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With Jeremy sucking my balls and the other guy’s mouth working my shaft, I shuddered and cried out, too full of bliss to hold it in.
The next thing I knew, Barry was dragging me through the club, cursing. “What the fucking hell has gotten into you? Christ!”
Daniel was there on the other side of me, holding on to my other arm. “Are you all right?”
I laughed. “I’m amazing. No,you’reamazing.” I jerked free of Barry and grabbed hold of Daniel’s shirt, nearly tumbling against him, but he held me upright. “Minty’s right. You’re made of moonbeams. You’rebeautiful.” I was happy I’d said it. He deserved to know.
The world slid away from me again.
Someone forced me down into a chair in a bright, mirror-lined room with Renée’s costumes and makeup spread out everywhere.
“Chill the fuck out, Barry. He’s okay. He’s just a kid getting some play.” I heard Robert—no, Renée—talking, but it was too bright to see much of anything, so I kept my eyes closed.
Barry barked, “He was in that goddamn alcove getting anonymous blow jobs! And he’s onlyeight-fucking-teen! He’s just a kid—”
I peeled my eyes open to see Daniel sitting backward on a chair opposite me, arms crossed over the back. He watched me with soft, concerned eyes that glinted with a gentle undercurrent of amusement too. I grinned at him, and he smiled back.
Renée and Barry stood on either side of me, glaring at each other. It reminded me of when my parents fought, but it felt surreal, like something from a movie. Especially surrounded by wigs, makeup, and drag queen clothes.
“Yes! He’s eight-fucking-teen!” Renée yelled at Barry. “Of course he’s getting anonymous blow jobs! That’s what kids who are eight-fucking-teen do! That’s what you did! That’s what I did! Half those people out there are barely eight-fucking-teen! Or were just a year or so ago! And they’re all getting sucked off in corners every night! Get over it!”
I started to laugh, mumbling, “Eight-fucking-teen.”
Daniel’s smile quirked a little, and he reached out to smooth a hand through my hair. It felt good. I leaned into it, making a sad sound when Daniel stopped and crossed his arms over the back of his chair again.
“And he’s shit-faced,” Barry muttered.
“More than just shit-faced, he’s high as a fucking kite.” Renée bent over to get in my face. Her giant brown eyes seemed even bigger with her fake lashes.
“Have you had any water, baby?” Renée asked.
I laughed.
She said, “He’s dehydrated—”
“Especially considering the number of times he’s probably come,” Barry threw in.
Daniel’s eyebrows went up, and his lips twitched like he might laugh. Which, of course, struck me as hilarious, so I laughed long and deliriously.
“Peter, you need to drink something. Here.” Renée pushed a bottle of water in my face.
I struggled for air, trying to breathe through my laughter. Renée and Barry shot each other looks. Daniel sighed and shook his head.
Renée bent over and patted my face gently. “Sweetie, stop laughing and drink the water.”
“Give it to me,” Barry growled. He took the water, grabbed a handful of my hair, jerked my head back, and proceeded to nearly choke me to death as he poured it directly into my open, laughing mouth.
I spluttered and coughed.
“Quit being a dick,” Daniel’s voice cut in, sharper than I’d ever heard it.
The water stopped. I coughed some more, but then I started laughing again.
“I’m guessing GHB,” Daniel said. “Heightened arousal, euphoria, out-of-character behavior—it all fits.”
And just like someone had turned off a light switch, nothing seemed funny at all. My stomach churned, sickness rushed into my mouth, and I gagged.
“Oh no.” Daniel jumped up and yanked a mop bucket from the corner of the dressing room. Before he could hand it to me, I heaved violently, puking all over Barry’s shoes.
