Author's Note: Start your school year off right, and have another installment of How to be a Heartbreaker! :D
The fact that so many of you inquire about this story and want it to continue really means a lot. And just to show you guys how much I appreciate it, I HAVE MOVED THIS STORY TO MY REGULAR UPDATING SCHEDULE! Woohoo! *releases confetti* The schedule is on my profile, check it out there if you want to see which story I'm updating at any given time. With school starting I don't know how much time I'll have to update anything, but I'm going to try my best!
Enjoy!
No beta. All mistakes are my own.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, nothing, nothing. No profit made etc. See Chapter 1 for more elaborate disclaimer.
*WARNING* for swearing.
This chapter is pretty tame compared to the last three.
~C.J.
(Chapter 4)
Rule number three, wear your heart on your cheek
Blaine slathered on the last of the gel he required for the day, staring at his face from every angle in the mirror to make sure he didn't miss any stray strands. His contacts were in, his face was cleanly shaven, and today was the day. Today was his fucking day to stop marinating in his own pitiful wallows and begin his plan of action. He didn't know exactly what that plan was, but he knew what he wanted by the end of it.
He wanted Kurt.
There. That was it. The escort was prepared to do what was necessary in order to see Kurt again. He doesn't know what's going happen, or how his lovely photographer will react to his sudden reappearance, but that doesn't matter right now. Wherever life seems to take them after that, he'll just have to go with it. However, the only problem is, he had no freaking idea where to start—oh shit, and he's late!
The hazel eyed man took a deep breath, looking as determined as he could after the month he's had, and then let it out. Blaine was done with letting himself be his only obstacle in his way. He grabbed his wallet, walked out of his room with his head held high, grabbed his keys off the counter and was off to the seize the damn day. Seize the boy was more like it, but you get it. That is, until he walked into his living room, three chairs sitting in a semi-circle with three very familiar people occupying them. He'd just put a blueberry Poptart between his teeth, the confused male awkwardly biting off a piece as everyone stared at him. 'Hi, guys.' Blaine had tried to muffle out, words garbled around the mouthful of breakfast treat he had.
"Blaine." Santana acknowledged, crossing a tanned leg over the other. She looked as sensational as usual: fierce black stiletto heels, heart-shaped red dress, and painted manicured nails tapping expectantly on the arm of her chair. He swallowed thickly, wondering why the couch was moved so it was blocking their apartment door.
The dark-haired man turned to his roommate and friend, questioning him with only a glance. Sebastian seemed to duck his head, staring at their carpeted floor with an expression that could only be described as sheepish. "Seb?"
"Well, well, well. You certainly look…resolute." The third individual said, crossing his arms over his broad chest and looking more important that he had any right to be.
"Hey, Brody." Blaine commented, ignoring his observation. He always felt a little underwhelming when in the same room with Brody. The fellow escort always looked chiseled and too damn sexy for his own good. Thank heavens his friend was only in a simple grey V-neck and dark colored jeans. The shirt was probably a bit too small, Blaine noticing the way it tightly hugged the gigolo's chest a bit too snuggly and stretched around his impressive forearms, but then again maybe he was just advertising the product. "What's up?" He tried, wanting to sound more casual than cautious.
Brody laughed, a subtle mocking tone to it. "Shouldn't we be asking you that? Seeing as you haven't been into work oh, I don't know, since basically forever?"
"A month. A month and two days to be precise." Santana clarified, seeming bored and uninterested with what was occurring.
Blaine was still very confused. "Um, I get that I haven't exactly been the best escort these past few weeks," He ignored the scoff he got from Brody. "but I'm definitely better now. Look I don't exactly know if I'm gonna go back to work anytime soon, I sort of have some stuff I need to take care of first, but I'm sorry I didn't give you guys a heads up about what was going on." Blaine waited to see if any of them were going to say anything, they didn't. "Okay. I didn't think I was going to have to tell you all this right now, but here it goes anyways. The truth is I don't think I want to be apart of the escort service anymore." He smiled at the end of his announcement, blinking at them while he waited for shocked awe, or at least some sort of reaction. Again, nothing. "All right then. I guess I'm just going to be heading off to work now." The olive-skinned male hesitantly made his way for the door, contemplatively biting his lower lip as he decided how to best tackle the heavy couch pressed up against the door.
"Oh come off it." The Hispanic snarked. "Get your butt back over here and pull up that empty chair over there. This is an intervention, dumbass. YOUR intervention. So sit down, and shut up."
