Chapter Eight
AUSTIN
“I’m sorry, Austin. I put in a good word for you with the producers, but they said they wanted to go with a more well-known name.”
When I arrived at the studio that afternoon, Tyler had followed me into the back room while I changed for class, and from his mournful expression, I immediately knew something was up.
“I get it. No problem.” There went my hopes out the window, although realistically, I’d never believed I had a shot. Tyler’s luck was that he taught ballet to the producer’s son, who loved Tyler. It was his luck, not mine, and apparently now that the show had become popular, more well-established names in the industry were interested. Why go with a no-name like me?
With a naturally graceful fluid movement, Tyler sat on the bench while I dressed. “I’m scaling back on auditioning for parts anyway. With the way the studio took off, Marcus and I talked about where I wanted to head career-wise, and I’ve decided I’m more interested now in teaching than performing. It’s more stable for Lillie as well, with the regular hours.”
“Marcus wants you home with him. I get it.”
Marcus and Tyler had that undeniable chemistry that set them apart from any couple I’d ever seen, but it went beyond the physical. Their support and trust in each other was the baseline for how I judged all relationships and why they most often failed.
“Yeah. That too. And other changes are coming as well.” A faint blush tinged Tyler’s skin pink. “Seems that Marcus is thinking of selling an ownership percentage in Sparks. He doesn’t want to be there every night anymore.”
Which also made perfect sense. Once one of the city’s biggest playboys, Marcus had taken to family life like a duck to water. From guys who’d worked at Sparks, I’d heard the stories—how he used the bartenders as his boy toys, screwing almost anything that moved. Before he met Ty, of course. It was hard to reconcile that hedonistic man with Tyler’s loving and devoted partner, but I guess it did prove that people could change.
“You’re lucky to have someone who puts you first, and Lillie as well. Kids need to see that at home.” My ballet shoes laced up, I stood and gave Tyler what I hoped was a winning smile. “You guys are doing a great job with her from what I see.” Together we walked to the front, waiting for the students to arrive for class, which started in twenty minutes.
“We try. And Marcus still has to learn that throwing money at a situation doesn’t mean a solution. It brings up a whole host of other issues.”
“Don’t I know that,” I muttered, and began my stretches. Tyler put a hand on my arm.
“Is there anything Marcus or I can do to help? I know you were counting on the show, so if you need more hours here, I’m sure I can give them to you.”
At one time, I too had been like Tyler. I thought I’d be a principal dancer for the ballet or have a shot at dancing on Broadway. But also like Ty, my focus shifted and new horizons opened up, enabling me to see that there was more than one right path to choose. And changing course didn’t mean failure. Continuing my stretches, I placed my heel on the barre and grasped my ankle.
“No, thanks. I’m considering doing something else. A new direction. Something I hadn’t been able to give as much time to as I’d like but has also been a passion of mine.”
“Oh?” His brows shot up. “Care to share with me?”
The front door burst open, and four excited seven-year-olds ran to us.
“Austin, Tyler, are you both teaching today? Yay.” The kids pranced around us, then raced to the opposite side of the studio to dump their coats. The parents and babysitters were busy placing the children’s backpacks in the little cubbies Tyler had built, before taking a cup of coffee and settling down into the chairs to wait for the lesson to begin. Tyler stood patiently, waiting for me to finish what the children had interrupted.
“It’s nothing concrete or anything, but I’ve always been interested in interior design, and I may have a chance to stage a model apartment.”
“Interior design? That’s pretty cool. I always think I know what I like, but I can never translate it to look like what my mind pictures.” He beckoned the chattering kids to us with sweeps of his hand. “Come on, everyone. Let’s get ready to start. Line up. Emma, stand by Theo, and Mason, you stand next to Harley.” While we waited shoulder to shoulder for the children to take their places for the forty-five-minute class, Tyler continued our conversation. “Our apartment still looks like a toy store threw up in a bachelor pad. Maybe we can chat about you helping us.”
Without getting too excited, I placed my feet in first position. “Uh, yeah. Sure. That would be amazing.”
