Uncovered (Dev and Lee Book 4) Read Online Free

dye smells pretty strongly. He sits right across the aisle from me because it’s just me and him on the plane, and during takeoff he goes into some kind of meditative zone. Once we hit cruising altitude, he turns to me with, “Okay, here’s what you need to know about being in a commercial.”
    Thank God Strongwell has a rep on the plane to give me actually useful information. Charisse, a kangaroo rat in a sharp blue business suit with a gold lapel pin, greeted us when we came on board with a cheery, “Congratulations on making the playoffs.” She’s seated facing Strike, and she interrupts the cheetah before he gets to tell me any of his amazing advice (which if it’s anything like his “only eat organic plant material” advice or “don’t have sex during the season” advice, I am happier not knowing).
    “Let’s just get the release forms out of the way,” she says, “and I’ll go over what’s going to happen when we touch down.” She glances at Strike, then at me, and says to me, “You’re the gay one, right?”
    Before I can reply, Strike leans forward. “That’s right,” he says. “He’s gay. I’m straight.”
    He says it with a smile that I would think was flirty, if he hadn’t spent all that time telling me how sex detracts from his energy level or something—I was really only half-listening. Also, I’m not thinking about that because I’m now “the gay one.” If Strike were to flirt, the girl might be interested, but I’m sitting apart from both of them now. I’m the other, the stranger, the weirdo.
    “We’re both football players,” I say.
    They give me almost the same odd look. “Yes,” Charisse says. “I just wanted to make sure I didn’t mix you up.”
    She hands me the forms just the same as she does to him, and gives us both the same smile. Maybe I’m just thinking too much now about Lee and that Equality Now meeting he wants me to go to with the senators up in Potomac. If I feel this awkward now, how would I feel in a room full of suit-and-tie politicians talking about how gay I am? I told Lee I wouldn’t do it, and he hasn’t mentioned it in a couple days, so I’m hoping he’s dropped it. If not, it’ll be another argument. Which isn’t the end of the world, and making up afterwards is good, but lately my fox has been broody and our arguments a little sharper. I hope to God he gets that job in Yerba. I’d rather see him once a week and have him busy and happy than have him moping around every day, even if I do get to take him to bed every night.
    The forms, standard publicity releases, take about five minutes to skim and sign. Strike says his agent’s vetted them, which for my money is better than having my useless ferret agent look at them. Ogleby’s equally likely to let something sketchy through as to hold up something harmless. Between putting me on the hook for more Ultimate Fit commercials and calling the press conference that forced me to address being gay, he’s got two strikes and about one frayed wire left of my patience. Lee would call that a mixed metaphor. I call it being honest. Anyway, it’s such a relief to sign papers and not worry about what I’m signing that I’m done before the experienced Strike is.
    Charisse collects them and puts them into her folder. “Great,” she says. “When we land, a limo’s going to take us to the studio. We have half the day for filming, then lunch, and then if we need to pick up any shots, we have another two hours reserved after lunch. You’ll be back at the airport at five p.m. sharp to fly to Hellentown, getting in around midnight, I’m afraid.”
    “There’s no curfew until Friday,” I say. “So that’s fine.”
    “Great!” She smiles winningly.
    Strike gives her a bright smile back. “Could we hire you to fly out to Hellentown with us?”
    “Oh, I’m afraid not.” She pats her Blackberry. “I have appointments all day tomorrow. But you’ve got my full attention today.”
    “Lovely.”