Yield

15. Max

Red and blue streams of light break through the pitch-black noise. Like A Drug by SWIM Jordyne streams from the speakers while the DJ, a gorgeous stalky man with muscles for nights, waves his hand backward, calling ladies on the floor to the stage with him. I look around the maxed-out club, holding Ryke’s phone as it live streams with each step I take, spinning to the bar and back to a table, catching the smiling women on camera. One bats her lashes at the dream boat blonde behind the bar. Tess glances over at him and smiles at me.

This is wild.

Welcome to Rave.The part of Ryke that I knew existed but never experienced.

Angelo walks up behind me, his hand gently touching my lower back. I turn, focusing the camera on him as he grabs one of my hands and dances to the lens. His onyx hair is slicked back and looks like he walked out of the shower and onto the dance floor, except he’s in a partially buttoned vest and matching black skinny jeans instead of a plush robe.

I noticed his piercings earlier when Ryke introduced us. A small silver ball near the outer corner of his left eye. I think it’s called a microdermal. My only experience with piercings is the simple single studs in each lobe and Cole’s tunnels that I watched him stretch to a zero gauge over a year’s period when we were fifteen without his parents’ consent. Angelo works the ring in the center of his lip too. He’s tall and tan and hypnotizing.

He winks at me and lets go of my hand, dancing his way into a crowd of women who start cooing and melting—melting like I am.

Woo. Get it together, Max.

That’s his job — to make you feel special, to reassure you it’s okay to live in a fantasy here. This is a world that can sweep you up and hold you hostage if you let it. I don’t know how Ryke balances it. How he separates this part of his life from everything else. The sex appeal is everywhere from the moment you walk through security. I guess I thought it would give more of a dungeon feel… a weird, hush-hush situation. Less strip club and more secret society. Instead, I’m at a concert with beautiful performers and wilding fans. I’m swept away to somewhere in Vegas—a weekend getaway with the girls. Fun music, dancing under the neon lights, and not worrying about a creep slipping something in my drink.

I spot Hunter with his backward hat covering his short blonde hair. He did his homework. The man is shirtless with a pair of torn-up blue jeans hugging his thighs.

Why is he walking like that?

My God, stop walking slowly like that…and with that, like swagger.

I hold the phone steady, streaming him as he approaches me. His hands latch around my wrists, pulling the lens up to his face.

“Come here…little vixen,” he growls.

Don’t die, Max. Don’t fucking die! Gaaah.

“How are we doing tonight?” he asks the live stream in his beautifully deep tone.

My body internally spasms the same way it would when eating something sour. I’ve heard his voice a million times working on Ryke’s website. I talked to him a few hours ago for shit’s sake.

My cheeks heat and I beg he doesn’t notice it. He smiles at me and walks toward the stage.

What the fuuck!I shake my head, nervously laughing.

There’s Han. The most gentle soul I think I’ve ever met…and equally beautiful with those cute while sexy, Superman-esque glasses. He does a little spin and tips his eyewear, staring into the camera. Christian—the resident Viking—walks up behind him, leaning his burly forearm on Han’s shoulder. Green eyes and the braids I couldn’t ever accomplish, he winks and I pan to the crowd as they both head toward the stage.

Two men on each end with their arms laced behind their backs, women hoot and squeal waiting for the man with his name on the building. The DJ cuts the music and the room turns obsidian.

I stand in the middle of a crowd of screaming twenty-somethings, single ladies, and bachelorettes waiting for the stage to relight.

Chills by Mickey Valen Joey Myroncrawls through the speakers in the dark. Light strips across the front of the stage in sections from the outside, inward. The chorus drops and the red and blue lights flash.

A figure stands in the center of the stage. His chest lifts heavily as he slowly tilts his head to the side, his face covered in a carbon fiber mask that looks like it’s bleeding from the empty eyes.

My stomach…is in my ass. I’m inside out. I’m melted to the floor in a puddle of my own doing. A bizarre wash of emotion caused by…I mean…no. I’m not…I’m…I am? I’m…excited by Rave.

