Page 13 of Promises Kept

5.

Diva Dynamics

With only a few weeks left before they went to Bennett and Cassie’s wedding on a tropical island, Dylan was on a mission to ensure everything would run smoothly at the Val. It was his pride and joy, and he wanted nothing to go wrong while he was away. His second-in-command, Barry, rolled his eyes in drama queen fashion as Dylan gave him a rundown as they sat in the small office at the theatre

“Dylan, sweetie, I’m not exactly new at this fucking stuff, you know,” he said snarkily. “I’ve been here as long as you have, and I know what needs doing and how to run the bloody theatre without you.” He tossed long blond hair away from his face and waved an elegantly manicured hand.

Dylan scowled. “Barry, you tosser, I know that. But you tend to have hissy fits when things go wrong, and the last thing I want is to get back here and find you’ve managed to alienate the whole theatre crew with your histrionics.” He gestured at Barry’s black-and-white checked leggings and bright red and purple shirt with a grimace. “Or your fashion sense.”

It was a measure of Dylan’s preoccupation with his going away arrangements that he mentioned Barry’s attire. Normally it would be a subject he avoided like the plague as Barry was touchy about it. Dylan drew in a sharp breath and wished he could take that comment back. Instead he resigned himself to the volcanic eruption he was sure was on its way. It wasn’t long coming. Barry’s pale face went puce, his body stilled, and Dylan closed his eyes in sudden fear.

You stupid fucker, you had to insult him now, when you need him the most.

“Well,” Barry retorted. “Mr ‘High and Mighty Look At Me All Butch Donahue’ is criticising my fashion sense?” He waggled his hands from side to side and Dylan was mesmerised by Barry’s purple-painted talons. “Let me tell you, ‘He who could be taken for a straight man and isn’t that a bloody shame,’ these designer leggings cost more than you’d pay for a quality rent boy, and this shirt was given to me by Tracy Trey himself.”

Tracy Trey was a gay androgynous fashionista who was the talk of the town and had his own TV show teaching people how to dress and make the most of their assets. “He said I had a great eye for dress and that my body was made for wearing this type of shirt.” The shirt in question was a tight-fitting, ab-hugging concoction of some silky material and had what Dylan thought was called a Chinese collar. “So put that in your bloody button-down boring stick-up-the-arse pipe and smoke it.”

Barry flounced off in a huff with a swirl of his golden locks, leaving Dylan staring after him, dumbfounded. A snigger behind him caused Dylan to turn to find Alec with a wide smile on his face and two cups of coffee perched in a container in his hand.

“That went well,” Alec remarked as he set down the coffee. “I think you should write another one of those books on how to win friends and influence people. You have the technique down pat.”

“Fuck off.” Dylan reached for a cup of coffee as Alec chuckled.

“Straight man? Butch? Something you need to tell me, honey?” Alec teased, and Dylan reached over to grab him, but he sprang out of reach and laughed. “You started something now. Barry’s going to sulk like a drag queen who’s misplaced her fake boobs. How in the hell you’re going to calm him down, I have no idea.” His eyes glinted. “Well, actually, I do perhaps have a glimmer of how you can make it up to him. You do know that you need to soothe his ruffled feathers, or he’ll crucify you in your sleep?”

Dylan heaved a heavy sigh. “Yes, oh wise one, I am aware of that. I remember the last guy he chose to get back at.”

Barry had cunningly given someone who had done him wrong a “special” conditioner for his hair, which had turned out to contain hair removal cream.

Dylan looked at Alec’s smirk in trepidation. “What do you have in mind?”

Alec sat down on the comfortable corner chair and perched his feet on the desk in the office. “Well, as you know, Barry has a thing for Tracy Trey.”

Dylan winced. “Don’t I know it? Honestly, I can’t see how anyone can take what that man says seriously. He wears plaid and tartan together, for God’s sake, and looks like a bloody overdressed peacock.”

Alec tut-tutted. “Now, now. That overdressed peacock happens to be my newest client.” He sat back and looked at Dylan smugly.

Dylan’s mouth dropped open. “You’re representing that person?”

“Uh-huh. His last publicist ran off screaming into the hills and refused to go anywhere near him. Something about being forced to wear velvet pants and tacky shoes…” His voice trailed off. “I think it was a bit more serious than that, but that’s the rumour. Anyway, I think I can handle Tracy.”

Dylan knew Alec had a will of steel when it came to managing his clients. The man was a pistol a megastar in his industry, and Dylan was proud of him. Alec was not someone who fazed easily. The encounter with the crazed boy band member and the gun had proven that.

“Sooo…” Alec drawled, “I happen to have two tickets backstage to meet Tracy at the opening of the benefit dinner for London Fashion Week. Barry’s been on about it ad nauseum. So perhaps you might give him those as a truce.” His voice was husky, teasing, his eyes dark, and Dylan’s eyes narrowed.

“I know that look, Alec. What will I have to pay for the privilege of you giving me those tickets to appease Barry before we go away?”

Alec looked at him innocently. “Oh, a night of bondage. With you as the ‘bondagee,’ I’m thinking. It’s been a while since we did that, and I have rather a fancy to have you all naked and tied up at my pleasure.”

Dylan’s cock surged in his chinos at that and he smiled in agreement. That certainly wasn’t such a hardship. It probably benefited him more than it did Alec. He rather enjoyed being at his man’s mercy.

Alec gave a sly grin. “Steady on. That’s not all. I also get to record it.”

Now Dylan’s jaw dropped farther. Alec had wanted to tape some of their rather raunchy sessions before, but Dylan had always demurred. He wasn’t all that keen on having that sort of footage around. What if a burglar broke in, or someone hacked into their computer, or they lost their phones? The last thing Dylan wanted on the loose was images of his naked arse bent over in the air while Alec slapped it with a paddle.

“Bloody hell, no,” he exclaimed. “You know that worries me.”

Alec shrugged. “We have a safe at home, Dylan, and a spare phone to record it. I’d keep it in there. And you know our computers have tough security. I doubt anyone would get access to them.” He tapped a ruler from the desk against his thigh. “I’d like to be able to watch it every now and then instead of the usual stuff.”