Blue leaned on the counter. “Charge him double. Otherwise, he’ll be offended.”

Once he’d countered that piece of nonsense, they headed for the elevator. As the doors closed, the Beav gazed up at him, her grape lollipop eyes round with innocence. “Those guys who came up to you knew your real name. I had no idea there were so many gay men in the world.”

He punched the elevator button. “The honest truth is, I play a little professional football under my real name. Only part-time, though, until my movie career takes off.”

The Beav faked looking impressed. “Wow. I didn’t realize you could play football part-time.”

“No offense, but you don’t seem to know much about sports.”

“Still…A gay man playing football. Hard to imagine.”

“Oh, there’re a whole bunch of us. Probably a good one-third of the NFL.” He waited to see if she’d finally call him on his bullshit, but she wasn’t in a hurry to end the game.

“And people think jocks aren’t sensitive,” she said.

“Just goes to show.”

“I noticed your ears are pierced.”

“I was young.”

“And you wanted to flash your cash, right?”

“Two carats in each ear.”

“Tell me you don’t still wear them.”

“Only if I’m having a fat day.” The elevator doors slid open. They headed down the hallway to their rooms. The Beav had a long stride for someone so petite. He wasn’t used to pugnacious women, but then she was barely female, despite those curvy little breasts and his stubborn hard-on.

The rooms were adjoining. He opened the first door. Clean, but a little smoky, definitely inferior.

She brushed past him. “Ordinarily, I’d suggest we toss a coin, but since you’re paying the bill, that doesn’t seem fair.”

“Well, if you insist.”

She took her duffel and once again tried to hold him off. “I do my best work in natural light. We’ll wait till tomorrow.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were afraid to be alone with me.”

“Okay, you’ve got me. What if I inadvertently step between you and a mirror? You might turn violent.”

He grinned. “See you in half an hour.”

When he got to his room, he flipped on the last half of the Bulls game, pulled off his boots, and unpacked his things. He already had more drawings, paintings, and photos of himself than he knew what to do with, but that wasn’t the point. He grabbed a beer from the minibar, along with a can of peanuts. Annabelle had once suggested he send some of the glamour shots people had done of him over the years to his mother, but he’d told her to mind her own damned business. He didn’t let anybody poke around in that twisted relationship.