Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

E very Friday night for as long as he could remember, Leo had made his way to his parents' house in Vaucluse for dinner. If there had ever been a time when Vaucluse had been a laidback beachside Sydney suburb, those days were long gone. Now it was full of multi-million-dollar trophy homes and mums driving Lexus SUVs. Leo's parents were property developers, so they were exactly the sort of people who were to blame for changing the face of Vaucluse—and not for the better. But Leo had no right to complain. He'd grown up in a house that was now worth a fortune in equity alone, and he'd gone to a good school—the sort where he'd worn a tie and a boater—and he was exactly the sort of son that his parents were proud to show off to their friends and colleagues. It just rankled a little more every Friday night.

"And how is the property in Newtown?" Mum asked five minutes after he arrived, which was five minutes longer than he'd thought it would take her.

"The house needs a lot of work."

Mum rolled her eyes. "Goodness. Why not just sell it? Renovations are nothing but headaches, darling. "

"Yeah." He was discovering that himself. "But the tenants?—"

"Oh, you don't need to worry about them!"

"This is why the internet is full of instructions about how to build guillotines, Mum."

She blinked at him from behind lashes too long to be natural. "Don't be silly, Leo."

Leo stared out through the wide glass doors to the pool.

There had definitely been a time when they hadn't had a pool or a Vaucluse mansion. The first house Leo remembered had been a lot more modest than this one and in a very different postcode. His parents had worked hard to build the business into what it was today, and Leo respected that. He just didn't understand how quickly some people pulled the ladder up behind them once they'd got where they wanted to be.

Mum let out a breath like a horse trying to dislodge a fly. "Honestly, I have no idea why Uncle Jimmy left everything to you ."

"Thanks, Mum," Leo said wryly.

"I didn't mean it like that!" Another huff. "Just, what do you know about property development?"

She had a point there.

"Well, he probably didn't want it developed?"

He thought of the house, which was a complete shitheap, but had been home for a bunch of university students who couldn't have afforded anything else. He thought of the flat above the shop that was kept empty, just in case someone needed it. Jimmy might have made good with the properties he'd bought, but it was pretty clear that hadn't been his motivation. Jesus . Even the sex shop had an entire wall devoted to local charities, events and resources to help those in need. It featured the weirdest community noticeboard Leo had ever seen, with a flyer for Father O'Malley's soup kitchen next to one called The Queens' Gamble, which was apparently a clothing exchange—‘DD breastplate wanted!'—for the local drag queens. But it worked . He wondered what his mother would think of the shop wasting all that prime sales space and decided he wouldn't mention it. The sex shop was a whole other can of worms as far as his parents were concerned. They'd immediately make the assumption that he'd be selling it, and Leo wasn't sure he wanted to. He liked Wei, and he didn't want to be the one to tell her she no longer had a job, just like he didn't want to tell Jack and Harry and Tristan—especially Tristan—that they no longer had a place to live.

Thinking about the sex shop and Tristan had him circling back round to the blowjob Tristan had given him, the one that had left him slackjawed and stunned, and to Tristan himself. What the hell had that been about? Not that Leo had regrets—he'd have to be insane to regret the best sexual experience of his life—but he did wonder where things stood now. Was this like the thing his mother had always warned him about, where drug dealers would inject na?ve kids in the arm if they sat in the aisle seat at the movies, just to get them hooked on whatever they were selling? Should he expect a text from Tristan with a schedule of prices and available times now that he'd enjoyed his free sample?

"—unsavoury businesses will have to go, of course. Leo? Are you listening?"

"What? Why?"

Dad swept into the room, a tablet tucked under his arm. "It's all about the optics. When you're selling yourself as a provider of upmarket properties and developments, you have to be careful what people might dig up."

"What people? Who's digging anything up?"

Mum beamed at him. "Dad's thinking of making a run for government, aren't you, Ian? We've been in talks with the party brokers—local, or maybe state. We haven't decided yet."

"Whichever one, you have to be squeaky clean," Dad said. "And Jimmy's knock shop isn't."

"It's not a knock shop," Leo said, his stomach twisting. "Also, it isn't your business, Dad. It's mine."

"Course it is," Dad said. "But people don't care about technicalities when the optics are bad."

