Chapter Two
AUSTIN
“Aside from Aaron showing up, this night was the fucking bomb.” Frankie flipped the wad of bills in his hand back and forth. “I never seen this much cash in a single take.”
“Huh? What?” I might’ve been staring right at Frankie, but he wasn’t who I was seeing. “Oh, yeah. I know.”
“Yeah. And when I light it on fire, it’s gonna make a huge explosion in my shorts, and they might have to take me out of here naked and in handcuffs.”
Rhoades. The ridiculous name suited him perfectly. A bit stiff and overbearing. And yet he’d made me come alive and fall to pieces with a simple kiss.
“Right, Austin?”
Frankie poked me, and I blinked. “Oh, yeah, right.”
“Man, you are so busted. You haven’t been listening to anything I said.” Frankie shook with laughter as he wiped off his makeup and unfastened the purple cape from around his neck. “Still thinking about him?”
Refusing to meet his eyes, I started the process of taking off my own makeup. Stalling for an answer, I scrubbed my face with a towelette, my movements careful and deliberate. Frankie knew me too well, and like a dog with a bone, kept at me.
“I’ll take that as a yes—since you can’t look me in the eye. I can tell you he’s hooked.”
“Doesn’t make a difference to me. I’m not interested. And tonight isn’t about me. You need to tell the cops about Aaron coming here. You have an order of protection, and they need to enforce it.”
“Yeah. I’ll take care of it. But tell me,” Frankie said as he hitched his chair next to mine, so close our shoulders touched, “you and Mr. Sexypants. I know something happened between you two. If you can’t tell me, who can you?”
No one, I wanted to say. All I wanted to do was go home, curl up in my bed, and pretend Rhoades still held me. I’d never been addicted to someone’s touch, yet from the first brush of his fingers against my skin, something inside me broke free and I hungered for more. But not with him. Never with a man oozing so much money and power that the mere raise of an eyebrow would send people scurrying. Much as I might want to find a man to love—and I wouldn’t admit that to anyone—it wouldn’t be with a man like my father. My mother had taught me that in her short life.
“It wasn’t a big deal. I gave him a dance, and of course he wanted more. I said no and walked out on him. End of story. You know his type. People don’t say no to men like him. Especially half-naked dancers who shake their dicks and asses for dollar bills.”
Those big brown eyes of Frankie’s narrowed in confusion, and a frown settled on his lips. “You make it sound cheap. That’s not us. I love dancing, and you do too. We do this for fun and money. It’s not like we’re gonna do this the rest of our lives. We have dreams, ya know? Who does it hurt?”
A week later, lying sleepless in bed, I was brave enough to answer Frankie, if only in my head. I hurt all over, especially in my heart. I didn’t want to spend my life dancing for tips from nameless people. My dreams were bigger than that, but the future was more uncertain—having given my father the middle finger and telling him I’d rather live in a roach-infested studio in the middle of Brooklyn than his five-story brownstone on the Upper West Side. Thank God I was stronger than my mother and could break free with no lasting effects.
And yet, I thought as I rolled over, clutching the pillow between my fingers, I’d been a hairbreadth away from making the same mistake she did, almost falling for a man who would break me and make me believe my only value was in valuing him.
Rhoades hadn’t been to the club this past week, and despite me basically telling him to fuck off, I still wondered where he was and if I’d ever see him again. In the months he’d been watching me dance, he’d only missed a few days here and there, but perhaps he’d taken my refusal seriously.
Shit. I meant it. No, I didn’t.
Restless from all those thoughts and unable to sleep, I left the warmth of my bed to head out into the night to the twenty-four-hour bodega. There I found Chanan, the friendly older man who, along with his son and wife, ran the store. He knew my crazy-ass schedule almost as well as I did, and surprise lit his weathered face when I walked in at two in the morning.
“Austin. What’re you doing here? You usually don’t come in this late.”
Chanan wore the traditional Sikh turban, and his dark brown eyes twinkled at me from beneath bushy, gray brows.
“Did you have a date?”