Gazing into the kids’ little faces, I wondered if my father would have been more accepting of me had I initially chosen an interior design career over dance. Would that have been more acceptable to him? Not likely. Still “too gay” for him to accept. And what was I thinking, telling Tyler about the model-apartment design when I hadn’t even given Rhoades an answer? If it was still an option after the way I ran out on him the night before.
“Hey, Austin? You with us?”
Tyler snapped his fingers in my face, and I realized the kids had started their lesson and were stretching out into their pliés and jetés.
“Sorry.” I thrust those thoughts firmly to the back of my mind. Until I faced Rhoades and spoke to him, there was nothing to dwell on. “Let’s go everyone. Arms above the head.”
Tonight, if Rhoades came to Man Up, I’d be the man and apologize for being such a dick to him, and accept his offer. A design job didn’t mean I had to sleep with him or give him a blowjob. If he’d wanted, he could’ve forced me to have sex with him or made it a condition of me getting the job. Instead, he acted almost as hesitant as me, and despite what I said out loud, it made me more curious about the man than ever.
“Austin.” Jared tugged my hand, and I couldn’t help but smile down at his determined face. “Help me. My feet won’t go.”
“Let’s work on that.”
At nine thirty I sat in front of the mirror in the dressing room at Man Up, putting the final touches to my face. A carefully drawn line around my eyes made them pop, and Frankie and I had rubbed each other down with glitter oil that would shimmer when the lights hit us.
“Ready, King Frankie?” I flipped at the curls I couldn’t get to stay off my forehead and pinned my signature red rose over my ear. Tonight I wore silver shorts, and Rhoades’s jock peeped from the waistband. I tugged at the lacy edge so the crystals stuck out and would catch the lights.
“Ha-ha, you’re a riot. Let’s go.”
We linked arms and walked out of the dressing room. The golden crown Frankie loved to wear nestled in his thick waves. He’d tilted it to lie at a rakish angle, and he’d fastened the purple cape around his neck, its silky waves flowing behind him as we walked. The music boomed, and my blood surged.
“You seem worked up. What’s going on?”
For the first time in months, Frankie and I hadn’t talked or texted during the day. I missed him at the studio, yet always knew his time was limited there; his heart lay more with fashion design than dance. He had no idea what happened last night with Rhoades and my potential job, or that I was no longer in the running to audition for the play. It felt odd not to share my most important news with him, and yet…I knew he was holding back from me.
“Tyler talked to me today. Said I wasn’t going to get the part in the play after he leaves the production. Not even an audition.”
Frankie stopped short but held on to my hand. “Fuck. Why not?”
I shrugged. “I’m a nobody. It’s done so well, the big names want to be in it.”
“Bastards. None would be as good as you.” Frankie continued to swear, and my heart swelled at his loyalty.
“Thanks. But I’m okay. Tyler made me no promises, and even though I love working with the kids, I’ve sort of moved on from making dance the focus of my future.”
Frankie’s mouth hung open, and his brown eyes popped wide. “What the fuck? You never said nothing. What’re you gonna do?”
“Interior design. I, like, want to design apartments and houses and stuff like that.” The music banged, and the customers were already calling out Tristan’s and Morgan’s names. “We gotta get out there, or James is gonna get pissed.”
“Okay, yeah, but we’re gonna talk.”
“Promise.”
We made our way out to the floor and hopped up onstage. The crowd, a good mix of older and younger suits, applauded, urging us on by tossing bills and calling our names.
“Frankie, Frankie, how ’bout a lap dance?” An older man with silver-sprinkled hair flashed a diamond pinky ring as he waved a hand in the air.
With a sashay of his slim hips and eyelashes fluttering, Frankie danced over to the man. He leaned over, wound his long arms around the man’s neck, and locked his legs around the man’s waist.
With a brilliant smile, the man wrapped a clinging Frankie to his chest and walked over to his table. A waiter appeared with a bottle on a tray and started pouring drinks. Frankie whispered in the man’s ear, and he nodded effusively, his wide-eyed gaze spellbound and transfixed on Frankie, all the while rubbing the small of Frankie’s back. The man sat down, and I watched Frankie take his crown off and place it on the man’s head, then straddle him. I turned away to start dancing.
