Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Seth
“THAT’S WHAT YOU’RE wearing?” my roommate says.
“What’s wrong with this?”
I hold out my arms and peer down at myself. Black jeans. Black T-shirt. It’s what I always wear, especially when I have to work.
“You can’t go out like that,” Mason says, heaving an aggrieved sigh.
Unlike me, Mason has been out for pretty much his entire life. He was surprised when I answered his ad looking for a queer roommate to share his house with. Most people are surprised when I tell them I’m gay. It’s not that I hide it. I simply act like myself, but “myself” isn’t what most people would immediately label queer. I’ve always figured that’s more their problem than mine. Mason’s been a great roommate ever since we met, and it’s never mattered that we choose to express our queerness differently.
“I’m not going out,” I remind Mason. “I’m going to work.”
“Work at a club. Work for your hot, rich, famous employer.”
I roll my eyes, but mostly to hold back a worse reaction. Mason knows who Baptism Emperor is. Most people do now. I haven’t concealed my line of work from him, though I don’t tell him anything about my clients that isn’t public information. He has no idea about Jacob or what I’m attempting not to feel about a man who lights up every room he enters, a man I want to haul to safety every time he endangers himself.
I wave away Mason’s comment. “I need to go. I can’t be late.”
Mason rolls his eyes at me. “You’re no fun. If I had a hot rockstar client I’d use that to the fullest.”
“And get fired and sued for it.”
“Not if he’s into it too.”
Mason winks, and I turn away swiftly, keeping my face neutral. I shrug on a light jacket (also black, of course) and grab my phone and keys. I’m out the door before he has a chance to make any more unhelpful comments.
I shouldn’t have sent that “happy birthday” text. Emmett called me, and once I was off the phone I just did it. I told myself I was being nice. My job isn’t exactly conventional, and the lines aren’t as clear cut as they would be in a different line of work. I do need Jacob to trust me, after all. He can’t keep on running out on his own and getting into trouble because he doesn’t want to ask for help.
Still, I shouldn’t have texted something so familiar to the guy who’s supposed to be my boss. Even if it’s temporary, I need to keep some space between us.
No going back now. I start my car and follow my phone’s directions to some club downtown. It’s not a place I’ve ever been. I didn’t really get into the clubbing scene after the military. I started working, and that kept me plenty busy. I’ve gone on dates with guys from apps and stuff like that, but the nightclub hookup scene was never for me.
All the more reason to have backup tonight. Not only do I have a lot of people to run security for, but I’ll be in an unfamiliar environment. I called ahead and made sure the two bands can have a private VIP booth, but the dancefloor doesn’t discriminate, and based on some Google searches, the club only contains one.
I weave through downtown and snag some lucky street parking a couple blocks from the club. I’m early enough that I’ve beaten the Saturday night clubbing crowd. When I show up at the back entrance of the club, an employee lets me into a mostly empty bar.
“The VIP area is up here,” the employee says.
She leads me through a dark hallway and up a flight of stairs. Good, the guys won’t have to cut through the club to get to their private booth. The woman takes me to a balcony that overlooks the entire club. Only one stairway leads in and out of it, an easy thing to keep an eye on. The stairs let us off in the center of the balcony. A rope sections off the entire left side, which contains a couple tables and booth seating.
“Does this work?” the employee asks. “We tried to fit the space to your specifications.”
“It’s perfect,” I say.
Both bands will be contained here, and cut off from the rest of the club. The balcony affords a view of the bar, DJ stand and dancefloor below, but the employee assures me the bands can order bottle service up here and have it delivered. They’ll have no reason to stray out of my sight or reach for the whole night.
When the two guys I called in tonight arrive, I brief them on the situation. We shouldn’t get involved. We can stand in the corner or at the balcony. One of us might want to wander the lower floor to make sure a fan or photographer isn’t trying to sneak up here. Otherwise, the assignment is pretty simple: Stay out of the way and make sure no one gets near our clients.
I already know Jacob is going to hate it.
It’s clear he doesn’t like being set apart and sectioned off like this. I start concocting contingency plans if he insists on being on the dancefloor or doesn’t like the VIP seating. There’s only so much I can control, though. Jacob isn’t the type of person you can contain. Even cordoned off like this, people are going to notice him. He’s too bright and brilliant to ignore, like a jewel in a pile of coal. People can’t help but be drawn to him, myself occasionally, unfortunately, included.
I shake myself. Tonight I’m on duty. This is work. Personal feelings don’t apply. That’s shit I can deal with off the clock. Alone.