The scents in the bodega—coffee, toasted bread, and the ever-present, faint, underlying smell of disinfectant—comforted me. You knew when you walked inside exactly what you’d find. Candy filled one aisle and chips and other junk food essential to late-night snacking, the other. I’d much rather give my money to my neighbors than the big-box chains any day. In addition to bagels, rolls, and pastries, they also offered fresh-squeezed fruit and vegetable juices and deli sandwiches of ham, turkey, and roast beef. Their family had owned the bodega for over thirty years and were a neighborhood success story, showcasing the power of a true family. I’d guarantee my father had never set foot in one of these stores.
“Nah. I couldn’t sleep, so I thought maybe a juice would be good. What do you think?”
Hefting a twelve-pack of water on his shoulder, Chanan’s son, Vijay, walked out of the storage area. “Papa ji, let me make Austin the green juice Bebe ji always gave me when I couldn’t fall asleep.” Even at two in the morning, his infectious grin never failed to boost my spirits. Forsaking the turban and full beard of his father’s Sikh faith, Vijay was clean-shaven and wore his thick, dark hair cut short. It fell over his forehead in heavy swaths, picking up the gleam of the overhead light, and his white smile contrasted beautifully with his darkly tanned skin. The first time I’d come into Singh’s 24 Hour Grocery and Deli, I couldn’t stop staring at the gorgeous guy serving me. As I’d feared, he was not only straight but married, with two little daughters he doted on. Vijay had become a good friend, and the whole family sort of took me under their wing when I moved to the neighborhood, and they discovered I’d cut ties with my father.
“What’s in it?”
Having set the water down on the counter, Vijay now held a handful of greens and a lemon. I held up a hand. “I have a sensitive stomach.”
“Pffft.” Vijay snorted and washed the greens, then threw them into the blender, along with half the lemon and an apple he picked up from the counter. “You forget I’ve served you buffalo chicken heroes with jalapeños at midnight, brother. Can’t fool me.”
The blender whirled, and I bit back a smile. It was refreshing to have people know me and still want to be my friends. The real me—the gay Austin who danced half-naked and sometimes wore makeup and dressed in leggings with furry boots. Not the Austin my father wanted to mold into a mirror image of himself, a plastic man with veins running green with money, a cold and brutally unforgiving man.
I took the frothy green juice, staring at it with some trepidation.
“Go on,” said Chanan, his face a crease of laugh lines. “It won’t kill you. We have been drinking this for years in my family.”
I took a sip, and my grimace turned into a smile around the straw. “It’s good.” I drank down half in less than a minute. “Wow. Who would’ve thought?”
“My Bebe ji, my grandmother, drank this every day. She lived till ninety-five.” Vijay pushed the thick strands of hair off his forehead.
Not sure if that would be considered a blessing or a curse, I thought as I noisily sucked the rest of my drink through the straw. The prospect of sixty more years was enough to scare the shit out of me, especially when I had no idea of my life beyond the day I lived it. An image of Rhoades flashed before me, eyes blazing, breath panting out hot and harsh as his lips trailed a fiery, wet path down my neck. My sweaty hands clenched around the plastic cup. The connection between us had burned bright, but he wasn’t the man for me. The life he moved through daily, that of power and privilege, was all too familiar and one I had soundly rejected.
“Hey, what’d that cup ever do to you?” Vijay asked.
Startled, I glanced at the plastic cup I squeezed in my hands, the juice precariously near the lid. I popped it back into place and chewed on the straw.
“What’s wrong, Austin? You are sad tonight.” Chanan peered at me, his wise eyes missing nothing.
Unused to such intense scrutiny, I laughed, but it rang out high and false even to me. “Nothing. Long night.”
“You need to find someone to make the nights special.”
“Maybe I should get a cat.” I yawned.
From his position on his knees where he was placing water bottles in the glass-fronted refrigerated cabinet, Vijay piped up. “See? It’s working already.”
Where Vijay had a lovely wife to warm his bed, I had no one and nothing calling me back home except dreams I’d rather not remember. Weariness stole through me, and I yawned again.
