Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
And he didn’t want to chance living the rest of his life without knowing.
If nothing else, he’d at least have a crazy story to never—ever—tell anyone.
The drive into the city took longer than expected. Traffic was backed up on the New Jersey Turnpike due to an accident near the waterfront exit. Which meant, instead of being early, he arrived at the club with barely enough time to push his way through the crowd before the lights began to dim. Heart thundering with a mix of excitement and adrenaline, he ordered his Coke and waited. The anticipation made it hard to concentrate.
He couldn’t remember ever being this nervous—or this fucking eager—for a date in his whole life. Not even when he’d finally scored one with Debby, the prettiest girl in his ninth grade class. Not when he’d met Sandra, the perky little Vietnamese girl he’d dated for three months in college. Not even during his last relationship, with Sara. It could be the newness of it all, but he suspected it was more likely due to a pair of wicked green eyes, long-as-sin legs, and a haughty smirk.
* * *
“Sorry I’m late.” Ansel ran through the back door of the club and pulled off his shirt. They were supposed to be onstage in twenty and he still had to fix his hair and do his makeup.
“Thank God you’re here.” Tam pressed a palm to his bare stomach. “I thought I’d have to rearrange the positioning on the fly. Not to mention what Castor would do.”
“Where were you? Have you been drinking?” Z sidled up behind him as he sat in the chair, and met his eyes in the mirror.
“Back off, Z. I took an extra shift and then the fucking train was late and I missed the bus. Threw me off schedule, okay?” He’d managed to get his foundation done in the cab on the way to the club and his cheeks were already highlighted and rouged, but he still needed to color his lids and apply mascara. “I’ll be ready, I promise. Can you get my clothes out of my bag?”
Lirim moved to collect his belongings on the floor where he’d tossed them upon entry. “No problem, just beat that face and take a deep breath. We still have time.”
“I was thinking we could do Gaga’s ‘Applause’ and ‘Bad Girls’ tonight.” Tam straightened the shoes against the wall.
“Really?” Ansel liked both of those routines, but Fitch was coming and he wanted to see “Slut Like You.” Ansel finished painting his lids and set the compact on the counter. “I was kind of hoping we could run through our newest set again.” He didn’t look up. Instead, he picked up his liquid liner and unscrewed the top.
“But we just did those routines last night.” Z was still standing behind him and his eagle eyes were squinting at Ansel’s reflection. He picked up a comb and ran it through Ansel’s windblown hair.
“I know.” He couldn’t help the one-shoulder shrug. “It’s okay if we don’t. I just thought...” He trailed off and went back to applying the rest of his makeup. Tonight, he was going for fifties glam, complete with winged liner and voluptuous lashes. Instead of the standard red lip, he chose a hot pink to match his nail polish.
“This is for that guy, isn’t it?” Z bent down so their faces were side by side. “You called him.”
He pressed his lips together before speaking, “It’s not a big deal.”
Lirim whistled and sat in the chair next to him. “He’s coming tonight?”
He used the application of gloss as an excuse not to answer.
“All right. We’ll do Pink and Brit again. We could use the practice anyway.” Tam smiled at him in the mirror.
“Thanks, hon.”
“I’ll just go tell Dag of the change. Be right back.” He turned and slipped through the stage door that led to the DJ station.
While he was away, Lirim gathered Ansel’s costume pieces and draped them over the nearest empty chair. Tonight he’d wear tight black faux-leather leggings, platform heels, and a long piece of black ribbon twisted up one arm and down the other. When he was dressed and ready, he took his place in their circle. He wrapped his arms around Tam to his left and Z to his right and hugged them close.
“Let’s kick some ass and take some names, girls.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Love you guys.”
“Love you too, bitch.”
Their laughter was drowned out by the cheers of the crowd and their introduction by the DJ. As they took the stage, his heart thudded.
His fingers warmed and tingled. His cock was already half-hard and the music hadn’t even started yet. When the strong steady beat of Britney’s “Work Bitch” started, he fell into the routine. The music washed over him. The adrenaline of performing was almost as addictive as any drug, but tonight was different.