Chapter Three
RHOADES
As it did most nights, sleep eluded me, but this time it wasn’t because of my memories of Lance. Kissing Austin, touching his soft skin, feeling him twist in my arms, left me split in two—one side desperate to fuck him, the other caught up in shame and grief. This past week had left me so conflicted, I forced myself to stay home and not go to the club. Instead, I tortured myself with images of Austin with other men.
“Rhoades, do you want breakfast?”
Edgar stood by my side. I’d been so caught up in my mental wrangling, I hadn’t heard him come into the library.
“No, I’m not hungry.”
Instead of leaving the room, he set the tray with coffee, juice, and a scone on the side table next to me, took a seat on the sofa opposite the club chair I favored, and studied me for a moment. “What’s happened?”
With Edgar in our family since before I was born, it would be impossible for him not to notice I was off-kilter. I mustered a smile.
“Nothing really. I’m trying to work things out in my head, and it’s not coming together.”
“Perhaps because you’re trying to hold on to something that needs to be let go?”
“I don’t understand.”
Loyal to our family, Edgar had held our secrets and been as good a friend as I could have ever wanted. That didn’t mean he wasn’t up-front with us, even if he thought it might hurt.
“Night after night I’ve watched as you sit here, staring out the window. I know you’re thinking of Lance.”
I winced and looked down at my lap, lacing my twisting fingers together. “It’s like it happened yesterday.”
“But it didn’t. And it’s time to let go.”
Surprised, I jerked my head up to meet his unflinching eyes. “What do you want me to do? I’ve tried, but I can’t.”
“No. I’m afraid you haven’t tried. You’re using Lance as an excuse. Because it’s always been your way, and I can’t blame you. From the start you were taught not to show your feelings, to hide who you were and what you feel. Unfortunately, it worked with you and James. But Lance’s death changed that because it was so shocking and tragic, you were caught off guard, and it all came spilling out back then. Now you’ve bottled yourself up tighter than ever. I’m afraid you’ll explode.”
“I can’t help feeling responsible. That if only I hadn’t left early that night, stayed for another drink like he wanted, he’d be alive.”
I could still hear his voice: “Come on. One more glass. Live a little. I promise to make it up to you later.”
“I can’t. I have an early meeting and need a clear head.”
I never made that meeting, and for the life of me, I’d never been able to remember what it was about.…
Edgar snapped me out of the memory. “And I understand that. But are you willing to spend the rest of your life beating yourself up over it? Or”—his wise eyes that missed nothing held mine—“are you ready to take a step in a new direction?” A small smile flickered on his lips. “You’ve been frequenting James’s club regularly.”
He stated that as a fact, not a question. “Felix is a snitch,” I grumbled and broke off a piece of scone, not because I was hungry, but to occupy myself. I took a sip of hot coffee to wash the dry piece of pastry down my tight throat.
“Felix is your friend and cares. So, am I right? Is there a reason that for months you’ve been going there at least four to five times a week?”
I couldn’t lie to Edgar, but neither could I tell him about Austin, so I shrugged. He took that as my assent and continued.
“If you’ve met someone, allow yourself to enjoy it. No one said it has to be anything more than physical. But give it a chance. That’s all I wanted to say.”
He stood, and I couldn’t help but chuckle. “That was quite a bit to handle at six in the morning.” My laughter faded. “But I do appreciate it. And I will take it as concern.”
“Good. I’ll see you later, then.”
After Edgar left, I sipped my coffee and thought about his words. From my brief interaction with Austin, he didn’t seem to be looking for a lover; his spirit and independent nature were what drew me to him initially, but I quickly learned he wasn’t the type to engage in casual, meaningless sex. So where did that leave us?
“Idiot,” I muttered out loud. “There is no us. You kissed him, and he basically told you to fuck off. Keep doing what you’re doing. Stay away from him.”
I finished my coffee, and leaving the rest of the scone untouched, left the library to shower and dress for the day. Unlike my father, I didn’t need Edgar to lay out what I would wear, but I did let him shop and buy all my clothes as I had neither the patience nor the inclination to be poked and prodded by tailors and shirtmakers.
A shave and hot shower revived me. The talk with Edgar had cleared my head and brought me to conclusions about two things: my attraction to Austin was purely physical, and I was spending way too much time at James’s club. I could solve both problems by accepting the invitation I’d been extended by the real-estate brokers I did regular business with to a charity benefit dance party later at Sparks, a club downtown I’d heard about but never frequented. I would go, make a donation, and prove that I could mingle and find other men attractive besides Austin. James begrudgingly spoke of Sparks with high regard, so I put it on my calendar and left for the office, buoyed by a sense of accomplishment.
At ten p.m. that night, standing by myself in a packed nightclub, with the music blasting, I wasn’t so sure. I was surrounded by beautiful men and women, but no one caught my eye. This club was very different from James’s: Where Man Up was more of a gentleman’s club concentrating on the dancers, Sparks was a pure nightclub where people came to be seen and dance. There were go-go dancers, but they were all dressed alike and mingled with the crowd and each other. At the door I’d briefly met the owner, Marcus, who gave me a quick smile and a handshake. I now saw him out on the floor, dancing with a slim, curly-haired man with glasses, who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.
