Chapter 25 Levi
LEVI
Istared at myself in the mirror of the changing room and didn’t recognize the person staring back at me. “No. Absolutely not. Zero percent.”
X ripped open the curtain and hooted. “The cutoff denim shorts are really doing it for me. And hey!” He poked me in the stomach. “You can see your abs in that shirt.”
Shirt was being generous. It was so short it barely covered my nipples.
X had found himself a pleated tartan skirt that he was happily prancing around the store in. “Omelet! Do you like this one?” He shook his ass. “Oooh, feel the breeze! I should wear skirts every day, this is delightful!”
He spotted a pair of black thigh-high boots with the chunkiest heel I’d ever seen and bent to pick them up.
I winced at the flash of ass from beneath the skirt. “Underwear, X. While we’re here, buy some damn underwear.”
“Don’t knock it ’til you’ve tried it. Your balls might like the breeze too.”
“My balls are just fine in jeans, thanks.” I tugged at the frayed hem of the ridiculous shorts. “And not the cutoff kind.”
Whip came out of another changing room, leather pants clinging to his ass and thighs, a black mesh top covering his chest. I supposed I should be grateful X hadn’t shoved that shirt in my direction or my nipples actually would be out for everyone to see.
I snorted on a laugh. “You look ridiculous.”
“Like you can talk. Nice belly button.”
Asshole.
Violet surveyed all three of us with barely concealed laughter. “As great as you all look, I think a nice pair of pants and a button-down shirt might also be acceptable? Not sure we actually have to lean this hard into a stereotype.”
X pouted. “But my ass likes the breeze, Violet! Lemme wear the skirt.”
“You can wear whatever makes you happy.”
“And tell me you’ll feel me up underneath it.”
She shot a look at the salesclerk who went pink and turned away, trying to cover her laughter. Violet stepped in, pressed up on her toes, and brushed her lips across X’s. “If you wear that, I will definitely be taking advantage in a dark corner.”
X leaned around her and slammed his credit card down on the clerk’s desk. “Sold!”
“I’m finding somewhere to buy a button-down,” Whip said. “One that doesn’t show off my areolas.”
“Fucking hell, why can’t Nyah’s brother own a restaurant or a laundromat or something? Why a gay bar?” I hated the idea of wearing anything other than the oil-stained jeans and club jacket I pretty much permanently lived in.
Whip shot a tired glance at me. “Why are you resisting this so hard? Wear your jeans. No one is going to care. Or is it more the fact we’re going to a gay bar that you have such an issue with?”
“I have no issue with that.”
Whip just gave me a look like he was sure that wasn’t true.
Oh, fuck him.
I’d spent more than half my life in a biker gang in Saint View.
There wasn’t exactly a high number of gay bars for me to wander into for an after-work drink.
Army, our old prez before War, would have beat the shit out of me if I’d so much as even thought about walking into a place like the one we were going to tonight.
If I was being honest, I was fucking nervous about it.
Not just because I was praying we would be able to speak to Nyah’s brother, and he might have some information on his sister’s whereabouts.
I could see the tension radiating through Violet, the stress of not knowing, the constant fear that Nyah’s parents had nothing to do with this and Nyah was yet another victim of the killer who taunted us.
I didn’t even want to think about that.
Nyah might have hated her parents, and they might have been deep in the criminal underworld, but they weren’t the same level of twisted that we’d been dealing with the last few weeks.
But even that wasn’t the thing on my mind.
I was going to a gay club and I had no idea what the fuck I was supposed to do about Whip.
I yanked off the ridiculous outfit and jogged across the store to catch up with him at the door. “I’m coming with you to search for shirts without holes.”
Violet waved us out the door. “We’ll catch up. X wants coffee.”
Whip squinted at him. “You really need the caffeine? You’ve been bouncing off the walls all afternoon.”
He rolled his eyes. “Sheesh, I’ll get decaf, okay?” Then he grinned. “With a shot of Red Bull!”
“Please don’t let him do that,” I said to Violet, watching X twerk in the mirror of the store, so his skirt flipped up and down at the back, flashing the entire room with every jerk of his ass.
She hid a smile and tucked her arm into X’s. “Come on, let’s go find you a nice cup of herbal tea. And some underwear.”
“Okay, but I’m only agreeing to a G-string. My ass looks too good in this to cover it up.”
