"Now, I have to reply to messages before I wash off my bloody self, huh?"
He had hoped for a quiet evening, just a soak in the tub and then maybe a book, but it seemed the world had other plans for him tonight.
August leaned back against the bed's headboard, the soft white fabric of his bathrobe brushing against his skin as he stared at the screen of his phone.
The notification that had buzzed earlier was from someone who had been occupying a bit too much of his digital space lately: Morgana Lucius, a rich model who seemed determined to catch his attention anyhow.
She was more than just a casual fan; she was relentless, always finding a way to pop up in his life, like a particularly persistent ghost from his recent past.
He opened the message, sighing as he read the latest request: another photo op. Morgana wanted a picture with him. 'Of course, she did,' he rolled his eyes.
August was slowly becoming famous here, just like the country he had been in, where he'd spent the last few years.
He was always confident though, that his fame would follow him here, even if only to a lesser degree, but Morgana's constant attention had confirmed it.
She was a die-hard fan, the kind who didn't just admire from afar but insisted on being part of the narrative of your own story!
As he scrolled through her previous ones, he couldn't help but chuckle at how persistent she was. "Isn't she something."
The messages were a mix of flattery, demands, and casual conversation, all in her distinctive style.
"You were amazing in that last shoot! Let's do a collab! Trust me, you'd make bags of cash from it."
"I've got this perfect spot for a photo, just you and me, what do you say?"
"Don't tell me you're ignoring me, August Farley. Not after all the comments I've left! C'mon, I'm part of the top models of country X!"
"Saw your live stream, you looked... well, you know how you looked ;)"
And the most recent, the one she just sent now: "August, darling, when are you going to give in? I won't bite, promise. Maybe just a little."
Her persistence was almost admirable, though it had started to border on the absurd.
"Hahaha," August laughed softly, shaking his head as he scrolled through the string of messages. Morgana wasn't just a fan; she was a fixture in his digital life, always testing the boundaries, pushing to see how far she could go.
Then, the second notification wasn't all that had come through. It was an invitation. Well, a write up and then there was also an invitation—a digital one—something that caught his attention for its audacity.
The sender, MN.G, a name he didn't immediately recognize, had laid out the details for a wedding, complete with a request for August to attend and take pictures with the bride.
The offer was tempting, not just for the experience, but for the sheer amount of money attached: one million dollars.
"Whoever sent this isn't playing around," August muttered to himself, scrolling down the invitation.
It wasn't just a polite request; it was an offer no sane person would reject. The amount was staggering, clearly meant to ensure his attendance.
This wasn't some half-hearted attempt at a bribe; it was a full-on financial assault, a statement that the sender was serious and wealthy enough to get what they wanted.
He continued reading, and when he reached the bottom of the invitation, his brows furrowed.
The name listed as the groom caught his attention, sparking a memory that made him pause.
"MN. (dot) G, hmm," He muttered the name aloud, trying to place it.
"It's definitely an abbreviation but for him to use it means he is known for this alias name, right?" He wondered aloud. "But, why did it sound so… so old and familiar and childish?"
Was this someone he knew? It couldn't be… could it?
But what really sealed it was the signature at the bottom of the invitation: 'Glory Boyz!'
August's eyes widened as he recognized the name.
The Glory Boyz were no small-time operation; they were a group with a reputation, one that could open doors or slam them shut, depending on which side you found yourself on.
And they were his old time past! 'Those twins!'
Him taking this deal was high stakes, the kind of thing that could either elevate his status or drag him into something far more complicated than he wanted.
The fact that Glory Boyz were involved in this wedding—and that they wanted him there—meant two things. This was no ordinary event and this MN. G was a famous man.
He sighed, tossing the phone onto the bed beside him. "Why does it always have to be something like this?" he muttered, rubbing his temple.
The idea of attending the wedding that seemed so popular, let alone getting involved with The Glory Boyz, made his head spin.
But the offer was still there, hanging in the air like a tempting promise. A million dollars. A once-in-a-lifetime event.
Yet, with it came all the baggage—the fame, the attention, and possibly something darker lurking beneath the surface. August knew he needed to tread carefully. This wasn't just about taking pictures at a wedding.
"Wait, hold up," he paused in his steps. Looking back, he picked up the phone again and turned it on. "Glory Boyz, MN. G…"
He squinted, forcing his brain to someone come up with something to explain why both names sounded so stupidly familiar!
August, turned back, pulling out the third locker on the small white table cupboard open. He took out a picture.
It was a picture of his younger and tinier 22 years old self. That was like 6 years ago. Not just him, a taller and a bit bigger frame was beside him, hanging a hand over his own lean frame.
August flipped the picture to the plain back but in this case, it wasn't blank.
It had one tiny scribbling on it that definitely wasn't his hand writing that read: 'MN. G' and then beside was his own bold and ugly writing that read: 'Younger Handsome Glory Of The Glory Boyz.'