He didn't know what to say at first, confused and a little irritated that his friends believed he needed one. Blaine walked back over to them, bypassing the chair because who the hell can calm down enough to sit down when they were blind-sided by a damn intervention? "An intervention…" It sounded ridiculous even as he said it out loud. "I didn't realize the excessive viewing of Hoarders was something life threatening."
Sebastian snorted, shoulders shaking as he tried not to laugh. The other two found it less funny. "Deflecting will get you nowhere, Blaine. The only way for you to get past this is for you to admit that there's a problem. We're here to help you, because we care about you. You are our friend, not just our co-worker." Brody explained, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "We're not here to judge you."
It was Santana's turn to laugh. "Ha! Speak for yourself. Totally judging you, small fry."
Now the escort could feel himself passing irritation, and going for full on annoyance. "Judge me for what!?"
"You fell for a client." The other escort deadpanned.
Blaine stiffened, his entire form going rigid. "H-How did you…?" He didn't even get to finish, not before he saw Seb sink in his chair a bit, his shoulder hunching in on himself slightly. They were subtle, barely there movements that alerted him to the fact that his roommate must have divulged their conversation from a couple nights ago. Blaine felt his jaw tick, "So everything you said, did you even mean it?"
Seb was about to comment, when Brody interrupted him. "Look, Blaine, we get it. There's not an escort out there who hasn't felt that little spark of intrigue for a particular client, but it's with the help of your friends, your fellow job associates, that others like you are able to move past this." He almost looked sincere, that's what bothered Blaine the most. "You can't possibly think that what you're feeling is real. This company isn't like a dating service. We're not here to play matchmaker."
The shorter boy frowned, "You don't understand. It's not—I didn't make this all up in my head. What happened wasn't just an exchange of service for money. We made a connection. I-I don't want to move past this."
"You don't seriously believe that." Santana shook her head. "This is exactly what the rules stand to prevent. We all knew what we were getting into when we signed up for this. Whatever you did, whatever you think you feel, doesn't exist outside of their bedroom." She stressed.
"What I do in my personal life is none of your guys' concern. I know what I feel, and I'm not asking for any of your permission. Because it's my business and mine alone, but I guess it's my fault for thinking I could confide in any of you." He glared specifically at Sebastian.
His flustered roommate opened and closed his mouth a few times, sighing in defeat when he couldn't say what he wanted with the other two in the room. "Blaine, you said so yourself that it started off as a fantasy. It was a role-play of genuine love and romance, one that you have always dreamed of being apart of in your own personal life. Couldn't you have just…seen things that weren't really there? Read between the lines of something that you should have just taken at face value? What makes you think Kurt bought into anything more anyways? I mean, he did pay you for your services in the end, didn't he?"
Blaine felt as if he was being slapped in the face, those words, spoken to him by his BEST FRIEND, it fucking hurt. "I'm going to be late for work." He said distractedly, heading straight for the door because he couldn't bear to listen to another word of their disparagements. Kurt had feelings for him. What happened between them, it was REAL. His ex had seen that, that's why Mr. CoverBoy had felt so threatened by him. It had to be. There was no other explanation for it. After all, their feelings were real enough for Brody to think he needed an intervention.
The three escorts watched as Blaine huffed in his exertions, pushing and maneuvering the couch out of the way. "Blaine, this isn't healthy. Grasping after someone who just wanted to distract themselves from their own reality is not love." Brody continued, standing up and stopping Blaine from moving the couch any further, blocking the direction he had intended of pushing the couch in. "Don't do anything rash. You'll only embarrass yourself, and your client. He signed up for ONE night, one night. This person didn't commit themselves to a relationship you've fathomed. Trust me, you'll only get hurt. He will make you feel foolish for ever thinking that there could have ever been more."
"Kurt wouldn't do that."
"Dammit Blaine!" Santana suddenly stood up. "Your feelings don't matter anymore. Don't you get it!? The minute you decided to rent your ass out is the exact moment that you gave up your right to feel anything more than friendship with anyone who could possibly be a love interest. It sucks, yeah. But you just have to accept it, because if none of us are allowed to break the rules, neither can you." She glared at him, her harsh gaze able to cut even the most confident person down.
"She's right, you know. And I'll be the first one to admit that this is partially my fault. You've never been one to take on male clients and I pushed this guy onto you. With the money he was offering to pay, I thought maybe he would be a good regular. Someone who would seek us out every time he was in New York. If nothing else, then at least he could help one of us pay off a good chunk of our debt." Brody seemed like he actually believed the crap he was saying, and the way he looked at Blaine, with such pity. It irked more than any of the other bullshit he was trying to spin. "We know you haven't done anything more than pine over him, which is good. This means it's not too late. Believe me when I say that getting back into your old routine, revisiting your old clients—hell, even taking on a couple new ones—it's going to help you find yourself again. Forget about him. When it comes to us, he's just a dime a dozen. There are plenty more like him lining for the chance to have you for just one night if that's what you need."
