Chapter Five
The club scene wasn’t exactly my speed, but we all have to make sacrifices.
I had three best friends, and we tried to take turns calling the shots. Last weekend had been World of Warcraft, because Josh and Tara loved to play. Dillon and I made the best of it. Friday night, they’d all followed me downtown for a midnight showing of an action film, even though they hated it. Tonight we were at After Hours, mostly because Dillon wanted to get laid.
It’s not like I can’t dance, or like I’m too much of a prude to drink, but the club Dillon picked was a pure meat market. Every guy there was cruising.
Every guy but me, I guess.
Next to me, Tara and Josh had their heads together and were talking about something—probably gaming. They’re straight, and I’m pretty sure they’re crazy about each other, but they recite the “just friends” line like it’s the fucking gospel. Who am I to argue? Out on the dance floor, Dillon was practically swallowing some guy’s tongue.
I checked my watch. Only eleven o’clock. If we were lucky, Dillon would decide to cut to the chase and leave with the guy soon, and Tara, Josh and I would be off the hook. But I doubted that was going to happen.
“I’m going to get a drink,” I said to them. I probably should have offered to bring one back, but Josh already owed me too much money.
I fought my way through the crowd, doing my best not to make eye contact. Sometimes, that seemed to be all it took for some guy to think I was issuing an invitation. Still, I could feel their eyes on me. I saw the way a couple turned to watch me pass.
“Hey, sweet thing,” one said. “Let me buy you a drink.”
I ignored him and kept walking.
I finally made it to the bar. “Coke, please.” The bartender stared at me like they always do when you don’t order alcohol—like I’m some kind of idiot. “Just a Coke, please,” I said again. He managed to avoid rolling his eyes at me, but not by much. He pulled out a glass and started shoveling in ice. If they’re nice about it, I tip them. If they give me the soda for free, I tip them. But he charged me and was a dick to boot, so I didn’t bother.
I was just turning to head back to our table when I spotted him: dark hair, dark skin, sitting on the barstool looking so out of place, I wondered how I hadn’t seen him before.
“Vinnie?” I yelled, moving around the barflies in between us to get to him. “Vincent Fierro, is that you?”
What a stupid fucking question. Of course it was him. And when he turned to me, the blood drained from his face like I was the goddamn ghost of Christmas past. “Trey,” he said. “What are you doing here?”
Well, at least we were tied on the stupid-question front. There wasn’t an empty stool next to him, so I angled myself into the narrow space between him and the bar. “I’ve never seen you here before.”
“It’s my first time.”
“I didn’t realize you were gay.”
All the color that had left his cheeks came back with a vengeance. The glare he turned on me would have made me back up, if I’d had anywhere to go. “I’m not.”
I laughed. What the hell else could I do? “Oh yeah? Let me guess. You wandered in here by mistake, saw all the guys practically having sex on the dance floor, and thought you’d just pull up a seat for the hell of it, right? ’Cause that’s what all the straight guys do.”
He clenched his jaw, turning away from me, and I felt a twinge of guilt for having goaded him. Big tough guy like him, big Catholic family, it couldn’t be as easy for him as it had been for me. My Gram had barely batted an eye when I’d come out to her, and that had been six years ago.
“It’s cool, Vinnie,” I said. “I get it.”
He seemed uncertain, and I did my best to be reassuring. “Let me buy you a drink.”
He winced, glancing around the bar like he was searching for an escape hatch. “I don’t think I’m staying.”
Christ, offer to buy a guy a drink, and he’s ready to bolt. He probably assumed I was trying to get in his pants. Of course, I’d been in that position a billion times myself, so I didn’t take it personally. “You don’t have to go. I’ll leave you alone—”
“No!” I had a feeling the word had escaped without him meaning for it to. He looked like he regretted it. I wasn’t sure what to say. I wasn’t sure if assuring him that I wasn’t cruising was what he wanted to hear or not.
He took a deep breath and blew it out. “I didn’t mean because of you,” he said at last. “I just mean, I really hate this scene. What the hell kind of music is this anyway?”
“Club music.”
“I keep wondering if this goddamn song will ever end. It’s been going on for at least an hour.”
