by Andrea Speed, A. B. Gayle, Jessie Blackwood, J. J Levesque, Katisha Moreish
Which brought him to Renegade Steele.
It wasn’t hardcore by any means, but sort of made him think that this is what a fetish room would look like if someone was really into Moulin Rouge and the rave scene of the ‘90’s. Gel lights, mostly in hues of blues and purples, cast a strange light on everything, although there were white lights highlighting both the bar and the stages. Only one stage was currently in use, by a go-go boy in gold lame short shorts, who looked like he was trying to smuggle an avocado through customs. He was kind of cute, but he shaved his chest, which was a total turn off, and also he looked really bored already.
The place was filling up pretty fast, though, with a lot of the same people he’d seen at the fireworks show, only now they were dressed in clothes they thought of as sexy, slutty, suave, or all three. Flynn sat at the end of the bar with his glass of water with a lone lemon slice floating in it like a life preserver, and sometimes he looked in it in hopes of seeing a dead man at the bottom of his glass. It would have been interesting.
The bartender was cool, a woman (this town had those? Amazing), but busy, so there was no longer any time to shoot the shit. It was unlikely that a fight would break out this early, so as far as he was concerned, he was being paid to sit on his ass in a stupid jumpsuit and look like he could kick someone’s ass. From what he’d seen of bouncers, that entailed looking belligerently constipated.
Scanning the club, he saw a familiar face, one he hadn’t expected. Was that Jude the Obscure? Oh yeah, that fucking prick mortuary assistant, in a purple shirt that looked like upholstery he’d ripped off from a Victorian era fainting couch. Flynn had a paranoid moment, where he was sure this guy was checking up on him for Vale, and got up to ask. He still had to thread his way through the crowd, in spite of this dorky ass uniform identifying him as staff, and he had this brief flashback of his times in the mosh pit. Sometimes when you were high and jazzed on music, it felt good to throw yourself around with abandon, and he wondered what would happen if he just started throwing elbows and slamming into the backs of people around him. The only thing that came to mind was lawsuits and firing.
By the time he was closer to where Jude had been, he saw that he was headed towards the VIP section. What, did all of Vale’s lackeys get special treatment? Scowling, he headed after him, wondering if Vale would really cause trouble in a crowded place like this. Maybe; he couldn’t put anything past him.
Here it was darker, but the lighting was more natural, and the air conditioner was working a lot better. It also wasn’t so crowded, which was kind of nice, as it made his urge to crowd surf (and pick pockets) pass. He nodded to the huge slab of beef on the VIP level, a bouncer roughly the size and shape of a refrigerator, and walked into the VIP lounge.
More Moulin Rouge shit, lots of velvet, more than was ever necessary outside of a goth chick’s funeral. He saw Lyle at a small table with ... oh, fuck no! Was Doctor Feelgood in on this?!
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The booth was quiet, intimate, Gil found himself thinking. As they waited to be served, he leaned across and smiled. “So, how about you? Where are you from? Somewhere in Yorkshire?” Gil grinned again. “Fellow Northerner anyway.”
“I still have enough of an accent for you to tell that? York actually. My firm sent me over here though and I fell in love with a...with America... I’m a citizen here now. Been here a while.”
“You still in touch with your folks?”
“Not much. I get the occasional food parcel... Proper tea, chocolate, Heinz beans... They don’t know... “ Lyle shut up, hoping Gil got his meaning there. He didn’t really want to have to spell it out here in the club.
“They don’t know you’re going through this?” Gil lowered his voice.
Lyle replied to Gil’s question in equally hushed tones. “No. I made all the usual protestations about things when I was a kid and a teen, but they don’t know how things are now.”
“Then you’re alone in this?”
“Well, I have medical support, you have to have, but basically yeah.” Lyle hoped Gil would leave any further questions like these until they were alone at his place. He decided to try changing the topic, “I’m not sure what you’re drinking, but I think I’ll go with a malt whiskey, if they have one, with ice and water. JD will do if they don’t have a decent scotch.”
“Bourbon? I don’t really drink much...not sure what to order really. You’ve been here a while, what do you drink? I have been told the beer is shite but I’ve not had the chance to try.”