The optics of owning a sex shop. And, of course, going on a date with a sex worker. Yeah, his parents weren't going to like that at all, were they? This was not the image they were going for. Just because Leo didn't care about politics, it didn't mean he didn't know how they worked. Look at the guy from last election, the one who'd been a sure-fire thing—right until he'd had his entire campaign sunk on the strength of an old photo from uni days of him wearing a Nazi uniform at a fancy-dress party. Leo didn't think consorting—were he and Tristan consorting? Was that a thing?—with a sex worker and owning a sex shop were going to do his dad any favours at all.

It made annoyance burn and itch under his skin, the idea that even now, as an adult, his life wasn't his own, especially when he compared it to Tristan's carefree existence, where he got to have sex and get paid and nobody seemed to give a fuck. Leo envied him, which wasn't something he'd ever thought he'd say about someone who sold themselves for a living.

Of course, wouldn't Leo also be selling himself, in a way, if he did what his parents wanted?

It was only one date with Tristan, though, so who'd even find out about it? It wasn't like he and Tristan would suddenly be in a relationship where Leo would have to not only navigate his own very complicated feelings about Tristan's sex work—yes, empowerment was great, but was it safe ?—but also tell his parents before the local newspaper told them for him, in some lurid headline like ‘Ian Fisher's Campaign in Tatters as Son's Gay Hooker Sex Scandal Revealed!' That was going to make Friday night family dinners incredibly awkward for the next few decades—assuming he was ever allowed back home at all.

No, he was just overthinking it. Going to dinner with Tristan didn't mean anything at all. They were friends. And, if they weren't friends, they were at least acquaintances who had things to discuss—like rent, renovations, and not blow jobs.

"So you're really running for government?" he asked.

"Possibly state!" Mum trilled as she grabbed something from the fridge, and it was pretty clear where her preferences lay. "So it's in everyone's best interests if you unload that tatty shop and the house."

"I'm renovating the house, Mum. People live there."

Mum waved her hand. "Fine. Put the money from the shop into the terrace house. Once it's done up, you can sell it for a good amount. It makes financial sense."

Leo wasn't sure where the burst of irritation came from, or the urge to argue the point with his mother, but he snapped, "Actually, the shop's quite profitable. It makes sense to keep it."

His father pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed out, "The optics , Leo." Like that was all he needed to say on the matter. Possibly he thought it was.

Leo took a deep breath and reminded himself that even if their worldview differed drastically from his—even more so now he was spending time with Jimmy's circle of friends—these were his parents, and he loved them…probably. Pasting on a fake smile, he said, "I'll certainly consider your input when the time comes." Which was a bullshit answer, and they all knew it, but he wasn't prepared to have this conversation ri ght now, not until he had the rest of the quotes for the renovations, at least. Maybe his parents were right and selling the shop made sense, but for once in his life, Leo wanted to choose for himself.

His mum puckered her mouth like a cat's bum at the implied dismissal, but she didn't say anything, just set down a dish of olives.

"Nothing's set in stone yet," Dad cautioned, "so keep it under your hat."

As if Leo knew anyone who would care that his dad was running for local government or possibly the state legislature. "Okay."

"It's very exciting though," Mum said. "Isn't it?"

Hugely. Leo could not be more excited. He forced a smile. "Sure."

"The preselection is almost a dead cert," Mum said, with a gleam in her eye like she was Dad's campaign manager. Leo actually pitied whoever got that job and had to try to tell Mum to take a step back. "We've been invited to dinner with Lillian Kingsbury next month. The Lillian Kingsbury."

"I don't know who that is."

"She's the senior party secretary for the state executive," Mum said.

"Oh," Leo said. Those were words that told him nothing. "Okay."

"Well, she says that Peter Morgan is thinking of retiring—something about some missing electoral funds? And apparently the media found out? Anyway, he might be retiring, so Dad might go up for state preselection." She beamed at Dad. "Imagine that! The Member for Vaucluse!"

"Well," Dad said, and laughed, "we'll see."

But it was obvious to Leo they'd already both decided that Dad was going to have some sort of political career, which meant that the Fisher family was about to become fodder for the media. So it was lucky, really, Leo thought with a sinking sense of disappointment, that he'd only agreed to a single date with Tristan.

And a single date didn't have to mean anything at all.