I laughed. “No, it hasn’t. This is some club mashup of ‘Umbrella’ and ‘Single Ladies’. That last song was something by Lady Gaga. The one before I think was—”
“You mean these are real songs?”
I laughed. “What else would they be?”
He rolled his eyes. “I thought it was a techno loop clubs played when they couldn’t afford to hire a real DJ. Or a band. I didn’t realize people actually listened to this shit.” He shook his head, rubbing his forehead with his fingers. “Fuck, I’m old.”
The music wasn’t exactly my speed either, although I’d long since grown immune to it. “What kind of music do you like?” I asked.
“Jazz. Swing. Real music. Three notes by Coltrane, and this crap would back off in shame.”
His answer gave me an idea that was too good to pass up. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
The look he gave me was almost like panic, and I smiled. “I don’t mean, ‘your place or mine?’ I just mean, let’s go someplace better.”
“Where?” he asked, looking relieved.
“Trust me.”
I took a minute to pull out my phone and send a text to Tara. Leaving. Be safe.
Her WTF? came back to me in record time—I’d never left the club with anybody before—but I ignored it.
I led him out of the hot, loud club into the cool night air. The sidewalks were still wet, but the rain had stopped. The only part of the music we could hear from outside was the thumping bass. My ears were ringing. “You mind walking?” I felt like my voice was way too loud.
“I don’t mind.”
We rounded the corner and went a few blocks. “You know where you’re going?” he asked as we walked.
“Of course. I’ve never been in this club before, but I’ve heard about it.”
We reached our destination. No thumping bass here. I opened the door, and smooth jazz flowed out around us, wrapping us up, drawing us in.
Inside, the lights were low—no bright lights or flashing strobes. A few couples were dancing. A lone black man sat on a stool in the corner, playing a sax. The music was sultry, loud enough to be heard, but not so loud you couldn’t hear the person four inches away from you.
I glanced over at Vinnie, and he smiled. His smile was cute. Sort of smartass and self-deprecating at the same time—like he was daring the world to take him seriously. It made him seem years younger.
“Better,” he said.
We found a table near the dance floor, and the waiter didn’t bat an eye when I only ordered a Coke. Vinnie ordered a vodka tonic, and then we sat there, not knowing what to say. When I realized he would wait until doomsday before breaking the ice, I fished around until I found something that felt safe to talk about. “Sorry about the idiots in the restaurant the other day. I made them tip Marcie well.”
It was a little astounding how much this subject relaxed him, and I can’t say I minded the look of approval I got either. “They didn’t seem like your usuals.” His tone hinted heavily that I generally had more taste.
“Group project,” I explained.
He made a face and shook his head. “They’re still doing that shit? I figured they’d quit once they saw what a mess it was.”
“Are you kidding? A week’s worth of group project is that much less shit for professors to grade. Plus they get to say they’re teaching us team building and crap like that.”
Vinnie rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Well, you have my condolences.”
He tipped his glass toward mine, and I met him in a toast. We drank, our gazes tangled in a moment of camaraderie. I didn’t want it to end, so I gave him another conversation prompt. “What is it you do? I know you don’t work for the restaurant anymore, because they’re always carrying on about how ‘If Vinnie was here, this wouldn’t have happened.’”
He raised a dubious eyebrow into his hairline. “That I didn’t know. This recent, this carrying on?”
I tried to think. “Yeah, I think so. Last week was the last time it came up.”
He grimaced. “They’re probably getting ready to gang up on me again to come back. Thanks for the intel.”
“But what is it you do now?”
“Plumbing.” He took a drink. “I work for my uncle up in Northbrook. Parino Brothers Plumbing.” I tried not to be shocked, but I must have failed because he laughed and waggled both eyebrows. “Hey, somebody’s got to unclog the toilets.”
“But do you like that?” I pressed. It was probably rude, but I knew he’d gone to not just college but graduate school, that he had an MBA and used to do accounting for his family’s restaurants. Now he fished out drains?
He shrugged. “It’s okay. Pay’s good, and I get out and about.” He gave me a sideways smile that made my stomach turn over. “Haven’t you heard my family gossiping about how I’m the one who can’t settle down on anything?”
I had. Vince always had a new job, and he’d been married three times, unless I’d missed an ex-wife in there. “Whatever makes you happy, I guess.”