"Will you shut up, Brody!" The hazel-eyed man shouted. "You need to just shut up, because I'll be damned if I let a hypocrite like you tell me how to live my life."
"What?"
"You heard me." He said with more certainty, and then turned to glower at the other two sitting in their chairs. "The fact that both of you are here, even if you're just pretending to agree with what he's saying, means you're just as big a hypocrite as he is."
Seb was the only one out of all them to react to those words, averting his gaze from Blaine. The shorter escort pushed the couched abruptly; hitting Brody with it and making the taller male stumble back some. "What the hell was that for?!"
"To get you to listen to ME." He sneered. "Don't you think for a second that my feelings can be changed anymore than yours can!"
"There is nothing wrong with my feelings." Brody said, tone suddenly very dark.
"Oh yeah?" Blaine wasn't buying it. "How's Rachel?"
"Shut your mouth!" The escort suddenly lunged forward, the shorter male jumping back and putting the other two people in the room between them. "You leave her out of this."
The hazel eyed man pffted. "You forget. I've known you since before you first started working as an escort. I may not have known exactly what your job was, but I was your FRIEND. I was there for you when she dumped you, or I guess now I know it was because she stopped using you for your services."
Brody went to step forward again, but Santana held out a hand, eyeing the chiseled young man skeptically. "You fell for a client? YOU? Mr. O.C. Gigolo himself?"
"Why the hell do you think I made up the rules in the first place? So shit like this doesn't happen again, to anybody." He stressed.
"But it already has. Isn't that right, Santana?" Blaine asked, basically throwing her under the bus.
The look she gave him could strip paint from the walls. "Watch it."
The dark haired young lad shrugged, holding up his hands up in a placating manner. Out of everyone in the room, it was Santana that scared him the most. Not Brody. "San, how can you even think about backing up Brody? You fell in love. That's not a crime, for you or for me. You should be happier than any of us. Brittany has actually said that she loves you too."
"Santana…" Brody's tone was a cross between chastising and being disappointed.
"You think bringing that up is helping you right now?" She glared daggers at him. "People, men and women, pay me for sex. Yes, I met Brittany because of what I do. She is sunshine, and happiness, and rainbows, but she deserves to be with someone who isn't sleeping with half the city!" Her manicured nails curled into fists, Blaine hoping she wasn't about to smack him, because the girl could hit. "Even if I wanted to quit, even if I wanted to give her everything she deserves and more, I wouldn't know what to do." For a second, he swore her voice shook. "This is the only thing I'm good at. The only thing I've ever been good at." She hastily wiped under her right eye, not a man in the room daring to comment on the action. Then she cleared her throat, putting a hand on her hip as she regained her composed façade. "Brody is right. Trying to pursue a relationship with a client will only end with either you or both of you getting hurt."
He was about to argue with her, but she didn't give him the chance. Santana grabbed her coat off the back of the chair and headed for the door. "San…"
With one hand she actually managed to push the couch the rest of the way away from the door. Brody was at least smart enough to get out of her way. There was no stopping the stubborn women. Before she left though, she spared the boys one last glance. "It won't work. It can't. Just take it from any of us. It never has." Then she was gone.
It was silent after she closed the door behind her, the boys fidgeting at her words. Even Brody, he was still hung up on the Broadway actress that chose another man over him. All his adamant saying about moving on and not making the same mistakes twice were valid. Despite what he did to try and make it work with Rachel, she ended up going back to the relationship she initially had doubts about in the first place. Finally, Blaine glanced over at Sebastian, who hadn't moved from his seat since he entered the room. "What about you, Seb? I don't know why you put my personal life on blast like that, because I know for a fact that you don't agree with all this. At least not when it comes to Adam."
Sebastian frowned, resting his elbows on his knees as he stared at the floor, running a hand through his coiffed hair. "I thought I was helping. You've been so…down these last few weeks. I just thought that maybe if we reminded you of the rules, showed you that we're here for you, you'd come to your senses. Why can't you see what we see? Learn from our mistakes before you go and make your own by doing the same damn thing." He tried to explain. "Besides, Adam is the son of a British Diplomat. He'll never see me as someone who his father can approve of. The guy is basically royalty. All I'm going to get are the few nights he needs my services. When he doesn't know anybody at an event, and needs someone charming to help him work the crowd. A person who knows that even though they're going to his room, getting into bed with him, it still won't lead to anything more than that. He's probably going to end up with someone just as important as him, not some rent boy like me."
