Chapter Three
“There you are!” Rhett chuckled as I slid back into the booth. “Thought you might’ve gotten lost back there.”
I laughed. “No, I didn’t get lost. I was, um, giving somebody a hand with…”
They both smirked.
“Goddammit, you guys. That is not what I meant.” Rolling my eyes, I added, “I bumped into someone—literally—and helped him carry some boxes out to his van.”
Rhett’s eyebrow climbed. “Is that…all you did?”
“Yes.”
“Mmhmm.”
“I call bullshit.” Ethan gestured at the bar. “I’m going to get another round.” He pointed at the glass in front of me. “Should I grab you another since the ice is almost melted in that one?”
“No, this will do me.” I picked up the sweaty glass. “Watered down is probably just as well right now.”
“Suit yourself.” He kissed Rhett’s cheek. “Refill?”
“Please.”
Ethan kissed him once more—a quick peck on the lips this time—and left the booth.
Rhett faced me. “So, you just carried a box.”
“Yes. Why the third degree?”
“Because I’ve known you for a long time, and I have never seen you grin like that.”
As soon as he pointed it out, I realized he’d busted me. I sipped the Kamikaze. Wow, even watered down it was good. Wrapping my hands around it to cool myself off, I shrugged. “Well, he was… I mean—”
“All right, gentlemen,” the deejay’s voice boomed over the speakers, making both of us jump. “That’s it for me tonight, but keep on dancing, and give it up for Sailooooo!”
My head snapped toward the stage and my jaw dropped.
The blond deejay stepped away from the console, and yes, it was him. Sailo. Under the magic Wilde’s lighting that made everyone look good was the beautiful Samoan man who was meeting me for a drink at midnight.
And whoa, that lighting was kind to him as well. He’d changed out of the T-shirt and wore a black tank top now, which revealed more of his tanned, toned body, and also the intricate tribal tattoo covering his left arm all the way to the shoulder and disappearing under the front of his shirt.
The music switched to something way more upbeat than before, as if to keep time with my racing pulse, and I just…stared. He was on his feet, smiling broadly and encouraging the guys in front of him to dance.
And he was dancing too. Mostly from his hips. Jesus Christ.
“Earth to Greg?” Rhett shouted over the music, snapping me out of it.
I shook myself and turned back to him. “Sorry, what?”
His eyes flicked toward the stage, and he chuckled, raising his mostly empty glass. “Enjoying the scenery, are we?”
“What’s not to enjoy?” I took a drink, wondering if I should get a stronger one, or maybe hold off until Sailo joined me. No point in being drunk when he did. I’d probably say plenty of stupid shit without the alcohol’s help.
As I poked at the remaining ice cubes with my straw, I said, “I’m surprised you and Ethan come here. Doesn’t really seem like your scene.”
Rhett shrugged. “We usually come during the week to harass Kieran. When it’s not quite so”—he gestured at the crowd—“busy.”
I couldn’t imagine this place when it wasn’t packed, but it made sense that the weekdays wouldn’t be so crazy. Presumably most of these guys had jobs besides looking hot and groping on a dance floor. Unless, of course, they were models and porn stars.
I let my gaze slide back toward the stage. I wondered if he was only here on the weekends. It probably wasn’t in the best interest of the club’s budget to have a deejay here all the time, and the stage looked it could readily accommodate a live band. So was this his full-time job? Maybe he was one of those deejays who worked weddings and parties too. Or maybe he did something else. I couldn’t picture him putting on a shirt and tie and sitting behind a desk in a cubicle, but stranger things had happened. One of my coworkers was the drummer in a heavy metal band during his off time. A thin enough dress shirt would hint at the tattoos he kept hidden—not that I’d ever quietly ogled him—but otherwise, no one would ever guess.
Did Sailo have coworkers who’d be stunned to learn he was a deejay in a gay bar?
And why was I so interested?
I took another drink right as Ethan rejoined us and put a couple of glasses in front of him and Rhett.
“I think someone’s rather taken with the deejay,” Rhett said.
“Oh yeah?” Ethan glanced toward Sailo, and grinned. “Can’t imagine why. Wow.”
“He’s…” I hesitated. Oh hell, why not? “He’s the guy I was talking about. With the…”
“The one you gave a hand?” Ethan asked, chuckling.
I laughed as heat rushed into my cheeks. “Yes, that one.”
“Nice,” Rhett said. “Too bad he’s working.”
“Well, I offered to buy him a drink, and he said he’d take me up on it when he’s off the clock.” Checking my watch, I added, “Which is about two hours from now. Hopefully he’ll remember.”
“I’m sure he will,” Ethan said. “And you’ve got two hours to stare at him.”
“So do we.” Rhett’s voice barely carried over the music Sailo was playing.
My arms prickled with goose bumps. Oh, I’d definitely be staring at him for the next two hours…
* * * * *
At midnight, the blond deejay returned, and Sailo disappeared backstage.