Tattoos cover the right side of his body, up his neck, and down his arm. Red-lined flowers below a full galaxy and symbols I haven’t internet searched yet. They’re Ryke’s tattoos. I’m excited, I’m hot, I’m…God, I’m fucking smiling like a dumbass because of…by…Ryke. My friend.

He stands there, hovering like a monster analyzing their target, and I swear it’s me. I’m the target.

That’s ridiculous. It’s the mask and the abyss. Every woman in this crowd thinks he is looking at her. Breathing like that. Dripping in sweat…like that. He’s…this is Ryke we’re talking about…and me.

The DJ smoothly cuts the song, switching it into Champagne Sunshine by PLVTINUM, picking up smooth, upbeat riffs. Then the bass drops and Rave, or um Ryke, walks into the crowd, swarmed by jumping, screeching women. This is surreal. I’m supposed to do this every Saturday night?

Stop smiling, Max! Oh my god.

I suck in my lips, trying to bite it off my face.

What’s he doing? What…no. Why is he coming over here?

My heart is going to pound out of my chest. I’m so hot. Why is it so hot in here? It’s the bodies…His body.

It’s the camera! Oh my God, I’m a dumbass. I have the live stream. That’s why he’s…he’s here.

He wraps his gloved hand around my wrist, jerking it up as he dips real close to the lens, cocking his head to the side.

Then he slowly centers and looks up at me. He is undoubtedly looking at me this time. Snatching the phone from my hand, he takes it and spins around, stepping behind me. His arm wraps around me, leather fingers pressing to my neck, gingerly gripping my jaw. His naked chest rises and falls against my back. Rave’s signature head tilt peers over my shoulder. I’ve watched the cunning gesture enough times online. It’s been done by a hundred and one taunting men…The same goes for the hat flip. And it’s always alluring.

I can’t move. My stomach is not in my ass anymore. It’s on the floor. It’s out of my body. Gone.

What the fuck is happening!

His fingers slip down my neck, trailing my exposed chest bone. The fabric’s texture doesn’t register. I don’t know if it’s cold or warm. I’m drenched in the same uncertainty that I was the first day I showed up at Ryke’s house. I thought I moved past it.

He doesn’t stop, fingertips falling over my stomach—the stomach I thought I had already lost—and his hand settles on my hip. He picks up my arm, placing the phone back in my hand. I’m pretty sure I look like I pissed my pants and had an orgasm at the same time, so I quickly flip it around and film him walking back toward the stage.

That was not Ryke. That was his persona. It wasn’t Ryke. Fuck. It wasn’t Ryke. He’s acting. I’m nervous because it’s my first night trying this out. That’s all it is.

“Little Vixens,” Hunter speaks into the microphone, opening another wave of screams. “Welcome to Rave 101.”

“Hunter, I love youuuu!” A woman I couldn’t point out wakes her voice heard.

“I’m hunting for a smart…” He pauses and they scream. “Sexy.” A second dramatic pause, fulfilled by the same noise. “Sweet, little vixen. Do I have any volunteers?”

They lose their minds while I continue trying to find my stomach. It’s because they came here with high expectations and I misread the job description. “Actually, we have a special guest tonight that we’re hoping to make a permanent member of our team.” No. “Who thinks we can convince her to sign on?”

What? No. Oh, no no no. Don’t you dare put me on that stage. All of you women need to shut it.

I stare up at the masked man, giving him wide eyes that I know he can’t see, but he certainly knows I doing it.

“Maxine, darling.” Hunter holds out his hand, standing on the right corner of the stage. I shake my head from side to side.

Han leans into the mic. “It’s okay to be nervous. I’ll take care of you and Rave—” The wild women grow in noise. “Yes, Rave.” They hoot louder, just when I didn’t imagine they could. “Rave is on his best behavior tonight.” They hop and scream and lose their blasted minds. Their encouragement is displaced. I don’t want it. I’m not getting on that stage. “He won’t bite,” he adds. I shake my head and words of disagreement might have made it out, unheard within the crowd.

