Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
It wasn’t until he was halfway home that he remembered Tara’s bag.
* * *
“Okay, spill, who the hell was that?” Lirim asked as Ansel returned to the stage.
“Fitch. I met him last night.”
“Oh my God, is that the first guy you danced for yesterday? I could have sworn he was straight.” Z’s surprise was nothing compared to Ansel’s own. He’d thought the same thing. But straight guys didn’t initiate kisses that hot. He was still throbbing from the intensity of those lips.
“Is he why you went off the rails?” Tam, of course, always focused on the heart of the matter.
Ansel did not want to get into the root of his crazy. Yeah, he’d freaked out and run straight into the first bottle he could find. So what? Wasn’t the first time, wouldn’t be the last. Alcohol was the bandage for his damaged soul.
“Well? What did he want? Besides kissing your brains out?”
The corners of his lips tipped up and he mentally kicked himself for the involuntary reaction. He schooled his face into an indifference he didn’t feel and gave a long exhale.
“He wanted to know my name.” He paused before adding, “And to give me his number.” And something about a purse he hadn’t understood.
His friends squealed and clapped their hands.
“Holy hell, stop it.” He covered his ears. “I probably won’t even call him.”
“Are you nuts? He’s gorge. Like, lick-him-from-top-to-bottom-and-never-get-bored hot.” Z fanned his face like he was about to faint.
“He is very attractive.” Tam nodded, but his tone brought to mind a scientist examining an interesting bug.
“Attractive? He was twenty feet away and I could still feel his aura searing my skin.” Lirim and his new-agey bullshit.
“You hookers are so fucking dramatic.” Yes, Fitch was good-looking. And yes, he kissed like a god. But that didn’t mean Ansel had to pant after him like a dog and bend over whenever the guy looked at him.
“We live for the excitement, darling.” Z batted his lashes and smiled. They all laughed. “Seriously though,” Z said, “you should call him.”
“We’ll see. Let’s finish up here so we can get on with our day.”
They spent another twenty minutes working out issues with the transition and adding in steps to smooth it out. As they were about to leave for the afternoon, the manager came out from the back office. Castor had rolled up the sleeves of his too-tight black dress shirt to his elbows, and the gold chain around his neck was tangled in his overly furry chest. He’d slicked back his thinning hair with too much grease so the effect was aging. And somehow, despite his complete lack of style, Castor still acted like he was God’s gift.
“It’s my boys.” He swung a beefy arm around Z’s shoulders and pulled him in for a squeeze. “My pretty pets. How ’bout I order us some pizza and we get naked? Eh? Hundred bucks for each of ya.”
Z’s lips curled in disgust and he pried himself out of Castor’s grip.
“Gross, Cas. We’re not your fucking playmates. You want to get laid, hire a rent boy,” Ansel spat, subtly wrapping a protective arm around Tam.
Castor laughed, not in humor. It was one of those bone-chilling, dangerous laughs that scared the crap out of you. “Never forget, I own you. All of you. You’d best remember to play nice before I decide it’s better just to have you declawed.”
Ansel took Z’s hand and ushered all of them away. “He’s a fucking asshole. We need to find another club.”
“Everywhere else already has entertainment and resident queens to bring in clients.”
“We offer something special and unique. We should be able to find a place.”
Lirim’s face pinched. “I like The Vibe, we just have to avoid Castor at all costs.”
“I saw him selling drugs in the club last week,” Tam whispered.
“What? How do you know it was drugs?” Lirim asked.
“Because I’ve been around enough shady business to recognize a meth addict when I see one.”
“I heard he runs half a dozen online porn sites out of a warehouse in Brooklyn.” Z twisted a lock of his dark hair around his finger as they walked arm in arm down the street toward the subway station.
“Yeah? And I bet he’s connected to the mob, or maybe he leads a cartel and has anyone who crosses him beheaded,” Ansel said. “You guys need to stop being so melodramatic. He’s just a jerk, same as all the other jerks we’ve had to deal with.”
“Except he’s the one who pays us,” Tam put in. “So we can’t bitch-slap him and walk away.”
“True, but that doesn’t mean we have to put up with his bullshit.”
* * *
Fitch was watching the baseball highlights on ESPN later that night when his phone rang. He answered on the first jingle without looking at the caller ID.
“Hello?” Could he help it if his voice was a little rougher than usual? He cleared his throat.