"I don't think you truly believe that."
His roommate snorted, "It doesn't matter if I believe it. All that matters is that he believes it. The son of a diplomat dating an escort? How would that look? The scandal alone would tarnish his reputation in the political world, especially if he wished to follow in his father's footsteps."
Blaine stared for a long moment, going over the words that his best friend had just said. It wasn't like him to give up so easily when it came to something he really wanted, specifically SOMEONE he wanted. "Adam dumped you, didn't he?"
His friend laughed humorlessly, giving his roommate a sympathetic smile. "Don't be ridiculous, we were never really together." He stood up then. "Adam Crawford is currently dating a gold medalist, an Olympian. It's in all the tabloids. Now why would he ever choose someone like me when he can have someone who has literally proven themselves to be the best? But you would've known that, if every once in a while you bothered to ask what was going on with me." Sebastian turned behind him, eyeing Brody. "This is my home too, ya know, and I think it's time for you to get your sweet ass out of here."
The olive-skinned male wilted at his words, floundering for something to saw to stop his friend from retreating. Sebastian didn't wait for Brody to leave, just headed to his room and closed the door. Guess he decided to call in sick to his day job. He could hear Brody let out a deep sigh. "Blaine, this is the one thing I don't enjoy being right about. But as you can see, falling for a client hasn't done us any good. All it's done is made us feel used, more so than what we normally allow ourselves to be. Just because we're escorts, doesn't mean we don't have feelings. People often forget that."
If there was one thing Blaine was right about, it was the fact that he was late to work. The sound technician burst through the door of the music studio, satchel falling into the crook of his arm and ID lanyard hanging from his mouth. When everyone in the room turned to stare at him, he ducked his head in embarrassment, trying to right himself as he found his way to his seat at the sound station. "You're late. Again."
"Y-Yeah, sorry. There was an emergency I had to attend to."
"What kind of emergency?" The head technician asked.
"Um…there was an intervention staged in my living room." All the technicians looked at him bizarrely, so he quickly blurted out, "for my roommate! The intervention was for my r-roommate." He chuckled nervously, averting his gaze from their prying eyes.
"Anything serious?"
"Unhealthy attachments?" Blaine tried.
The technician didn't seem to buy it, but he didn't call him out on it either way. "Well, hope it was worth putting your job in jeopardy."
Hazel eyes grew very wide, the other technicians pretending not to pay attention to the conversation. "W-What?"
He grabbed his briefcase, putting things away while he talked. "Lately, you haven't been a very reliable employee anymore. This last month you've hardly come into work, and when you have, you've been late. Just like today."
"But…But…"
"No use talking your way out of this one, Anderson. Everyone has their off times, but I thought maybe with the start of the new month, you would have turned yourself around. Yet, here you are, late again with another poor excuse." His boss shook his head, zipping up his briefcase and grabbing the other things he needed.
"But, I told you—" He just held up a hand, silencing any further explanation.
"Blaine, you're a good tech. You work well with your fellow sound technicians, the producers, AND the artists. So I really don't want to have to fire you." His boss stressed.
Blaine felt heart drop. "Please, sir."
"I don't want to hear it. Just know that if you are late, or miss work one more time, you will be fired." The technician looked genuinely sorry for the decision, but he just made a gesture that said 'my hands are tied.'
His mouth dropped open. He couldn't believe he'd gotten to the point where he was one slip up away from being fired. FIRED. Like, no more job. He was frozen in his mental stupor, staring at nothing when the scraping of chairs and gathering of personal belongings jolted him out of it. "Wha—Where are you guys going? I thought we had a session to do today?"
One of the techs shrugged, "The artist and producer have already done the first half of their session. They left about half an hour ago to have a break, grab some lunch probably. You kind of missed them."
"I did?" No wonder his boss was upset.
"Yup, so we're going on break too. Stretch our legs before we get ready for the final half of their session." The tech said hesitantly, glancing at their other co-workers as they exited the sound studio. "You know, we were heading out to grab some lunch at the bistro down the street. You can join us, if you want?"
A couple of the other techs stopped outside the door, cocking their heads to listen for his answer. One of the techs even outright glared at the newbie for asking Blaine to join them in the first place, probably not wanting to associate with someone who was in danger of losing their job. At least, that's what Blaine hoped his glare was for. But then again, that guy was a jerk. The escort just smiled though, "Nah, it's cool. I got a late start of the day anyways. Think I'm gonna stay here and guard the equipment. Don't want to give the boss anymore reason to fire me, huh?" He waved them off, acting as if their distancing didn't affect him.
The young tech glanced back at the others who had already begun shuffling off again before he answered. "Well, if you're sure."