This comment made his smile die, and he became focused on turning his drink casually in his hand. “Not sure about that. Do my best, though.” Clearing his throat, he set his glass down. “What about you? You’re in school, right? What for?”
“English major. I originally wanted to be pre-law, but at the rate I’m having to go, I’ll be ninety when I get out. I thought about getting an education endorsement, though my advisor is trying to talk me into political science.” I shrugged and twirled the straw in my Coke. “Right now I’ll be happy to get far enough into a degree to be able to graduate. I’m tired of school.”
Vinnie frowned at me. “How old are you, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“Twenty-five. And yes, I know it’s a long time to be in school.”
To my surprise, Vinnie only nodded. “You’re taking care of your grandmother and mother, though, and you work full-time, right?”
“More than. I have two jobs. Barista at Full Moon, the coffee shop up on Racine just north of the interstate, and waiter at The Rose.” I was ready for his look of disdain, and I had to bite back a smile. “Hey, we can’t all be born into the Fierro clan.”
“Have you ever applied at Emilio’s, though?”
“When I was looking, there wasn’t an opening. Plus, I hate to be rude, but the tips are higher at The Rose. All those lovely tourists coming out of the Loop, grateful to get a table.”
“The food’s terrible. They only survive because that bastard has city councilors in his pocket.” He ironed out his scowl and held up a hand in surrender. “But you’re right. The tips have to be killer.”
“If it helps, the chef’s an ass. Mostly because I won’t blow him in the back room, I’m pretty sure.” Too late I realized I’d accidentally shined a spotlight on the elephant in the middle of our table. I winced. Vinnie slouched and took a heavy hit from his drink. He wouldn’t look me in the eye anymore, and it made me sad.
This time, though, it was Vinnie who brought us back into conversation. “So you come up here a lot?”
“To Boystown? Not often if I can help it. Don’t get me wrong. It’s a great neighborhood, but mostly I see the bars, which I could do without.” This got me the eyebrow again, and another one of those sexy little smiles. “What?” I demanded, trying to tamp down the butterflies that smile unleashed in my belly.
“You’re young. You’re cute. Yet you could do without going to bars full of guys wanting to hook up with you?”
He thought I was cute? My butterflies went crazy, and I focused all my attention on my drink. “I feel like I should tell you something.” I concentrated on trying to spear my thin red cocktail straw through one of the round ice cubes in my Coke, debating how to tell him I was a virgin. “I don’t have sex.”
“What?” Vinnie asked, laughing. “Not ever?”
I glanced up at him, trying not to be bothered by the amused disbelief in his eyes. “I just mean, I don’t sleep with guys on the first date.”
His laughter died fast. “This isn’t a date.”
He said it like a threat, as if he had to set the record straight—and I do mean straight—and I laughed. His protests actually took a great deal of pressure off me. “All the more reason I won’t sleep with you tonight.”
I was glad when he smiled again. “Deal,” he said.
It was strange how freeing that word was.
I’d learned over the years to be so careful about my interactions with men, lest they misunderstand my intentions, but it wasn’t as if I was opposed to sex or to fooling around. I wasn’t immune to the calling of my own hormones. I woke up horny like any healthy male. The problem was that with most guys, the line between flirting and fucking was razor thin. But Vince wasn’t most guys. He wasn’t some stranger I’d barely met. I’d known him for most of my life. I knew I could trust him.
Suddenly, I felt I could throw caution to the wind. Having the boundaries firmly in place and a partner I trusted opened up the playing field considerably.
I reached over and put my hand on his thigh, and he raised one eyebrow questioningly at me. “No sex,” I said, “but that doesn’t mean we can’t flirt, right?”
He stared hard at me for a long second, like I was some bridge he couldn’t decide if he wanted to jump off of. Eventually he said, his voice low and rough, “I guess not.”
My heart went into overdrive. It made me bold. It was a new feeling for me, and I embraced it. I had nothing to lose.
I moved into his lap, straddling his thighs so I could face him. His hands were on my legs, but it wasn’t as if he was touching me on purpose. It was more like that was the safest place he could find to put them. His guards were back up in full. “This doesn’t feel like flirting.”
“Then what does it feel like?”
