Page 21 of Business vs. Pleasure

So he thought, anyway. Because remember how he thought things might not get worse?

Ricardo had barely begun to swim out of a pleasant dream when⁠—

“Are you fucking kidding me?” August demanded of… the universe? God? Ricardo? He threw back the covers in a flourish and got to his feet, pausing to wince before barking, “This is fucking bullshit! What the fuck?”

Ricardo bit back some curses as he scrubbed a hand over his face. Then he sat up slowly in the hotel’s luxurious bed, and he eyed his naked husband, who was flailing around and snarling his displeasure while his morning wood seemed to bob in confusion. August almost threw his phone as he bellowed nakedly, “What the fuck is happening?”

The whole scene would’ve been comical under normal circumstances, but Ricardo’s gut told him this wasn’t just August being dramatic. Odds were, he wasn’t about to be subjected to a lengthy monologue about a particular designer discontinuing the use of his favorite fabric. Odds were even better that whatever was coming wouldn’t be something he could derail with a blowjob.

Cringing inwardly, he asked, “What’s wrong?”

August whirled on him, flinching a little because his feet had probably protested. He opened his mouth to speak, but Ricardo rolled his eyes, took August’s forearm, and tugged him back toward the bed.

“Sit,” he ordered. “Don’t fuck up your feet while you’re telling me.”

August blinked, but then he obeyed. Sinking onto the bed, he allowed some relief into his expression; it would never cease to amaze Ricardo how August could get himself so worked up, he forgot his own physical pain for a moment. And it would never cease to unnerve him when August was that worked up, because it was never something good and rarely something minor.

August closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and let it out. Then he faced Ricardo, renewed anger filling his expression, and he held up his phone. “The client left us shit reviews.”

Ricardo straightened. “That’s… That’s it? We got bad reviews for a job that went to shit? How is that⁠—”

“Oh, it gets worse!” August flailed again, and this time his phone did go flying, landing somewhere on the other side of the room with a clatter-clatter-thunk. “That clown who’s catching up with us? That… NightCrow or whatever pretentiously douchey name he’s using? He got a five-star review!”

The only thing keeping Ricardo from laughing right then was knowing it would set August off. Like, more than he already was. And sometimes he enjoyed doing that; if not for delightedly provoking and trolling his husband, boredom would’ve driven him out of retirement a long time ago.

This just seemed like one of those times when poking the bear might actually result in bloodshed, so he restrained his amusement.

“So he got a five-star.” Ricardo shrugged. “We’ve got years of jobs ahead of him, so it’s going to take forever for his average to catch up with⁠—”

“Not if our averages come down,” August snapped.

Ricardo pressed his lips together. Then he took August’s hand and gently repeated, “We’ve got years of jobs ahead of him, so it’s going to take⁠—”

“Your rating has dropped half a star.”

Ricardo’s teeth snapped shut.

August’s eyebrow flew up. “Do I have your attention now?”

“How the…” Ricardo glared in the direction August’s phone had gone. Then he snatched his own up off the nightstand, and as he opened the RateYourHit app, he muttered, “How the fuck is my average going down? I’ve been inactive for three years.”

“So you see why I’m pissed off.”

Ricardo grunted.

That earned him a haughty tsk, and August got up from the bed again. The RateYourHit app decided it needed to update, so Ricardo sat back against the headboard to wait. He watched August pick his way gingerly across the room and collect his phone off the floor. August paused to give it a cursory glance, and since he didn’t seem concerned, Ricardo took that to mean the screen hadn’t broken again. He was again relieved he’d finally convinced August to start putting Otterboxes on his phones, and that had saved them at least a dozen trips to the Apple Store. Though August didn’t really think that was a perk of the protective case; going to the Apple Store in Sliema meant an excuse to wander all the other stores in Tagliaferro Centre for three business days. Ricardo wasn’t falling for that shit again.

The stupid app finished updating, and Ricardo entered his credentials. Then he went to his profile. And…

What the actual fuck?

His rating had hovered around 4.73 for years. Years.

Now it was 4.21?

“How the…” He shook himself and looked at August. “What the fuck is going on?”

His husband gave him a look. “So suddenly August isn’t being an early morning drama queen, hmm?”