The Gift Read Free Page B

August's reaction. "Sorry."
    The words flew out before he had a chance to stop them. "He's an asshole." With a wince August caught the tip of his tongue and bit the offensive muscle. Had he really just done that? Did he just call his new boss an asshole? To the man's Administrative Manager, nonetheless? "I'm so sorry, Diana. I didn't mean that."
    The phone crackled with Diana's laughter. "Yes you did. And you're right. He is a diva and an ass." Her voice got quieter, more serious. "You sure you're up to this, August?"
    "Yes," August breathed the word, relief obvious. He mustered up as much confidence as he could manage. "Yes, I can do this. He'll never know a better assistant than what he’s going to have with me. I'm one-hundred-percent positive."
    And he was. For the most part anyway. He never did anything without giving it his all. Besides, it was Doren. There was no way he was going to let himself walk away from an opportunity like this. How would he ever live with himself? He didn't deserve to even consider a job in the music industry if he was willing to let something like this slip through his fingers. "You can count on me."
    "I hope so," Diana said, "I really, really hope so."

The Long and Winding
Road
Doren
    He leaned back against the couch of the bus and closed his eyes. It had been a long ride, almost eight hours, but he didn't mind traveling like this. It was relaxing: no phones, no paperwork, no people poking their heads into the doorway and wanting something, needing something, absolutely-having-to-have-him-do-something right that very minute. The original plan had been for him to fly down and meet the rest of the guys and the equipment at the first venue. He was mostly a one man show, the rest of the guys hired musicians, so Anton had said there was no point in being dragged around by bus for hours on end. Doren had outright refused. That's not how a body went on tour. And Doren wasn't going to miss a single part of the experience. If it all dried up on him in six months or a year he wanted to be able to tell his mates one day that he'd done it all while he had the chance. Besides, the bus was pretty sweet. Big comfy couches, kitchenette, bar and bathroom—he wasn't exactly roughing it.
    He looked down at his new assistant, fast asleep on his shoulder. August was going to be pissed with himself when he realized where he'd spent the last hour or so. Doren didn't mind. It gave him a chance to get a good look.
    August was cute: nice face, slim body, awesome ass even in hideously tailored off-the-rack slacks, not to mention a mouth that made Doren hard just by looking at it. But none of those things explained the draw Doren felt, that tingle in his sub-conscious, the pull that Doren felt when he caught August's eyes with his own. He loved the way August seemed to go all on-guard when Doren had his attention, and the way August bit the inside of his cheek when he was trying not to say something that he desperately wanted to.
    It was odd. And cool. But it was the oddity that was making Doren nervous. It wasn't like he didn't have his choice of hot bodies. Men, women, potentially eithers or boths, were coming out of the woodwork now, falling over their own feet to get into his bed. He had no reason whatsoever to fight anyone for attention. Yet, for some reason, that was exactly what Doren wanted to do. He wanted August's attention—all of it—and that wasn't a good place for Doren to be. He hadn't grown up with a lot, had been poor as dirt for most of his life. When one grew up in foster homes and government centers, one learned quickly that you either got out or you got stuck. He'd gotten out. But he'd worked hard to do it. For that reason alone he tended to fall to the wrong side of self-important too often. If he asked for something, he wanted it. And he wanted it right then and there, without question or argument. He gave attitude. He didn't get it.
    Yet as quiet and awkward as August was, it was obvious the