"Yeah, I am. Go on ahead." He cleared his throat, and then turned around in his seat while he pretended to work with the equipment in front of him.
The tech nodded, shouldering his bag and heading for the door to catch up with the rest of the crew. He popped his head back in real quick just to ask, "Ya sure you don't want me to bring you back a sandwich, a coffee, or something?"
"Go to lunch, newbie." Blaine said with amusement, listening for the final click of the door closing that signaled the last of the crew had ultimately left. With other people gone, he was able to finally slump back in his chair, sulking over the day's events. It was barely even one o'clock. His friends had staged an intervention just because he wanted to pursue a personal infatuation, and his boss was a day away from firing his ass. In hindsight, he should have probably made a better effort to get to work during his month of self-pity, but he hadn't exactly expected to live out someone else's wedding night. Then again, he couldn't exactly tell his boss that that's what was wrong with him. His moonlighting job wasn't a thing he liked to broadcast.
He just sighed, fiddling with a couple buttons while he twisted in his chair. He probably should have gone out with the rest of crew, that way he wouldn't be left to his self-reprimanding thoughts, but the last thing he wanted was to be tiptoed around while everyone guessed if he was even going to working there the next week. Before anymore wallowing could be done, Blaine accidently flipped a switch, a loud reverberating sound came from one of the headphones and he freaked out. He punched and flicked the buttons and nobs, hitting one of the buttons until the headphones stopped screeching. Okay, this wasn't helping him keep his job.
Blaine got up from chair and stepped away from the sound table before he could do anymore damage, deciding instead to lean on the back wall and thump his head against it. What the hell was he doing? This client has brought him nothing but trouble, and now…now he wants to go looking for more? Who knows if he's even single at this point? For all he knew, Kurt could have gone back to that bleach blonde bimbo. According to his fellow heartbroken escorts, no one really chooses them if there's a better option to be had. And taken into account everyone's past experiences, mistakes, no escort has been seen as the better option. Ugh, he slammed his elbow into the wall, wishing he hadn't gelled his hair so much just so he could run his hands through it and tug away his frustrati—
The second he dropped his head back down, Blaine's eyes fell upon the equipment in the recording studio. Not just the tables he and the other technicians worked at, but the equipment located on the other side of the soundproof glass. There were mics, wires, and headphones of course, but what caught Blaine's eyes was the piano sitting in there as well. He hadn't realized that their artist was recording a song on the piano today. Were they singing, or were they just recording a melody?
But fuck, he really needed to relieve himself of all this stress. Before he knew it, Blaine was making his way into the other room, opening the door and running his hands over the top of the piano. At first touch of the cool smooth surface, tension seemed to radiate from him, lessening the more his fingers stroked the countertop. He smiled, genuinely smiled, sliding right onto the bench like he remembered. Blaine didn't get to do this often, once in a blue moon what with working two jobs, but damn. Just grazing the ivory keys, pressing down to hear that first note, it gave him goosebumps.
Again, this probably wasn't going to help the whole 'keep his job' thing, but he really needed it right now. He just needed a moment, one minute where he could concentrate on something else other than the mess he just made of his life. Blaine had enough time to play a song or two, flit his fingers across the keys for a relaxing few minutes before anyone came back from their break. The dark haired boy didn't want to think while he had this small reprieve, letting his fingers play on their own accord and letting the music pour out without premeditation. When notes started to play, a recognizable tune that he couldn't mistake, Blaine figured he might as well go with the flow of the familiar song that emerged from his subconscious.
Guess it's true, I'm not good at a one-night stand
But I still need love 'cause I'm just a man
These nights never seem to go to plan
I don't want you to leave, will you hold my hand?
It wasn't hard to figure out why this song was one that demanded to be played. Blaine was always able to lose himself, clear his mind more easily with an instrument in his hand and a song in his heart. They were extensions of himself, his primary source of self-expression.
Oh, won't you stay with me?
'Cause you're all I need
This ain't love, it's clear to see
But darling, stay with me
He huffed, the other escorts' words echoing inside his head painfully. Blaine refused to believe that what he felt had been one-sided. After years of being an escort, he KNEW something like that couldn't be faked. If it was anything other than just a job, if Kurt wasn't supposed to be anything more than a client, then he wouldn't be feeling so lousy.
Why am I so emotional?
No, it's not a good look, gain some self-control
And deep down I know this never works
But you can lay with me so it doesn't hurt
But dammit why hadn't Kurt tried to find him in the last month either? Here he was feeling like someone ripped open his chest, and he didn't even know if Kurt had thought about him these last few weeks. Never mind what he might do about it. A lot can change in a month, thinking Kurt is just waiting to see if Blaine will do something seems kind of arrogant and egotistical, don't you think?
