PROLOGUE
SEAN
Danny’s benefit, October
Countless people had come into my life during my thirty-seven years of existing on this planet. As a young man, I’d been a revolving door of sexual encounters, so many that I’d lost count. Most had failed to leave much of an impression, and a few FWBs had made nice moments that I occasionally recalled. But now that I was maturing, I couldn’t help feeling as if I would be one of the few to have never known love.
Working in a gay club for nearly twenty years, I’d seen countless hook-ups in every place you could imagine. I’d been a guest at anniversaries and weddings. Heck, the owners of the Adonis, Glen and Patty, had gotten married right on the dance floor. I’d watched from the sidelines as people found happiness in all forms.
Two years ago, a little light had walked into my life. As I greeted the club’s guests, I found myself looking for him through the thickening crowd sporting a plethora of gay-pride wear. Nobody knew how to wave flags better than the gays, I mused.
So many people had shown up for my friend Danny’s fundraiser, packing the Adonis and forking over their hard-earned money for a worthy cause. Besides the games and raffle tables set up near the entrance, this Friday was like any other in a gay club–crowded, noisy, and exciting. Because the event was eighteen and over, as opposed to the normal twenty-one limit, families and allies had shown up, including some of Danny’s mentees from the LGBTQ center. The energy was tangible.
I came around to greet Danny, who was sitting in a booth by the bar. He was smashing in a black button up embroidered with flowers, and equally adorable with a Burger King cardboardcrown on his head, designating him the VIP of the night. His tight expression as he shook hands with someone told me he was uncomfortable, but he’d always been reserved. Not to mention, his life had been turned on its head. He’d gone from being an engineer at a top construction firm with a fancy new apartment to having to learn how to walk again.
I pushed down the surge of anger for what had happened to him and met his knuckles with mine, his hand shaking. It had been six months since his assault, and he was doing remarkably well, but still struggled with simple things like hand-eye coordination and balance.
Jere, his best friend from childhood, was sitting next to him, while Danny’s mom, Mrs. Becker, who was done up in a classy dress and immaculate make-up, flanked his other side.
I motioned to the drinks scattered around the table. “Guests of honor get free drinks, so don’t hesitate to splurge.”
Danny sipped at the straw of his virgin pina colada. “I feel like I’m sixteen again and at the kiddy table, unable to participate in adult things.”
“Sorry baby, but no alcohol with your medication,” Mrs. Becker said.
“My point,” he mumbled back.
Jere said to me, “Are you sure you don’t need some help?”
I’d given Jere a job at the Adonis recently. He was huge, strong and had previous experience as a bouncer. He needed the money since Danny was unable to work and the medical bills were piling up. He was a good guy and had dropped everything to move to Chicago to help take care of Danny.
“You’re right where you need to be,” I said and offered him a wink. “About an hour, okay?”
“Yep,” Jere said with a rare grin.
“What are you two conspiring?” Danny bristled, narrowing his eyes on his friend.
“Sorry, don’t know what that word means,” he said, likely meaning it.
To hide my smile, I turned on my bootheels and circled the dance floor. As head of security for the Adonis, it was hard not fussing over the details. I’d beefed up security at the entrance just in case some asshole wanted to ruin the event and posted one of my employees to keep an eye on the bathroom because a party always meant some fool bringing in drugs and overdosing.
I hoped no one ruined it for Danny tonight. I would not be forgiving and ban them for life from the club.
As the music kicked up a notch and party-goers flooded the dance floor, I scanned the crowd. Of all the people that had shown up tonight, I found myself looking for one in particular. The young man I’d come to call mybrat. He’d been scarce lately, and I found myself trolling the local bars looking for him because I’d grown to crave our interactions.
I remembered the first time I’d run into him three years ago. He’d slipped past security with a fake I.D and was the reason the bartender now had to double check identification cards when serving, because the club didn’t need a reason to be fined.
I could see in my mind’s eye my brat swaying to the music in a corner, his head tipped back, his eyes closed, those ridiculously long and sooty lashes pressed to his cheeks.
One look at his pink-tipped locks and baby-face told me he wasn’t of age but he’d handed over his fake I.D with a sly smirk as if he were convinced I was stupid enough to buy what he was selling. And when I pointed out the fake I.D, he scanned me with chocolate eyes that dripped with playfulness as if he were considering offering himself in exchange for a one-night pass. Instead, he ran his gaze all over me, taking in the teddybear ears I’d donned for bear night at the Adonis along with my poorly-chosen red T-shirt.
“I think you’re jealous, Pooh Bear,” he’d said, his plump and pink lips curling in the corners. “Afraid I’m going to hog all the attention?”
I’d been incensed and slightly amused as he likened me to a chubby cartoon bear, but I did my job and had him escorted out of the club. It had only taken him a week to slip in again. And we’d gone back and forth, trading insults and heated looks, until I’d confiscated his fake I.Ds again and personally tossed him out.
“Don’t miss me too much,” he’d said, throwing a glare over his shoulder as he strolled down the street. I’d seen him many times after that, haunting bars and other clubs.
It was strange, but after three years of this flamenco, I didn’t even know his name.