“The beer is lousy, too sweet, though don’t pronounce it such too loudly, they don’t realise what it should really taste like. Cider is just apple juice, unless you ask for ‘hard’ cider, and that’s just stuff that’s started to ferment by accident really... I tend to stick with wine, spritzers or spirits, or non-alcoholic stuff. Have never tried champagne here or anything like that.”
“Sounds great...” Gil let his lack of enthusiasm show in his voice. “I think I’ll stick with spirits. One bourbon might just last the evening. Have you eaten?”
“I never thought. I got in from work and was so busy being scared I forgot. Do they do food here?”
“I think so, what do you fancy?”
Did Gil deliberately just hand him that opener, Lyle wondered. Go with it?
“Besides you? “ He grinned to show he knew it was cheesy.
Gil grinned, just at that moment seeing Flynn out of the corner of his eye. What was the guy dressed in? Oh God, this was just too good to be true. He nudged Lyle. “Annoying young man at one o’clock,” he said. “Shall we put on a show?” He leaned closer, raising an eyebrow.
Lyle remembered what they had discussed on the way here, and grinned conspiratorially, mutely giving Gil his permission to proceed as planned. Gil grinned, leaned closer and captured Lyle’s lips with his, one hand snaking round Lyle’s neck to bring him in close. Despite doing it for show, Gil still kissed Lyle properly. He found he enjoyed kissing him, more so than Asher. He shrugged, that had been a one off. He wasn’t going there again, not after the other night.
Lyle was having fun. Gil was a great kisser and he suspected Flynn’s eyes would turn as green as his own any moment now. Shame that from his angle he couldn’t see the cocky little sod approaching without making it obvious he was looking.
Gil briefly saw Flynn’s incredulous expression, then ignored him as the kiss intensified. Bugger Flynn, Gil thought and concentrated on Lyle. Lyle’s mouth on his was eager, soft and warm and wonderfully responsive.
How far was going to too far in this setting, Lyle wondered? Kissing Gil was rapidly becoming a favourite occupation for him, but he wasn’t sure if ‘tongues’ was too much in public? This was all new territory. He lifted a hand to stroke Gil’s cheek rather than deepening the kiss like he really wanted to. He was concerned things might turn to public lewdness quite rapidly if he didn’t at least try to keep his wits about him. At that point they were forced to part as a waitress came over and they ordered drinks. Neither man noticed Miles, just a few steps behind Flynn, as their attention was now taken up with placing their order.
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Miles followed Flynn as he crossed the room. He hadn’t had a chance to tell him what he’d found out from Vale’s assistant. What was his name again, Liam? Not that it had been much, but he still wanted to run a few things over with Flynn and work out where to go next. He wasn’t prepared to just let Stan disappear like that. Miles pulled down his blue shirt. Crap, he felt uncomfortable. He’d never even owned a silk shirt before let alone worn one. He’d deliberately arrived as late as he could. It had taken him all his courage to just set foot inside the door.
A waitress pushed past Miles and he saw the couple in the booth she and Flynn were heading for. Shit, it was Gil and the mortician, lip-locked. Miles stopped as if someone had shot him. In theory he could stomach having Gil bring friends over if he moved in, seemed like in practice...
He turned and walked back to the bar. When he finally got served he accepted the first thing they offered him. Alize or something. Too fucking sweet for his taste. Still it might sweeten him up a bit, he was feeling sourer than a lemon in a bucket of vinegar.
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Gil decided he needed something substantial to eat if he was going to be drinking, so he and Lyle settled on steaks, Lyle asking for his to be well done; ‘incinerated’ was the word he used. Gil couldn’t believe he had just said that and laughed. “Don’t you mean cremated?” he suggested. The trainee mortician was plainly amused. “Sorry, couldn’t resist.” Gil apologised, his tone anything but apologetic. Lyle gave him another kiss, a quick peck on the cheek this time, in appreciation of Gil’s familiarly British, dark sense of humour.
“Did Vale send you?” Flynn demanded, coming up to the table. He was talking to Jude, but scowling at Doctor Feelgood. He shouldn’t have felt betrayed, but he somehow did.