Hunter pulls the mic back to his lips. “Big pound, small fish. I get it.” He nods. “It’s scary. You all get it, right?” he hypes the crowd. “If we don’t leap, we’ll never get to fly.” Hunter looks back to Rave and then at me. “Do you want to fly, Max?” His voice is a setup. This low, hint of rasp burrows under my skin.

You know what… Yes. Fine. Yes. This is me trying something new. Doing something for me. Letting go of Cole’s hand.

I nod, walking toward the stage as women clap, still live-streaming. Angelo meets me at the steps, taking my free hand. Then Christian pulls a chair to center stage and I sit down.

Whispers cut through the noise. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” Ryke hovers at my ear.

“Shh. Someone might think you’re a sweetheart, Rave,“ I softly reply, slowly rolling my eyes up to him. The camera wouldn’t have picked it up. He steps in front of me and the live stream gets only the view of his sculpted back and tight ass. My focus is split between staring at the screen and up to his mouth, trying to decipher what he’s saying to the other guys.

What’s he up to? He better not embarrass me.

Rave steps to the side and Christian walks forward, wrapping his huge hands under my thighs and hoisting me up to his shoulder. My crotch is in this nearly seven-foot-tall man’s face. He holds onto my ass and I jolt, squeezing my thighs as he slaps me in the ass. I grip his shoulders for dear life.

Oh, shit!

Insta regret.

Oh… my god. Did he just? He… he bit me.

This man bit me in the thigh.

I’m so glad I wore my faux leather pants. How are they tossing around these women who show up in tiny dresses and manage to not flash their goods to the entire room is beside me. And these men with every strange pussy in their face?

Oh my. I jerk up. The Viking man squeezes my thighs within his fingers, lifting me higher. He pulls my legs from his shoulders and I slide down his body till my toes return to the floor. I’m never going to look at him with a straight face again.

Bass. Screams. Lights. Man-handling. All while trying to hold a recording device in place with the oddest view.

Hunter snatches the phone from my hand without a moment for me to register the transaction. Angelo grinds against my backside and the next thing I know, I’m bent over with my hands on the floor.

Oh my god!What the fuck is he packing?

I can feel everything. Melody is going to be insanely jealous. Oh shit, I bet the girls are watching this stream. I wasn’t supposed to be a feature. They’re going to flip.

His hands take my hips and he grinds. I look away from the crowd of crazed women. There’s Rave, sitting in my chair. His arms are crossed over his chest as he patiently watches.

I can’t ever show my face in this place again, let alone take a job here. I’ll turn beet red.

He circles his finger, and two more women are pulled to the stage. It’s a circus, and he’s the ringleader. I look between their grinning faces while mine is in a panic. When I turn back, Rave is squatted down in front of me. He holds out his hand and I desperately take his offer. Whatever he has in store has to be less awkward than basically being dry-humped on stage.

He presses his mask to my cheek. “You’re more talk than action, peach.”

I glare at him, letting him tow me to the stairs and off of the stage. He leads me behind the DJ on the floor where it’s slightly quieter.

“It’s a lot. I shouldn’t have—” He sighs and his chest moves like it had on stage when I was watching him from the crowd. His hand wraps around mine, turning the phone on his mask. Rave… or Ryke, I don’t even know… he looks at me… ripping my existence from my world, dragging me by the ankles into this alternative reality. He presses his thumb to the screen, ending the stream. “You want to get out of here?”

“Now?”

“Nina has it under control.” He puts the phone in his pocket. “Come with me.” I hold his gloved-cloaked hand, looking over my shoulder at the mania. Butterflies return my stomach from the ground with jitters. My legs tremble and I walk faster to keep myself afloat as this masked man leads me through the staff lounge toward the back exit where his truck is parked. It wasn’t the stage or the crowd or the guys…it was that I embraced chance for the first time in a long time and I didn’t know how to feel. Part of me loved the attention and the wild ride and the other part… was terrified.

