Nobody Ends Up Dead in a Bathtub, Everyone Keeps Their Organs

Chapter 19

Alex was doing his best to organize calendars and shopping requests so that he could go home before six. He had nothing to do—Damián had a client, and Eve had picked up an extra shift and wouldn't be home until late. He was going to sit at home alone, but he thought that even losers deserved to go home before sundown on Fridays.

He was in the middle of wrapping things up. He had just placed the last of the orders for new toner, and he was sure that he had ordered enough office supplies to hold them over through the rest of the year. He was just forwarding the e-mail receipts to accounting when Andrew walked up to his desk.

Andrew's jacket was draped over his arm. He looked to be on his way out, but he stood there until Alex looked up at him.

It reminded Alex of just a few weeks ago when he walked up to the desk with Martin and Stu. What had started out as normal, slightly awkward office chat soon became them insisting they had found a good guy for Alex. It had been painful at the time. Andrew had gone on and on about how great "Marcus" was and how much Alex would love meeting him.

He could clearly remember the way Andrew shoved his phone over the desk, how he had pretended like he and Alex were buddies.

Andrew had spoken with such a matter-of-fact tone, flashing his dumb, perfect teeth. Alex didn't know how he could be so stupid to fall for one of Andrew's pranks. To Andrew, every other office worker was a pawn, and he was playing a never-ending game for his own amusement.

Now, anxiety gnawed at Alex. He didn't know what he had done, making Andrew upset after turning the tables on him.

"If you needed something ordered, I just finished," Alex said.

"No, I'm good," Andrew said.

Alex hadn't had much one-on-one time with Andrew, and after his evening with Martin, he didn't want to. Andrew looked different now. Alex no longer thought that he looked charismatic but rather manipulative and shifty. He leaned with one arm on Alex's desk, closing in on the space that Alex didn't like invaded. It was one of his major pet peeves when his co-workers leaned over his high desk, trying to get close to him when they were asking for something.

"I think you should be careful," Andrew said.

Alex frowned. "With what?"

"With that guy."

"What guy?"

Alex knew exactly who Andrew was talking about, but he wanted Andrew to spell it out for him.

"That Marcus. You don't know what he could get you into."

"What is he going to do? Since you apparently know him better than I do."

"He's a prostitute!" Andrew lowered his voice, but his tone became edgy. "You're going to end up catching something or getting caught up in some police bust."

Alex was more offended than ever. His chest squeezed, and his heart sped up.

"Then that'll be my problem," he said. "If you cared so much, you wouldn't have set us up in the first place."

"That was different."

"How?"

Andrew's jaw clenched, and his hand balled up in a fist.

And Alex understood.

It wasn't about Damián or about the fact that he was a sex worker. It was about control. When Andrew pulled a prank, it was funny. He came out on top. Someone else got embarrassed. But when Alex didn't let it end with that, Andrew lost everything. He wasn't the funny guy, and he couldn't hold anything over Alex if Alex was happy.