“I’m sorry? Oh, well he suggested I come here tonight, but actually I’m here because Gil invited me.” Lyle wondered if Flynn was still thinking of him as ‘Jude’. The lad had an odd way about him, and a definite absence of manners.
Flynn glared at Gil. “You in on this too? Best buds with Vale? Shit. Is everybody in town in this bastard’s hip pocket?”
“Who the fuck is Vale?” Gil was genuinely stumped now. He had never met the man.
“Ask your butt buddy. He’s his psycho bitch of a boss.”
“Flynn, stop being an ass,” Gil said gently. “Nobody sent anybody. Asher gave me a VIP pass.” He paused, smiled and added, “for services rendered, I believe. So I invited Lyle. End of story. Piece of advice. You continue like this, and I’m sure you won’t have your job long.”
Flynn glared at him. What was the one thing that Jesse said to him that wasn’t complete bullshit? Never trust a pretty boy. Gil was pretty, probably knew it , and therefore was probably bullshitting him. (Aiden was pretty, sure, but he already knew he couldn’t lie if he had a head start and Dick Cheney doing it for him.) “Was that a threat to get me fired, Feelgood? Wow. Tell me how you don’t know Vale again, ‘cause you sound just like him.”
Lyle really wasn’t sure how to react to the exchange going on here. Being referred to as Gil’s butt buddy was insulting as hell in some ways, and flattering in others, even though it was untrue thus far. He didn’t want to draw attention to their booth, but should he be seen and heard defending his employer? Was Vale here? If he was, Lyle figured he was under surveillance to almost the same degree Flynn seemed to be convinced he was.
Gil sighed. “Flynn, I am not threatening to get you fired. You’ll manage that all on your own if someone overhears you. Apart from the fact that I don’t know how Vale sounds, so I can hardly sound like him, who I choose to invite here is my business. Are you saying Lyle isn’t allowed out of a night because of what his boss will say?”
“I don’t give a fuck about Jude,” Flynn snapped, and leaned in closer, so he was almost face to face with Gil. He lowered his voice to a bitter whisper. “You were there when we found the first hand. Was that a coincidence? Or did you know we’d find it?”
Gil couldn’t help himself, he began to laugh. It probably wasn’t the best thing he could do in the circumstances, but what had started life as a bad Chuck Norris movie was turning into an equally bad film noir. “Flynn, I’m sorry, but this is daft. You’re imagining things.”
“Flynn, go away,” Lyle said it in the lowest, quietest voice he had access to. He knew it would be audible, despite the music pounding in the background, and he knew the effect it was calculated to have. He’d learnt the voice in a past lifetime.
Flynn turned and eye fucked Lyle. The little bastard. “Oh, now you give a shit, huh? Fancy that, now that it affects your date.”
Lyle stood up. He might not have been fucked as a man before tonight, but he sure as hell had fought as one. “That’s right Flynn,” the voice continued, “this is our date, so take your goddamn paranoia to the nursery out back and leave us the fuck alone. I work for Vale, but I still saved your neck the other day. This is not my work time but it is yours. Act professionally and leave Gil and me alone.”
Flynn laughed contemptuously. “Saved my neck? How? By standing around with your dick in your hand?”
“Flynn! That’s enough!” Gil stood up and laid a hand on Lyle’s shoulder. He’d had more than enough. He could see his evening being ruined right there and then and he wasn’t about to let Flynn do that. “Obviously something is bothering you. However, directing it at us is both misguided and out of order. If you don’t fuck off and leave us alone, then I will do something you’ll regret. I am not about to have my evening ruined before it’s even begun. You don’t need to lose this job, I don’t need to end up in a fight. So let’s continue this elsewhere, some other time. Okay?” There was a hard edge to his voice now, he was through being nice.
Flynn glared at him, crossing his arms over his chest. “You ever want to fight, Feelgood, call me. I’ve had chunks of guys bigger than you in my stool.” He then directed his hate filled gaze to Lyle. “Tell your Cryptkeeper of a boss to fuck off and leave me alone, or he’s going to find that out for himself.” Flynn turned on his heel and stalked off, because he didn’t need to blow his first night working by caving some smug bastard’s face in, but god, he wanted to.