“I guess I’ll go home. Thanks for the drink. G’night.”
Whether it was subliminal that the green juice would make me sleepy, or I was that tired, by the time I walked into my apartment, I was ready for bed. I brushed my teeth, and after pulling on sweats to keep warm, huddled under my comforter and blankets. My phone buzzed with a text, and when I saw it was Frankie, my heart kicked up.
Aaron texted me. Said he wants to see me and apologize.
My fingers couldn’t type fast enough.
Don’t do it. It’s a trap. Promise me.
Breathing became difficult as I waited for Frankie’s response.
K. I figured you’d say that. I won’t. Love you.
Love you too. Call me in the morning.
I got a thumbs-up emoji in response.
With sleep ruined, I lay flat on my bed and stared at the ceiling. I couldn’t be sure Frankie would take my advice. He’d loved Aaron with a desperation I’d never understood, allowing himself to become the vessel for Aaron’s fury whenever the bastard had a hard day at work. Or someone pissed him off. Or because he thought Frankie talked too much to his family. Frankie claimed their relationship rarely got physical beyond some shoving and verbal abuse, but who knew if he told me the truth?
One time had been enough for me. I didn’t need to look beyond a pair of cracked ribs and a black eye to know I never wanted to see or talk to Chris again. When they declined to prosecute because Chris knew the DA and the judge and finagled his way out of trouble, I made a promise to never get involved with someone with more money than soul. The one benefit of that relationship had been meeting and becoming friends with Frankie. There hadn’t been anyone in my bed or my body since I’d walked out on Chris. I could still hear the curses he flung at me when I left.
For the next two hours I waited, half expecting to get a call from the police or the hospital about Frankie. I used that time to sketch, and I filled page after page with ideas of beautiful apartments and how I’d furnish them. My own apartment was filled with thrift-store cast-offs or items I’d found on the street and lugged home. My latest find was an old barrel I’d upended, lacquered to a heavy shine, and now used as an end table.
The sun burned pink and red against the gray-violet predawn sky before my eyes fell shut and I slept, a hand resting on my phone, the ringer turned up high.
The phone blared next to my pillow, and I jerked awake. It wasn’t Frankie or his mother, but James. I hit the button while blinking the sleep from my stinging eyes. The screen showed the time was eleven a.m.
“What’s wrong?”
“Why would anything be wrong? I want to know if you can come in tonight. Tristan’s sick and can’t make it.”
It took a second for my heart to settle down, as I thought it would be someone calling about Frankie. I rubbed my face and pushed my hair out of my eyes.
“I can’t, sorry. I promised Tyler I’d work on some routines for classes, and then I told Marcus I’d be at his benefit at Sparks and dance.” James knew about my work at the dance studio, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell Tyler about my extracurricular nighttime activities.
“No problem. I’ll try Cort.” He paused, and I was about to say goodbye when James spoke again. “How are you doing?”
Odd. Aside from the occasional “How are you?” James and I rarely spoke. I sat up, the sheets falling from around my chest. “Uh, I’m okay. Why?”
A sigh reverberated against my ear. “You and Rhoades.”
My chest tightened. “There is no me and Rhoades. He’s a rich guy like all the rest who want to own a little plaything.”
“You don’t know that.”
The night we’d kissed, I came home and didn’t shower—I hadn’t wanted to—and fell into bed unwashed, his scent surrounding me, so even now, a week later, my sheets retained the faint smell of his aftershave. My dreams had never been more erotic, and I couldn’t get his sexy accent, whispering all the things he’d like to do to me, out of my mind. A fading bruise on my hip caught my eye, and I recalled Rhoades pulling me flush against him. My cock hardened against my thigh.
“You weren’t in the room with us, were you? There aren’t cameras running?”
“No, but—”
“But nothing. You forget you and I aren’t the same. You’re the respectable one at the front in a suit and tie. We’re the ones rubbing our dicks all over people, hoping they’ll get drunk or horny enough to spend all their money. So no, you don’t know. Bye.”
