Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 85167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
They looked gorgeous separately. As a group? They slayed.
Ansel had done Tam’s makeup and painted his eyes a smoky gray, much darker than he was used to, and his lips were almost nude but with a shimmery gloss. He wore gold-sequined leggings and his favorite dress shirt, black with gold stripes. On his feet, a pair of pink-and-gold Louboutins he’d found on the sale rack that afternoon. Jae even helped him pay for them. In fact, Jae had paid for half of everything and wouldn’t answer when they’d asked how he could afford it except to say that it was his honor as hyung of the group, whatever that meant.
Tam didn’t recognize the song playing as they entered but the beat was irresistible and immediately he wanted to dance. Unfortunately, they were there for a meeting, not to party. He followed Georgia up the spiral staircase to the balcony VIP section. She hugged the bouncer guarding the area and he waved her to a table in the corner.
“Anyone else feeling like a movie star?” Z asked as they slid into the circular leather bench seat.
“You weren’t lying when you said you had connections, Georgia,” Ansel said.
“I don’t know Mark that well.”
“Still.” Tam couldn’t take his eyes off the dance floor. It was huge with glass panels in the center that were lit from below so shadows danced on the ceiling.
“Seriously, we never would have gotten here on our own,” Z said.
“We owe you,” Ansel said.
“Pay me back by showing everyone how fantastic you are.” Georgia waved a server over and ordered a round of shots for the table.
“I don’t see a stage, where would we dance?” Z asked.
Georgia pointed to the dance floor. “The clear section rises about five feet.”
Ansel laughed. “You’re fucking kidding me.”
“Who built this place?” Jae asked.
“A genius,” Z said.
“Is it true they have an aerialist on retainer?” Tam asked.
“Yeah, two of them. And costume nights and exhibitionist parties and all kinds of craziness. Rafe Marson, the owner, is always looking for that new thing that will make a night out more exciting than getting drunk and hooking up. He has a real eye.”
“Sounds perfect,” Hop said, although his tone made it seem like he wasn’t at all happy about it. His nostrils flared as he crossed his arms.
Their drinks arrived and Ansel lifted his in the air. “To Georgia.”
They clicked their glasses together, then swallowed the alcohol back. Tam enjoyed the way it burned his throat—it matched the fire in his belly. The atmosphere was different than most of the clubs he’d partied at, it was fun. More than just dancing and drinking, there was a kind of freedom in the air like anything was possible.
It spoke to Tam and he imagined the rest of the guys were feeling the same way. Whatever it took to get them this gig, he was going to do it. He zoned out while the conversation continued around him, lost in the music and the bodies moving to it. When a tall, well-groomed man came up to their table Tam wasn’t sure why Georgia stood until she shook his hand and introduced them.
“Guys, this is Mark James, the GM of Switch.”
Mark shook their hands in turn as they introduced themselves. “Thank you for coming. I can see Georgia wasn’t exaggerating.” He slid into the booth beside Hop and steepled his fingers as he studied them each one by one.
“Wait until you see them dance.” Georgia sat back with a look of a proud mother.
“If it were up to me, I’d sign you right now based on Georgia’s recommendation and my gut, but my boss is a bit of a control freak. If I tell him I did that without ever seeing for myself, he’d kill me.” He and Georgia laughed while the boys smiled, except for Hop, who rolled his eyes. “I’d like to set up a proper audition, but think of it as a technicality.”
“Thank you,” Ansel said.
“I’ll make arrangements with Georgia. Tonight, just enjoy the club and have fun.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Driver was bored.
He’d been bored the whole day. There was nothing on TV to keep him from thinking, and as cool as Mikey acted, he wasn’t much of a conversationalist. Driver had bombarded Brandon with random texts until his friend had called to tell him off because he was trying to do the books before the pub opened. After that he’d flipped through the channels in a sullen daze.
Today, he hated his own company.
He needed to occupy his mind so he didn’t wallow in things long buried. Without constant diversions he didn’t have the willpower to keep the isolation at bay.
And that was his real problem. He was great at running away when things got tricky or emotional, but how did you run away from things that were in your own head? Those revelations he couldn’t escape forever. No matter how hard he tried, they followed him.