I wrapped myself around one of the poles and spun, making sure my ass in those tiny shorts faced the crowd. As I danced, I listened to the various men in the crowd call out to me.
“Austin, come give me a kiss.”
“I love you, Austin.”
“Come here, baby, and gimme a dance.”
Ignoring them all, I shimmied and twirled while I searched the crowd for the one person I did want to see. Upon spying Rhoades at his usual table, my feet faltered, and I stopped. A gorgeous man sat, practically in his lap, nuzzling his neck. Rhoades’s eyes sparkled in a way I’d never seen. He looked…happy. Young. And totally into the man he was with.
“Asshole,” I muttered to myself, angry I’d begun to allow Rhoades a place in my head. Determined not to let him and his boyfriend ruin my night, I placed a bright smile on my lips and picked out the biggest group of partiers in the house.
“Hey, guys. Who’s looking for a dance?”
A trim, fortyish man with a beard and a bald head sat sprawled on the edge of the velvet banquette. He patted the seat next to him. “C’mere and give me one.”
He placed his hands on my naked hips, and I gyrated over his pelvis. “I don’t allow touching below the waist, but I’m happy to give you a lap dance if you’d like.”
His thumbs tickled my hip bones, and his lips tilted in a wolfish grin. “That sounds like what I’m looking for. How about a drink first?” As if by magic, Andy the waiter appeared.
“What can I get for you?”
The customer pointed his finger at me. “Get him whatever he wants, and bring me another bottle of Patron.”
I nodded at Andy. Bring me water, I mouthed, and he understood right away and hurried back to the bar to fill the order. I had no desire to lose myself and get drunk. The music pounded, the lights flashed, and I started my lap dance.
“You’re a sexy thing, aren’t you?” The guy held on to my waist a bit tighter, and I gave myself credit for not freezing. My hand rested on top of his, and I pretended I wanted to lace our fingers together, to keep his from wandering south.
“I hope you think so.” My hips swiveled, and I smiled down into his face. “I haven’t seen you here before, but I hope you like what you see and come back.”
He slid his hands up my naked back and tried to pull me down for a kiss, but I resisted. Here’s the thing: if I’m feeling the guy, I have no problem with a kiss or a cuddle. But I have to want it, and with this dude I didn’t. Instead, I shook my head and turned so that my ass was in his face, then sank down onto his lap. I flexed and humped against him, and he groaned, holding on to my waist again while he rubbed himself off against me.
“Here are our drinks.” I sprang up as he was about to jizz in his pants and took my bottle of water, prepared for him to stiff me on a tip. He lay motionless on the cushions, seemingly fast asleep, but his friends stuffed bills down my shorts, some of them using that as an excuse to try and cop a feel of my ass. When one became too handsy and squeezed a cheek tight, I slapped his hand away with a smile.
“If you want a dance, I’m happy to give it, but no touching below the waist, please.”
The man gave me a sloppy kiss and shoved another wad of bills down my shorts. “I only kiss my wife, but damn, you’ve got the best ass I’ve ever seen.”
My smile froze, and I discreetly wiped my mouth where his wet lips had touched mine. “Enjoy yourselves, guys.” I danced away and looked for Frankie, but he was in the middle of dancing for a young guy who, from his blushes, I’d lay bets was a virgin. Those were the best people to work with, as most of the time they were too nervous to think about touching us or doing anything stupid.
“Austin?”
As loud as the music played, his voice rose above the sound and I shivered, the sweat cooling on my heated skin.
“Oh, hi,” I answered Rhoades, attempting to remain nonchalant, certain he could see the frantic beating of my heart in my chest. “I’m glad you’re here. I wanted to apologize for running away from you last night. It was stupid.”
Rhoades’s dark brows shot up and he rubbed his chin, all while shooting me uneasy glances. “You are?”
“Yeah. It was childish. You were offering me a job, and I couldn’t see past this place and what had happened between us.”
“So you’re considering it?” Eyes boring into mine, he took a step closer, and I couldn’t help but sway toward him. About to give my answer, I was interrupted by the man I’d seen snuggling up to Rhoades earlier, who bounded over to us and slung an arm around Rhoades.