“Like you’re coming on to me.” He said the words like an accusation.
“Aren’t they same thing?” He didn’t move as I undid the top button on his shirt. “We already said no sex.” I undid the next one. “Relax.” There wasn’t much hair on his chest. Just smooth, dark skin, and I caressed it with my fingertips. I traced his collarbone. I put my arms around his neck and leaned closer to kiss his cheek, which was stubbly, and then the side of his neck. “God, you smell good.” It was a spicy scent—some kind of aftershave—mixed with the clean, soapy smell of his hair. I kissed him again, below his ear, and I heard his breath catch in his throat.
He clenched his hands. His fingers dug into my thigh. “Trey—”
I knew he was going to tell me to stop, and I cut him off, leaning back a bit so I could look in his eyes. “Dance with me.”
The request surprised him, and his eyebrows went up. “Are you serious?”
“Of course.” I eyed the couples on the floor—it was nothing like the club scene. The couples here were arm in arm, cheek to cheek, some of them talking quietly, some of them kissing, all of them looking like they were in love. I envied them. They were a mix of orientations too, which I hoped would calm him.
I turned back to Vinnie. “Nobody’s ever danced with me like this before.”
“But we’re both guys.”
I laughed. “No kidding.”
It took him a second to react. Maybe he was deciding whether or not to be offended, but then he smiled. “I guess.”
I resisted the urge to clap like a silly kid, even though I wanted to. I stood up, and he let me take his hand and lead him to the dance floor. I led him to an empty space between the swaying couples and turned to face him.
“This is weird,” he said.
“No, it’s not.” I stepped closer, sliding my left hand around his waist as I put my right hand in his. “I assume you want to lead?”
“That’s what I’m used to.” He put his arm around me, although he didn’t hold me close. It was like those dances in junior high, where you were supposed to keep six inches of open space between you and your partner. “Your left hand is supposed to be on my shoulder.”
“Says who?” Before he could answer, I closed the distance between us. I put my head on his shoulder, my nose against his neck so I could smell his aftershave. “Quit being an uptight prick and dance with me.”
He made an angry noise low in his throat, almost like he was growling at me, but he didn’t pull away, and we started to move.
The dancing part turned out to be easy. The part about not being uptight took a bit longer, but by the time the next song began, he was doing better. He stopped being so stiff, and more importantly he didn’t pull away when I tightened my arm around him and melted into him. I shut my eyes and let myself go. His body was so strong and solid against mine. I could feel him breathing. He was taller then me, and when he turned his head toward me, his warm breath tickled my ear. His hand moved slowly up and down my back as we swayed.
How many times had I wondered how it would feel to have a man hold me like this? It was wonderful. I thought I might be in heaven. I held him tighter, concentrating on how close his lips were to my ear. I wished he would kiss me there, just once. I slid my left hand out from behind him, up his chest and around his neck. I tangled my fingers into his thick black hair. I tilted my head back, urging his head down a bit, guiding his lips to the wonderfully sensitive flesh below my ear.
He didn’t kiss me, but his breathing became heavier. He held me against him. He had an erection. The bulge in his pants pushed against my groin.
Any blood that might have been in my brain fled quickly to parts further south.
“Oh Jesus,” he moaned, and suddenly he was trying to jerk away from me. “I need to go.”
I held on to him though, refusing to let him bolt. I tilted my head back to look up at him. I could see something like panic on his face, although he wouldn’t actually meet my eyes. He seemed to be looking everywhere else.
“No you don’t. Dance with me some more.”
He finally met my eyes, and even in the low light, I could see the color rising on his cheeks. “I can’t…”
“We’re just dancing.”
“It doesn’t feel like ‘just dancing’ anymore.”
I almost laughed. Almost. “There’s nothing wrong with being turned on. There’s nothing wrong with what we’re feeling.” My words clearly embarrassed him more, and this time I really did laugh. I couldn’t believe I had to tell a guy more than ten years my senior that it was okay to have a boner. I tightened my left arm around his neck. I didn’t so much pull him down as I used my arm around his neck to pull myself up, so we were nose to nose, forehead to forehead, our lips almost touching. “Dancing feels good, Vin. Being close like this feels good. Why do we have to be embarrassed about that?”
