"Then why are you giving me money?" Matthew Clark interrupted him, looking up with an ambiguous tone. "You don't like my body, you like me as a person?"
"...It's not just about sleeping with me." Ryan Miller corrected through gritted teeth, deliberately choosing harsh words. "You have to be at my beck and call, if I say left you can't go right, and—during our contract period, you're not allowed to mess around with anyone else. I don't like my lover cheating on me... Anyway, I'm pretty demanding, so take your time to estimate your price, don't sell yourself short."
Ryan Miller cares about his reputation. He had previously boasted to William Harris about this one-year term, so now he had to patch up this brag thoroughly, not letting it get out of hand.
Matthew Clark swallowed a piece of sashimi, put down his chopsticks, and wiped his mouth with a napkin. "How much money do you have?"
Ryan Miller paused. "Why? Anyway, I can afford you, as long as you don't ask for the moon. Name a hundred or two million."
"A hundred or two million can't get me." Matthew Clark smiled. "But since I know your brother, I'm willing to give you a discount... I want half of whatever's in your account."
Ryan Miller had been feeling much calmer, but the moment he heard him mention Evan Miller, his brows furrowed tightly.
"You're not afraid I don't have any money in my account?"
"So are you willing or not?" Matthew Clark retorted.
Ryan Miller did have money in his account, and quite a bit. His dad didn't care about him, but still transferred money to his account on time every month. He lived alone, didn't touch drugs or gambling, and besides buying cars, he didn't have any big expenses. Even giving away half would still be a considerable sum.
But Ryan Miller never cared about money.
"Fine," Ryan Miller said. "Should I transfer it to you now?"
"It's so late, the bank's closed."
Ryan Miller didn't like to drag things out. "Then I'll make an appointment with the manager first."
"No rush," Matthew Clark said. "I'm not going to run away."
After speaking, he pulled a business card from his pocket—the same one the woman on the street had just handed him.
Without even glancing at it, Matthew Clark tossed the card straight into the ashtray on the table.
Ryan Miller glanced over and only saw the words "Talent Agency."
"That person a talent scout?" Now that things were settled, Ryan Miller breathed a sigh of relief and lit a cigarette. "I heard being a celebrity pays pretty well these days... What, you look down on that line of work?"
"No experience, wouldn't do well," Matthew Clark replied lightly. "Besides, I can make a ton of money just by sleeping with you, why bother getting into that mess."
Ryan Miller unconsciously bit his cigarette. "Can you fucking stop bringing up sleeping together?"
"If you don't want me to say it, I won't." Matthew Clark quickly slipped into character. He stood up. "I'm done eating. Where are we going now?"
Ryan Miller sat and looked at him. The light fell in layers across Matthew Clark's face, casting shadows so he couldn't make out Matthew Clark's real expression.
By now, the image he had of this person in his mind was completely shattered.
Just because of bankruptcy, could someone's personality really change this much?
Realizing he was overthinking, Ryan Miller quickly looked away, stubbed out his cigarette on the now-soaked business card. "Bar."
Author's note:
Little Matthew (lying flat like a salted fish): Bankruptcy is great.
Chapter 4
Ryan Miller was a regular at POP. The valet boys in the garage all recognized his cars—not because they had good memories, but because every one of Ryan Miller's cars was flashy and ostentatious, impossible to miss.
As soon as the valet saw the car, he immediately walked to the door to wait.
"Ryan, you're here." The valet took the keys with both hands, bowing slightly, his attitude respectful.
"Yeah." Ryan Miller pulled out a few large bills from his pocket and tossed them to the valet along with the keys. "Arrange a designated driver for me tonight, and keep the rest for yourself."
The valet was used to this, and even his thanks came out smoothly: "Thank you, Ryan! Have a great time, Ryan. I'll have someone waiting here for you at ten."
Matthew Clark glanced over—there were at least ten bills in that stack.
Young Master Miller really lived up to his reputation—generous as ever.
Thinking of the black card in his own hand, Matthew Clark let a playful smile curl at his lips.
That smile was just caught by Ryan Miller as he turned around. He frowned. "What are you smiling at?"
Matthew Clark raised his eyebrows. "Nothing."
"...Once we're inside, watch what you say," Ryan Miller said. "Remember what I told you before? If you slip up, I'll make sure your The Clark Family goes bankrupt again."
William Harris had reserved the best table at POP. Ryan Miller made his way through the crowd and immediately spotted William Harris standing on the seat, waving and shaking his head, dressed flamboyantly. He usually wore women's clothes to gay bars, but today he was relatively restrained—just a black T-shirt with "Looking for a man" written on the back.
William Harris turned and spotted Ryan Miller and Matthew Clark right away—not because he had sharp eyes, but because the two of them, one in front and one behind, stood out too much in the crowd.
"Ryan Miller!!" He kept waving, afraid Ryan Miller wouldn't see him.
Ryan Miller rolled his eyes. Every time they came here, it was always this booth—he knew the way better than the waiters.