When I think I’m taking a step forward, another wrench gets thrown into the mix. How am I supposed to look at him? He tosses the mask to the seat of his truck and combs his hair back. It’s my friend. Ryke Onak. The guy who offered me a bedroom in his house any time I need it. A guy I thought was attractive, but didn’t have an issue separating our friendship from because that’s life — you will find other people attractive besides your partner. It’s human nature, but it doesn’t define how you should act. I never considered Ryke and me as anything other than friends… until tonight.

It was a character he was playing. I was part of the show. Yet, I can’t help thinking about how it made me feel.

It wasn’t only him. It was Angelo and Hunter too. Every one of them made me feel like I was in a why-choose romance novel and I panicked. Four men wanted to worship me on a stage in front of a crowd of viewing women wishing they were in my position. And I choked. Not like dick in my throat, choked. Nope. I choked because it was against the rules that Cole and I had set. The man I left. The man I’m now separated from. The past I’m leaving behind. I choked because I was afraid to move forward.

I’m seeking out a divorce attorney. I’m getting a divorce! I’ve made these steps. Why do I feel…guilty? It’s all too confusing. The guilt, the fear, the attraction. Ugh, the frustration.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” Ryke finally says something after five minutes of silence.

“It wasn’t you or the club.” I gently smile. “It’s my life right now.” I don’t know how truthful that is.

“I pushed you. I shouldn’t have.”

“Stop.” I look around. It’s dark, but I can make out a familiar sign. “Where are we going?”

“To the treehouse.”

“It’s late.” I narrow my eyes, hesitant.

“You’re not gonna go back to the house and be able to sleep.”

“Probably not.”

“Then, put your kid cap on and climb the fucking tree and stare at the stars.”

He puts a smile on my face and I don’t disagree. Staring at the stars sounds better than staring at the ceiling in a bedroom that’s not mine, overthinking alone because I’m too distraught to do it on a couch next to him. Maybe the stars will be enough of a distraction to fade all of my conflicting thoughts…at least for tonight.

“Why do men get the beautiful long lashes, yet I have to use six coats of mascara and a lash curler to get that length?”

“Uh, sorry?” he apologizes for all mankind.

Lying on my back in the treehouse, brushing shoulders with Ryke, the mildly lit sky gives me a sense of calm I’ve needed. After tonight, I can’t avoid staring at him. Noticing little things I overlooked before. The little dot on the left side of his jaw. The way he pulls his lips to the side when he’s pondering a thought before he says it. And his long, beautiful lashes. I’ve seen him in a different shade of gray. It’s darker than the walls in his house. This part of him that craves control… is not as much of an act as he wants me to believe. And I… like it. I liked everything about his club. The people, the sounds… Rave.

“Max…”

“What?”

“Uh, I’m glad you decided to come here and hang out with me.”

“That’s not what you wanted to say. Is it?”

“Why would you say that?”

“Because I’ve been numb for so long and tonight… You made me feel again.”

“What does—”

“Please.” I stop him. “You felt that, didn’t you? Tell me I’m not crazy. Hunter, god, Hunter, and the guys, they had me. They know what they’re doing, but Rave…”

“Rave is a character.”

“You’re behind Rave.”

“Did I turn you on, Max? Is that what you felt?”

“Um, I… It’s more than that. It’s…”

“You’re telling me I made you feel.“ His eyes fall to my mouth and a silent breath slips out. “If you want to feel again… would it be okay if I made your knees weak…” He takes my hip and slides my body against his till our chests meet. My lungs evaporate, leaving me holding my breath. “Your heart race…” He tucks messy strands of hair behind my ear and I swallow hard. “Your focus blur…” He tilts my chin up and his lips are close enough to taste. “What would happen if I kissed you? Would it take your breath away?”

“I’m…”

“I noticed, Max. I’ve noticed you for a long time.” His eyes drop again briefly and then their warmth captures mine once more. “You’re not ready for this.” He lets go of me, rolling to his back again. “Are you gonna break my heart, Max?”

I exhale, trying to collect myself as I toss over and tuck my hands under my neck. “Can’t break it if I never take it… Ryke.”