Page 78 of Home Grown Talent

“Because…” Owen eyed him, still frowning. “Because it’s pretty shallow, isn’t it?”

Mason’s hackles rose. How many times had he heard a variation on that theme over the past few years? “Shallow?”

“I thought we were trying to do something more important,” Owen said. “Helping people get the benefits of working outside and connecting with nature and the environment. Not just…titillating them on social media.”

Stung, Mason moved away, perching on the edge of the sofa as he set his glass on the coffee table. “Well, I’m sorry you think that, but to be blunt, that’s what’s driving up the ratings.”

“And your followers.”

“Right. Obviously.”

Cautiously, Owen said, “And it doesn’t bother you at all?”

“What? Being so shallow?” His voice dripped with sarcasm.

Owen sighed. “I didn’t say you were shallow. I meant all the internet memes and stuff. That doesn’t bother you?”

“What some rando on Twitter thinks about how we fuck? No, why should it?” He shrugged, making it look careless. “It’s not like they’re wrong, anyway.”

Owen bristled, his expression tightening. “I see.” He shifted too, so that they were sitting side by side with a few feet of space between them on the sofa. As if they were in a waiting room. “One of my clients’ neighbours thinks you have a ‘squeezable' arse, by the way. Asked me to pass that on.”

“For God’s sake…”

“I’m not making it up.”

“I didn’t think you were.” He let out a breath, tried to rein in his galloping sense of unease. “Look, I get that the attention is weird for you. You’re not used to it, and it must be uncomfortable having people make comments like that, but for me, it’s just how it is, you know? It sucks, but you do get used to it.”

“I don’t want to get used to it!” Owen objected. “I’m not—this is not my life, Mason. It’s not going to become my life, either. I only agreed to do the show to—”

He bit off the sentence, but Mason didn’t need to hear the rest. “To get into my pants?”

Owen looked at him in horror, but there was a betraying flush in his cheeks.

“You think I didn’t know?” Mason said coolly. “You think I don’t know when a man’s panting after me?”

His words landed like a slap. Owen physically recoiled, and, instantly, Mason regretted them. “Sorry,” he said. “That was—” Hypocritical, to say the least. “Fuck, I’m being a dick. I’m just—”

His mind shot back to Kurt, to Frieda, to Min and Mel. It was easy for Owen. He could stand on his principles because he wasn’t anybody’s safety net. Not now. Nobody leaned on him like they leaned on Mason.

“I just need this, okay? Until I start making enough money.”

“Enough money for what?”

Owen’s voice sounded flatter than Mason had ever heard it. His heart clenched. See? It was just so bloody easy to hurt people.

“You’ve got a fancy flat, nice things. Fame,” Owen went on. “What more do you want?”

Mason rose, paced to the window and stared out at the scrubby patch of communal garden. “It’s more complicated than you think. My family… I told you what they’re like. They rely on me.” He laughed, aware it sounded bitter. “I’m their ‘safety net’, apparently.”

“What does that mean?”

He shrugged. “What do you think? It means Kurt can piss off to Rome for the weekend with his fucking awful girlfriend and leave me to pay for the girls’ French trip. It means Frieda can overspend every single month and then freak out and expect me to cover the shortfall. It means they know I’ll pick up the pieces when they drop the fucking ball, because I always fucking do.”

After a pause, Owen said, “It’s not your job to be their safety net.”

“So what should I do? Let the girls miss out on their trip? Let Frieda default on her rent? Send the lawyers after Kurt for child maintenance?”

Behind him, he heard Owen get to his feet. “Maybe, yeah.”