I hung up, half-ashamed at verbally abusing James but too caught up in my darkness to care. No one forced me to dance at Man Up, just like no one had forced me to kiss Rhoades that night. Along with worrying about Frankie, kissing Rhoades was the other reason I’d had trouble sleeping lately. I’d swear my bruised lips still tingled from the hard press of Rhoades’s mouth on mine. Heat flooded me, and without even realizing it, I dug into my sweats, wrapped my hand around my aching cock, and began to jerk off. My hips pumped, and I flung my head back as I fisted my erection.
“Uhhhh.” I arched into my hand and this time gave in to the pleasure rocketing through me. My body quivered beneath the push of my fingers against my hot, straining cock. In my mind’s eye it was Rhoades touching me, and I fought against it, but my body betrayed me. Sticky streams of come dripped between my fingers, and I shook from the force of my orgasm.
Fuck. Drained and disgusted with my weakness, I lay in bed, coming down from the high. I had to wean myself off wanting Rhoades, and that meant making sure the next time I saw him—if I saw him—I stayed far away. Let him find another patsy to get on his knees and suck his dick. I wiped off my hand, then reached for my phone and hit Frankie’s number on my speed dial, putting the phone on speaker.
“What’s up?” Frankie’s voice filled my small studio.
“You good?” He sighed, and nerves popped up under my skin. “What?”
“I know you said not to see Aaron again, but I really think time in jail changed him.”
Heart pounding, I sat up so quickly, my head spun. “And how would you know that?”
“Uh. I, uh—”
“Tell me you didn’t see him.”
“No, but he called my house, and my mom was screaming and carrying on so much, I took the phone from her.”
Good for Jeannie. She saw right through that bastard. “And you told him to go fuck himself and hung up, right?”
Seconds passed, but I’d wait hours for Frankie to tell me.
“Don’t people ever get a second chance with you, Austin? You’re so hard sometimes. Maybe Aaron’s changed and maybe not, but it should be my decision.”
“I remember you lying in that hospital bed. That right there negates any second chance in my book.”
“And I told you it wasn’t his fault. We were arguing, and yeah, he grabbed my arm, but I pushed him and ran. It was my fault I tripped down the stairs. He didn’t go to jail for beating me up. It was another guy.”
“So you’ve said.”
“Stop talking to me like I’m stupid. I never said me and Aaron were perfect, but he didn’t ever do to me what Chris did to you.”
I didn’t know Frankie before we met in the hospital, but his stories of yelling and blame and control sounded enough like Chris and me to raise my suspicions.
“I never said you were stupid. I only want you to remember.”
“I didn’t agree to see him, but I’m not a child. I can make my own decisions.”
Sure you can, I thought bitterly. The fact that Frankie even debated seeing Aaron again made my stomach queasy, but a weight lifted off me. As long as he was safe, I didn’t care what he said to me. “You’re smart as hell, but both of us know how much you loved Aaron.”
“Whatever. What’re you doing today? Wanna hit up some of the by-the-pound thrift stores around 14th Street? I have to find some things for a class assignment.”
Yawning, I ran my hand through my hair and gazed down at the dried come on my stomach. “I need to plan some routines for class, but we can have lunch around there. I gotta shower first, and then I’ll meet you at the diner on Union Square at one. I got nothing in my apartment except ramen. That good?”
“Yeah. See you there.”
“Bye.”
I ended the call and left my bed, heading to the bathroom. After washing a few bugs down the drain and brushing my teeth, I turned on the shower. The pipes squealed, and the tepid water spilling over me in jerky spurts meant a quick wash. For a moment I thought with longing of my father’s townhouse with its spa bathroom complete with jetted tub, a rainfall showerhead gushing hot water, and a steam room.
Stop it, I scolded myself and rinsed off. You’re living your life now. Doing what you want, being who you are. Still, it would be nice to have heat that worked and hot water that was truly hot.
