Chapter 8 #3
Kevin chuckled to himself. Mike had obviously scrambled the circuits in Tommy’s brain.
Mike cleared his throat and went over to the table where they’d been setting up the glasses for the midnight toast, like nothing was out of the ordinary.
Except he was holding that box a bit lower, hiding his groin.
Damn, this was fun.
As the evening wore on, Kevin kept taking a peek at what was going on ’round that side of the bar.
Not that he got much of a chance, as more and more guys poured in through the doors.
Patrick was doing his fair share of observing the situation too.
Kevin could tell from the looks he was getting from Don and Mitch that they wanted to know what the hell was going on.
Kevin wasn’t about to share. This was fucking delicious.
It was past eleven forty-five and Mike was setting up the plastic champagne flutes on trays, smiling and joking with the customers, not to mention getting the occasional pinch on that furry butt when he ventured out from behind the bar.
Patrick sidled up to Kevin. “Has Tommy taken his eyes off Mike yet?” He chuckled.
“Uh-uh,” Kevin said, unable to tear his eyes away from the floor show. “And every chance Mike gets, he’s doing some looking of his own.” The two men were like satellites orbiting an unseen planet, never getting any nearer, as if closer contact would have them burning up.
Mike walked across to the bar. “Wanna give me the champagne and I’ll start pouring?”
Kevin handed over a case of champagne with a smirk. “Want me to wipe up that drool from your chin, Mike?” He flicked his head in Tommy’s direction.
“Fuck off,” Mike said with a grin and went back to his task.
Kevin couldn’t help noticing, however, that Mike kept glancing at Tommy while he was pouring out the champagne.
And when Mike was focused on his task, Tommy was checking out Mike’s ass and legs.
Not that Kevin could blame him for that.
Mike was one prime piece of meat, especially for his age.
Of course Tommy looking that fine had been bound to attract attention. Kevin and Patrick had managed to fend off a few of the more persistent admirers, and at one point Kevin had growled at one of them. Yeah, that had worked. Mike had just resorted to telling guys to back off. It was kinda sweet.
It was nearly midnight when Mike got back behind the bar.
The TV was turned up loud, the screen showing the revelers in Times Square.
There was a buzz of energy throughout the bar as customers made sure they had a drink ready.
There were quite a few guys who were already drunk and getting raucous.
Thank God they wouldn’t stay long once midnight had come and gone.
Tommy stood up to stretch his legs, his gaze flickering between the TV screen and Mike, who was standing next to Kevin, handing out glasses of champagne.
Kevin placed a glass in front of Tommy. “Here you go, kid.”
“But… I don’t….”
Kevin grinned. “Don’t you know it’s bad luck not to drink champagne on New Year’s Eve? And besides, you’ve been on Cherry Coke all night. You only have to drink a mouthful. It won’t kill ya.”
Tommy eyed the glass doubtfully and then nodded.
The countdown to midnight had begun. Everyone in the bar joined in, their voices getting louder as the seconds ticked by, and when the ball dropped, the bar rang to the cries of “Happy New Year!” Kevin looked at Tommy, who was taking a cautious sip of his champagne, and then at Mike, who was watching him do it.
“Oh, to hell with this,” Kevin muttered. He leaned over the bar, grabbed Tommy firmly by the arms, and heaved him upward to plant a loud, smacking kiss on Tommy’s mouth. Then he released him and grinned. “Happy New Year, kid!”
Tommy’s mouth fell open, and he staggered back slightly. When he’d recovered, he gaped at Kevin, eyes wide. “Why’d you kiss me?”
Around him guys were drinking champagne, hugging and kissing, the mood jubilant.
Kevin snorted and gestured to Mike, who was staring incredulously at Kevin. “’Cause he was too chickenshit to do it.”
Mike spluttered. “Kevin!”
Kevin shook his head, laughing. “You know I’m telling the truth, Mike.”
In front of him, Tommy sat back on his stool and took a drink of his champagne, looking anywhere but at them.
He focused on the guys who were drunk, stumbling on their way out of the bar.
He kept sneaking glances at Mike, especially when Mike came out from behind the bar or when he bent over to reach something low down.
Not that he was the only one. Mike couldn’t tear his eyes away from Tommy for more than a couple of minutes at a time. Fuck, it was so sweet.
At twelve thirty, Don signaled to Kevin and Mike. “Okay, you guys were first in, so you’re first out. Patrick, Mitch, and I got this.” The bar was nearly deserted.
Mike disappeared for a few minutes, returning dressed in jeans, a T-shirt, and his leather jacket, a bag over his shoulder. “Well, that’s me outta here.”
Kevin grabbed Mike by the arm and flicked his head in Tommy’s direction.
“You gonna make a move on that?” Mike arched his eyebrows, and Kevin snorted.
“Oh, c’mon, you’ve been staring at each other for long enough, that’s for damn sure.
” He peered at Mike. “Do you even know his name?” Beside him, Patrick snickered.
“I’d be a poor bartender if I hadn’t already picked up on that.” Mike grinned. “His name’s Tommy. Satisfied?”
“I will be if you get your act together,” Kevin retorted.
Tommy put down his empty glass and nodded to them. “I… I guess I’ll be goin’ now. G’night… an’ Happy New Year.” His gaze lingered that bit longer on Mike, and then he slid off his stool and walked around the bar, out of their sight.
Kevin gave Mike a shove. “Go after him, you dumbass. Now!”
Mike hesitated for about five seconds, and then he sighed. “Fine. See you later. ’Night.” He walked out of the bar with a wave to Scott and Mitch.
Kevin grinned at Patrick. “Well, go on, then. Get me a beer and a shot.” He wasn’t about to go out into the parking lot and interrupt whatever was going on.
Wonder what they’re gonna say to each other?