, don't take it personal. It's just business.”

But before Max could penetrate his young associate, there was a sharp knock at the door. Both men froze. The knock resounded louder, followed by a shout, “Hotel security. Please open the door.”

Melbourne let Sawyer up, quickly fastening his pants. “We'll pick this up another time.” He grabbed his suit jacket and went for the door.

Sawyer leaned against the table, trembling. “No need, Max. I quit.”

The agent and the model exchanged a few more words before Max stepped into the hallway to smooth things over with the security agent. In the quiet, Sawyer remembered he'd left Dane hanging on the computer. But when he looked, his boyfriend had already terminated the connection.

* * * *

Sawyer didn't sleep that night. He spent the next day hiding in his room, not even ordering room service. Just avoiding everybody. Well, not everybody. He tried Dane at home more times than he could count. No answer. He placed two equally unsuccessful calls to Tyler Wood.

Max must be right, Sawyer reasoned. Everybody's cut me loose

His first impulse was to get away. Find someplace to be alone. But he had an obligation to be present for Tyler, even if the designer didn't want him around. For the past few months, Sawyer had been the “face” of Wood fashions.

By 9 p.m. that evening, the festivities for the L.A. Fashion Awards were in full swing. Tyler's table was situated toward the front of the highly-decorated room, near the stage. When Sawyer reached his seat, a number of other models greeted him with saccharine smiles, quickly turning away though not before showing their distaste. A few snickered at him. Sawyer sat, looking at his lap, wishing he were anywhere but here. This was humiliating.

“Seen any good movies, Sawyer?” That little zinger came compliments of Ray Rhodes. Jenny Shear, his date for the evening, stifled a laugh.

Adjacent to Sawyer was Tyler Wood, who looked at Sawyer somberly. He leaned over and whispered, “I know you called. We do need to talk.” Sawyer nodded.

A few minutes later, the tension unbearable, he excused himself from the table to get a drink. Sawyer moved gracefully across the room, head held up in defiance of the stares that followed him. Thankfully, at that moment, the lights dimmed. The show was starting. Under cover of the darkness, Sawyer pressed against the far wall of the auditorium, his black Tyler Wood shirt hopefully helping him blend in, making him invisible.

About an hour into the event, Sawyer's phone vibrated. Dane! He quickly answered, “Hey, babe!”

“I am not your ‘babe,’ Mr. Block. But I do want to make you a proposition.”

Converse.

Danvers continued, “Word has it your career is in the gutter. And I guarantee you're about to lose your house. No sense in going away empty-handed.” Sawyer's jaw ground as Converse spoke. “That Latin kid already agreed to sell his house. Let me make you an offer on yours.” Sawyer was so pissed, he could barely hear what Converse was saying. Claps erupted around him as another happy award recipient was called to the stage. In the racket, Sawyer missed the amount the man was offering. It didn't matter; he wasn't giving in.

“I won't make this offer again, Mr. Block.”

Sawyer thought for a moment, and turned the phone off.

The night was finally winding