A hard shoulder jostled my arm, and my drink splashed over my hand. “Sorry.” A good-looking man with dark, wavy hair gave me an apologetic smile. “Did I spill it? Here, let me get you another one.” Before I could stop him, he signaled the bartender and pointed to my glass. The man in tiny, red, sparkly shorts placed another glass of Macallan 18 in front of me, along with some napkins to wipe my hand.
I raised my glass to him. “Not necessary but thank you.”
“Not a problem.” He winked at me. “Perks of knowing the owner. Enjoy.”
As if to prove his point, the man made his way to the dance floor and kissed Marcus on his cheek as well as the other man with him, then began to dance with them both. He wound himself around Marcus like a lover would. With a sheepish grin and a wave, the other man walked off, leaving Marcus and his lover in the center of the floor.
Like Austin, the man was obviously a trained dancer. It was easy to tell by his fluid, confident movements. The two of them continued to dance and occasionally kiss, and I turned my back, content to finish my drink and then leave. The music swelled louder, and people began to clap and cheer. I glanced over my shoulder to see the man no longer dancing with Marcus, but with someone who looked like Austin. I placed my glass down on the bar and moved closer to get a better look.
It was Austin; I’d recognize that lithe, sinuous body anywhere. Fascinated, I watched the two men dance to an obviously choreographed routine—a mixture of ballet and modern dance. I’d never seen Austin in his element, and his poise and grace were a beautiful thing to watch. Every leap landed with precision, and I found myself unable to do anything but stare at him. As at Man Up, Austin was a star.
The routine ended to deafening applause, and Marcus kissed his lover, then gave Austin a quick hug as well. They walked off the dance floor and made their way to my area of the bar. I knew the moment Austin spotted me as he stopped short and grew wide-eyed, almost panicky. Marcus and the other man stopped as well to talk with him, and they threw me uneasy glances before the three of them joined me.
“So,” Marcus said. “Austin says he knows you.” He hailed the bartender, and without Marcus speaking, the man prepared drinks for the three of them, indicating to me they knew Austin. Was Austin involved with both these men? My mind raced with erratic, disturbing thoughts.
“Yes.” I met Austin’s wary gaze. “Hello.”
“Uh, hi. What are you doing here?” He ran his hands through his hair and took the margarita handed to him.
“Always direct. I was invited by several brokers I know. And you?”
He lifted his chin. “Marcus invited me.”
“Oh?” Jealousy flared in my chest.
The third man stepped forward and held out his hand. “Hi, I’m Tyler. Austin works for me at my dance studio. Marcus and I live together.”
Relief flooded me, and I gave my first real smile of the evening. “I’m Rhoades MacKenzie.”
Marcus’s eyes widened. “MacKenzie…hmm…I’ve heard that name. Real-estate development…luxury buildings, right?” He cocked his head. “I think they were the developers of this site years ago.”
“Quite possible. It would’ve been my father then, before he passed. It’s The MacKenzie Company now.”
Marcus sipped his drink, and I got the feeling he was assessing me. “How do you know Austin?”
My gaze shifted to Austin, who’d remained silent until now.
“I, uh go to this club, Man Up, on 52nd Street. Rhoades comes there. We’ve seen each other.”
“I see,” Marcus said, his strange, violet-colored eyes penetrating. I had the feeling Marcus saw quite a bit.
“Well, nice to meet you, Rhoades,” Tyler said. “Would you mind if I stole my fiancé for a while? I have something I need to talk to him about.”
“Of course not. Nice to meet you both. I was about to leave anyway, so if I don’t see you—”
“Oh, you’re not going anywhere yet. You can’t.” Marcus squeezed my shoulder. “You haven’t even been on the dance floor. Austin.” Marcus rested his other hand on Austin’s shoulder. “Dance with this man. Loosen him up.”
“Really, no,” I protested, but Marcus was a man who wasn’t used to hearing the word “no.” Or if he did, he ignored it.
“This is a charity benefit. The more people who dance, the more money gets pledged and donated. I’ll give five hundred dollars if you and Austin go out on the floor and dance.”
“Marcus.” Austin shot him a murderous look. “You really need to stop.”
“Okay. A thousand dollars.”
I couldn’t not laugh. “Very well. It’s for charity. What could possibly happen?”
“You’re finally getting back at me for kissing Tyler when I first started working at his studio, aren’t you?” Austin huffed.
“Go on, go on.” Marcus shooed us, and we left him and Tyler, only to stand awkwardly near each other on the dance floor. The lights dimmed, and the DJ crooned into the microphone.
“I’m slowing things down now. Grab your partner and prepare to get it on.”
Marvin Gaye’s “Let’s Get it On” flowed out over the speakers, and Austin and I looked at each other.
“It’s only a dance. Come on.”
I held out my hand, and he took it.