Dear Prince Charming Page 3

  Eric nodded.

  “When?”

  He huffed out a breath. “Hell, I don’t know, probably a lot longer than I thought. She brought it up to me right after we graduated college.”

  Jack knew Eric had sacrificed a lot for his mother. His father had died when he was a kid and his mom had never been in very good health. In fact, he’d given up a good job as an engineer in California to come back here and take care of her until she died. That train of thought broke off as certain things began to fall into place. “So that’s why you took the job offer in San Francisco instead of following up with the guys who’d been scouting you for four years? That whole song and dance you fed me about being burned out on football, what was that? A crock of shit?”

  “Not entirely. You have to understand the struggle I was fighting, man. High school? I just figured maybe I wasn’t meeting the right girls, or I was a late bloomer.”

  Jack snorted. “I’m sure the entire varsity cheerleading squad would be laughing themselves sick if they could hear you right now.”

  “You’d be surprised what you can talk yourself into. And out of. If you need to badly enough.”

  Jack fell silent. He wanted to understand, but he honestly had no idea what life had been like for Eric. “I can’t believe you kept it quiet.”

  “Trust me. Me, either. I figured it would be all over when I got to college. Things would be so different. Then the academic scholarship fell through and—”

  “Maryland offered you a full ride to play football,” Jack said, starting to realize just how screwed his best friend had been.

  “Exactly. With Mom’s health the way it was, it was too good an opportunity to pass up. But I knew it meant four more years of locker-room shit and everything else that goes along with being a team player. So when that firm in San Francisco made me the offer halfway through my senior year, it was like a life preserver thrown to a drowning man.”

  Jack swore under his breath. He knew the next part of the story. Eric hadn’t been out West six months when his mother fell seriously ill. The kind of ill she wasn’t going to recover from. He’d come back East, worked a string of dead-end jobs to make ends meet while taking care of her. Jack had just started to get decent work at that point, so he traveled wherever they sent him. At the time, it had been a stepping-stone to his bigger dream, that of being a staff sports reporter for a big newspaper.

  Only he’d quickly realized he’d already found his niche. Other than Eric, he had no close friends, and frankly, he’d never wanted any. Too much damn work. Life on the road suited him perfectly. More important, he enjoyed writing the stories that no one else wanted to cover, about sports most people had never heard of. He’d sent money back as much as he’d been able, knowing things were rough. But he’d never had any idea of just how rough.

  “So why not come out then?” he asked. “If she already knew, I mean, why not? Was she weird about it?”

  “No, no, not at all. In fact, she was the one who pushed me to take the Bay Area job in the first place. She wasn’t happy when I gave it up to come back, but there was no way I was putting her in some facility, and it wouldn’t have been right to drag her across the country and away from everything she knew, her friends.”

  “Yeah, I remember.” It had been a very tough time for Eric. “I just wish you’d told me. Maybe I could have helped somehow. I don’t know, done something for you. Both of you.” He shook his head, guilt creeping back in.

  Eric picked up the ball and they both walked back over to the fence. He snagged his shirt, tugged it on. “You were there for me. You were the only one I could unload on, about the stress, the worry, the loss, all of it.”

  “Yeah, I know, but—”

  “You were also just starting out, and it was obvious to anyone with two eyes how much you loved what you were doing. I wasn’t going to drag you into any more of my crap. Hell, I didn’t even know what end was up at that point in my life. Then the on-line chat thing started and it filled the void, at least temporarily. It was very . . . I don’t know, freeing. Just being anonymous and talking with people.”

  They left the courts that were part of the amenities provided by the Alexandria apartment complex Jack lived in and headed upstairs to his place on the fourth floor.

  Jack was feeling worse by the moment. Eric was a great one for making everything seem fine and dandy on the surface, but Jack, of all people, should have known better. He always thought he’d done his best to be there for Eric. But it was now clear his best hadn’t even come close. “You should have told me.”

