Chapter 13
CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
RHYS
Teddy Bear
I’m so sorry I couldn’t make it tonight.
I was a tad upset when Angel messaged me this afternoon, saying that he wouldn’t be able to come to The Bronzed Rail tonight for my show. Something to do with his sister and baby nephew.
He’s already apologized three times, and I’m starting to feel guilty about how guilty he feels.
Rhys
No worries! Stop apologizing!
I type out “family comes first” before shaking my head and deleting it. I’m the last person who should be saying something so inane. “Found family comes first” is more like it.
Although, it is kinda sweet how devoted he is to them. Sunday dinners and mowing the lawn and last-minute babysitting. It’s so… domestic. I’ve never found that attractive before, never been drawn to that kind of life, but something about Angel makes it look way more appealing than it has any right to be.
Teddy Bear
Is it still okay if I come on Friday?
Rhys
You can come any day. *winky face emoji*
“What are you smiling about?”
I drop my phone face down on the dressing table. “Hmm?” I blink up at Hayden through the lit mirror in front of me. He’s leaning against the back of my chair, trying to peer over my shoulder.
We’re backstage at The Bronzed Rail and I’m in the middle of getting ready for my set. Hayden isn’t a dancer, but he’s here often enough that the bouncers all know him, so he comes backstage whenever he wants.
“Who were you texting?” Hayden asks.
“No one,” I say, laying a hand over my phone so Hayden doesn’t try to snatch it and check. He already did that earlier this week when I was texting with Angel on the couch at home.
“Could it be one cuddly teddy bear?” Hayden teases.
I huff. “Maybe.”
“Is he still coming tonight?”
I pout, feeling more disappointed than I expected. “No… he has to babysit or something.”
In the mirror, Hayden’s expression goes tight. This isn’t the first time it’s happened, but I haven’t asked him about it because I’m pretty sure I won’t like what he has to say. But there’s only so much concern and pity I can take.
“Ugh,” I exclaim, throwing up my hands. “Whatever you have to say, just say it already!”
He pulls out the chair next to me and sits down, like this is some kind of intervention or something. I roll my eyes and cross my legs and arms for good measure.
“I’m just worried, that’s all.”
“There’s nothing to worry about.”
He arches an eyebrow, clearly not believing my claim.
“There isn’t!” I insist. “What is there to worry about? We’re just friends.”
“Uh huh. Friends who filmed a video together. And you’ve been texting each other all day every day for the past couple weeks. And you invited him to watch you dance.” Skepticism drips from Hayden’s voice.
“Yeah, so? We’ve done several videos together,” I say, gesturing between us. “And we text all the time. And you come watch me dance almost every week.”
Hayden scrunches up his face. “That’s different.”
I stick out my chin, defiant. “How is that different?”
“Because I’m not doing gay porn while claiming I’m straight.”
My jaw hangs open as my brain scrambles to figure out how to respond. Because Hayden has a point. For someone who is supposed to be straight, Angel seemed to really enjoy gay sex. I mean, I give a damn good blowjob, so there is that. But then the whole licking-up-my-cum thing? Yeah… even gay guys don’t always like doing that.
Still. Angel says he’s straight. It’s important to believe him until he tells me otherwise .
“Gay for pay is a thing, you know. There are straight guys who do gay porn for the money.”
“What straight guys are doing gay porn for money?” Anna Conda, the drag queen who hosts the show every night, bursts into the dressing room, bringing four other dancers with her.
They must have just finished their group number because they’re all bouncing off the walls with energy.
“Straight guys doing gay porn? Where? Sign me up!”
“Eww, no thank you. Keep those straight-boy cooties away from me.”
“What? You’ve never wanted straight-boy dick?”
“Everyone wants straight-boy dick.”
The little side conversation doesn’t distract Anna like I hoped. She looms over me and Hayden, hands on her hips.
“Hmm? So? Are we talking about straight guys doing gay porn in general? Or is there a specific straight guy you’re doing gay porn with?”
“The latter,” Hayden confirms, while I groan and bury my face in my hands.
“Is that so? And does this straight guy have a name? A face?”
Hayden grabs my phone off the table before I can stop him.
“Hey!” I lunge for him, but he’s already jumped out of the chair and out of my reach. “Give that back!”
He completely ignores me and unlocks my phone instead. Note to self: change the passcode on my phone.
Hayden holds out my phone to Anna. Her carefully drawn eyebrows shoot clear to her hairline .
“You get to fuck this guy?” She points to the phone while shooting an astonished look at me.
“I already did.” I march over to them and pluck my phone out of Hayden’s hand. On the screen is the selfie Angel took while he was mowing the lawn, and I can’t help gazing at it for a second before swiping away.