As if to rebel against my earlier negative thoughts, I dressed in black corduroy leggings tucked into my furry boots and a bright red sweater with a big white heart emblazoned across the front. If my father could see me now, he’d probably spit on me. A defiant smile lit my face, and I turned on my blow-dryer to finish getting ready.
Almost forty minutes later, I walked up the stairs at Union Square and headed across the park. Sundays always found this part of the city busy. Even though the Greenmarket wasn’t open, plenty of vendors still put up their goods for sale, and knowing Frankie was always late, I took my time and browsed among the tables. Sure enough, there went the ping of my phone.
Be there in 15.
K, I texted back, then shoved the phone into my jacket pocket and picked up a black leather wallet with bright red whipstitching around the edges that caught my eye. The whipstitching would make a beautiful pillow, and I could see it on a sleek couch in one of those Tribeca lofts.
“This is beautiful,” I said to the young woman, who smiled up at me from her seat behind the table. A cup of something hot steamed in front of her. “Do you make these?”
“Yes. I sell them here, and I have an Etsy store as well.” She handed me a card.
“How much?”
“Fifteen dollars.”
Considering my take from dancing last night had netted me close to five hundred dollars, I could afford to splurge a bit today.
“I’ll take it.” I dug out my old ratty wallet and pulled out a ten and a five. “I’m studying design, and you have great style.”
Her cheeks tinted pink. “Thank you.”
I walked away, stopping at other tables, but nothing caught my eye before I reached the end of the park. The diner where Frankie and I were meeting was at the corner, and as I waited for the light, a cab pulled up in front and I saw Frankie step out and wave to someone in the back seat before it drove away. He stood on the corner staring after it, lost in thought, the breeze ruffling his chestnut-brown waves. The light changed, and I hurried across the street.
“Frankie. I’m here.”
An almost guilty expression crossed his face before he smiled at me. “Hey.” We kissed hello and went inside, grabbing an empty booth in the back. The waitress ambled over with a coffeepot in hand. “You boys want coffee?”
At our nods, she poured us each a cup. “Anything to eat?”
“I’ll have a piece of apple pie,” Frankie said.
I hadn’t eaten much for breakfast and needed something more substantial. “Can I get a cheese omelet with fries instead of hash browns, and rye toast?”
“Gotcha. Be back in a minute with your pie, honey.”
We sipped our coffee in silence until I could no longer stand it.
“Who was with you in the cab?” The flicker in Frankie’s eyes confirmed it. “You were with him, right?”
Anger tightened Frankie’s lips. “And if I was? I told you this morning it’s my life. I get to choose how to live it, not you.”
Seeing the waitress approach with Frankie’s pie, I held off and waited until she served him.
“Here you go, honey. I put a little whipped cream on it for you, no charge.” People fell easily for Frankie. That sweet face and big, long-lashed brown eyes made women, especially, want to take care of him. She turned to me. “Your food’ll be coming soon, sweetie.”
“Thanks,” I said and waited until she walked out of earshot to respond to Frankie’s words. “You’re right. I don’t. I’m just your friend. The one who sat with you at the hospital. You owe me nothing.”
Frankie stabbed at the pie, smearing the whipped cream into the juicy pieces of apple, but not tasting a bite. I let him murder his food for several more seconds before I broke in. “What did that poor piece of pie ever do to you?”
That comment broke the ice between us, and Frankie set his weapon down. “I’m not gonna lie. I did see Aaron. He showed up at my house with flowers for my mom and a bottle of my dad’s favorite red wine. We all talked, and he and I decided to take it slow. He’s gone through anger management and is still in therapy. I think the months he spent in jail changed him. So while we aren’t back together, like I said earlier, I’m about giving people a second chance.”
I feared if I beleaguered the point and continued to bash on Aaron, Frankie would choose his ex-boyfriend over me. They had a three-year history together, and I’d only known Frankie for the past year. Everyone else in my life had someone: Tyler had Marcus, Vijay had his wife, and the other guys at the club and I hadn’t developed the bond Frankie and I shared. I couldn’t afford to lose the one person I could count on in my life. In my head, I promised to be vigilant and watch over Frankie, but with a heavy heart, I forced myself to speak words that curdled bitter on my tongue.
