Chapter Twenty

He was working in the coffee shop the next day when a familiar voice broke his concentration. A shiver ran through him at what it meant when he looked up to face the man with the voice.

“I see you’re still choosing to work in public places,” Barry Edleman stated.

“Why would you care where I fucking worked?” Tessler spit the words out at his first agent.

Barry was responsible for so much in Tessler’s professional career and also his personal life, but he’d more than paid back anything Barry felt he might still be owed, unless Barry wanted his blood or a kidney as payment. Considering those two items weren’t going anywhere, that left Tessler with one question:

“Why are you here?” Tessler asked Barry.

“To see you. Why else would I drive all the way out here?” Barry countered.

“You’ve done far stranger things than make this drive out from Los Angeles,” Tessler scoffed.

“Hmmm, and some of those strange things were done with you,” Barry said and chuckled.

Tessler narrowed his eyes at Barry and leaned forward on the table. He tried to ignore the fact the man still looked incredible and hadn’t changed a damn bit in the few years it had been since he’d last seen him. His dark, wavy hair was combed perfectly into place, and a pair of casual, linen slacks and white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the forearm were neatly pressed. Jesus, this man looked like a model right out of GQ magazine. Once upon a time, it was that very look that drew Tessler to him like a moth to a flame, but now it was just one more aspect about the man that was fucking annoying as hell.

Barry had a way of exuding a relaxed demeanor about himself, but Tessler knew the hard edge the man really had to him. It was a firm imaginary line which Barry had drawn all around him and rose to the sky like an invisible wall. He had similar lines drawn with everything he did, right down to who he touched and how he allowed them to touch him. It was all mapped out in precise detail. Go against his wishes and Barry had ways to make you pay for your ill-advised misstep. The man seemed to get as much pleasure from someone’s fuck up, as he did from their accuracy, but for completely different reasons.

Tessler was no longer the stupid, easily impressed kid Barry had met a few years back. He understood what made men like Barry tick, and he was no longer immune to the slick ways a snake like Barry could attempt to charm people. What he had now was more of an allergic reaction to Barry, where the sweet smiles were no longer working their magic. Tessler knew the danger that lurked below the smooth veneer of the man standing before him, and there was no way he’d allow himself to be caught up in it again.   

“Let me ask you again,” Tessler all but growled at Barry. “What . . . do you . . . want?”

Barry’s eyes bounced around the semi-crowded cafe then landed back on Tessler. “Can we go somewhere private and talk, like perhaps your apartment upstairs?”

“No, we can’t,” Tessler answered with curtness. “Say whatever is on your mind that you thought was important enough to drive out to Glendale. Get it over with, so I can get back to work.” Barry grabbed the back of the empty chair at Tessler’s table and pulled it out. “I don’t remember inviting you to sit,” Tessler said.

“Stop acting like a petulant child,” Barry softly scolded.

“Oh, so now you think it’s prudent to point out our obvious age difference?” Tessler asked.

Barry scraped the metal chair legs across the tiled floor and plunked himself down into the seat in a huff. Tessler kept his gaze trained on his laptop screen and pretended to work. Maybe he was acting like a brooding adolescent, but he didn’t much care. How dare Barry barge back into his life now after all this time had passed—and right when he’d met someone he was really starting to care about. If he did or said anything to fuck up his chances at having something real with Mason, he’d make Barry regret this unexpected visit.

“You look really good,” Barry said in a low voice.

Tessler saved his file and slammed the cover shut on his laptop. “Let’s eliminate the useless small talk and get to it,” he said. “What’s on your mind?”

Barry leaned back in his seat and took a slow intake of air as if selecting his words carefully. Tessler had come to hate that dreaded pregnant pause that Barry loved to use for dramatic effect. It was no longer effective on Tessler. It only pissed him off now, but he held his tongue and waited, then waited some more.

“I think you should write another book to add to the trilogy series,” Barry finally said.

