2. Gabriel
2
GAbrIEL
“I swear, Gabriel, the money is ridiculous. Why wouldn’t I keep doing it?” Axl is lounging on my couch, still in his Jamie’s Lodge uniform and shoving an ungodly bite of pizza into his mouth.
“I just want to know how you manage to look like you do by eating that crap,” I answer, nodding at the mostly-eaten slice.
“All the gyrating I do,” he says, still chewing.
I shake my head. “I don’t need a visual of you shaking your dick in some poor girl’s face.”
He laughs. “You should try it.”
“No way would he do it,” Quinton says from the chair, his attention focused on the hockey game.
“More like no way would you do it,” I shoot back, giving him a pointed look.
“Hey, the ladies like their dark men thick,” he says, rubbing his hand over his not-that-thick belly. “Trust me, I don’t need to dance at bachelorette parties to get the goods.”
“You’re both pathetic,” I say. “I would have thought that our days of university were behind us.”
“Watch your tone, young man,” Axl says. “Unlike you, some of us didn’t have our lives completely mapped out with a five-year plan of world domination upon graduation.”
I raise my eyebrows. “I apologize for nothing.”
“That’s right, man,” Quinton says, holding out a fist.
I bump it and can’t stop myself from completing the steps: spreading my fingers wide while making the explosion sound, then wiggling them down, side to side, and up to my lips for a chef’s kiss finish.
“Yeah, that’s how we do it,” Quinton says, pursing his lips at me approvingly.
I roll my eyes. “Whatever.”
“I’ll bet you all of tonight’s money that you won’t do it,” Axl says.
“Are we still talking about this?” I ask.
Axl sits up and brushes his hands on his slacks. “You’ve got the body for it, and you said you needed money for the move, right?”
“You checking me out, Axl?” I joke.
“We’ve been roommates for almost five years, asshole. I can’t help but know what you look like,” he deadpans. “Come on. Do it.”
“No fucking way,” I say.
“Scared you can’t hack it?” Axl asks.
“No. I just don’t want to do it.”
“Do you have any idea how much I can make in a night?”
“Can’t be that much,” I quip.
He says the amount, and my jaw drops. “Seriously?”
He nods. “Seriously.”
“Then why are you still living with me and Quinton?”
“Because your boy’s got bills,” he drawls. “Besides, I like you two. What’s not to love about living with guys who cook and clean?”
“You have got to learn how to cook,” I say. “It’s criminal.”
“Quit avoiding. If you do it, you can keep all the money we make tonight. I even have the perfect outfit.”
I consider it. How bad can it be? I’m comfortable enough with myself to do…whatever it is I have to do. “Is it like those Magic Mike movies?”
He laughs. “Unless you’ve got some secret dance moves buried in your back pocket, then no, this will not be like those Magic Mike movies.”
“Oh shit,” Quinton says. “You’re actually considering it.”
“What’s involved?”
“Not much, honestly. It’s all about making the bride feel like she’s the hottest woman in the room, and making sure the rest of the crew has a good time.”
“But what does that mean?” I press. “Are we literally dancing?”
He nods. “A little. But it’s more like lap dancing, and then…okay, it’s sort of like those Magic Mike movies,” he concedes.
“Show me.”
“Aw hell yeah,” Quinton says. “I’ve been waiting to add to my moves. Let’s see what you got, white boy.”
“Are you serious right now?” Axl says, standing and attempting to glare at Quinton.
Quinton ignores him, powering off the television and picking up his phone. “What kind of music do you need? I’m connected to the Bluetooth.”
“I’ll do it,” Axl says. A few moments later, music is streaming out of the speaker we have in the corner of the living room.
I grin and get comfortable in my chair. “Demonstrate.”
“Oh no, hot stuff,” he says, heading to the kitchen and coming back with one of the chairs. “You’re gonna sit right here.”
“What, am I playing the role of the bride?” I scoff.
“Absolutely.”
“No way.”
“You so insecure in your masculinity that you can’t handle me giving you a lap dance, Gabriel?” he taunts.
“Oooh,” Quinton says. “Burn.”
I stand and move to the wooden chair. “Nope, I can definitely handle this. So give it to me.”
He waggles his eyebrows. “Oh, I’ll give it to you.”
Quinton snorts, and I join him.
Axl turns away from me, and when he turns back around, I swear he’s a completely different person. His whole demeanor is dripping sex, and dude hasn’t even gotten started.
“Whoa,” I say.
He cocks his head, his hands starting to unbutton his vest. “Tell me your name, pretty.”
“Um,” I say, watching as he peels the vest off and swivels his hips.
“Don’t you want to tell me?” he coos.
Okay, he’s good. “Gabriel.”
“Gabriel,” he repeats, and the way he says it almost turns me on. I shake my head and focus.
He’s undoing his button-down now, stopping to rub a palm over the skin beneath the fabric. His hips keep moving, and he’s fucking mesmerizing. In another few minutes, the shirt is off, and he’s circled me, trailing his hand over my neck and leaning in to ask if I like it so far.
“Shit, man, you’re making me hot,” Quinton says.
He undoes his pants, doing a whole thing with the zipper before turning around and slowly pulling them down.
“Are you wearing Christmas briefs?” I say incredulously.
“Gotta get in the spirit,” Axl says, looking back at me and winking. Before too long, he’s doffed the pants and is seconds away from straddling me.
I hold my hands out. “We’re good, man.”
Axl stops, and it’s like he flips a switch, because the sexy dancer is gone and my buddy Axl is back. “I was wondering how far you’d let me go,” he laughs. “So you get how it goes?”
I nod. “I don’t know if I can do what you just did, but I’m in.”
“Do you need a deejay?” Quinton asks. “Because I would pay good money to see this.”
Ignoring him, Axl beckons me to his room. “C’mon. We need to get you suited up.”
I follow, running calculations in my head on how tonight’s potential earnings will help with the move. Unlike Quinton and Axl, I had to take loans out to attend university, more to defray living expenses than anything, and I’ve spent the years since graduating shoving as much money at the loans as possible so that I can get out of here. Because as cool as my friends are, I have plans. Big ones that include heading to Seattle and taking one of my buddies up on helping me land a job as a team accountant with the city’s professional hockey team. Sure, any accounting job will do, but I’m desperate to keep my connection to hockey in one way or another, and my friend is a player on the team. Plus, I want to live in America for a while.
Axl throws his closet open with a flourish, then reaches in and pulls out a clear bag stuffed with green, red, and white. “Behold, my holiday bag of tricks.”
I squint. “Is that a feather boa?”
“Of course.” He dumps the contents onto his bed—which is made, at least Quinton and I have managed to beat that into his head—and I try to understand what I’m seeing.
Seeing my confusion, Axl takes pity on me. “Gabe. It’s not like we’re wearing a lot of clothes for the gig.”
“I know,” I mutter. “I just…figured there’d be more.”
He laughs. “Nope.”