Chapter Two
MARS
We drove over to the seafood place. The food was as brilliant as I remembered.
After stuffing ourselves with a delicious meal, we sat back in our booth, sipping our pints.
I studied Mickey’s face. He was a handsome bloke, younger than I was by a couple of years.
Dark hair and big, dark eyes would make him a catch for anyone lucky enough to meet him.
I wondered again why he didn’t date. Mind you, who am I to talk.
But by all accounts, all the guys on the team were at the age where we should be settling down.
Maybe Mickey had the same reservations about making a commitment that I had.
Then again, my upbringing by a solo mum and her experience with men when my dad refused to marry her after she got pregnant, had drilled into me just how shitty guys could be. From a little nipper, I’d learned that men weren’t to be trusted.
I knew Mickey’s upbringing was as different and as opposite as it could be from the one I’d had, though.
He came from a big, loud family and had several brothers and sisters.
The fact that they all lived in New York shouldn’t matter.
I knew he got invites to family gatherings all the time.
His parents reached out constantly, but probably because of our schedule and our jobs, Mickey didn’t fly back home very often.
When he did, though, he always came back with a big smile on his face.
I took a long draw on my pint, setting it down on a coaster. Mickey was watching the other diners and when he turned back to me, he had a questioning look in his eyes. He leaned across the table, silently beckoning me close. I leaned in. “What?”
“Do you think all these people are tourists?”
There was a huge mix of people. Everyone seemed to be having a great time, laughing with friends and family.
A big table in the middle of the room had three kiddies who were out of their chairs, running in circles around the table while their parents ignored them. I glanced back at Mickey and nodded.
“Definitely…and they’re all ‘ere in Sin City to lose their ‘ard earned money and let their kids make a general nuisance of themselves.”
Mickey chuckled and then lifted his beer. “So, do you want to go out after this, or just head back to the hotel?”
I smiled around the lip of my beer. “I know of a gay club if ya want.”
He scowled. “If it’s anything like that Dance Hall Boys, it’s not for me. Nash dragged me there more than once and I never saw the appeal.”
“So, you’ve said. We’ll check this one out. If ya don’t like it, then we’ll go back to the ‘otel.”
“I dunno. You hate clubs too. Why would we even go? Have you been there before?”
I shook my head. “No, but I ‘eard it’s nice.”
“Do you think it’s anything like Dance Hall Boys?” He sounded worried.
I shrugged, chuckling. “Don’t know. I’ve never been there.”
“Okay. I guess.”
He still looked reluctant as I flagged down our server. She dropped off our check, and I pulled out some money to pay. When I saw Mickey pull out his wallet, I waved at him. “This is my treat, mate. Ya were nice enough to come with me on this trip, so it’s the least I can do.”
He smiled. “Thanks, Mars.”
I drove us down to Froot Loop, the part of town where most of the gay bars in Vegas were located, pulling into the driveway for The Garage and parking.
Mickey let out a bark of laughter the minute he spotted the big, bold sign above the door. The facade of the place was designed to look just like a garage with posters in the windows promising Happy Hour nightly drink specials at discounted prices.
I glanced over as I shut off the car. “What are ya braying about?”
“Of course, you’d pick out a gay bar called The Garage.”
I smiled. “Cars are my mothership. Get used to it, Mickey.”
As soon as we entered the bar, the first thing I noticed was how much fun the guys were having. Indoor and outdoor seating with a long bar packed with punters. We found a table and as we sat down, we were immediately greeted by a tasty-looking waiter wearing a big smile.
“Hi, fellas.” He handed us menus. “Drink specials are here,” he said, pointing, “and the food is great. My name is Gilroy. Can I get you anything to start?”
Mickey and I perused the specials for a second before both ordering more pints. When he walked away, I admired the curve of his little bubble bum as I felt a stirring in my groin.
“See something you like?”
I glanced at Mickey to find him wearing a silly grin and couldn’t help smiling back. “Nice arse, that’s all.”
Mickey chuckled then looked around again. “I didn’t expect a sports bar.”
I nodded. “Me either, but I like what I see so far.”
“More of a place to relax after work than to actually pick up a guy,” he said, sounding relieved.
I nodded. “Yeah.” I glanced down at our menu before looking back up. “Ya gonna order food?”
“Hell no,” he said, closing the menu as he patted his belly. “I’m still stuffed from dinner.”