“That’s it? That’s what got you into your car to fight the traffic on the drive out of LA?” Tessler asked with sarcasm. “You wasted your time, because the answer to that question is still no, and I believe I was clear with you about that when we parted ways. That series is a trilogy, which as I’m sure you know, means three. That’s it. There will not be a fourth book.”

“Why not?” Barry threw back at him. “That series made you a millionaire several times over.”

“It made us both a lot of money, but I no longer need that series to fall back on for monetary gain,” Tessler explained with bitterness. “I’ve moved on to other projects which earn me plenty of money.”

“But not like the Black Key Trilogy did,” Barry pointed out. “The titles you’ve released since the trilogy have done well, but no blockbuster status like the series earned for you.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Tessler answered. “I refuse to whore out my work just to earn a quick buck, which leads me to wonder what your angle is? What would another installment in the series mean to you? Is that what this is about? You’re looking for me to earn you some quick cash? Is that it, Barry? What makes you think I’d sign a contract with you now on any level? So, tell me, what’s in this proposed project for you?”

“Don’t you think your fans would love something new added to that series?” Barry continued to bargain.

“I’m pretty sure my readers understand the definition of trilogy and realize that means there won’t be a book four.”

“And what comes of LJ Mechum?” Barry questioned. “This no-name author comes from out of nowhere with his first and only series and then just disappears. You don’t think people will start to do some digging into that?”

“So what if they do?” Tessler argued. “What are they going to find? It’s a pen name—like numerous other authors use every day. There’s nothing scandalous about that.”

“No? You don’t think your fans might raise an eyebrow to know a twenty-year-old wrote about his own personal sexual awakening at a gay sex club?” Barry questioned. “You don’t think that might stink a little bit like a ‘scandal’?”

“You know what might cause their breath to catch, Barry, is the fact that a much older literary agent took his twenty-year-old client to a sex club,” Tessler grit out. “I think they’ll find that piece of this twisted puzzle is far more scandalous than me writing three books of fiction.”

Barry laughed at Tessler’s last word. “Fiction? Really?” Barry protested. “Your three books of fiction got my membership terminated to that club. That’s how fictional your story turned out to be.”

Tessler shrugged with indifference at Barry’s reveal. He couldn’t possibly care any less than he did, and he was finished having this discussion with his ex-agent. He reached for his laptop bag and began to collect his things from the table before he slid his laptop inside and stood up to leave.

“Go back to LA, Barry, and stay there,” Tessler said. “My answer is no and that is never going to change, so you’ll have to find yourself another naïve, little cash cow to save your financial empire.”

“My finances are fine, you little ungrateful brat,” Barry hissed as he rose to his full six foot two inch frame. “You seem to forget who put you up on that pedestal you’re comfortably living on today.”

Then Barry leaned in closer to Tessler’s face. There was a time when Barry’s larger build could intimidate Tessler, but not anymore. He was over the effect this man once had on him. Now Barry was nothing more than an annoyance that Tessler wanted to shoo away like an unwanted bug.

“I wish I could say it was nice to see you,” Tessler stated flatly, “but that would be a lie.”

“Right, and you never lie, do you?” Barry said to his backside as Tessler walked out of the cafe.

Tessler double-checked the door to the private hallway that led up to his apartment, just to be certain it was locked when he closed it behind him after leaving the coffee shop. He hurried down the hallway and didn’t breathe a sigh of relief until the elevator door shut. Then he collapsed against the wall and almost slid to the floor.

He was fuming mad at having to see Barry again. The cafe had always been a safe place for him to sit and blend into the walls while he worked. Now that space was tainted with the image of Barry’s fucking face. Seeing him again had so many old, negative images flooding his system and he hated it. He’d worked really hard to put that chapter of his life behind him, which also included cutting ties with Barry. He didn’t need the toxicity of that relationship, but it wasn’t until he was completely free from Barry before he realized how bad it actually was. Hindsight was a bitch.

Even after he’d locked the door to his apartment, he still didn’t feel at ease in his own home. Instead, he paced the floor to his living room. Back and forth he trekked a path over the large area rug, stopping several times by the door to make sure the alarm was set and the bolt secured. It felt like he was losing his mind. Barry wasn’t a physical threat to him, not in the least. With Barry, it was always about the mind-fuck. He used his wits to fight, and the wounds his words cut always stung like a motherfucker.