“I fear we’ve released a beast,” I muttered to Whip as we walked out onto the street lined with boutique shops.
“Let’s just hope there’s no stages or platforms for him to dance on.”
I wrinkled my nose at the idea of staring up at X’s balls beneath a too-short skirt while he danced on a stage. “Is that what this club is going to be like? Psychos but for guys?”
Whip shrugged. “Women can go too. And I doubt anyone will be having full-blown sex in gold cages like there is at Psychos, but I guess its normally a similar sort of vibe.”
I side-eyed him. “You’ve been to clubs like this?”
He shrugged. “Sure. With clients. Not exactly where I’d spend all my weekends, but I’ve been to a few.”
I turned away, wishing I hadn’t asked. Because now all I could think about was Whip at a club, surrounded by hot men.
Maybe it wasn’t like Psychos where they’d have sex right then and there.
But how long had it taken them to move out into a dark alley where they could be alone? How long had it taken for them to call a taxi to go back to a hotel?
The jealousy that coursed through me was thick and hard and all-consuming. I followed him into another store and grumpily yanked at shirts on a rack, barely noticing the color or size of them, when all I could see in my head was Whip gyrating with other guys, their lips and hands all over him.
Whip’s gaze followed me around the store, while I tried to ignore it.
Eventually, he sighed and touched my hand. “You want to talk about what’s on your mind, or you just want to tear up one of those shirts right now and get some of that aggression out?”
I yanked my fingers away, irrationally pissed with him because of the visions in my mind.
Whip didn’t miss it. The way I’d recoiled from his touch.
He pressed his lips together and nodded, like he understood exactly what my problem was. Anger flashed in his eyes. “Right. I get it now.” He grabbed the closest shirt and yanked it off the rack. “Don’t worry, I get the message loud and clear.”
Unless he could see the parade of made-up images of Whip with other men in my mind, that was driving me insane, I was pretty sure he had no idea what was going on. And it was too fucking embarrassing to admit.
Which only pissed me off all the more. I was mad at him for things he’d done before we’d even met.
I was fucking insane.
He shoved the shirt toward the clerk, but his gaze was on me, his eyes burning. “You don’t have to worry. I’m not going to ask you to hold my hand as we walk in so the whole club knows we’re together.”
I scoffed. “Of course not. Because this is just another opportunity for you, isn’t it? Maybe a chance to pick up some new clients? Earn some more money? Go fuck a hot guy in some dark corner and have him shove a hundred in your pocket for the privilege?”
I squeezed my eyes shut the moment the words were out of my mouth. They had my jealousy written all over them.
Because if I was being honest, it was me I wanted him fucking in the corner. It was me I wanted him to choose.
I wanted him to pick me over a job where other people got what was supposed to be mine and Violet’s.
But a lifetime of homophobia rang between my ears.
Army’s and the other guys’ sly taunts about fags and cocksuckers.
I tried to remind myself I’d already overcome this once.
That the club wasn’t like that anymore, that War being with Scythe had set the tone for a new era and Whip and I were safe there.
But were we safe here? On the streets of a city we didn’t know? Where I knew men were still attacked in broad daylight for holding another man’s hand? Where gay clubs were targeted by hate and violence?
My brain was a mess, and I’d always been shit with words. And that tongue-tie only seemed to get worse when my feelings were involved.
Just like the first night I’d laid eyes on Violet, I was royally fucking it all up.
And yet my tongue wouldn’t move to say things that made it better.
Whip snatched the bag with his new shirt in it from the woman and then turned to glare at me.
“Don’t worry, Levi. Your dirty little secret, that you like when a male escort touches you, is safe with me.
I won’t try to hold your hand tonight. Or to kiss you.
Or do any of the other things that have had you moaning my name and begging me for more every night. ”
His anger speared through me like a flaming arrow.
He leaned in closer. “Tonight when we’re in that club, we’re nothing to each other. We aren’t in a relationship. We aren’t fucking. We don’t even fucking know each other. How’s that? That make you feel better?”
It didn’t. I opened my mouth, willing myself to say that to him. To explain that none of that was what I wanted, and all of this was because I was so damn jealous, and that I had these stupid fucking feelings that demanded he only be with us.
But he didn’t let me get any of that out.
He just went nose to nose with me, those steel-blue eyes boring straight into my soul, when he whispered, “Tonight I’m just the hooker you think I am.”