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You’d think a woman in all white wouldn’t be hard to find in our little club where most everyone gravitates toward dark tones and gaudy glitter. However, no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to spot her.
She may as well have been a figment of my imagination.
“Brooding, are we?”
I look into the face of a younger man, who despite his princely mask, I recognize as Mason Lotts. My son’s best friend of many years.
Something happened back then that had Mason follow Nate out to California. Now he is also back, but unlike Nate, Mason has ingratiated himself right back into the Lyons Club without batting an eye.
It’s good to see him again. But how I’d kill for one single message from my son.
I smile. “Enjoying the party?”
“Always.” Mason takes a seat on the bar stool beside me.
Still, after all these years, I can’t get used to him being here as a full-fledged member. Feels like yesterday he and Nate were scraping on the Persian rug withTeletubbieson in the background. “Sounds like you’re finding ways to keep yourself entertained.”
“At the Lyons Club, it’s hard to be bored.” He leans back on the bar and surveys the scene. “I was just partaking in some of the antics of The Underground. The girls you have down there tonight are…” Mason whistles.
“They came at the recommendation of Michael Carnaby,” I say. “Haven’t been down there yet but glad to know his recommendation is up to snuff.”
“You ought to go down there. Then your shoulders might fall away from your ears, huh?”
I give him a sidelong glance.
The Underground is our dungeon. Where our members in the BDSM lifestyle can get their needs met.
Tonight, we’ve hired a slew of burlesque dancers to entertain down there, and there’s no lack of both subs and Doms for all tastes in case some unattached members want to indulge in a little fun.
Everything that happens down there, stays down there.
Mason twists his lips to the side. “Look, I’m sorry I couldn’t come through with you on Nate.”
I swig my whisky. “No apology necessary.”
“I did my best, but you know him,” Mason says, continuing an apology that is truly not necessary. “Abigail and Jack did what they could. I know Abigail is feeling really broken up about it, but?—”
“Mason, I’m a grown man. Nathan is my son. No one else but me is responsible for…” I don’t even know. Rebuilding our relationship? Our trust?
He’s my son. This feels so ass-backward.
Mason clicks his tongue. “I know, I know. We all just want to help…”
I can’t believe my eyes.
Mason’s voice fades away as a figure in white appears beside him, leaning over the bar to catch the eye of a bartender.
It’s her. My swan.
I don’t even think she notices me on the other side of Mason.
He does a double-take in the direction I’m looking. A smile creeps over his face. “Have you found something of interest, Edwin?”
“It still freaks me out when you call me by my first name,” I grumble, then lean over the bar and snap at one of the bartenders, Kelsey, who is peeling oranges for garnish.
The bartender’s head shoots up, her blue spikes of hair visible over the crown of her scaly mask. Some sort of fish. Maybe the Little Mermaid.
I gesture toward my swan.