  Eric shook his head. “The whole advice thing was a fun game that blossomed into something real. I had no idea it would become serious, much less a career.”

  A college girlfriend of Eric’s had dragged him into an on-line chat with a bunch of her friends, joking that he was the prince she’d let get away. Being funny, he’d signed on as Prince Charming, and had ended up being the guy they’d all turned to with their man troubles. Jack remembered ribbing Eric mercilessly about trolling for anonymous sex by being Mr. Sensitive. Eric had ended up with the last laugh, though, when one of the women had jokingly said he should start his own advice column, demystifying men for all the frustrated women out there. And the Dear Prince Charming empire had been born.

  Jack let them into his apartment and headed straight for the fridge. If there was ever a Miller Time, this was it. He grabbed two bottles, popped off the caps, and handed one to Eric. They wandered out onto the terrace balcony and dropped into the pair of green plastic lawn chairs Jack had put out there. So he wasn’t much on interior design. Or exterior, for that matter. But plastic didn’t get moldy from neglect while he traveled. Martha Stewart he was not. Hell, Jackie Stewart probably had more style than he did.

  “Besides,” Eric was saying, “I figured the whole Mr. Mystery Author thing would work for me.” His mouth kicked up in a wry grin. “You know, hetero advice columnist by day, happening homo by night.”

  “Ha, ha. So what happened? Or . . .” Jack trailed off for a moment as the rest of the story fell into place. “So I wasn’t that far off, then? I mean, have you been leading a secret life? Is there someone, uh, you know, special? Is that what this is all about?” He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Hell, he still wasn’t sure how he felt about it.

  Eric shook his head. “There have been men I’ve wanted to get to know better. But I haven’t dared let things progress beyond a casual fling. The Mystery Author thing sort of backfired. Who knew the Prince Charming thing would take off and every media hack with a camera would be hunting me down? I had this recurring nightmare of the front page of The Globe sporting horribly lit photos of me taken at some leather bar in Dupont Circle.” He shook his head, sipped his beer. “You don’t know how badly I wanted to tell you. A million times over. But . . .” He paused, looked away. “You are, for all intents and purposes, my brother. My only family. Bullshit aside, I care what you think. I—I didn’t want you to think less of me. I didn’t think I could take that.”

  “Jesus.” Jack swore under his breath. “Do you think that little of me? Never mind. I’m pretty sure you’re going to piss me off if we go any further there, so just shut up, okay? I know now, that’s what matters. And for the record, I’m not going anywhere.”

  Eric looked at him then, the relief and gratitude on his face making Jack feel even worse for yelling at him in the first place. God only knew what he’d have done, or how he’d have handled it, if things were reversed.

  “I know it might make things weird,” Eric said. “But trust me. I’m still me. I’m the same guy, nothing has really changed. It’s just that I happen to prefer—”

  “Let’s not go there, either,” Jack said, not ashamed to admit it was going to take him a bit longer to deal with the visuals that were going to accompany this news flash. He finished off his beer. “But if there is no, uh, significant other, then why now? Does it have something to do with this gig you took at the new magazine?”
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br />   “Yeah. I decided it was time to end the anonymous author thing. My contract for the column was up for renewal and I hadn’t proposed anything on my option for my book publisher. I kept stalling because I just couldn’t keep going on with the whole thing. I didn’t know what to do. Then Valerie came along.”

  “Valerie? Oh, right, the publicist chick.”

  Eric just shot him a look. “She’s not a chick. She’s a professional who takes her job very seriously. I—I like her. A lot. And the offer she made me seemed like the perfect solution. At the time, anyway.”

  “What’s your deal with them? What did you sign on for?”

  “I agreed to do a little PR for them, and write an exclusive monthly column for their first year. Six issues total.”

  “Okay. How does all this affect the agreement?”

  “It doesn’t. If I was willing to keep my sexual preference a secret. Only I’m not. I can’t go on like this. But exposing my face to the world is one thing. If I were to come all the way out, I’d be ruining Valerie’s career, and turning Glass Slipper into a national joke.”

