Page 3 of Single Player

He must have seen where Silas had exited from. “You have no idea.” He shook his head. “I don’t know why my friend is paying all that money for a private room if she’s going to pack the whole club into it.”

“Apparently she’s the kind of girl who likes to make friends?” The bartender looked off into the packed space, then shook his head. “Man, she’s gonna take all my money away in there. So, not much of the big party type, then?” The bartender gave him the once-over. It happened so fast, Silas couldn’t be sure what it meant, but it certainly seemed like he’d just been checked out. He was suddenly glad Dee had made him dress up, because everyone here was dressed nicely, including the bartender himself, who wore a suit. Now that Silas looked closer, it was a very nice suit indeed. Dee would probably be able to tell if it was designer or not, but Silas—embarrassment to the gay community as Dee seemed to think he was—didn’t know if it was actually nice or just a T.J. Maxx special that fit the guy well off the rack. Whatever it was, he looked good in it. He had a lean build, like Silas himself, and the gray suit tapered in at the hips to accentuate his frame. The color suited him, too, accenting his skin tone to a rich, dark amber almost as deeply toned as Dee. Between the perfection of his suit and the precision of his close-cropped hair, Silas could tell that this was a man who paid careful attention to his appearance. He had kind eyes, too. Silas found himself looking into them, trying to figure out whether they were more honey-brown or chocolate-brown.

Realizing he was staring, he averted his gaze. He thought he saw the bartender’s smile widen. Great, now the guy was making fun of him. How embarrassing. “Can I get a drink?” Silas hadn’t wanted to drink yet, but it seemed the only course of action.

“Sure.”

The bartender waited, looking expectantly at Silas, who remembered then that he hadn’t actually ordered anything.

“Oh.” He could feel himself blush and hoped it wouldn’t be noticed. “I’ll have an iced tea.” No, he should probably get something alcoholic. “A Long Island Iced Tea.”

The bartender started mixing. “So, you know the party girl well, I take it? I wouldn’t stretch outside my comfort zone for somebody unless they were a really good friend. Or really hot.”

“Dee’s been my friend for a long time.” Silas glanced reflexively over at the private room that was no longer so private. Dee’s party had spilled out into the main dance area, too, and she had spilled with it, now dancing enthusiastically with a group of people Silas didn’t recognize at all. He realized the bartender had commented on his discomfort, which meant he wasn’t doing as good a job of hiding his emotions as he’d thought. “Do I look that out of place here?”

“A little, but it’s not a big deal. This isn’t everybody’s scene.” The bartender slid the drink over to Silas. “You want a check, or should I start you a tab?”

Silas considered the time. “A tab is fine.” He could always switch to something nonalcoholic. “You must like this sort of environment, to work here. I think I’d go crazy.”

“I don’t work here much. This isn’t my main job. I just pick up shifts here now and then when I want a little extra cash, or want to take a break from my real job.” The bartender glanced down the bar and saw that another patron at the other end needed a refill. He walked away, leaving Silas to wonder about his day job. While he was gone, Silas checked out the long lines of his back, the surprising leanness in his hips, and confirmed that yes, he was definitely attractive.

Silas realized he was halfway through with his Long Island Iced Tea before the bartender made it back, and that was definitely an alcohol buzz running hard down through his body. He needed to pace himself. He thought about paying his tab and going back to Dee’s private room now that it had emptied out, but the thought of sitting in the room again was less appealing when he saw that the only people still in there were three women from Dee’s PhD program, and he didn’t know any of their names.

Before he’d made up his mind one way or the other, the bartender came back. “You like the drink?” He nodded to the half-empty glass in Silas’s hand.

“Oh. Yeah.” Silas already felt like he was talking too loud, but how else was he going to be heard over the music? “I need to slow down, though. Don’t want to get drunk and do something stupid.”

The other man’s smile broadened. “Oh yeah? Do you usually do stupid things when you get drunk?”