Oh, won't you stay with me?
'Cause you're all I need
This ain't love, it's clear to see
But darling, stay with me
Just as he was about to go into the vocal percussion part of the song, he heard, "Damn, with a voice like that, you should be in the recording studio for yourself." Blaine's fingers thunked uncoordinatedly on the keys, pressing too many at a time and garbling several notes together uncomfortably. "Well, maybe not if you're going to play like that." She chuckled.
Blaine snapped his head up towards the open door and started panicking. "M-Miss Jones, I-I'm sorry. I didn't think you'd be back so soon." He started scrambling up from the bench, tripping over his feet as he tried to stand. "This is so unprofessional, and inappropriate. I should have controlled myself. This is your space. I-I ruined it." The fumbling tech just kept stuttering, using the hem of his work shirt to wipe away the fingerprints he imagined to be littering the used to be unblemished piano surface.
The artist just chucked some more, "I should be the one apologizing. If I knew you were going to spazz out without finishing your amazing performance I wouldn't have said a thing."
He froze then, straightening back up so quickly that the work ID around his neck swung clumsily back and forth. "Miss Jones?"
She rolled her eyes, "Pu-lease, the last thing I need is for you to start calling me Miss Jones again. I thought we were past this." The diva raised an eyebrow, plopping her Fauxhuahua on top of the piano.
"We are! I just…" Blaine sighed at his own ridiculousness. "Sorry. It's just been one of those days, ya know?"
"Ah, is that so?"
The tech blushed a little. "Yeah, not really been myself lately. I'm a little…" He made a frazzled gesture with his hand.
"Hmm…guess we all get like that sometimes." The diva tilted her head, smiling fondly. "But enough for you to forget your favorite superstar was in town?" She smiled cheekily. "I missed you this morning.
Blaine let out a short laugh, "My bad, Mercedes. If it had been any other day, I'm sure I would have remembered."
She hummed thoughtfully, leaning against the piano and drumming her nails on top of it. "So it begs to be questioned. What has got you singing Sam Smith, alone, in an empty recording studio? Or should I say who?"
"To be fair, it wasn't empty the entire time. You ambushed me."
"Blaine Anderson." Mercedes wasn't going to humor his attempts at redirecting.
The hazel-eyed male frowned, flopping back on the bench and sullenly playing with the keys. "Mercedes, I don't know if I want to tell you."
"Why not? Maybe I can help."
"Because it would involve me telling you something about my personal life that I don't necessarily divulge to people I work with." He pleaded up at her, "I don't want you thinking any less of me."
Mercedes' eyebrows rose, surprised by his words. "Blaine, you're not just a person I work with. We're friends. If this is about a guy, you can talk to me. You know I would never judge you. That's never been an issue for me. I thought you knew as much."
The slight hurt in her voice had Blaine drooping. "No, no! You've got it all wrong. I know you don't care about that, and…this IS about my love life. But the problem isn't that simple, I'm afraid to tell you about how I met them more than anything else."
"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. Just tell me what's got you down about him." She tried helpfully, "I've got a couple friends who seem to make it their life's mission to lead a complicated existence. So trust me when I say, nothing really shocks me anymore."
He eyed her for a second, mulling things over in his head. She might just tell him that he's being stupid, an idiot who was too quick to give his heart away. Then again, it isn't as if he hasn't heard it all already. "I met them while I was working my second job."
"A second job? Is that all?" She started to shake her head at him. "Wait, wait. Don't tell me. The guy you're mooning over is your boss, and dating him is probably against the rules?"
Blaine made a face at her, shuddering uncomfortably at the thought of ever dating Brody. "Ew, God no. I'd never date him. I've known him too damn long for me to even think of going there, and between you and me, the guy is just too damn pretty for it to be fair."
"Really?"
"Ugh, and he KNOWS it. I'd end up being the third wheel when it comes to the intense love affair he has with his massive ego. Oh, and don't even get me started on the fact that he has no shame. He's slept on my couch all of three times, and every single morning he's sat at my breakfast table buck ass naked. I may be an out and proud gay man living in New York, but the last thing I want to see is my straight friend's dick hanging out while I'm trying to eat my goddamn Lucky Charms!"
"Oh my God, okay, okay! I get it." Mercedes was cracking up, full on laughing at his words. Blaine chuckled along with her, waiting as she tried to control her giggling. Maybe he could tell her. "All right. My sides hurt." He snorted at her, she just grinned. "So boss, bad guess. Now who exactly are you having a forbidden love affair with?"
