Unravel

Description

Unravel – Mychael Black

Fashion designing is a time-consuming profession, as Philip has found. No time for relationships, not that he cares much for them anyway. But as he’s swept up in preparations for a big show one night, he crosses paths with the burly hunk for a lighting manager who just so happens to share some similar interests. Philip finds that there may be more to take off than just his career.

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EXCERPT:

In twenty-five years, if I’ve learned anything, it’s to never trust someone who says: “Dude, cover for me,” while running like his ass is on fire.

I really should have learned to say no at some point.

* * *

It was a normal day — just like any other. I was working on a new set of sketches, pretty certain that I had a cohesive jumble of ideas for my latest collection. A full pot of coffee, a quiet niche in the otherwise vacant dressing room. No assistants, no publicists, no diva princesses bitching about this, that, or the other. Just a nice, relaxing morning.

Until my assistant burst into the room.

Troy took one look at me, nestled safely in my little corner, and made a beeline right for me.

“Dude, I gotta make myself scarce. If anyone asks, I — fuck, I died or something.”

Before I could answer, he spun on his heel and ducked out the other door. What the hell?

A moment later, the first door opened again and a huge hulk of a man scowled in my direction. “Where’d that little prick go? I saw him come in here.”

“Uh –” I really, really did not want to get involved in whatever trouble Troy’s dumb ass got himself into this time. “Um, can I help you?”

The man looked me up and down, then smirked. “Who the hell are you? Only employees are allowed in here.”

I bit the inside of my lip to keep from smiling. This had to be Dan, the new lighting guy. He was muscular, tall, and gruff as hell — just as Troy described him. So why the hell was Troy running from him? I started to tell him who I was, but something about the way his muscles tensed made me want to goad him, see how far I could push it. I wondered which side of the fence he sat on, or if he’d be willing to straddle it. Or me. I wasn’t picky.

“Cat got your tongue, boy?”