Unfortunate Son Read Free

and reached for his beer. “Nice to get feedback.”
    “I follow you on Twitter too. Love the shots you post.” The man’s gaze ran down Evan’s body, lingering at his crotch before returning to his face. “You got an amazing body. Not all overpumped like some guys.”
    Evan sipped his beer, swallowed. “I may be dancing at Rooster’s next month,” he said. “You should come by and say hi.”
    Unlike some people, this man got the hint— not to be rude, but I’m on my own time now —and nodded. “Will do. You have a great night, now.”
    “Thanks, you too. Nice to meet you.”
    Evan turned back to meet Tony’s amused gaze, lifting his beer and an eyebrow in tandem. “What?” he asked just as glass met flesh.
    Tony shook his head and set the glass he’d been wiping under the edge of the bar. “Just funny to see you turn it on and off like that. Flip a switch and it’s like a whole ’nother person.”
    Evan shrugged. “Kind of is,” he agreed.
    And kind of not , his mind supplied. Porn had been his life and livelihood long enough that the edges blurred even for him. The only thing he knew for sure was that he liked sex. Whether he truly liked the kind he had on set was a different question, but usually, yeah, it was good. And when it wasn’t, well, he just faked it. It might not be Hollywood caliber, but acting was still part of the job.
    And a job it was. Not that he’d had many options after he got kicked out of the Corps.
    Evan shook off the thought. Not one he liked to dwell on.
    “Oh shit!”
    A high-pitched half shriek was Evan’s only warning before something—some one —tumbled halfway into his lap. Evan only just kept himself from leaping up, which from the look of things, once he could focus, would’ve resulted in his unexpected visitor landing in a pile on the floor. As it was, the smaller man was in danger of slipping off Evan and going down hard, and not in the fun way.
    Evan set his beer on the counter and wrapped his free hand around the arm of the guy who’d fallen quite literally into his lap. He stared down at the riot of loose, blond-tipped curls against his chest. The kid’s hands were scrabbling then, trying to get some kind of grip so he could get back on his feet, or so Evan supposed, though he didn’t seem to be making much progress in that direction.
    Finally something caught, the kid got his feet back under him, and he stood up. Evan kept his hands up protectively on instinct, just in case, but the kid just shook his head, hair a blur of motion, and then looked at Evan straight on, as if he’d meant to do that all along.
    “I’m so sorry, honey,” the kid said, and Evan thought he couldn’t have been more than nineteen. Never mind that they were in a bar; it wasn’t like a fake ID was hard to get. “I don’t know what happened there. I was just coming over to get another club soda and, bam , there went my feet, right out from under me.” He smiled, teeth bright white against his lightly tanned skin and full, deep pink lips, and held out a hand. “Where are my manners? I’m Riley Yeats.”
    Without conscious thought, Evan found himself sliding his fingers around Riley’s, feeling long, fragile bones beneath soft skin. “Evan,” he said. “Evan Day.”
    In his peripheral vision, he caught the widening of Tony’s eyes. He never gave out his real name to strangers. He had no idea why he’d done it now, but it wasn’t like he could take it back.
    “Well, Evan Day, I’m very glad to meet you.” Riley gave Evan’s hand a quick squeeze and then climbed onto the next barstool—climbed quite literally, since the dang things were difficult for Evan to handle, and he was nearly six feet tall. Riley couldn’t be more than five-foot-six in his bare feet. Or in flip-flops , Evan thought as he glanced down at Riley’s feet, now hooked on the rail that ran around the chair a foot off the ground. Metallic gold flip-flops? Evan didn’t even know they sold such