Saugatuck Summer (Saugatuck, #1)(82)
In short, life was actually looking better than it had since I’d arrived in Saugatuck at the beginning of the summer. Robin and Geoff paid me a more-than-fair wage, and now that Ling was on her maternity leave, I was getting more hours than ever. I wasn’t certain I’d have enough money by the end of summer to cover what my scholarship didn’t, but I’d be close. If I had to mortgage the first however-many-years of my post-graduate life with student loans, at least the amount would be minimal.
The week after Mo left was filled with anticipation, because Jace would be coming up on Friday to spend the weekend. It didn’t seem to matter that we texted frequently and talked sometimes two or three times a day. It didn’t matter that we were having so much phone sex (and one particularly memorable Skype video session) that we could start our own adult chat line. I ached to see him and touch him again.
At least until Friday afternoon, when Robin approached me as we were closing down the gallery.
“Have a seat, Topher,” he said, gesturing toward the sofa upstairs in his office. “So, you probably noticed I sold that collection of paintings Jace did of you.”
I squirmed, my face heating up. “Um, yeah, they weren’t on display anymore, so I figured that was the case.”
“Well, Jace informed me a few weeks ago that when they sold, he wanted the profits to go to you.” He pulled a check out of his breast pocket and handed it to me.
“What? No. No! That’s stupid.” I gritted my teeth. “I didn’t do anything. He did all the work, all I did was pose for some snapshots! Jeez, is there ever going to be a guy I f*ck who doesn’t think he needs to pay my way?”
“It’s not like that, Topher,” he said sternly. “The fact is, under normal circumstances, he would have paid you a modeling fee. I suspect he didn’t want to make it seem like he was offering to pay you for sex, but you do have something coming to you for your part in creating those pieces.”
I looked at the check, and my eyes just about popped out of my skull. “Fifteen thousand dollars? You’re telling me I earned that much for posing for him? Fuck, well isn’t that a cushy gig?”
Robin’s lips quirked. “Okay, no, your fee would probably only have been a few hundred dollars, but the paintings sold for five thousand each and Jace would like you to have it all. I haven’t even taken out my commission like I usually do for consignments. So thirty percent of that is my gift to you. You want to accuse me of trying to pay your way because you’re f*cking me?”
“No, no, of course not, but—” I flailed, trying to find words, then my brain got caught up on the numbers. “Five thousand each? No f*cking way!”
He shrugged. “You’d be surprised what people will pay for good art, especially in a town like this where wealthy, bored tourists have money to burn. I would have sold them separately for six or seven each, but the buyer wanted the collection so I cut him a deal.”
I ran a hand through my hair. “I can’t. I can’t take this. I don’t mooch off the guys I sleep with or expect them to support me. Not now, not ever.”
Robin sighed. “Tell you what, don’t decide anything until you talk to Jace. I’ll keep the check, and if you decide you’re comfortable accepting it later, once you know where Jace is coming from on this, it’s yours. Keep an open mind, okay? Give some thought to the idea that Jace doesn’t mean it the way you think he does.”
“Okay. Okay, fine.” I grimaced and handed him back the check. “I’ll talk to Jace, but this isn’t happening.”
“Give it a few days,” Robin urged with a thin smile. “In the right context, it might feel different.”
Jace and I had already arranged to meet at Ling’s apartment when he arrived because, honestly, who were we kidding? We had intended to f*ck each other’s brains out the minute he got there. Needless to say, however, I wasn’t much in the mood for sex after Robin had tried to offer me that check.
“Seriously, Jace? Seriously?” I demanded when I confronted him upon his arrival. “If I didn’t accept money from Brendan to be his boy toy, what makes you think I’ll take it from you? Damn it, I don’t pick up guys, then expect them to support me. I’m not my useless whore of a mother!”
His eyebrows crept up at that. I think I would have totally lost my shit if he’d tried to make a joke or patronize me. Instead, he regarded me steadily. “Um, useless whore? You do remember how I got through art school, right?”
That set me back for a moment. “Shit. Sorry, yeah. I didn’t mean you. I just— I pay my own way. I really don’t want money shit messing up my adult relationships.”
“So tell me you don’t want to see me again.”
That took me back a step. “What?”
“Tell me you don’t want to see me again,” he said simply but insistently. “I’ll go right this minute, but I’ll still want you to take it. There are no strings attached to this, Topher. I’m not doing it because I’m f*cking you, or because I want to control you, or because I think I need to take care of you. Though, to be quite f*cking honest, for once in your life maybe someone should, because from where I sit, you’re about twenty years overdue for a little of that. I’m not even doing it because I feel sorry for you. It’s not charity, it’s not pity, and I’m not trying to be your sugar daddy. It’s an opportunity. A leg up, because everyone needs one at some point in their lives.”