Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 69621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Apparently, Josh nearly fainted. For real. He had to brace himself against the wall when Heath opened the door. He describes the shock that came over him, and Heath laughs as he recounts how he stepped forward in horror to take Josh by the arm and bundle him inside – suspecting he might need to be calling paramedics, not getting his ass fucked by a male hooker.
“I spend three hours in makeup to be a convincing vampire on the screen, Josh, and you put the makeup team to shame. You were paler than me in three seconds flat.”
“Yeah, hardly a surprise, was it? I was expecting a horny weirdo inside the Tim Burton style home, no problem. But the lead star of Nighttime Whispers, paying for an ass fuck. Not quite what I’d figured would be happening. Plus, I was a relative newbie. Not primed for the shocks of the unexpected.”
Heath was one of Josh’s first clients.
His favourite clients.
I can’t imagine that will ever change.
“Will you answer a few questions?” Heath asks my stunning shirtless boyfriend. “Since you’re on vacation as well as working, how about letting the guard down a bit? I’m curious.”
“Curious?”
“Yes.” Heath pauses to take a swig of his beer. “Considering how much of an impact running into a TV star on a proposal had for you back then, have you had any similar encounters along the way? Or worse? Have you ever been so bowlegged you collapsed on someone’s porch?”
Josh stares up at the sky through his sunglasses, with a smirk on his face.
“Are you fishing for info, Heath? Celebrities you mean?”
“Celebrities, maybe, yes. You could term it that.”
“Want to know if I’m fucking any of your co-stars? Is that it?”
Josh is brushing it off, but Heath is serious. I watch him watching Josh, his attention unwavering.
“Not my co-stars. Just… people. Others in the limelight.”
Josh beams a cracker of a smile.
“Hell, yeah. My repertoire is a mile long. The list of A-listers on my roster should have me seated at the Brit Awards.”
Heath believes him for a second, I see the way he tenses, and Josh laughs.
“You think I’m serious, don’t you? Wow. I’m flattered.” He pretends to zip his lips up. “I may have come across some celebrities on my roster, literally, but I haven’t entered the realms of a Hollywood playboy yet. And even if I had, I wouldn’t spill. Confidential, remember? Just like I wouldn’t spill to anyone else about you. Not ever.” He tips his head towards me. “I didn’t even tell Ells. And she’s a mega fan.”
“Stop it, Josh,” I say. “Heath has already heard how many times I’ve binge watched the first six series. You don’t need to keep rubbing it in. I was probably paler than you when I first met him.”
My boyfriend props himself up on the lounger and takes off his sunglasses, looking at Heath.
“Wait a second. Is this a tester, more than curiosity? Are you testing me out for confidentiality? Because both Ells and I are fully committed to keeping your identity hidden, Heath. Don’t worry.”
Heath holds his hands up.
“No, no. Not at all. I trust you both for that. I’m just curious. Interested.”
Interested.
I’ve become much better at reading people now that deep rapport has become part of my career, so I hone in on Heath’s smile. His tone. The way his posture shifts.
Hmm.
Interested.
If he’s interested in who else manages to knock Josh off his feet as part of his job, the answer to that is nobody. Not that I know of. Not that I would know of it, to be fair, since Josh is the master of keeping things under wraps.
Which makes me curious myself…
“Do you actually have other celebrities on your client list?” I ask.
“What?”
“I’m curious, too. You’ve been in the business a lot longer than me, do you have a whole list of celebs that fill your calendar, or just Heath?”
“What is this, trading cards?” he asks. “You tell me. Do you have any celebrities on your calendar?”
“No. Not besides Heath.”
Heath holds up his beer. “I am the one and only.”
“Go on,” I say to Josh. “Tell us. You’re only fuelling the curiosity.”
Josh lies back down and folds his arms behind his head.
“Like I said, my lips are sealed. Always.”
“You haven’t had enough beer yet,” Heath laughs. “I’ll ask you again when your lips are looser.”
“You can try.”
“So will I,” I chirp in. “I’ll try, too.”
“Bring it on.” I love Josh’s sharp confidence. “My lips may get loose, but my mouth never spills.”
His respect for his clients’ secrecy is admirable, because I know he won’t be blabbing. No matter how hard we push him.
Since I started at the Agency, I’ve spent a fair amount of time contemplating how complicated things can get when it comes to clients. The commonly known morning after syndrome – where reality becomes blurred and entertainers get caught up in the proposals so bad that they don’t want to leave – is a real thing. It screws some people up, and so do some of the other aspects.