Free All Note Long by Annabeth Albert

mess.
    â€œEmployee isn’t the right word.” Michelin rubbed his jaw, which had approximately the same level of stubble as his almost-smooth head. “But you’re not paying for anything. That’s my rule. And I wasn’t expecting any funny business anyway. This is a practical business arrangement to save both our asses.”
    â€œGlad we’re in agreement,” Lucky said, even if he wasn’t, not really. The absolute last thing he wanted was to be someone’s kept man, even just for show, even temporarily. Even if it could benefit his career.
    â€œGood.” An unreadable expression flickered across Michelin’s face, something akin to disappointment. Bile rose in Lucky’s throat, but he swallowed it back. No sense in getting worked up over letting someone down who didn’t think much of him anyway.
    He proceeded to tell Michelin exactly what forms of PDA he was okay with when the cameras were on them. And a whole of host other “rules” designed to keep his dignity. And if he hated himself a bit for setting the rules, well, he might as well get used to it—this whole damn endeavor was sure to be one big self-loathing shower. And he’d learned his lesson about not asking up front for things he wanted. If he was going to get screwed, it was going to be on his terms.
    * * *
    Michelin pushed up off the couch and walked to his window. The spring dusk was giving way to night, lights of the city twinkling below them. He needed to not look at Lucky for a moment. Kid—and Michelin would do well to keep thinking of him that way—was one hell of a shrewd negotiator. Not that he had expected Lucky to be warming his bed tonight, but Lucky was so . . . clinical as they hashed out the rest of their agreement that Michelin’s gut kept clamping, same as it had when he’d bought his first used truck way back at seventeen. He’d known then, same as now, that he was giving up too much, wasn’t asking for enough, and that he was trapped with few other options.
    The hard truth was that he needed Lucky. Gloria had made that clear over and over through the course of the day. They had to try to smooth this over or the label was done with him and his album would be orphaned, an asterisk next to his list of songs as his few remaining fans waited futilely for the album to drop. He wouldn’t be the first artist to have an album tied up for years and years, and if it took appeasing Lucky to avoid that fate, well, then Michelin was all in. Reluctantly, but he’d give the kid whatever he wanted.
    â€œAll right. We’re all set.” Gloria breezed back into the room. “Exclusive article is going live on Out in a few hours, then Monday you’ll be sitting down with Katie Remmington for an in-depth interview. That’s a huge coup—major network, prime slot, short notice. So wonderful.”
    â€œWonderful,” Michelin echoed weakly, going back to the couch. This was really happening. “The writer didn’t need quotes from me for the article?”
    â€œOh, I handled that.” Gloria waved her hand like she was swatting a pesky fly. “And it’s all really touching. I’m very pleased, really. All that’s left is for you to read it over, but that’s just a formality.” Her tone said she’d be thrilled if he declined to read it over.
    Michelin had done enough magazine features over the years that he knew the drill—even first-person articles were seldom his own words, and this would be no different, but it still grated that Gloria had essentially crafted the most personal press release of his life while he’d been busy negotiating how Lucky was not going to put out.
    She handed over her tablet with another of her brittle smiles, a sure sign that he wasn’t going to like this as much as she was posturing.
    â€œHey, I want to see, too.” Lucky came over and hung over Michelin’s