I thought for a second he was going to pull away. He was looking into my eyes, as if he couldn’t decide whether to believe me or not, but he sighed, and some of the tension went out of him. “Okay.”
He let me direct his head back down where it had been, so his warm breath bathed my neck. He let me push my erection against his. He held me tight against him.
We danced.
Admittedly, it probably wasn’t much of a dance. I wasn’t even sure we were still moving. It was more like we were in contest to see who could get closer to the other, like we were trying to occupy the very same tiny space on the floor. I wondered if he could feel the frantic beat of my heart. It felt like there was nothing but music holding us up. Song after song after song. I lost track of how many. The music was sexy and sultry, and if smoke had a sound, that would have been it. Vinnie never let me go, not even in those quiet seconds between songs. I lost myself in his smell, his hand caressing my back, his breath against my neck, his groin hard against mine.
We might have been the last two people in the bar, or in the whole wide world, and I wouldn’t have noticed. My head was spinning, my groin aching, my body practically thrumming with the desire to feel him touch me more. I kissed his neck. His hand slid down my back, past my belt. He squeezed a little, and I whimpered.
“Oh Jesus,” he whispered again, but he didn’t pull away.
I’d laughed so many times at people who claimed sex “just happened,” but for the first time in my life, I thought I understood. I wanted him so much. I didn’t care that we were in public. I didn’t care that I barely knew him. I only knew the pressure in my groin was the sweetest madness I’d ever felt. Knowing he was as turned on as I was made me breathless. I would have thrown my virginity away in a heartbeat, if he’d been willing to take it. It would have been easy for him to convince me to go home with him. I imagined being alone at his place, dancing as we were now, only without our clothes. Dancing to nothing but flickering candlelight.
“Trey,” he whispered at last.
He pulled away a bit and looked down into my eyes. Had he changed his mind about the sex? Had I?
“I should go,” he said.
I wasn’t sure if I was disappointed or relieved. I wanted to keep dancing, but I knew we were asking for trouble. “I know.”
It took us a minute to disentangle. If we’d let go too fast, I’m sure neither of us would have been able to stand. It was more like a slow transition from being one body back to being two. It made me sad, but it also made me aware of just how lost I’d really been.
He pulled his shirt out of his pants as we walked back to the table, letting it hang over his groin. I didn’t bother. Nobody was paying any attention to us, and even if they were, I suspected we weren’t the only guys in the place sporting wood.
My hand shook as I picked up my Coke and drained it. Vin was pointedly not making eye contact, but I saw him run his hand through his hair, and I was pretty sure he was shaking as much as I was. Somehow, that gave me confidence.
“Good thing this isn’t a date,” I said, and he smiled over at me.
I led him back out onto the street. The sidewalks were still damp. The air was still cool. Was this still the same night? Was it even my same life? I glanced down at my watch. It was almost three o’clock in the morning. We’d been in the bar for more than three hours? It seemed impossible.
I looked up to find him watching me. “You taking the EL?” he asked, nodding down the street toward the station.
“Yeah. Are you?”
“I drove.”
He cleared his throat uncomfortably, and in the blink of an eye, it was the moment. The awkward fucking moment where nobody knows what to say, nobody knows what to do. Should we kiss? Should we shake hands? Should we just turn and walk away? I wanted him to kiss me, but I knew there was no way he would. I’d have to make the first move. I wasn’t sure I had the courage. In the bar, with the lights down low and the music playing, it had been easy to flirt. But in the cold crisp air of night, with the streetlights looking on, I didn’t think I could do it. I wondered how he’d react. I had a feeling it wouldn’t please him.
“Well.” He rocked back on his heels like he was getting ready to run for his life. “Good night.”
I sighed, disappointed that I’d lost my chance. “Good night.”
He started to walk away, and I called out before I knew what I was going to say. “Vinnie, wait!”
He stopped and turned toward me. Why the hell had I stopped him? Shit! He was waiting for me to speak, and I felt like an ass. I took a deep breath and said the first thing that came to me.
“Thanks for the dance.”
He smiled at me—that goddamn cute smile, like the whole world could kiss his ass—and I kind of hated the way it made me so happy to have him point it my way. “See you around.”