“Rodeo, I thought you left me. Then I saw you over here, chatting up this gorgeous specimen. I’m Malcolm, Mal to my friends.” Unlike Rhoades, who despite having kissed me to oblivion, kept his distance, Malcolm slipped his free arm around my waist, hugging me close. His startling amber eyes candidly assessed me from head to toe. Instantly disliking him for no other reason than his familiarity with Rhoades, I thrust out my jaw and tried to wriggle away, but Malcolm only held on tighter.
“A fighter, huh? I bet he’s a screamer in bed too, huh, Rodeo?”
“Mal, take your hands off him.”
That was when I realized Rhoades and this person were friends and nothing more. If the icy anger behind Rhoades’s words wasn’t enough to tip me off, his darkly malevolent face caught me by surprise. For all that Rhoades presented himself as calm and reserved, the fire inside the man momentarily appeared. Admittedly, his powerful desire for me was a huge turn-on.
Malcolm also stared at Rhoades but with a half smile teasing his lips. “Will do.” He let me go, and I turned my back on him to speak directly to Rhoades, while Malcolm crossed his arms and studied us, his faint smile growing broader.
“I’d like to talk to you later if you have the time.”
“I’ll make the time. When you’re finished? Same as last night?” His hopeful eyes met mine, and I found myself returning his smile.
“Sounds good. See you later.” Without saying goodbye to his friend Malcolm, I went to the bar to give my tips to José, where Frankie also stood emptying his shorts. Bills piled up around us on the bar.
“Yo, you guys. Cleaning up tonight.” José took our money and separated them into stacks with rubber bands, then put them in the lock box.
“Yeah, it’s been great.” Frankie rubbed his hands together. “Can I get a margarita?”
“What about you, Austin?” José poured Frankie’s drink. “You want?”
“Nothing for me, thanks,” I said. “What happened to your cape?” The crown remained on Frankie’s curls, but the purple cape was gone.
“Oh,” Frankie said, pulling up his tight black shorts. “My guy asked if he could have it as a present. He offered me a hundred bucks, so I said sure. I’m sure he wants to take it home and jerk off in it, but what do I care?” He gulped his drink, and I saw him repeatedly touch his neck, where a reddened hickey bloomed.
“He gave you a present, I see.”
Instead of joking about it, Frankie’s eyes flashed. “Is it big? Do you think I can hide it with concealer?”
Certain of the answer, I nevertheless needed to hear it from Frankie’s lips. “Are you afraid Aaron will see it and get mad?”
“No.” Frankie’s jaw hardened. “It has nothing to do with him. I just don’t want to walk around with it.”
Why didn’t I believe him? “Are you sleeping with him again?”
At Frankie’s silence, I lost it. “Man, why? After everything he did to you, he shows up and bam—you’re giving it up to him?”
“I never said I was. He had it rough in prison—you don’t understand. The only thing that kept him going was knowing how much I loved him. Now that he’s gotten out, he’s gonna prove to me he loves me and that we could work it out.” Frankie took another sip of his drink. “As soon as he finds a job, it’ll be great.”
I couldn’t stand by and listen to this shit. It was classic abuser profile. I promised myself I would watch over Frankie for the signs I now recognized.
“I don’t want to see you hurt again.”
“He won’t. I won’t let him. I promise.”
Damn fucking right he won’t.
“We better get back up there.” I grabbed his hand, and together we walked through the crowd to the stage.
“I saw you talking to Dark and Sexy Eyes. What’s going on with him?” We reached the platform and jumped up. The music boomed, and the strobe lights flashed.
“I’m not sure, but I think I’m going to work for him.” We bumped hips and held on to each other’s shoulders, dancing together.
“No shit? Like a real job?”
“Yeah. He wants me to design an apartment. Like stage it so he can sell it.”
“And you said yes. That’s fucking cool, man. And you don’t have to sleep with him or nothing?”
My gaze traveled to the back of the club to Rhoades’s usual table, where he now sat by himself, watching me. The undeniable power of attraction crackled between us from across the crowded room. “No, I don’t have to sleep with him.”
I don’t have to.