“You okay?” Gil asked Lyle as he sat again. “What was the little bastard so screwed up about? How did you save his neck anyway?” He reached up and tugged a little on Lyle’s hand, encouraging him to sit back down.
Lyle watched the Prima Donna Kid’s progression back across the dance floor. He realised suddenly that he was still balancing on the balls of his feet, still could hear the ice-cold growl of his ‘voice’ in his head. He blushed a little and resumed his seat next to Gil.
“Sexy voice by the way,” Gil observed. “Quite the turn on. Must remember that for later, you can growl in my ear any time.”
Lyle leant in before replying. Keeping the voice as it had been moments ago was difficult because he was no longer channeling his rage, but Gil was worth the effort. “We’ll see how good you are, shall we?” He relaxed and leaned back then. “He was in work the other day trying his little hard-ass act on with Mr.Vale,” Lyle let a note of irony creep in as he explained, “the boss... Well I saw a look there that I recognised, so I intervened in my best secretarial manner, so that Flynn didn’t end up leaving any nasty marks on our carpets that Vale would ask me to clean off.”.
“I gather you’re not referring to him shitting himself either? This Vale character sounds really nice. Why the hell are you working for him?”
“I saw a job I fancied to try out, in a place I wanted to live. It was all sorted out online, I never met Vale before I arrived last weekend. Whatever issues those two have with each other I am not getting dragged into. If I have to break Flynn myself to make that point I will.”
“Fighting talk.” Gil smiled. “Well, make sure it’s not on my shift, will you? I have no desire to pick up the pieces. I think you’re very wise by the way, not getting involved. It pays to know when to back off.” Gill felt a pressing need in another area and stood up. “Sorry, call of nature...need to find the loo. Will you be okay?”
“I doubt he’ll be back for a while. In deference to you, though, I’ll restrain myself if he does return. I don’t need his kind of trouble, I have a complicated enough life as it is. Besides, we’re on a romantic date here, that little shit isn’t going to spoil it for us, unless we let him.””
“Thanks for the consideration, but don’t let me stop you. If he shows his face again, feel free to rearrange it.” Gil laughed. “I shouldn’t be encouraging you, should I? Very un-rescue-personnel-like behaviour. Be back in a mo.” Gil spotted another waiter and collared him to ask where the rest room was. The man pointed him in the right direction and Gil hurried out. Thankfully he didn’t see Flynn on his way.
It di
dn’t take Gil long to find the rest room, although he checked himself in the mirror before he left, then shook his head at his own vanity. On the way back to the table, he was surprised to see Miles at the bar.
“Hey there,” he said cheerfully, stepping close to make sure the other man had seen him, “you came after all.”
Came? From the looks of things “coming” was the last thing he’d be doing tonight. Miles looked up from his study of the drops of condensation that he’d been swirling around on the surface of the bar. “Hi.” How many drinks had he had? The first one had hardly touched the sides and the second barely wet his whistle. Was this his third or his fourth? “You havin’ a good time?” He hiccuped. Shit, if he wasn’t careful he’d start slurring his words together.
“Yes, I am, thanks. We’ve ordered food. Shouldn’t drink on an empty stomach, I don’t want to get hammered...look, why don’t you join us? It’s just me and Lyle.”
Lyle that was the bastard’s name. He really must stop thinking of him as Liam. “No... thanks all the same. I don’t want to intrude on your date.”
“You wouldn’t be intruding, honestly.” He suddenly wanted to tell Miles to go easy on the alcohol but he stopped himself. Miles was a grown man for goodness’ sake. Damn but he also looked hot dressed like that. He had obviously been to the barber since their shopping trip, his hair and beard were neatly trimmed and Gil realised he looked far more like the guy in the photos back at his house. If only he looked as relaxed. Thoughts of a threesome popped into Gil’s head, images of being in the middle between Miles and Lyle. He closed his eyes on that one, willing it to go away. He absolutely knew Lyle wasn’t ready for that one anyway.
“I would be though.” Miles swallowed. “Intruding I mean.” He hiccuped again. “You and Lyle look good together.” That was the bloody trouble. They did. “Look, I don’t want to come between you.” Shit, whenever he used the word ‘come’ with Gil around, all those other thoughts sprang into his brain... and other areas.