“Ya right, but we should order an appetizer,” I said, feeling slightly guilty that we were taking a table, rather than trying to vie for two barstools at the crowded bar.
Mickey pointed toward the back. “There’s some pool tables in there.”
“Even better.” When Gilroy came back, we paid the check and went back to the billiard room. We played for a couple of hours before I caught Mickey yawning. “We should probably get going, mate. I want to be at the auction early enough to preview what’s on offer.”
“Yeah. I’m beat. I know you like all that driving but it wears me out.”
He was unlike me in so many ways. How anyone could be worn out from sitting in a car for four hours, was beyond me. We set down our pool cues and headed for the front door. As we passed a bright Restrooms sign, I pointed to it. “Gonna stop at the gents.”
He nodded, and we walked down a hallway.
As we got close, the door to the men’s room suddenly slammed open and a small guy with wide eyes charged through, smashing into my shoulder as he ran past me.
I spun around just in time to see him darting down the hall.
He looked back over his shoulder and then charged at full speed away from us.
It took me a few seconds to realize he was the same arsehole we’d chased through the casino, long, black, leather jacket and all.
As I turned to say something to Mickey who’d stopped beside me, a massive bear wearing tight, leather pants and an open vest came barreling out of the same door, nearly slamming into us.
I reached out just in time to stop the big guy, landing both palms on his hairy chest, and bringing the biker wannabe up short.
He let out an almost imperceptible growl before his face bunched up in an angry sneer.
Before I could stop him, he grabbed both my wrists, bending them backward, trying to break them.
I twisted out of his grip on instinct, sidestepping him, and grabbing him by a meaty forearm.
In seconds, he was plastered face first against the wall with his arm twisted up behind his back, my knee firmly planted in his arse. He let out a loud grunt of pain.
“What the fuck you doing?” he growled. I could tell by the garbled words, that his kisser was smashed against the wall.
I leaned in. “Play nice,” I said, close to his ear.
“My arm…you’re gonna break it, asshole.”
“Are ya gonna be nice?”
He nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, just let go.” I released his arm, stepping back. He spun around to glare at me, taking hold of his elbow and rubbing it. “What was that all about?”
“Ya nearly ran me over, mate. Watch where you’re going next time.”
“Hey!” The shout from behind us, made us all turn around to see a big guy wearing a T-shirt with the bar’s logo coming toward us. “What’s going on here?”
“Nothing,” Mickey said, holding up both hands in a placating manner. “This guy just charged out of the bathroom chasing a guy. When he came at my friend, he put him against the wall.”
I was relieved Mickey hadn’t rabbited on about my skills, knowing full well I could’ve easily put the guy on the ground instead of against a wall. But then…we’d be having an entirely different conversation.
“That so?” the bouncer said, glaring at me.
“Is right, mate, and ‘e’s lucky I didn’t break ‘is arm after ‘e tried to break my wrists.”
The bouncer eyed up the bear who’d turned red and was panting hard.
He narrowed his eyes as recognition flared.
“Clay? What have I told you about chasing twinks in this bar? Arnie very nearly banned you from this place the last time you tried that.” He didn’t let the biker wannabe reply before grabbing him by the scruff of his neck and shoving him past us.
“You’re out of here!” He pushed him, making the man stumble forward.
The guy turned and flipped him off, spitting out some choice words that would make a sailor blush before grabbing both sides of his vest and pulling them down. He lifted his bearded chin defiantly and sauntered away from us.
“You two okay?” the bouncer asked.
“We’re fine,” I said, “though, I’m worried about the twink he was chasing.” I looked past the bouncer, out to the busy bar, sure it had been the same guy we’d chased through the Flamingo only a few hours before.
“Let’s go make sure he’s not cornered in the parking lot,” Mickey said, grabbing my sleeve.
I nodded, knowing the young guy might be in trouble if he stuck around. “That’s best. Thanks.”
He smiled and clapped me on the shoulder as we walked out. As soon as we were outside, I stopped Mickey with a tug on his sleeve.
“What?”
“Ya didn’t ‘appen to notice that the twink that guy chased out of the bathroom was the same guy we chased through the casino?”
Mickey frowned. “It was?”
I rolled my eyes. “One and the same, mate. Don’t give up your day job.”
“What’s that supposed to—?”
My eyebrows hitched up.
“Never mind.” Mickey gave me a pained look before glancing around the car park. “He really gets around, huh?”
I chuckled, tugging on his sleeve. “Come on, clueless one. Let’s go get some rest.”