He almost chocked, the accuracy nearly making him swallow his own tongue. "Um…well, you see, when you put it that way—"
"Any time now, Blaine."
"A client. I—I've fallen for one of my clients." The dark haired boy confessed, his palms suddenly feeling very sweaty.
The singer stared at him in confusion, not quite understanding his choice of words. "A client. What kind of second job you got? Ya work part-time at a law firm or what?"
Here it goes. "More like an escort service." If he was expecting a gasp or scream of shock, he didn't get one. "I'm a gigolo." Mercedes was still looking at him, blandly and unnervingly he might add. "People pay me for my company, and I provide them with companionship. Mostly at night. After work hours. In their hotel rooms." At any other time he might be proud of himself for rendering the opinionated diva speechless, but this was not one of those times. "I have sex with people for money."
"You're a hooker?"
Blaine really did not like being called that word, but he didn't snap at her like he wanted to, because he could tell she was genuinely curious and not trying to be judgmental. "Don't call me that, please."
"Sorry, I was just—"
"I know. I understand, but its not that cut and dry. Yes, our clients—either regular or new—request companionship and the agency I work at tries it's best to offer someone who fits the client's specifications. It's not always a match, but the agency has gotten really good at sending out the best one for the job. We're not being pimped out, and we're not forced to do any job we don't want to do. Plus, our services aren't offered to just anybody, and our…erm…price isn't negotiable. At least when talking down the amount, and it's up to the escort if he or she wants to accept anything more than what was agreed upon." He just kept babbling on, trying to get through as much explanation as he can.
"So like an expensive prostitute." She said, proud of herself for coming up with that assumption.
He sighed, "I don't like to be called that either."
"Then what—"
"Escort. If you have to, just refer to me as an escort." The tech corrected. "But essentially, yes, my second job does involve me being a high-end escort. However, with that being said, every once in a while a client will ask if further services can be provided." Blaine said cautiously.
"Further services?" Mercedes furrowed her brows, Blaine surprised by how calmly she was asking questions. As if she was listening to him explain something ordinary like how to strum a guitar.
The hazel-eyed male sucked his teeth, trying to find the right words. "I assume you know that there are escort services out there that advertise relatively PG-13 type companionship with strictly no sexual services? Like high class people who can't find a date to a last minute event or whatever?"
The singer rested her elbows on the surface of the piano, folding her hands together and propping her chin on top of them. There was no trace of hidden disgust, or snobbish thoughts. She seemed honestly interested. "Sure, sure."
"Well, the industry I work at is known for exactly that, but the sex is pretty much an unspoken sure thing. Of course there are some who wish to just bypass the formalities and skip straight to the hotel room antics at the end of the night, but you get the idea. I personally only take female clients, because the idea of sleeping with a man that I didn't have feelings for sort of freaked me out." His cheeks colored when she looked at him, her expression a mixture of being surprised and impressed.
"Oh, oh okay. I think I get it now." Blaine smiled at her. "You're freaking out over the fact that you've fallen for a woman!" He was frowning again. "Yeah, I get it. All this time you thought you were just attracted to guys, but now you've fallen for this mystery chick, and you're all confused about it. Honey, have you ever considered the possibility that you may be bi?" The tech must have given her an appalled expression, because the next thing he knew she was walking over to him and squishing him in a big hug. "Oh Blainey, there's nothing wrong with liking both men and women. Maybe all this time you just haven't found that right woman to make you feel the way you're feeling now. Gay, straight, or bi, you're still my bestest little guy."
Blaine's sarcastic comment at her inappropriate rhyming was muffled by her boobs in his face, she was suffocating him. He poked her arm, twitching when she started stroking his gelled helmet of hair. The escort couldn't take it anymore, he wormed his way out of her arms and took much needed gulps of air. She then shoved him over on the bench, sitting down next to him and giving him her most empathetic facial expression. "Mercedes, as much as I appreciate—and am slightly creeped out by—your unnecessarily overly zealous acceptance of my nonexistent bisexuality, that's not where I was going with this."
"Oh…" She leaned away from him again, much to his relief. Then began to reexamine him, looking him up and down inquisitively. "Then what the hell are you rambling on about?"
Before he answered her, he asked her a question instead. "Can you tell me something first? Why are not more put off by the fact that I have sex for money? It's not a very respectful occupation that I'm proud of. If anyone else found out…I'm afraid they wouldn't look at me the same way ever again."
