Chapter Four #2
“Fuck. You,” Rowan growls, but his cousin and I are laughing as I set down a second drink for the birthday girl and get back to work, not allowing the distraction of my future bride to get in the way of my tips.
Afterall, I need enough to buy a ring fit for a queen.
???
I need a break. I need a cigarette and a piss, and I’ve been babysitting this girl for the last hour with no sign of her hot friend in sight. Or her boyfriend.
“El novio de esta chama la dejó plantada,” I tell Elias and Rowan as her phone starts to ring.
She’s instantly, reasonably, upset with whoever is on the other end.
I’d wager it’s her boyfriend, so I excuse myself from her direct line of sight for privacy.
“I have to piss, someone take over babysitting duties.”
“You do know that’s not actually your job, right?” Rowan asks. “You’re literally just trying to impress her friends—”
“Cállate vale,” I tell him, dipping under the bar.
Elias pats me on the back as he slips under, letting me know he’ll handle her. He’s been in the back warming up for his show and should be getting on stage soon, but he knows I don’t trust Juan to do shit.
I sneak toward the back- pulling out a cigarette and a lighter- but pause when a glint of gold catches my eye coming out of the bathrooms. She spots me at the same time I spot her and her eyes narrow.
“Shouldn’t you be at the bar with Nelly?”
“She’s covered.” I lean against the wall, biting my lip as I allow myself a slower pass from her golden heels to the hoops in her ears. “You, however—"
She holds up a hand. “I’m gonna stop you right there.
” She plucks the cigarette from between my fingers.
“I don’t need, nor do I want your company.
I most certainly don’t want you to cover me.
If I go home with anyone tonight he won’t smell like he bathed in whiskey.
” Without taking her eyes off me, she tucks my cigarette between her breasts until it vanishes into their inspiring swell.
Her fingers meet my chin, tilting my gaze up to meet hers. “Nod if you understand.”
I nod.
She pats my cheek. “Good boy.” She leaves me standing there, hard as stone, the sway of her hips leaving an impression on my psyche I might need therapy to remove. Or some other, more nefarious form of activity.
Goddamn it, now I have fucking plans tonight.
Groaning, I take the cigarette pack from my back pocket and shove my way into the parking lot. I just manage to finish one before Rowan is summoning me back inside so Elias can take the stage. And it’s just my luck that the birthday girl is no longer alone.
“I’ll be back,” Elias says in my ear. “Take care of her. Whatever she wants, it’s on the house.”
“When did you become a homewrecker?” I dip under the service bar.
“Mind your business. Whatever they want, amigo. You got them?”
“Yeah,” I mutter, eyes glued to the dimple in the corner of Naomi’s mouth. “I’ve got them…”
???
Sunday is the night I normally come to The Pink Flamingo. It’s the only day of the week that El Rincón is closed and I get the freedom to do whatever I want for as long as I want. Friday nights tend to end too late and I’m getting too old to chase that energy at three in the morning.
However, after a night of being tormented by an ass that will haunt my fucking dreams, I have no other choice. Luckily, I keep a change of clothes in my car. Because unlike her assumption- I do not prefer smelling like a distillery.
I hope whatever mediocre fuck she chose tonight breathes beer all over her.
No, no I don’t. I honestly hope he’s a one-pump chump and passes out before they can even make eye contact.
Okay, if I’m being totally honest, I hope he passes out before he even gets his dick out of his pants.
I am not obsessing.
“Good evening, Gray,” the hostess greets me with a smile as I finish pulling on my jacket. Despite what I’m here for, this is a very classy place. “The shows are over for tonight, but the cigar bar is still open if you’d like a table.”
Shaking my head, I flash my membership card, flipping it over so she sees the backside. “I’m heading into The Cellar tonight.”
She nods, taking a box from beneath the podium. “Will you be participating in a pre-planned scene or are you looking to join?”
Plucking a green wristband from the well-organized box I give her a smirk. “Join.”
With a professional smile she nods again and leads the way to a door hidden behind a bookshelf in the atrium. “Have a pleasurable evening, sir.”
Oh, I plan on it. “Gracias, senorita.”
The Cellar, contradictory to its name, is not underground.
It’s the nickname those of us who frequent the secret backrooms of The Pink Flamingo have given them over the years due to the acts allowed to take place.
For behind the glittering dancers and the allure of expensive cigars, creatures of depravity such as myself meet safely to quench more… Carnal appetites.
Sitting at the bar, I make sure my sleeve is slightly rolled to reveal the green wristband and order a scotch neat.
The lights are dim, but there are still several members who choose to wear a mask to keep their anonymity.
I’ve never bothered since I’m neither a politician nor a celebrity, and because I find them pretty useless.
It’s rather impossible not to recognize posture when someone is on television five nights a week.
A heavy hand comes down on my shoulder, but I don’t flinch, recognizing the cologne immediately. Otherwise, the prim English accent would have been a dead giveaway.
“Evening, Gray.” Adonis takes the empty seat next to me, signaling to the bartender than he’ll have what I’m having. He gestures to my wrist. “Joining tonight?”
“Aren’t I always?” I smirk, raising the glass to my lips. The drink burns just the way I wanted. I glance at his own wrist where a red band is slightly hidden by his sleeve. “Not joining?”
“Not tonight.” He shrugs, thanking the bartender. I’m not that surprised. There’s a particular waiter he’s been eyeing for weeks now. Sometimes he coaxes the young man over, sometimes he just comes to enjoy company like mine.
There’s a particular set of rules to The Cellar. Everyone who enters wears a wristband, plastic and reusable- because hello, environmentalism is hot- to indicate what they’re seeking for the evening.
Black = Do Not Touch, Hard Limit
Orange = Do Not Touch, Soft Limit
Red = Not Available, Taken
Yellow = Just Watching
Blue = Scene in Motion
Green = Looking to Join
Purple = Open to Dom
Pink = Open to Sub
White = First time
I am almost always green, sometimes dabbling in pink territory. Adonis is usually purple, but I guess he’s really serious about this crush, for lack of a better term.
“Any preferences?” Adonis asks. When I shrug, he pats my back and points to one of the lounge areas where a couple is already trying to swallow each other’s tongues while a third young man watches in… Desire? Envy? What’s the difference really? “Let me introduce you to my friends.”
“You have friends other than me?” I ask in mock offense, picking up my drink. I toss cash on the bar. The one will do.
Adonis rolls his eyes, his smile is all I need to know how he earned his nickname. “Come on, brat.”
With a hand on the back of my neck, he steers me toward the group. I go willingly, taking a sip of my drink as I glance around the darkened club—
A flash of gold silk catches my eye and I stumble, hard enough for Adonis to notice. He grips the back of my jacket to hold me up. “Woah, are you alright, mate?”
“Yeah… Yeah, I’m fine.”
I blink, craning my neck to try and catch another glimpse. I see it again, a glint of gold slipping out through the entrance. A well-manicured hand pulls a young man by the collar into a softly lit room.
And around a slender ebony wrist rests an enticing purple wristband.