Chapter 35
THIRTY-FIVE
One month later
Blake
It had taken a few awkward weeks after their talk in the park, but eventually Blake and Ethan slipped back into an easy camaraderie. It almost felt like they were dating again, minus the kissing and mind-blowing sex.
Which was fine. Mostly.
They had their hands full anyway. Things were really ramping up with Siren. While Blake was finalizing the club’s design by deciding which renovations were essential and which could wait, Ethan had thrown himself into the unsexy world of budgets and permits.
When Blake started to despair about having enough money to even open the doors, Virgil came to his rescue.
He introduced Blake to a couple of the wealthier men in the community who’d helped keep The Firehouse afloat during leaner years.
They both agreed to be angel investors, and along with a generous loan from Quinn and Henry, they had enough capital to begin basic renovations and cover the club’s initial operating expenses.
As a more personal show of support for Blake’s dream, Virgil had agreed that proceeds from The Firehouse’s final performance could be added to the Siren startup fund.
Blake had been so touched he’d hugged Virgil.
After standing stiffly in Blake’s arms for a few seconds, Virgil relented and hugged Blake back.
“You’re welcome,” he muttered. “But don’t make a habit of this. I have a reputation to uphold.”
And now, the final show at The Firehouse was a week and a half away.
In the interest of being able to hit the ground running as soon as the bar was officially theirs, Blake and Ethan invited Blake’s crew for a “sex god brainstorming session.” Everyone had shown up, including Henry, who couldn’t resist Quinn’s bribe of Bellinis.
The friends were seated around a large table near the bar. Tenny poured drinks for the trickle of Tuesday afternoon clients, but was close enough to fire off any ideas that came to him.
Ethan ferried over a tray of peach Bellinis, passing them out to his new friends. Once everyone had a drink, he took a seat next to Blake.
“Thanks, everyone. Blake and I really appreciate you stopping by so we can pick your brains.”
“Damn,” Xander said, smacking his lips. “That’s one fine Bellini. Keep plying me with drinks like this and you can pick any part of my body you want.”
“We’ll stick with your brain, thanks,” Ethan said.
Xander grabbed his crotch and blew him a kiss.
“So here’s the deal.” Ethan opened a notebook and clicked his ballpoint pen.
“At The Firehouse, the strip shows brought in most of the profits, so we want to base our business model around shows and events as much as possible. Blake’s burlesque shows will be the club’s main draw, but we want to diversify our offerings and bring in as many new customers as possible.
“This afternoon, we’d love your help brainstorming some ideas for weekly and special events. Remember, there are no bad ideas.”
“How about a live sex show,” Xander suggested, with a sly arch of his brow.
Ethan sighed. “I stand corrected. There’s at least one bad idea. So – not that. What else have you got?”
“Tsk tsk. No fun.” Xander crossed his arms and sat back. “How about auctioning off the dancers?”
Ethan sat up straighter. “Tell me more.”
“People bid for the dancers, and the highest bidder gets to spend the evening with their guy.”
Ethan scrunched up his nose. “Like an escort?”
“I would never tell two consenting adults they couldn’t have sex, but no, they’re not escorts. More like companions. They have drinks, dance, chat, whatever. It all stays within the club.”
“That could work,” Blake said.
“Okay great.” Ethan made a note in his book. “What else?”
Mickey raised his hand. “How about a drag show?”
Blake hummed thoughtfully. “I’ve talked to some drag queens who want to enter acts for the burlesque shows, so what would make the drag shows special?”
“Maybe host a drag pageant,” Spencer said. “Ramrod used to hold one every year but stopped.”
“We could talk to Jack at the Blind Tiger,” Mickey offered. “He seems connected in the drag community.”
“What about balls?” Quinn asked.
“Hmm, what about balls, my friend?” Xander said. “Has it really been that long?”
“For fuck’s sake. Balls, like the Harlem balls. Paris Is Burning?”
Xander chugged his Bellini and stood, holding up his fist as if he had a microphone.
“Category is: Boring Lawyer Realness. Oh, Henry from the House of J. Crew is serving it. He’s basic, and calls it ‘classic.’ The only briefs he’s been in lately are legal briefs.
I’m gagging. Judges? Ten, ten, tens across the board! ”
Anger flashed in Quinn’s eyes. “Oh, you think that’s funny, Xander from the House of…”
“Take your time.”
“…Adidas?”
“I would have also accepted Nike.”
Henry gently gripped Quinn’s forearm. “Thanks for sticking up for me, hon, but you have to hand it to him, that was pretty good.”
Xander dropped back into his seat with a smug smile.
“Guys, I think we’re getting distracted,” Ethan said.
Henry raised his hand. “Have you thought about karaoke?”
“Ugh,” Ethan groaned. “Unfortunately.”
“Maybe live music then? Or…” Henry slapped the table. “How about an open mic?” He scanned the practically deserted bar. “Could be a way to bring in afternoon clientele.”
Ethan pointed his pen at Henry. “I like the way you think.”
“Argh, I’m bored,” Xander said. “Can I ride the pole?”
Blake narrowed his eyes. “Do you know how to do it?”
Xander put his hands on his hips and scoffed. “Do I know how to ride a pole? Come on, man.” He looked to his friends. “Who’s joining me?”
Spencer and Mickey hopped to their feet. “We’re in.”
“Quinn? Henry? Come on, you know you want to.”
Quinn turned to Ethan with an apologetic grin. “Sorry, I do want to.”
