Page 79 of Pieces of Me

Scott couldn’t help but snort out a laugh. “Well, I tried that, too,” he admitted, “but Rylan shut me down.”

“Thank gawd someone around here has some fuckin’ sense,” Teena exclaimed, throwing her hands up, not caring that several people were staring.

“Of the two of us, he’s always been the smarter one.”

Teena looked into his eyes, and he met her searching gaze unflinchingly, their own shared history a gossamer silk thread that would always bind them together. She finally nodded. “See you later.”

She sauntered off, her generous hips swinging as she began to work the crowd; Teena Teeze in full drag-queen bitch mode, her adoring fans in her wake. Scott swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. If it hadn’t been for her―

He moved to the bar and caught Bobby’s attention, smiling when he sauntered over and poured Scott a vodka shot without being asked. “Thanks, I needed that.” Bobby poured him another, and Scott reached over for a knuckle bump.

“Hell, man, you got the place buzzing tonight,” Bobby said in a sympathetic tone. Scott heaved a weary sigh, resting his elbows on the bar and pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers, feeling his head pound as Bobby continued. “Apparently Lance hasn’t learned the fine art of keeping private business out of social media. What a prick.”

Scott downed the second shot and picked up the glass of water Bobby slid to him, sipping it, waiting until the vodka burn subsided before saying, “Publicity is good for careers like ours, Bobby, you know that. I should’ve seen this coming, especially with all the MC₂ buzz around me these days.” He shook his head at Corey mingling with a group nearby. “Corey’s coming in his pants right now with all this.”

“Seriously. I wouldn’t be surprised to hear he’s egging Lance on.”

“Yeah, me either. It’s all about the bottom line, isn’t it?”

Bobby glanced to the side and gave an impatient “hold on” gesture to someone trying to get his attention. “Well, it’s true, you are one hot commodity right now, man,” he said with an envious grin. “Guess you can’t blame Lance for trying to shift some of that attention to himself, huh?”

“Nah,” Scott agreed. “Can’t really blame him. What he’ll do is milk it for a few days, whip everyone up into a frenzy, and let it go. Any more than that, he’ll start looking like a fool, and he won’t want that either.” He tapped the shot glass on the bar top meaningfully. “I just need to ride it out with a little help from my friends.”

Bobby laughed and reached behind him to grab an almost-empty bottle of vodka from the liquor shelf and set it at Scott’s elbow. “Well, get drunk and ride the wave, Scotty.” With a mocking salute, Bobby moved off to serve the customers who were getting loud in their demands for his attention.

Scott smiled his thanks and poured himself some vodka, sitting at the bar for a while, brooding. The truth was he could give two shits about what Lance was doing or saying. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t heard before. In this sort of business, any publicity, even negative publicity, was vital to survival. Staying relevant was everything, and Scott understood that. He didn’t begrudge Lance seizing the chance to have his brief moment in the sun; it was the least Scott could do for him.

Some nearby cheers caught his attention, and Scott saw Rylan, camera in hand, taking pictures of a couple getting engaged. One of the women was down on one knee, her girlfriend standing there in the ubiquitous “Oh my God” pose with one hand over her mouth, watching through tearful eyes as a ring took its place of pride on the other.

Rylan grinned as he worked, his face glowing with delight at the women’s happiness, blue eyes sparkling, and Scott wondered why he’d ever been so goddamn stupid as to think of him as ordinary, as nothing special.

Because he was motherfucking beautiful.

And so strong. Scott’s heart ached as he thought of what Rylan shared with him earlier, the private pain he’d carried with him for so many years. How even as a child he’d shouldered it all alone, unwilling to burden anyone else with his anguished certainty over the truth of his mother’s disappearance.

Someone I trust.

Rylan’s trust. Such a priceless gift, not easily given. Scott wasn’t quite sure what to do with it. Nobody trusted him, with good reason, and the feeling was fucking mutual. Rylan was the only one he’d ever felt safe with, but all Rylan had ever gotten from Scott in return was emotional devastation.

Yet―somehow―he didn’t hate him, said he trusted him. And it was so unearned, so undeserved, that it made Scott want to cry.

So he drank.

Finally Scott pushed his glass away and stood, swaying a little, feeling woozy. Time to go to work, do what he did best. He stripped his shirt off and tossed it behind the bar, heading out into the crowd and pasting a sexy smile on his face, playing the part of the carefree party boy looking for a good time with convincing ease.

Corey caught his attention at one point. “I’m gonna have Rylan take some pics of you tonight so we can post and tag MC₂ in them. What are you wearing?”

Scott didn’t answer, just undid his jeans and slid them down his legs, revealing some bikini briefs in a playful leopard print.

Corey smirked. “Perfect.” He reached out and ran his hands over Scott’s chest and sides before giving his ass a slap. “Get out there and work it, be seen. Face it, baby, you’re everyone’s fantasy.”

He walked off, Scott’s discarded jeans tossed over his shoulder, a self-satisfied grin on his face. Scott heaved an inward sigh, even as he cast an inviting smile at the men hovering nearby, waiting for their chance to approach him.

The night became an endless blur of half-naked selfies with fans, of sweaty, writhing dance floor sessions with men and women who groped him with shameless glee, of tense run-ins with Lance’s friends. Scott’s headache was full-blown by the time he went to take a piss and bumped into Lance himself coming out of the bathroom.

“Hey,” he said, stepping aside to let Lance pass, wincing as Lance stumbled and staggered into the wall. “Whoa.” He gripped Lance’s arm, intending to help him find his balance, and was sent reeling when Lance shoved him hard.

“Get off me,” he slurred. “You don’ getta touch me anymore, asshole.”