Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
She tugged a tissue out of the box on their father’s old desk and blew her nose. “You should be looking for a man of your own, not worrying about me. What happened to that guy you brought to Sammy’s play last summer?”
“He took a job in Colorado about a month afterward.”
She frowned. “And you let him go?”
“It was for the best.”
“But you deserve to be happy. You are always looking out for everyone else, when will you start looking out for yourself?”
“I’m not a monk.” He didn’t add that it had been over six months since he’d hooked up with anyone and even longer since he’d been on a date. A pair of dark eyes and long black hair floated into his mind and just as quickly he forced the tempting vision away. Azariah might be capturing his imagination now, but there was no way he’d be relationship material.
He’d been out of the closet so long that his family accepted his sexuality, but his mother still gave his boyfriends the cold shoulder. His dad had never come around. Before he’d died, their relationship had been strained to say the least. Benson Reid hated that his son was gay and despised that he’d become a cop. Which, naturally, had made holidays a whole lot of fun.
Sometimes Connelly wished his father was still alive just so he could see the look on the old man’s face when he’d made detective before the age of thirty.
He refocused on his sister and their conversation, knowing there was nothing he could do about the past and nothing he would do about his inconvenient lust for a certain waiter. “Things haven’t gotten that serious with anyone yet. If it does, you’ll be the first to know.”
She dabbed at her eyes and sent him a wobbly smile. “I’ll hold you to that, you know. I want to see you settled.”
“Deal. Until then, I’ve got my hands full keeping this family in line.”
Chapter Seven
By the time he and Raoul drove to West Village, it was close to ten. They parked on Christopher Street near Stonewall and walked a few blocks to the club. West Village had become a mecca for good food, great clubs and gays. It had a completely different feel from Spanish Harlem, where he lived. It was more...well, welcoming, he guessed. If anything in New York could really be called welcoming.
They passed beneath some construction scaffolding and then waited on the corner for the light to turn. Trees lined the street with a green camouflage that made the neighborhood more inviting. The fact that hardly any of the buildings were covered in gang tags was a bonus.
Connelly hadn’t been expecting the crowds to be so large. The line out front of The Vibe was growing by the minute. They pushed their way to the front of the group and Raoul flashed his badge at the bouncer.
Not exactly the most aboveboard move, but hey, it got them inside. The music was deafening and the air was heavy and stale with sweat and sex.
“Over there,” he shouted above the music and pointed to a table. Raoul nodded and headed in that direction.
“This place is nuts,” Raoul said when they were finally able to claim their spot.
“Yeah, why have I never heard of it before? It seems like every gay man in the tri-state area is here tonight.”
Raoul wiggled his eyebrows. “Which is perfect since you’re on the prowl.”
Connelly tried to act interested in the prospect but he just wasn’t feeling it. “How about we start with drinks and see what happens?”
His friend’s smile was meant to pacify, but there was calculation in Raoul’s eyes as he searched the dancing men nearby.
“I’ll go get the first round, what do you want?”
“I’ll take a juice and soda, cranberry if they have it.” Raoul raised his voice above the bassline, but Connelly still had to lean closer to hear him.
“Okay, be right back. Don’t get into trouble.” Connelly nodded in the direction of a twink who was checking Raoul out.
Far from being homophobic, his partner got a kick out of it whenever another man hit on him. Of course he always let the man down gently and a simple flash of his wedding ring usually did the trick.
Connelly pushed through the grinding bodies toward the bar.
“A glass of whatever’s on tap and a cranberry and soda,” Connelly shouted to the bartender who leaned over the wooden bar in his direction. The chubby guy gave a thumbs-up and set out to make the order.
As he waited, the crowd moved and flowed like one giant ocean wave synchronized to the obscenely loud music. The flashing lights and crazed atmosphere made the whole scene seem hypnotic and bewildering at the same time. His gaze locked on an attractive guy darting between tables. He was shirtless, but that wasn’t unusual in a place like this. What set him apart was his smile. It was huge and slightly cunning. His teeth flashed so brightly they put the strobe to shame, but there was calculation behind it.