“I’ll always be here for you, so if you’re happy, I am too.” With a plunk, the waitress set my plate down in front of me and refilled our coffees.
“Anything else, boys?”
“No. We’re good. Right, Austin?” Normally when I ordered fries, Frankie would steal a few off my plate before I had a chance to eat one. Today he sat and challenged me with his question.
“Yeah. We are.” I forced a smile.
When Frankie’s phone buzzed with a text, he grabbed it right away, and my heart sank. It had to be Aaron.
“Oh shit, I forgot to invite you to dinner tonight, and Mom’s yelling at me over text.”
Relieved, I snickered. “Better not get Jeannie mad.”
“You wanna come?”
“I can’t. I promised Tyler I’d work on some new routines for the kids.”
“Oh, yeah? That’s cool.” He took a bite of his pie. “You ever gonna tell him about dancing at Man Up?”
I chewed a fry. “No. Maybe. I don’t know. I don’t want him and Marcus to think I’m angling to work at Sparks.”
“Neither of them would care, so I don’t know why you got such a bug up your ass about that.” Frankie took another bite of pie with whipped cream.
Me either. It was my own stubborn pride that kept me from accepting, but the only one I seemed to be hurting was myself.
“The other night, Marcus slipped me a VIP card. He’s having some kind of benefit tonight. I forgot to tell you he said we should come by.” I pulled out my wallet and rummaged through it until I found the hard, black card Marcus had given me when he came to pick Tyler up from class. I held it up and watched Frankie’s eyes widen. “See?”
“Damn.” He snatched it out of my hand and held it almost reverently. “I heard about these cards. You skip the line, and it gets you free drinks and stuff.”
I reached for it, but he pulled it away and held it aloft. “You’re gonna go, right? I can’t ’cause I’m gonna be in Howard Beach for dinner, then working on classwork.”
“Meet me afterward. If you go, I’ll go.”
A devilish smile lit Frankie’s eyes. “Deal.” He caressed the card with his fingertips before handing it back. “Man, this is so cool.”
“Don’t make it more than it is.”
Frankie scraped up the last bit of his pie with whipped cream and licked his lips. “And you stop making it less. You do this with everything, especially your man from the club.”
Heat rose to my face, and I gulped some ice water to cool myself down. “I don’t have a man.”
Frankie’s brows shot up, and he pointed a finger at me. “Deny it all you want, but you’re attracted to him. What’s his name?”
“Rhoades.” My voice sounded tight and not like my own.
“Okay. So you and Rhoades. When he came into the dressing room that night, I thought you two were gonna vaporize, the heat was so intense. What would be so wrong to hook up with him?”
I shredded the paper napkin in my sweaty hands. “Because I know his type. They start out nice and sweet, making you comfortable with them. Then wham!” I banged my palm on the table, sending the silverware clattering. “Mr. Tall, Dark, and Charming turns into Mr. Give Me What I Want Or Else.”
“Not all the time.”
“Yeah? You forget where I lived. Who I ran away from.” Frankie hadn’t lost his naïveté, which was why I still feared for him. “My father was like that. And then I had it with Chris. He was perfect as long as I depended on him. Next guy I fall for will be on my terms. I never want to need anyone.”
The waitress dropped off the check. “You can pay up front.”
I gave her an absent smile and reached for my wallet, but Frankie grabbed my hand.
“What?”
“You can’t guarantee what will happen next. You haveta forget. And forgive. Let go sometimes and live.”
“Sure.” My tight smile hurt, but I forced it anyway. “Let’s get out of here. We both have places to be.” I stood and put my jacket back on. “He’s probably gone anyway. I haven’t seen him in a week—since I told him to leave me alone.”
“Everyone needs somebody, Austin. You gotta figure out how much and still be yourself.”
I knew. I had to be one hundred percent me. Anything less and I’d end up losing everything.