I check my phone. My stomach flips when I notice the time. I round up my guys swiftly, repeating my instructions. They nod, bored. This is nothing for them, a routine assignment on a Saturday night when they’d rather be out drinking than babysitting rockstars. I wish I could say the same was true for me, but not only would I be home watching TV with Mason, but this is a lot more than a boring assignment to me.
I rush downstairs, leaving my two guys up on the balcony as I head to the back door myself. I open it as a car pulls up to the alley. It’s a short walk from the mouth of the alley to the door, but my heart twists regardless. Should I have brought a guy with me to secure the alley? I have to stay at the door, but suddenly the few feet from the car to the door sprawl like a chasm. Anything could happen in that short span, and if it does, it’ll be my fault.
It’s too late. My charges start piling out of the car. The lead singer of The Ten Hours emerges first, distinctive with her purple-dyed dreads. A few others come with her, the other members of The Ten Hours, plus a couple friends, I think. They head toward me giggling and tipsy. I usher them inside, instructing them to head upstairs.
Then a second car arrives. My chest constricts like someone is tightening a vice as Baptism Emperor starts popping into the alley. First comes Keannen and his boyfriend, arms slung around each other. The sight knocks the wind out of me before I can crush the reaction. I can’t help thinking that I’ve never had that, never even gotten close to that, at first because of where I grew up, and later because of the military. What’s my excuse now?
Behind Keannen is Luke and Dan. Then Shawn, the broody guitarist. Finally, all the way at the back, is Jacob.
I swallow when I spot him. His pants are either leather or a very good imitation, tight and clinging. He wears a silver mesh shirt under it that catches every bit of light and reflects it. A loose, open jacket barely manages to cover any bit of his smooth brown chest. His hair is wild in a carefully curated way, and as he bounds up the street laughing and talking, I lose sight of everyone else in that alley.
I startle when an elbow nudges me. Keanen has reached the door, and he smirks at me as he sends his boyfriend on ahead into the club.
“Make sure you wish him happy birthday, okay?” he says with a wink.
He passes into the club before I can react. Not that I’d know how to. I stand stiff and silent, holding my breath as more band members pass me.
Jacob is last. Once Shawn passes me (thankfully without so much as a backward glance), only Jacob remains. I intend to usher him inside without even looking at him, but before I can get myself out of the way, he’s squeezing by me to get into the hall. He smiles up at me, meeting my eyes as his shoulder brushes against my chest.
“Thanks,” he says when he makes it inside.
I step inside after him, letting the door close. The hall is narrow, so I dare not step forward, afraid to crowd too close.
“I really appreciate you doing this,” Jacob says. “I’m sure there’s somewhere else you’d rather be tonight.”
“Not really,” I say automatically. I regret it instantly. I shouldn’t seem like I want to be here. This should be work. It is work.
“Well, I hope you have fun. That’s allowed, right?”
“I’m here to make sure you stay safe.” It’s the only response I can think of, the only appropriate response. It’s the response I owe my employer.
Jacob’s smile melts my barrier of cold professionalism. I’ve never met anyone who radiates warmth quite like him. Being near him is like standing in the sun after a long, cold winter spent indoors. It makes me wonder how the whole world isn’t already in love with him. I suppose they are. I suppose that’s why I’m here, why I get to be closer to him than most people will ever get.
“Thanks,” Jacob says. “I appreciate it, even if I wish it didn’t have to be this way.”
There’s a note of sadness in that, but I don’t dare poke at it.
“I told you,” I say instead, “your safety is my personal priority. Have fun tonight. Nothing will happen.”
He smiles, but the sadness lingers, dimming his usual dimpled grin.
“Nothing, huh?” he says, almost to himself.
“Nothing that shouldn’t happen.”
He regards me for a moment, his bright hazel eyes lingering. He looks on the verge of saying something, but then Shawn calls down the hall for him.
“They set us up with bottle service,” he shouts. “This is crazy. Come see.”
Jacob gives him a nod. “Guess it’s time to go,” he says to me.
Then I’m following him down the hall, trying to stay close enough but not too close. We reach the stairs up to the balcony. I nod at my guys at the top, who fan out to the positions I instructed them to take up, one up here with me, one downstairs in the club area. Jacob’s friends absorb him into their joyous huddle, and I breathe a little easier. He’s safe. Almost as importantly, he’s occupied. He’s turning those blinding smiles on his friends, where they belong, instead of on me in secluded little hallways.
But as a cork pops and alcohol starts flowing, tension knots my stomach. It’s going to be a long night, and I can’t let Jacob out of my sight for a single second of it.