The Runaway Model by Parker Avrile

Author:Parker Avrile
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: steamy gay romance, mm romance, contemporary gay romance, male male romance, gay romantic suspense, celebrity gay romance
Publisher: Paris April Press
Published: 2016-02-17T00:00:00+00:00

THE FRONT OF THE PLANE was almost empty. No one sat in the aisle seat next to Kyle. He'd heard a rumor this airline was making it more difficult for people to upgrade to first class if they weren't willing to pay the price.

Kyle, who would never be afraid of spending money to get what he wanted, approved of the policy. He didn't enjoy the extensive search they gave him for buying a last-minute first-class ticket for cash, but he'd known it was coming. The TSA workers eyed his thick wad of hundreds without comment. It wasn't illegal to have money. There was sweet fuck-all they could do about it.

You only had to fill out the form for having more than ten thousand dollars in cash if you were leaving the country. Of course Kyle couldn't risk doing that. He'd overstayed his legal tourist visa a long time ago. Once he left America, there was no guarantee they'd ever let him come back.

There were two world capitals― London and New York. London was closed to him.

That left New York.

Kyle sang a bit of the old corny song to himself. Oh, he'd make it, all right. He'd prove himself. He'd show them all.

Now he clutched a cranberry and vodka, the closest thing they had to a pomegranate martini on this flight. The pink color matched the stone in his ring.

"Another?"

Kyle watched the flirtatious flight attendant mix the drink. He was twenty-three or twenty-four. Naughty almond eyes. Tight arse. But Kyle focused on the FA's hands, not his trousers. You could hear the crackle when he twisted off the caps on the two airline bottles of mid-priced vodka.

He moved to add the juice from an already-open can.

"No, mate. Open a new can for me. In front of me."

The FA glanced up to meet Kyle's eyes. Kyle knew this boy understood instantly. "I'm glad you asked me that. I'm not allowed to open a fresh can any more unless the customer asks. Stupid cost-cutting policy. I'll be glad when they change it."

"Thanks, mate."

Kyle still didn't know when or where Roman Nigel might have slipped him the drug. He still didn't really understand what had happened. All he knew was Stoney was so afraid of a scandal he'd kicked Kyle out of his own fandom.

Fuck him. Fuck the whole music industry. Kyle didn't fucking care.

The FA sat down in the seat next to him. Touched his shoulder. "I don't know what's wrong, Mr. Marchane. But maybe you want to put on sunglasses."

Kyle touched his own face. Felt the track of silent tears. He patted down his jacket, feeling around for the Oliver Peoples shades. They were the twin of a pair Stoney owned.

"I lost someone too," the FA said. "He was only careless once. That was enough. They found him... what they found of him... outside Matamoras."

"I'm sorry. I'm OK. I'll be OK. I know you don't need this on your job."

"It's OK. You're the only guy awake in first. Nothing to do but mix drinks and swap sad stories.

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