He pulled his phone from his back pocket and pressed the speed dial button for William Kent, his lawyer of the past several years. When his attorney answered, Tessler got right to it. “He’s back, and he’s looking for something.” Tessler blurted.

“Who’s back?” William asked.

“Barry Edleman, my first agent,” Tessler explained. “You know, the agent who got me my very first contract with Moriarty Publishing.”

“He’s also the man you wrote about in the trilogy who brought you to the sex club when you were barely the legal age of consent,” William added.

“I was twenty-one years old, William. Even with my limited knowledge of the law I know that is far above the age of consent in every state in the union,” Tessler said. “He didn’t make me do anything I didn’t want to do. I explained that all to you.”

“Are you sure about that?” William asked using his fatherly tone.

“Am I sure about what?” Tessler fired back. “I told you, I wanted to be at that club, and I have zero regrets about anything I experienced while I was there.”

“He took advantage of your youth, Tessler, and the manipulation he’s guilty of, which you’ve talked about before, could, in fact, be considered criminal, depending on what he gained by doing it.”

“He gained money,” Tessler added. “Lots of money from the trilogy project, and he’s back looking for more.”

“How is he trying to manipulate money out of you now?” William asked.

“I know him,” Tessler explained. “He wouldn’t have driven out to Glendale and showed his face at the coffee shop below my apartment without a damn good reason, and it wasn’t simply to see my cheery face or because he missed me.”

“What do you think his reason could be?”

“He wants me to write another story to add to the trilogy,” Tessler seethed.

“And he’s playing mind games to try and make you do that?” the attorney asked.

“Yes, that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!”

“You need to be specific,” William argued. “What did he say that made you feel as though he was trying to influence you into doing this project?”

“He talked about how much money I could make and that my readers deserved another story to go with that series,” Tessler said.

“Hmmm, it would be a stretch to consider that kind of dialog as manipulation, Tessler.”

“I’m telling you, he’s up to something!”

“I’m sorry, but I’m not hearing any threats or serious mind games with the conversation you just described,” the attorney stated.

“What are my legal options to keep him away from me?” Tessler asked. “What can I do to protect myself?”

“Well, we could try to file a TRO with the local police; although, as your lawyer, I have to tell you that I just don’t see enough grounds to enforce that right now,” William said.

“That’s bullshit.”

“Did he threaten you in any way whatsoever, Tessler? Even if he implied such a thing, it would give us some leverage to work with. Did he do anything even remotely in the gray area here? You know I can work magic, but I need something to work with.”

“Of course he didn’t overtly threaten me! He’s smarter than that,” Tessler argued. “I know him, William, and I’m telling you he wouldn’t make that drive out to see me today for nothing. He has a fucking plan. I know it!”

“Let’s give it some time and see if his motives for making contact with you become clear,” William stated blandly. “Until then, I can’t legally process paperwork to stop him from going into a public coffee shop and saying hello to you. He didn’t break any laws by doing that.”

“Yet.”

“Well, when he does break the law—or even bend it a little, you let me know, and I’ll be all over it,” William stated.

“What am I paying you for?” Tessler barked.

“You pay me to keep an eye on your business interests and to protect your name brand,” William said as if he were reciting it from a cue card.

Tessler gripped the longer hair at the top of his head and yanked on it to the point of pain. “I’ll give you a call in a few days,” he finally told his lawyer.

“Yes, please keep me updated, Tessler.”

Tessler didn’t respond to William’s last comment. He simply ended the call and stared at his phone in disbelief. The unsettled feeling rolling around in the pit of his stomach left him feeling shaky. The one person who seemed to know how to calm him down these days was Mason. Damn, just thinking of the man had a way of easing his rattled nerves. Before he could think better of it, Tessler’s fingers began typing a text message.

“Can I see you tonight?” Tessler asked Mason. He didn’t have long to wait before he saw the response he was hoping for.

“What time?”