"Man, you look about as comfortable as a monk in a brothel." I couldn't help but tease Freddie whose back stiffened every time a half-naked man brushed up against him. Most of the time, he had no issue hanging out at Club 83, but during Pride week, everyone checked their inhibitions at the door. Well, almost everyone. Freddie kept his eyes glued to the stage, unable to deal with so much sweaty, exposed flesh. If it wasn't for Peter, there was no way we'd have dragged Freddie out of the house this weekend.

I, on the other hand, didn't have that problem. I was like a kid in a candy store, and with tonight's show, I'd hit the mother lode. My dick was equal opportunity, and the neighborhood gay bar which didn’t typically attract the single, co-ed females who flocked to some clubs was teeming with them tonight. Feeling safe from drunk assholes who thought the slightest hint of cleavage was an open invitation to fondle them, even a lot of the women let their freak flags fly.

"I don't get why anyone needs to walk around like that." Freddie jerked his head toward a couple to our left. One wore a tight white T-shirt under a brown leather bomber jacket, but his partner...well, he was a masterpiece. Quite literally. The only clothing he wore was a G-string to keep him from exposing more than the law would allow, even during Pride. And god bless his patriotism. I couldn't begin to imagine how long he had to stand still while someone painted the red, white, and blue uniform of one of the hottest super heroes onto his body in such detail. If Freddie could pull the stick out of his ass, even he'd appreciate the artistic skill involved. Personally, I wanted to be the filling in their geeky sandwich.

"If I had to guess, they're either coming from or heading to the party down the street," I informed him. Sometimes, I had to remind myself this world was new to Freddie. Until about a year ago, he'd hidden his sexuality from all of us so well even I was convinced he was the token straight brother in our family. The rest of my brothers tried to play it straight, but I'd had them all pegged for a while now.

"I suppose, I just..." Freddie shuddered. The lights flashed, and the thumping bass came to a screeching halt. Freddie squirmed on his seat, eyes snapping back to the empty stage.

"Relax, Peter's going to do great up there." Tonight, we were all here to support our future brother-in-law as he achieved one of his dreams. No longer running himself ragged as one of New York's hottest makeup artists, he'd been exploring other passions which apparently included wanting to try his hand as a drag queen. Or in tonight's case, a female impersonator. And there was, as he'd explained, a distinct difference.

Every bar in the area was hosting a themed party for charity, and Eli had picked "A Night with the Stars" as Club 83's theme. Each of the performers had selected a beautiful female singer to impersonate. In addition to the cover charge at the door, all the money from tonight's voting would be handed over to a local shelter for LGBT youth.

"I know, but it doesn't mean I'm not going to worry about him," Freddie snapped. Frankie leaned in to whisper something in his ear, and Freddie began to settle. "He's been practicing all week because he really wants to win. To him, this is a chance to prove to himself he's still got it. Whatever it is. I swear, after tonight, I could go my entire life without hearing that damn song. Even Sophia's dancing around the house singing it. I'm just waiting for a call from her teacher."

"And which song would that be?" Both Freddie and Peter had been tight-lipped about his selection for some strange reason. And, because I was nosy, not knowing was killing me.

"You'll find out soon enough." Freddie smirked from behind his high ball glass. Good, maybe a couple more drinks would help him look like he was having a good time.

"I know what song he's singing," Matteo teased, earning him a swat on the backside from Levi. He spun around and pouted. "What was that for?"

"It's not nice to tease your brother, Angel." If it wasn't for the pure adoration lacing every word, I might've hated the way Levi talked to our baby brother. But in this case, I also happened to agree.

How in the hell did Matteo find out, and why in the hell hadn't he told me?

"Sit down, and I'll see if Enzo needs a hand bringing back drinks." Levi leaned in and nibbled Matteo’s ear before whispering something that had my youngest brother blushing brightly.

Without further protest, Matteo took a seat between Frankie and Freddie.

The lights dimmed further, and everyone moved to their seats. By all rights, I should've been the one to help Enzo fetch drinks so Levi could enjoy a night out with Matteo, but Peter wasn't the only reason I was here tonight, nor was he the only one keeping a secret. Max, the friend I wound up fucking more often than not when we went out, had been roped into performing as well when one of the headlining acts backed out due to an injury. I had no clue when he'd come on stage or who to watch for, so I couldn't risk missing a single second of the show.

The opening riff of "Get the Party Started" by Pink caught the attention of everyone in the room. The dancers entered the stage followed by someone who looked so much like the singer even I had to do a double take to make sure Eli hadn’t somehow managed to bring her in to be the opening act of the show.

Enzo and Levi returned with our drinks, and I tipped back my bottle of hard cider, suddenly hotter than I'd been minutes earlier. I shifted on my seat because tonight was going to be torture. While I didn't think I had a kink for drag queens, seeing men dressed up like some of the women I jerked off to through the years and knowing what they were packing beneath all the clothes and makeup had me hoping like hell Max would be up for a visit after work tonight.