On Saturday night, Leo double-checked the address Tristan had texted him and found himself at a hole-in-the-wall taqueria in Newtown. It looked rundown and suspicious, and Leo figured it was either one of those places that didn't bother with shiny decor because the food spoke for itself and all the locals knew it, or he'd have food poisoning by the end of the night. Weirdly, he found himself willing to risk it when he stepped inside and saw Tristan waiting for him at a poky little table.

There was a drink already waiting for him, condensation beading on the sides of the glass and leaving a damp ring on the cardboard VB coaster.

"I thought you might like a margarita," Tristan said, and he sounded almost…nervous? Which didn't match anything Leo knew about Tristan at all, really.

"Thanks," Leo said and took a sip. He was pretty sure he wasn't imagining the way Tristan's shoulders relaxed. "Did you do something different with your hair?"

Tristan touched his man bun reflexively. "No! Well, I'm trying this new product. It's supposed to smell like sand and surf. I don't know how that works." He blinked. "And that wasn't a weird way to get you to smell my hair."

Leo laughed. "Is there a non-weird way to ask that?"

Tristan smiled, then bit his lower lip. "Well, I'd just ask nicely, I suppose. ‘Hey, Leo, want to smell my hair?' "

Leo blinked, because all at once he did want to smell Tristan's hair, but he didn't know if the question had been legitimate or not. "Um…"

"Anyway!" Tristan thrust a menu at him. "The Korean barbeque tacos are to die for."

That sounded more like something to die from . "Korean barbeque? In a taco?"

"It's fusion or something," Tristan said. "Honestly, everything's really good, however weird it sounds."

Like an invitation to sniff Tristan's hair, he assumed.

Leo took another sip of his drink. If the food was as good as the margarita, he was going to go ahead and guess that this was one of those hidden culinary gems. "Why don't you order, and I'll follow your lead?"

Tristan raised an eyebrow. "I do love it when people let me boss them around."

He was talking about the menu, but Leo's face still heated as he remembered the way Tristan had explained which handcuffs at the Pleasure Party were for show, and which ones could " really hold a big guy in place while you edge him ." Which had been followed up straight away with, " You met Brendan the bouncer, right? Super fun guy. Very strong ." It had filled Leo's imagination with such vivid pictures that he couldn't remember the rest of that conversation at all, which was probably for the best.

There was an awkward silence that stretched between them as they sipped their drinks before Tristan blurted out, "I think you should know I haven't done this before, so let me know if I'm fucking it up."

Leo's brow furrowed. "Done what?"

"Dated. I don't date. Except for—" He waved a hand vaguely, which Leo took to mean his work. "You know."

"Yeah." Leo smiled tentatively. He liked Tristan. He liked him enough that he could see himself working through the issues he had with Tristan's job—if Tristan wanted to keep seeing him, of course—except he couldn't, not with Dad's foray into politics. Leo didn't want Tristan dragged into all that. "So, um, it's a pretty unusual job."

"I guess so," Tristan said. "I mean, it's not the sort of thing you plan for, but Harry was doing it and?—"

" Harry! " Leo blinked in surprise. Harry seemed so…unlikely.

"Yeah. Apparently, he was really good at it. But then he got together with Jack and decided he wanted out. Plus, it's not a good look for a preschool teacher, you know?"

"Oh, wow. Of course." That was a headline Leo could imagine only too well.

"Anyway, when Harry quit, he asked me if I wanted to take over, and I said yes, because I'd already covered for him once when he was in a bind, and it's a fun way to make some cash, you know?"

"Oh. I think…I think it's really cool you're so positive about it."

A waiter came to take their order, and Tristan ordered for them with a wink at Leo that did something twisty to his insides. "Well, it is pretty fun, when you think about it."

Leo took a gulp of his margarita. "I guess it is. It's not for everyone, though. I mean, there are risks, right?" He hoped he didn't sound judgemental or anything.

Tristan nodded. "Yeah, for sure. I've been banned by four restaurants in the CBD alone."

"What?" Leo's jaw dropped as he tried to imagine what Tristan was doing that could lead to a restaurant ban.

Tristan laughed. "Hey, I only do what the customer wants. Oh, do we want corn chips and salsa for starters? Yeah, we do." He waved the waiter over and added to their order. Leo wondered how it was that Tristan was the polar opposite to the type of guy he normally dated, yet somehow, he was having more fun than he'd had in a long time.

He decided not to overthink it and just enjoy Tristan's company instead. After all, if his dad's ambitions came to anything, it was probably the only chance he'd get.