  “And I fit into this grand scheme where?”

  “Well . . . I was sort of hoping I could get you to stand in for me. Be a body double, basically.”

  “Excuse me?” Jack’s feet fell to the floor with a thump from their propped position on the balcony railing.

  “It’s just one day of work. Contractually, someone has to show up at the cover shoot. It can’t be me. Not the real me, anyway.”

  There were so many things wrong with this whole conversation, Jack didn’t know where to begin. “When is this thing?” he asked, hoping he at least had some time to find some other solution to Eric’s problem. Any other solution.

  “Uh . . . Monday.”

  Jack rubbed the back of his neck, not sure whether to laugh or curse a blue streak. He did a little of both. “You’re not a fucking genius; you’re fucking insane. Even if I was willing—which I’m not—we’d never pull off a stunt like this. You have to know that. I mean, I don’t know what the answer is here. I understand where you’re coming from and all, but can’t you just, you know, wait a while longer? Until your contract is up? It’s not that much longer.”

  “No,” Eric stated flatly, and it was clear he wasn’t going to be swayed.

  Not being able to comprehend just what pressures and stresses his friend had been under for all these years, Jack could hardly call him on the decision.

  “Besides,” Eric went on, “no matter when I do it, Glass Slipper will take a hit. And my career will be over. The genius of this plan is that everybody gets what they want, and nobody gets hurt.” He rushed on before Jack could say anything. “It’s one cover shoot. I can handle the print interview that appears in the inaugural issue, and do the rest of the promo Valerie has scheduled over the phone. I’ve done radio around here for years that way.”

  “Precisely. People might not know your name, or your pretty face, but they do know your voice.”

  “We both have deep voices. A deep voice is a deep voice. Radio distorts things, especially when you’re not in a studio. And you’re not going to have to talk to that many people at the shoot. They’re keeping this whole thing as hush-hush as they can, so nothing spoils the launch. Trust me, that’s the least of your worries.”

  “Key word here being worries.”

  “I know it’s a lot to ask,” Eric said directly. “I know that.”

  “What were you thinking, agreeing to this? Never mind.” Jack swore silently. He couldn’t get past the fact that he’d somehow let his closest friend down in some fundamental way by not being there for him all those years. Especially given everything Eric had done for him. When he thought about it like that, letting some people take a few pictures of him didn’t seem like all that much to ask in return.

  “At the time it sounded like a brilliant plan. I’d reveal myself to my readers and come all the way out at the same time. My advice is just as valid, no matter what my gender preference is,” Eric said. “But as much as I’d like to believe we live in an enlightened society, you and I both know it won’t work that way if I go public. And the closer I got to the cover shoot, and the better I got to know Valerie . . . well, this is a big career break for her, and I realized I just couldn’t do it. To any of them, really.”

  Jack knew for a fact that his friend was one of the most compassionate human beings on the face of the earth. He knew this because all those years ago while Eric had been tending to his sick mother, he’d also been tending to a homeless Jack. “No way were you going to be able to screw those old ladies out of their money. You had to know that from the start.”

  “I don’t know,” Eric said. “I was feeling pretty desperate, like I was losing my mind. When Valerie approached me with the deal, it just seemed like my ticket out. Of all of it. So I grabbed it. Anyway, it’s too late to second-guess it now. I’ve signed the contract.”

  Jack said nothing for several long moments, then blew out a long breath and said a silent prayer. “So . . .” He looked over at Eric. “I don’t actually have to dispense advice, or give interviews or anything?”

  Eric’s eyes lit up, but otherwise he tried not to appear too excited when he responded. “I don’t think so. You’ll have to meet with Valerie; she’s the only other one who will know about the switch.”

  Jack’s gaze narrowed. “What do you mean will know? You haven’t told her about this little plan of yours yet? I thought you said you’d told her everything?”