"You okay over there?" Enzo asked, leaning in close enough to be heard over the music. I nodded, swallowing hard, unable to form words. Yes, I finally found something that left me speechless. "Man, if you're this keyed up already, you're going to be insufferable later tonight."

"Fuck off," I shot back. As if she sensed what she was doing to me, Pink came right over to me, crooking a finger, inviting me closer. I took a hard look, trying to figure out if this was Max and he was fucking with me. While he didn't understand my attraction to women, he was secure enough in his own sexuality even he had agreed Pink was the type of performer who would be worth bending any rules to spend one night with.

Upon further inspection, I quickly decided it wasn't Max. The jawline was too sharp, her eyes the wrong shade of blue. I spent enough time staring into Max’s crystalline eyes I'd know them anywhere. After a few seconds, the spell was broken, and the performer danced her way to the other side of the stage.

I was startled when the music abruptly ended, and Pink rushed off the stage. The dancers stayed, two of them escorting Eli into the spotlight. Across the table from me, Calvin nearly spit out his drink when he took in the sight of one of his best friends decked out in a leather vest that laced up the sides, a pair of leather pants which left absolutely nothing to the imagination, and a leather cuff around his biceps. He sauntered down the stage with enough confidence no one in the room could accuse him of dressing up to play a part.

"Good evening, ladies, gentlemen, and anyone who's decided to say fuck the binary," Eli greeted the audience. "I know you all had plenty of parties to choose from tonight, so let me take this opportunity to say how much we appreciate you deciding to spend at least part of your night at Club 83. The performers you're going to see tonight are a mix of professional and aspiring female impersonators with a surprise or two thrown in for good measure.

“Before we get started, let me remind you voting for tonight's People's Choice award can be done by opening up those wallets and filling the jar of the performer you think deserves to win. There are no rules, so use whatever benchmarks you want to determine who gets your vote. The important thing here is to remember we’re trying to raise money for good cause. Now, without further ado, put your hands together and let's give a warm welcome to the next performer."

I nearly swallowed my tongue as a long-legged blonde came sauntering down the center of the stage to the beat accompanied by the dancers who'd stripped out of their first outfits and all wore matching short shorts. She was damn convincing as Gwen Stefani, and she knew how to work the room, gathering up the tips that were thrown her way. I gaped at the high cut bottom showing off every inch of her legs and the plunging neckline of her red leotard. When she spun around, I stared at her ass, trying to figure out where in the hell she tucked her junk because that outfit didn't offer any sort of coverage below the waist.

Beside me, Freddie started to relax. When he started shrugging his shoulders and singing along with the lyrics, my mouth dropped open. I looked over to Enzo, who was as stunned as me. "Is that..."

"I think so. Maybe. Hell, I don't know." Enzo leaned forward, looking to Freddie for clues.

Yeah, the way he leaned in every time Gwen came closer and the dopey grin on his face gave away the secret. And holy shit, she was sexy as hell. He. That's your fucking brother-in-law, you asshole. I needed to keep reminding myself this particular performer was a thousand percent off-limits. But I couldn't help it. She—he—was my fantasy come to life. A beautiful woman, but under it all, all hard planes and a dick that would be—

Smack!

"Ouch! That hurt, you asshole!" I rubbed the back of my head as I glared at Enzo. "What the fuck was that for?"

"Because you're about a second away from getting your ass kicked." He jerked his head toward Freddie who'd apparently read my mind. Instead of enjoying the show, he was glaring at me, tearing a cocktail napkin to shreds to keep his hands busy. "I get it. Peter makes a gorgeous woman, but that doesn't mean you get to look at him that way. For once in your life, think with the big head instead of the little one."

"You think I don't know that?" I scoffed. Shit, he was pretty much repeating my internal thoughts out loud.

To torture me further, Gwen—Peter, maybe it'd help if I kept repeating his name so I'd remember who was under the costume and makeup—stomped over to our table, curling her fingers around the cotton of Freddie's shirt. "This shit is bananas..."

Great, now I'll have that song stuck in my head all night and a raging case of blue balls.

As the music faded, Peter pulled Freddie in for a kiss I had no doubt left every man in the room whose last name wasn't Marino with a boner. Damn, he was going to be a hard act to follow. I needed something stronger than cider to get through tonight. I hoped like hell Max wasn't up next because I had to take a break and cool off. "I'm heading to the bar. You need anything?"

Enzo shook his head. There was no way the others could hear me, so I glanced at their drinks, realizing I was the lush at the table. Theirs were all still almost full.

I weaved my way through the wall of bodies toward the bar. Eventually, the crowd grew sparse since everyone was captivated by a Katy Perry impersonator on stage. I felt confident it wasn't Max because he couldn't stand to listen to her music, much less willingly put one of her songs on repeat long enough to learn both the lyrics and the nuances of her performance. A small group gathered around someone near the end of the bar, and I noticed upon closer inspection the Pink impersonator was the center of their attention. That worked for me because, as hot as she was, I really needed a drink and wanted to get back to my seat.

"Hey Tony, need another cider already?" Jordan asked as I approached the bar.

"Nah, need more than that for tonight," I admitted. "Surprise me."