Was that flirting? Silas had a sudden thought that he might be getting flirted with. God, he was terrible at assessing these things. He needed Dee here to nudge him in the ribs or steer him away. But she was gone, in the midst of a crowd of revelers, and he was on his own to navigate what may or may not be a flirtation. “I don’t usually do stupid things at all.” That was the truth, at least. He wasn’t the type of guy who lost himself in any situation, because he took careful precautions to always be in control. He took another sip and felt the alcohol warming his face.

“So, what’s your name, anyway?” The bartender leaned forward so his toned arms rested on the bar’s cut-granite surface, and yes, even Silas could tell that this was probably flirting. Either he went for guys, or he was looking for a bigger tip. Silas found himself hoping it was the former, even though he had no intention of taking things any further than this conversation. The thought of this handsome bartender being interested in him was indulgent, and for once, he let himself indulge.

“Silas.” He put his drink down so he wouldn’t keep pounding it and get completely hammered. Maybe he should be ashamed of his low tolerance, but the Long Island Iced Tea had around five shots of alcohol and he hadn’t eaten much that evening, so he had a good defense for being a lightweight. “What’s yours?”

“Matthew.” The bartender pulled a rag out from behind the counter and started wiping down the bar.

“Matthew? Not Matt?” Silas never heard anyone use the full name. If there was any halfway decent nickname for Silas, he’d have started using it immediately.

“Nope. Matthew.” Matthew smiled. “Silas, huh? That’s got a certain ‘Amish farmer’ ring to it.”

He got that a lot. Keeping a straight face, he nodded. “Actually, I’m on my rumspringa right now. I was a bit of a late bloomer. I’m here getting drunk and having debauched gay sex with everyone I can find.”

Matthew laughed out loud, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Yeah? That sounds like a pretty good time.”

All right, definitely flirting. Silas felt his body heat for a reason unconnected to the alcohol.

“And where do you usually work, if not here?” Silas leaned forward on the bar, resting his chin on his hand. Yes, he was flirting back, but what was the harm in that? Nothing had to come of it.

“I’m a programmer at PI Games. Players Incorporated. You ever heard of it?” Matthew began rinsing glasses in one of the sinks under the bar, his actions practiced and routine. This may be his side job, but he clearly did it often enough for it to appear easy and natural.

“Can’t say that I have.” Silas put his lips to the glass and tipped his head back, the alcohol burning cold as it went down his throat.

Matthew definitely watched him as he drank. Silas was starting to feel a certain recklessness, which was quite unusual for him. He didn’t do reckless. He certainly didn’t do reckless with a complete stranger at a bar. Before they could take any steps forward, though, a young woman came up to the bar, and Matthew walked away to serve her. Silas returned to his drink, feeling unsettled in an entirely new way.

Matthew loved Friday nights at Gigi’s. First off, the crowds were lively, the dance-until-you-drop groups fun to watch and even more fun to serve. Even though he had to stay behind the bar and couldn’t participate in the action, he could live vicariously through the crowd, maybe end up at a party afterward. Second, the tips tended to be high and free flowing. Since he picked up these shifts to make extra cash, he loved getting a prime Friday or Saturday night instead of a useless weeknight. Even though it had been years since he stopped working full-time here to become a programmer, he’d remained friends with the owner, and she called on him once or twice a month when another bartender wanted a night off or they were expecting a big turnout. As clubs went, it wasn’t as big as some, but it attracted a steady crowd, and a steady crowd meant steady tips.

Tonight, though, he wasn’t expecting Mr. Hot, White, and Dorky to end up at his bar looking lost and uncomfortable, in need of a little liquid comfort and some conversation. Silas, with a name that suited long beards instead of hipster haircuts, was an enigma. He clearly didn’t like crowds and wanted to be anywhere else but in this club, and yet he was here for his friend’s birthday anyway. He had the uptight affect of a guy who needed a good roll in the hay, but he also clearly had the ability to joke around. That joke had been immediately about gay sex, too, so either he was completely clueless about the implications of his words, or he was flirting. Between that comment and the way he’d been ogling Matthew earlier, his money was on the latter.