“You’re all bundled up,” he said. “You just come in?”
Syria looked down at her coat. “I went for a walk.”
“So did you answer the call from the party?” His eyes were earnest again, like in the photo.
“Yes.”
“I take it she asked if you were my girlfriend. She asked Mia.”
“She did.” Syria didn’t really want to volunteer what she had seen, to see if he offered it up.
“That party got out of control.” He ran his hand through his hair, and the phone dipped so she could see his muscled chest.
Syria set her phone on the desk and peeled out of her coat, feeling overwarm as her anxiety rose. “It looked pretty crazy.”
“I’m not so sure about staying in this business,” he said.
She sat down, her heart beating faster. “Really?”
“I can’t do it forever, obviously. I should plan.”
Syria twisted a long piece of hair around her finger. Tyson watched her a while. “I’m sorry she called you. Were you upset? Is that why I couldn’t get in touch with you last night?”
“I went to dinner with a client. The one who paid me a lot of money to photograph his two women.”
“Two! Wow. Sound like a fun shoot.”
“It got a little wild.”
His face sobered. Syria wondered if he was comparing his version of wild with hers. “Did something happen?” he asked.
“One was his slave, and the other his submissive. The slave is retiring, apparently.”
“Hardcore BDSM then.” He sat on his bed, the black sheets of his bed filling the background behind him.
“Yes.”
“You seem upset now. Can you talk to me?”
“Oh, I just…” This wasn’t working. Not at all. “I’m just tired. Maybe I should go.”
Tyson stood up and held the phone again. “I wish I could come down there.”
Emotion flooded through Syria, but as soon as she touched on the grief of her father, and the impossibility of wanting Tyson, something rebounded and blossomed into rage. “Why! You clearly can have sex with any number of hot bachelorette girls you want!”#p#分页标题#e#
Tyson squeezed his eyes closed as if she’d hit him. “I worried about this.”
“About what? That I’d find out? That I might mind?”
“No!” He brought the phone so close to his face that the image got blurry. “I thought that you’d think that!”
“I saw you, Tyson. I saw your naked ass pumping into that girl.”
His face contorted, as though he were trying to get control. “I didn’t have sex with her. I didn’t. I know it looked like I did. I can see that girl called you at a very inopportune time.”
Syria couldn’t take it anymore, and switched off the video to return only to voice. She pressed the phone to her ear. “I’ll say!”
“They said they were making videos for fun. I went along. But nothing actually happened. We just made it look like it did.”
“Why should I believe that?”
To his credit, he didn’t bring up their lack of agreement that they were exclusive, or Syria’s relationship with Mia, or even ask her what happened at the shoot that had gone wild. He just said, “I love you, Syria, and I want out of this job if it means it upsets you.”
Syria sank to the floor. “What?”
“I mean it. I know it’s how we met. And I know we thought we were getting so open to new things. But I can tell this isn’t for you. And it’s getting hard for me.”
“What will you do?”
“I’ve been applying for things in New Mexico.”
“You what?”
“That’s why I was there that second time.”
“You applied for jobs after having met me only once?”
She could hear the smile in his voice. “I think we did more than meet.”
They had. Syria lay back on the floor of her studio, where she’d been with him that first time, spontaneously, without hesitation. He’d changed her life.
“My father is dead,” she blurted out.
“What?”
“That rich client? He found him. I guess he has some sort of legal team that can find this stuff out fast.”
“When?”
“About a year ago. Heart attack, according to the obituary.”
“I’m so sorry, Syria.”
“I know. I thought I’d get a chance to know him.”
“I wish I could come down. I’m so stuck. Two gigs tonight. Something every night this week. Christmas is so close.”
Syria rolled on her side and drew up her knees, the phone resting on her ear. “I know. It’s okay.”