"That's a dangerous thing to say to a bartender," he warned me as he started whipping out more bottles of booze than I could keep track of. "What's wrong? Figured this would be like Christmas morning for you."

"And there's the entire problem." I scrubbed my hand over the back of my neck. "Just got busted perving on my brother-in-law by my over-protective brother. You're lucky he was too enamored by his man to knock me on my ass."

Jordan simply shook his head. He was a good guy and one hell of a bartender. Eli struck gold when he hired this guy; he poured drinks with flourish and could often be seen screwing around with empties when there were no orders waiting to be made. "One of these days, your dick's going to get you into a mess you can't get out of, man."

"Most likely," I agreed. "Until then, I'm gonna keep being me."

"Wouldn't want you any other way." I spun around when Peter spoke up from behind me. He'd ditched the sequined leotard, but for some reason, he was no less sexy in a pair of black athletic pants and a tied-off white T-shirt. He dragged his tongue across his bright red bottom lip. "I'd ask how you thought I did up there, but your reaction said it all. You're good for a girl's ego, Tony."

Peter leaned in and pecked my cheek. I stiffened, glancing over my shoulder to make sure Freddie didn't see the two of us together and think I was hitting on his man. "Yeah, pretty sure Freddie's going to have words for me later."

"Screw him," Peter scoffed. He slid onto the seat next to mine and flagged down Jordan. When he caught the bartender's attention, he held up two fingers to let him know he wanted one of whatever I was having. "He was the one who told me to give this a shot if it was something I wanted to do, so he doesn't get to be pissy when guys look at me. Even if those guys are his brothers. Hell, I'm flattered you were impressed because I'd have to think it's even harder to get you riled up than a lot of the guys out here."

"Oh Peter, it's like you don't know him at all," Jordan scoffed. "Tony's dick perks up every time the door opens."

"True, but I'm around him enough to know he does have some self-control most of the time," Peter countered.

Jordan slid the drinks across the bar, and I made the mistake of taking a gulp rather than a sip. I sputtered, and Peter pounded on my back as if I was choking. How a drink could be that sweet and still burn on the way down was beyond me, but it was damn tasty. Not a drink that would creep up and knock you on your ass though; nope, this was a drink that reminded you with every sip you were going to regret it in the morning.

Peter spun on his stool, digging his fake fingernails into my forearm. "Man, you should see Max. He looks amazing. He needed some help with his makeup, but I really think he missed his calling hiding behind the bar all this time. If we can convince Eli to do more shows like this, I'll have to fight Max for top billing."

"You going to tell me which song he's doing?" I asked, hoping for a clue. Peter smirked and shook his head. "Oh, come on. I don't see why you're all such a bunch of asses with your secrets."

"Because, my love, it adds to the mystery and anticipation," he informed me. "Thanks for the drink, but I need to get out there and mingle. There's an award to be won, and I'll be damned if I don't take it home tonight."

I leaned in and kissed Peter's cheek before he sauntered off. Man, he had all of Gwen's mannerisms perfected.

I turned to head back to our group when Jordan slid another drink across the bar. "Take this. You're going to want it for later. Peter was right, Max is flawless tonight. If I wasn't against fucking my coworkers, I'd be tempted to drag him to the storage room."

"You know, too?" I complained. "This is so not fair!"

"Believe me, it'll be worth the wait." A guy at the other end of the bar waved his hand in the air to grab Jordan's attention, so I let him get back to work.

"And now, one of those special surprises I mentioned before," Eli announced as I reclaimed my spot next to Enzo. Eli looked directly at me and winked then smirked. I sat up a bit straighter, figuring it was his way of telling me I was about to get my wish. "She's been an icon, not only to the gay community, but to anyone who grew up in the eighties. I bring you the Queen of Reinvention, the original Material Girl. Put your hands together for Madonna!"

It was a damn good thing Eli had clued me in I was looking at Max, because holy shit, there was no way I'd have recognized him beneath the teased blonde wig, layers of makeup, and yards of lace and tulle. But as he lip-synced along with one of Madonna's breakout tunes, he sashayed right over to me. "...feels so good inside..." And off he—she?—went again, leaving me with a raging hard-on I wouldn't get rid of without a trip to the bathroom. Or ducking into the dressing room so I could bury my head behind the layers upon layers of white tulle to show him just how much I appreciated his performance.

When the song ended, the room erupted in applause. Max—Madonna?—bowed dramatically, blowing kisses to men who screamed out their adoration. Before he'd even cleared the stage, I was off my stool and on my way back to meet him. I couldn't explain the bitter jealousy I felt knowing other guys in the audience were lusting after him, but now I owed my brother an apology. I totally understood why he bristled when he noticed my appreciation of his man.

Which brought us to yet another problem. Max wasn't mine. We'd agreed it was for the best if we didn't fuck up our friendship by coupling up which was why we just fucked. Never spent the night in bed together. Didn't contemplate a future. Eventually, one or both of us would find someone who'd put up with our antics, and we'd go back to being nothing more than friends. Now, if only my stupid brain could get the memo.