Rhett and Ethan had left twenty minutes ago, wishing me luck on their way out. I was grateful they’d stayed this long. That they’d come with me in the first place. I couldn’t imagine walking into this place without at least some backup.
But now I was on my own. I’d moved to the bar to keep from occupying a booth that would better serve a group, and I drummed my fingers on my knee, keeping my hand safely beneath the bar so no one—least of all the man I was waiting for—could see my nerves. As the minutes crawled by and Sailo didn’t emerge from the crowd, those nerves were tougher and tougher to ignore. Twelve oh-five. Twelve ten. Twelve twenty.
When my phone said it was twenty-five minutes after twelve, my heart sank. Maybe he’d hoped I wouldn’t stick around this long. Or when he realized I had, he’d ducked out the back and sped off in that packed van. It wasn’t like I could make mental excuses—he was stuck in traffic, he was finding a place to park, he was looking for the club—because he was right here in the same building.
Maybe the promise to meet for a drink had just been a way to placate me so I’d get out of his hair. Or to see if I’d really be gullible enough to stick around. And anyway, I couldn’t imagine I’d made the greatest first impression, so—
There he was.
I gulped as he emerged from the crowd like a mirage taking solid form. He’d changed clothes, losing the black shirt in favor of a plain blue one, untucked with the top two buttons undone. His black hair was neatly arranged and damp, and he smiled when he saw me.
He made his way across the lounge and joined me at the bar.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he shouted over the music. “I wanted to grab a shower after…” He nodded toward the stage, where the current deejay was working up a hell of a sweat.
“I can’t blame you,” I replied. “So, I think I owe you a drink?”
He leaned in a bit. “What?”
“A drink.” I pointed at the bar. “What’ll you have?”
He scanned the colorful bottles against the wall and pursed his lips. “How about a rum and Coke?”
I nodded and flagged down the bartender. After he’d made our drinks, I paid him, and then faced Sailo again. Raising my glass, I said, “Sorry for crashing into you earlier.”
He laughed and clinked his drink against mine. “Oh, I don’t know. I got a free drink out of it.” He winked, which sent an electric charge straight down my spine.
I took a drink too, needing the cold more than the alcohol.
He said something, but the music smothered it.
Tilting my head toward him, I said, “What?”
He leaned closer, and I swore I felt the warmth of his breath on my ear—oh God—as he repeated, “Is this your first time at Wilde’s?”
I nodded, drawing back to meet his gaze. “You?”
“Uh, no.” He chuckled, tilting his glass toward the stage. “I work here.”
I cringed. “Right. Sorry. I…” Well, there was no coming back from that one, so I just laughed and shrugged. “Sorry.”
He smiled, which crinkled the corners of his eyes and made my heart flutter. Good God. If I’d had any lingering doubts about my attraction to men—any reason to call myself bi-curious instead of bisexual—they evaporated right then and there.
Or maybe I’d just had a little too much to drink tonight.
He leaned in. “So what do you do?”
“I’m an engineer,” I shouted.
“Computers?”
“Planes.”
“Oh. Cool.”
I wasn’t sure what I could add that would be interesting and wouldn’t require a longwinded explanation that he’d barely hear anyway. On the bright side, the booze and nerves didn’t make me quite stupid enough to ask what he did for a living.
I sipped my drink, searching for something to say. Something to ask about him that he’d hear. That he could answer without wearing out his voice. This was going to get exhausting fast. Carrying on a conversation in here with my friends had been challenging enough—trying to communicate with someone who barely knew me would be…difficult. We didn’t know each other’s speech patterns well enough to fill in when the music drowned out the actual words.
Sailo shook his head and turned to me. “It’s way too fucking loud down here.”
Scowling, I nodded. “I know.”
In the space of a few seconds, I convinced myself he was about to shrug and bow out, but instead, he asked, “You want to go someplace quieter?”
My heart skipped. Going someplace quieter… Wasn’t that a come-on of some sort? Oh hell. Maybe it was. And maybe I really was getting too old for this shit, because the club was a bit too loud for my tastes. Someplace quieter—come-on or not—definitely sounded appealing.
So, I nodded.
He raised a finger as if to say just a minute, and turned toward the bar, beckoning someone over. One of the bartenders—a good-looking and somewhat scruffy guy with his sleeves rolled to his elbows—came over. They both leaned across the bar, speaking directly into each other’s ears. Sailo gestured toward the back. The guy glanced in that direction.
With a decisive nod from each, they separated.
Before I realized what was happening, Sailo took my hand. It took me a second to make sense of that casual contact, the warmth of his gently callused fingers between mine, and by the time I got my head around that, I realized I was following him through the crowd. That he was leading me between throngs of dancing, drinking men, and my feet were keeping me hot on his heels despite my brain going wait, what?
So I didn’t argue.
I just followed him.