She scoffed, "People shouldn't criticize or turn their noses up at the way a person chooses to get by in this world. I'm sure you have your reasons for doing what you do, and you shouldn't need to justify anything to anyone. You are a sweetheart, and a good man. Therefore, that's all I need to know." Mercedes straightened herself up, sitting all prim and pretty as she tossed her weave behind her shoulders. "Besides, I work in the music industry. Boy, you have no idea what kind of crazy ass people I tend to deal with on a day-to-day basis. An 'escort by night, sound technician by day' is not the most outrageous thing I've ever heard of. There are just some mental pictures that you can never erase from yo mind, and NO, trust me when I say you really don't want to know what the most outrageous is. Because Lord help me, but some people just need Jesus."
The dark haired boy couldn't help but laugh, eyes tearing up at her words. He was touched. "Thank you, Miss Jones. You have no idea just how much I needed to hear that. Especially after the mess I've made."
The diva gave him a warm smile, "It's the truth. Now out with it. What's got you acting like this?"
Blaine sighed, out of everyone Mercedes was probably the only person who would have an objective opinion. "You were half right the first time. I did fall for a client, but it was a guy. It was the first time I've ever taken a job with a male client, and…I don't know, it was just something else."
"Do you think you might have made up these feelings because it was your first time with a guy?"
"No, I'm certain of that. I've had boyfriends before, have known them longer, and even thought I loved one or two. But this, what I had with him, it's like nothing I've ever felt. He felt it too. People keep telling me that it can never work, that I'm imagining all these feelings, but how can something imaginary feel so real and hurt so much, you know?" And it did hurt. Blaine inhaled sharply as he was on the verge of tears. He pursed his lips when he noticed his lower lip trembling. His emotions threatened to start pouring out, something breaking in him at finally having someone try to understand and help rather than want him to give up and forget. "I'm not crazy, and I'm not stupid. I know he wants me like I want him, I-I just don't know why he hasn't come looking for me. He's like this big time photographer guy in LA, and I know he must be busy, but I mean, if he doesn't feel the way I do why hasn't he come to put me out of my misery? Am I—Am I not even worth that? Because of this one thing I do, I don't deserve some form of decency?"
"Blaine, honey no, don't cry…" She was about to move forward, wrap him up in a comforting hug when the door to the studio opened.
"Hey, Blaine! I know you said not to bring you anything, but I got you a pita anyways!" The newbie shouted happily.
Mercedes looked like she was about to tell him something, but Blaine just waved her off. "No, it's okay. If everyone's coming back I should go clean myself up." He wiped at his eyes, chuckling to himself to try and break the awkwardness.
"Wait." The singer gripped his hand, stalling him while they watched the others file in through the glass. "Have lunch with me tomorrow?" When the olive-skinned male just furrowed his triangular eyebrows she squeezed his hand a little tighter. "We can talk more then, okay?"
He didn't have it in him to say no anymore, he gave her a small smile and nodded. "Okay."
"And don't worry, all right? I'm sure everything with…um…with—"
"Kurt, his name is Kurt." Blaine shrugged, lowering his voice when one of the techs knocked on the glass. "Thanks again, Mercedes." The escort said as he sniffled pitifully, hopping off the bench and quickly making his way out of the studio. However, the escort didn't notice the newbie switching off the recording button, or the young tech's confused expression because he could have sworn he turned it off before they left for their break.
Kurt was seated at his desk at work, staring down at the picture he had hidden in the bottom of one of his drawers. He tilted his head, smiling softly at the memory the picture brought on. The photographer didn't have the heart to throw it out or stuff it someplace he could never see it. When his door slammed open though, he nearly fell out of his chair. Kurt piled folders and other meaningless items into the drawer before he kicked it shut, crossing one leg over the other in a last minute attempt to look casual. "Kurt E. Hummel, you have got A LOT of explaining to do!"
He furrowed his sculpted eyebrows, shocked by the question and who was asking it. "Mercedes, you're early. I thought we weren't shooting your promo pictures until next week."
"Oh, hell to the no, white boy. I didn't come all the way up here because of some stupid pictures. You, me, and Rachel need to have a sit down like yesterday." She stormed up to Kurt's desk, intimidating him a little.
"I mean if you need a ladies night, there are nicer ways to ask." Kurt leaned back as she invaded his personal space, honestly feeling attacked.
"Don't play innocent with me. I know what you were up to in New York." The diva wasn't backing down.
The pale boy could feel the color draining from his face. "I-I don't know what you're talking about."
"Really? So the name Blaine doesn't ring any bells?"
"…Oh my God."
But never on your sleeve, unless you wanna taste defeat
A/N: The song was 'Stay with Me' by Sam Smith. It encourages me like no other when you lovelies review, so please leave one and tell me what you think because that would be awesome! Y'all are amazing and I'll be back as soon as I can with another chapter. ;)