Ethan laughed and closed his notebook. “Go ahead.”
Blake pointed to the back hall. “Go down that hallway and up the stairs. The pole is at the back of the common area.”
As Quinn and Henry joined their friends, Henry pulled out his phone. “We should Google how to do this safely…”
Once they were alone, Blake tapped Ethan’s notebook. “Did you get what you needed?”
“Yeah, these are great ideas. A lot would be free, or at least inexpensive, to host. Almost pure profit.”
Blake waggled his eyebrows. “How much do you think I’d bring in if you auctioned me off?”
“More than me,” Ethan said, pulling the brim of Blake’s baseball cap over his eyes. “Come on, let’s clean this mess up.”
They gathered up the empty glasses and carried them back to the bar. Seconds later there was a whoop as Xander sailed down the pole, followed by the slap of his sneakers on the landing mat.
“Man, that’s fun!” Xander brushed off his pants and stepped away from the pole. “Next!” he called up. When he turned back toward the bar, he froze, his eyes wide. “Uh oh.”
Drew Mazer burst through the front door, his face fire-engine red, waving a piece of paper in front of him.
“Where is he?” Drew scanned the bar and stalked toward Blake, fire in his eyes. “You! What the hell? Petitioning to have this shithole declared as some sort of fucking historic landmark? Don’t think for a second I’m going along with this!”
Joel stumbled through the door, perspiration beading on his brow. He bent over, panting, resting his hands on his knees. “Drew!”
Without looking at his brother, Drew held his hand up. “Stay out of it, Joel.”
Tenny stepped closer to Blake and rested a hand on his shoulder. “What’s this about?”
Drew held up the paper by its edges and snapped it in front of Blake’s face. “A letter from the Historical Preservation Committee, notifying me – the owner of the building, I’ll remind you – that someone nominated this building for landmark status. What the fuck kind of stunt is this?”
Blake, trembling from an adrenaline rush, shook his head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Joel approached his brother, dabbing his brow with a handkerchief. “Drew––”
“Don’t give me that bullshit,” Drew barked, stepping into Blake’s personal space, close enough for his stale coffee breath to assault Blake’s nostrils.
“It was me,” Ethan said, wedging himself between Blake and Drew. I petitioned the HPC, not Blake.”
“You little shit! I should tear up the lease––”
“Drew! Shut the fuck up,” Joel bellowed. Everyone in the club jumped from the sudden outburst, including Drew.
Stunned, Drew turned to face his brother. “What did you say?”
“You heard me. You might not give a damn about this building, but I do. So here’s how this is going to go down.
” Joel gripped the paper in Drew’s hand and tugged until Drew let go.
“We’re not tearing up Blake’s lease. We’re honoring it.
And we’re not contesting the petition for historic designation. ”
“The hell we aren’t.” Drew set his jaw and glared at his brother. “You’re aware of what it means if this place becomes a landmark, right? No redevelopment. No future deal with Orison. We could’ve unloaded this place, but that offer will never come back around.”
“I’m aware. And I believe it’s important to preserve this space as it is.”
Drew scoffed. “Why do you care so much about some shitty gay bar?”
Joel tucked the handkerchief into his breast pocket, threw his shoulders back, and looked his brother straight in the eye. “Because I’m gay.”
Drew recoiled, frowning and scrunching up his nose. “What?”
“I’m gay.”
“No, you’re not. You’re married.”
“I was married. I’ve been divorced four years. Cassie and I both knew it wasn’t working.”
Gripping his forehead as if he had a migraine, Drew said, “You’re gay.” His tone carried more than a hint of condescension.
“Yes.”
“You’ve, um…”
“Had sex with men? Yes.”
Drew stepped back as one by one Blake’s friends slid down the fireman’s pole and joined him, like a cavalry riding into battle.
He opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it.
He turned to Blake. “This isn’t over. You have no idea who you’re fucking with.”
With a final snarl at the men gathered around the bar, Drew stormed out of the club.
Henry slid into view, gripping the pole and yelling, “Geronimo!” He touched down on the landing mat, straightening from his crouch and studying the bewildered faces of his friends. “What did I miss?”
“My douchebag brother,” Joel said. He folded the letter from the HPC and slipped it into his inner jacket pocket.
“I’ve been doing some research. If the historic designation is approved, and I don’t see a reason why it shouldn’t be, given the site’s history, there are special preservation grants I can apply for.
They could cover some of your future renovation costs. ”
He offered a handshake first to Blake, then to Ethan. “What you’re doing here is important. The community needs places like this where they can come together. I’m rooting for you.”
With a final wave over his shoulder, Joel left the club, whistling, with a spring in his step.
Blake collapsed into a chair, trying to wrap his head around what just happened. “You petitioned to have The Firehouse made into a landmark?”
Ethan massaged Blake’s shoulders, thumbs sinking into the knots between his shoulder blades. “This way it can never be torn down. Developers can’t try to take it away from you. It’s a way to protect your dream.”
Tenny rang the fire bell over the bar – three loud clangs that attracted the attention of the handful of customers in the bar. “Sorry for the drama everyone. Round of drinks on the house.”
Everyone gathered around the bar to place their orders, leaving Blake and Ethan alone at the table. With a contented hum, Blake relaxed into the massage, reclining in the chair until his back rested against Ethan’s chest. “That’s nice,” he said, as his eyelids grew heavy.
Ethan’s hands slowed to a stop. He cleared his throat and patted Blake on the shoulder. “Let’s go grab another Bellini.”