“Oh lord!” Anna exclaims.
“See what I’m dealing with?” Hayden gestures vaguely in my direction.
“Uh huh. I do, I do.”
I glare at both of them. “What?”
“You, hunny, are smitten.” Anna declares.
I scoff. “I am not smitten.”
“That’s a good word for it, actually,” Hayden says to Anna with a nod.
“No, it’s not a good word for it, because I’m not smitten. I’m not anything.” But even as I say it, I know it’s not true. I’m totally smitten by Angel. Utterly. Helplessly smitten.
But that’s fine. It’s fine . Because it’s just a little crush, an infatuation. This happens sometimes between performers who find themselves with really good chemistry. If they vibe off-screen as much as they do on-screen, it’s easy to mistake that chemistry for actual feelings.
That’s all this is. My heart’s getting ahead of my head. It doesn’t help that I know Angel from the old neighborhood. But it’s fine. It’ll blow over. A couple weeks, maybe a few months. Once the video is out and the hype is over, we’ll lose touch and my life will go back to normal.
My hand flies to my chest at the sudden and unexpected ache. I spin away from Hayden and Anna, grabbing the bottle of water on my dressing table and chugging a few mouthfuls.
Fuck. What is going on with me? I need to keep my shit together.
My phone buzzes and despite myself, I grab it, heart lurching at the prospect of another text from Angel.
Teddy Bear
Good luck with your show tonight!
Or am I supposed to say break a leg? *leg emoji*
Fuuuck. The guy is too damn sweet for his own good.
Rhys
Thanks, teddy bear. *kissing emoji*
Teddy Bear
*blushing emoji*
When I set my phone down again, Hayden and Anna are behind me, watching me in the mirror. Anna looks amused, but Hayden looks worried.
“I just don’t want you to get hurt,” Hayden says.
“I won’t,” I answer.
He doesn’t believe me. To be honest, neither do I.
“Come on.” Anna points her thumb over her shoulder toward the stage. “It’s time for you to go on.”
I stand and slip my dressing gown off my shoulders. Hayden gives me a hug and kiss for good luck, then follows me and Anna out to the stage. He slips through the stage door so he can watch from the front of the house, and I wait behind the curtain for Anna to announce me .
Then the curtain rises and the crowd cheers. Music flows from the speakers and I step out onto the stage. I’m Rhys Rawlings. Pole dancer. Camboy. Performer. Entertainer.
I move to the music, bending and stretching, rolling my body and spreading my legs. I’ve done this routine dozens of times, so many times I could run through it in my sleep. The trick to keeping it fresh is to perform it for one person, a single audience member who is seeing it for the first time. Make it about him. Make him feel like he’s the only person in the room. Make him feel like he’s the only person who matters.
I could pick any random guy in the audience. Someone from the table of dress shirts and ties. Or the younger group who all look like they’re still in college. But the guy in my mind is big and burly, with a luxurious beard and rich body hair. He’s got a sweet, shy smile and eyes like pools of chocolate. He scratches his jaw when he’s nervous, which is often. And his ears turn red when he’s embarrassed, which is all the time.
I perform for him, for Angel, my teddy bear. And the routine flies by.
I blink as the last of the music dies, and the audience is on its feet. There should be one last rush of adrenaline at this point, the thrill of a live performance in front of an appreciative crowd. I take my bow and strut off the stage, waiting for the high to kick in. But it still hasn’t by the time I get back to the dressing room.
I drop into my chair, heart racing and fingers tingling. But there’s something missing. I feel hollow, empty. The euphoria I usually feel after performing isn’t kicking in.
I scramble for my phone, desperate for it like I need another hit. There’s a notification waiting for me, a message from Teddy Bear. I swipe the screen and it brings up a new selfie he’s sent me.
He’s sitting on a couch or in an armchair, and he’s holding his nephew in one arm. The baby is in a onesie covered in cartoon bears, thumb in his mouth, giant eyes staring straight into the camera. Angel’s got his head tilted to the side and he’s grinning into the camera too.
Teddy Bear
We’re matching! Get it? Bears! *bear emoji*
My heart swells so big in my chest that I can barely breathe. God. Fuck. I can’t. I squeeze my eyes shut and drop my face into my hands. It should be illegal for anyone to be so goddamn adorable.
Then the adrenaline hits and I’m soaring. Everything is light and bright. I’m on top of the world and I can’t stop grinning.
It was just a delayed reaction, that’s all. It had nothing to do with the selfie, nothing to do with Angel’s message.
It’s fine. Everything is totally fine.
Right.