  “I told her I was gay. And that I couldn’t go through with the cover shoot. But I told her not to worry, that I would make it up to her. I met with her earlier today and we talked, but I needed to talk with you before I could say anything else.”

  “Oh, brilliant. Fucking brilliant. She’ll never go for this. You do realize she could just sue your ass—mine, too, probably—from here to the moon and back. It’s fraud, Eric. We can’t possibly get away with—”

  But Eric was already shaking his head. “Her career is on the line here, too. And I’ve gotten to know her pretty well. She’s a good, decent person who works very hard. Too hard, if you ask me. But I know this job means everything to her. A lawsuit would bury the magazine before it ever gets off the ground and kill her career along with it. I don’t think we have to worry. She’ll get on board. It’s her only hope.”

  Jack really didn’t give a flying fuck about the publicist. He didn’t wish her ill, but childhood guilt about one pal was enough of a burden at the moment. “You don’t think so?”

  “We can hammer out all the details tomorrow night. We’re having dinner at her place.”

  “Oh, we are, are we?”

  “Well, that’s my plan. I was going to call her, you know, after we get things straight between us.”

  “Pretty sure of yourself there, Peter Pan.”

  Eric leaned back, tried to ease the tension between them with a crooked grin. “Oh, so this is how it’s going to be? I come out to my best friend and he starts cracking gay jokes?”

  “You’re making me prance around on the cover of a national women’s magazine as Prince Charming?” Jack stroked his chin, pretending to ponder. “Pretty much, yeah.”

  Eric just laughed. “Fine, I can handle that. And you know I do intend to compensate you very well for your—”

  “I don’t want your money,” Jack said flatly. There was no reason he couldn’t look for a job while he did this thing for Eric. How long could a photo shoot take, anyway? “We both know how much I owe you.”

  “Hey, I wasn’t playing that card. I’m not—”

  “I know. Which is precisely why I’m not taking a red cent from you. You saved my life. The least I can do is give you back yours.”

  Eric fell silent.

  Jack wasn’t generally comfortable with emotional moments. Just ask Shelby. “Besides, if it’s my face on the magazine, I’ll get all the babes, right?”

  Eric snorted. “Like you need more. But yes, merc
ifully, you can have them all. In fact, I’ll be sure to forward those bags of mail directly to you from now on.”

  “Let’s not get hasty here.”

  “And I am going to pay you. I have to, or I just won’t feel right about this.”

  “I swear to God, if you mention money one more time—”

  “The contract was for mid-six figures. I can handle it, okay?”

  Jack’s mouth dropped open. No words came out.

  Eric grinned. “I thought that would get you.”

  “Telling women what they want to hear is worth that many zeroes? Jesus, man. For that kind of smack, I’ll tell them what they want to hear.”

  “Which would be great, except you’d have to know what that is. Women actually want to hear what I have to say.”

  “Oh, that’s how it’s going to be? I pull your ass out of the fire and you get to dump on my inability to . . . what would you call it in one of your columns . . . open up? Get in touch with my emotions?”

  Eric just grinned and downed the rest of his beer. “Look at it this way, now we’re both going to hell.”

  Jack groaned. “Like I wasn’t headed there already.”

  First dates

  When entertaining a man in your home for the first time, try to overlook any Neolithic behavior. Trust me, he’s just as nervous as you are. It’s just that, in general, men don’t handle nerves with the same finesse as women. While a woman will quietly anguish over whether the meal will come together on time . . . the guy is trying hard not to do or say anything that will rule out any chance he might score. Meaning, he’s certain to do something wrong. And they say women are the hormonal ones.

  Chapter 3

  Valerie straightened the silverware, then fiddled with the napkins, folding them this way, then that. Not that it mattered how nice the table looked. It was unlikely Eric would notice. Although, on second thought, maybe he would.

  She could schmooze with the best of them if someone else was doing the cooking, and providing the atmosphere to go with it. But she hated entertaining in her own home. Her Northeast row house was nicely furnished, but her people skills didn’t extend to hosting gracious dinner parties.