North Shore

by Santino Hassell

  But unless he was physically unable to give me a heads up, I’d have to live in a world of make believe to convince myself that him blowing this off, of all things, wouldn’t have lasting damage on our relationship. Because why didn’t I warrant a courtesy call if his lateness had turned into a no-show?

  That question ping ponged in my mind until I pictured him hunched over his sink with a bleeding hand, him trying to open his door but unable to due to his fingers trembling, and how long it had taken him to unfurl from the knot of pain he’d been in for weeks.

  My chest tightened, and I blinked rapidly before quickly averting my gaze. “I get where you’re coming from, dude, but not everything is that simple. Yeah, this sucks, but I know Charles. And I know there’s a reason for this. And even if I get mad at him, I’m still in love with him, and if I’m being honest it makes me sick to even consider going out on stage instead of running to Staten Island to make sure he’s okay.” I took a deep shuddering breath and ran my hands over my short hair, feeling ridiculous in my robe and trunks while panic twisted my guts. “It’s only the slight chance that I might miss him because he’s on his way here that’s stopping me.”

  For a moment, Marquis continued giving me that scornful glare. Then, he rolled his eyes and sighed. “You’re so fucking sweet. That speech almost made my bitter ass fall for you. Luckily, I’m your boss and am primarily concerned with how you’re going to modify this performance if he doesn’t show up.”

  Forgetting twisting in knots, my stomach sank. “Marquis…”

  “I’m not pulling your performance,” Marquis said flatly. “The show would end too early. Ad-lib your fine ass across that stage.”

  “I can’t—”

  Thunderous applause exploded on the other side of the curtain, and I cringed. “Fuck, okay. I’ll… I’ll mix it up with the schtick I did at Male Revue.”

  “Atta baby.” Marquis smacked me on the shoulder. “Don’t screw up.”

  “Gee thanks.”

  Marquis jerked his chin at me as the dancers from the prior performance left the stage. The cold sweat had upgraded to a monsoon raining down my back, but I closed my eyes, bounced in place a couple times, and tried to find my calm center. In my boxing days, this had been simple. I’d focused on the win, the end goal, and remind myself that I was a boss who knew my opponent’s weaknesses and how to exploit them.

  But this was different. At the moment, I was my own biggest opponent. My head and my heart were both trying to psych me out because it was undeniable that Charles was more important than going out on that stage. It was only my gut feeling that he would be here, that he would not miss this, that allowed me to release a big exhale and put on my boxing gloves as the music began.

  Cat calls rang out as soon as I strode from behind the curtain, glaring around like an opponent was waiting for me in an imaginary ring. I raised my gloved fists, pumping the air, and let my satin robe fall open to reveal my trunks and abs. A shrill whistle rang out across the huge audience and oh-my-fuck there were nearly one thousand people staring me down. I’d never performed or boxed in front of a crowd this large.

  My heart hammered in my chest. I couldn’t think about them. Or the fact that I was here alone with no set plan on how I was going to modify this dance. If I considered the reality of winging it in front of an audience this large, I was going to keel over right in front of my mom. And I could not do that to her.

  “You rock that flag, baby!” a voice hollered.

  I almost cracked a smile at Yaneris, but didn’t. I was Punch Drunk Louie right now, and I was trying to scare the fuck out of my rival. For yucks, I pretended my rival was Valdrin and not my nerves.

  As the national anthem of DR began to transition to the song Salgo Pa' la Calle by Daddy Yankee, my strip tease began. I channeled my Lou persona from Male Revue to keep them titillated. It also kept my brain calm as I did steps that came naturally so I could frantically plan for the next part of the performance which I would now be doing solo.

  It took no thought to flex my hips in a serpentine rhythm while dancing to choreography I’d used while stripping for years. The crowd screamed when I threw each boxing glove, they went wild when I whipped my robe into a twisted rope while grinding against the air, and someone shouted a thank you to Jesus after I threw the sweat-damp cloth into the audience and allowed them to scrabble for it.

  To slow things down, I did a slower tease with my belt. Instead of dropping it to the side and flexing my biceps which was supposed to lead to my partner strutting out, I worshipped that damn thing. It only added a bonus twenty seconds as I kissed the belt, did the sign of the cross, and then carefully placed it to the side as if it were made of glass, but… it was enough time for me to decide to say fuck it and do the whole strip tease instead of trying to account for Charles’ part. There was no way I could think of a better way around it now. Punch Drunk Louie would just have to queer it up on his own. Maybe to psych out my fake opponent.

  I turned to the audience, keeping my ice glare in place as I flexed and postured for the start of a fight. Just when I was planning to desperately throw myself into a half-assed plan, a new series of sharp whistles turned my attention to the other side of the stage.

  I nearly wept from relief.

  Charles strutted out in his glittery booty shorts, shirtless minus the sparkly powder that should have covered him, and in blue chuck taylors instead of the sky-high heels, but still holding his card. His hair was wild as fuck, and I knew that was likely from his rush to get here, but it made him look sexily unkempt. The flush of his face and the lack of make-up was a huge change from what the troupe usually went for, but no one in the audience noticed. He was beautiful with or without make-up, but I didn’t miss those red-rimmed eyes.

  Tear streaked face aside, Charles was in full character. He sashayed in a way that would have normally made me want to fuck him right here in front of a thousand people, and held up the Round 1 card to the audience before coming to stand in front of me. I remembered my part only after he shot me a quick glare. I snapped to it.

  The crowd laughed when my mouth fell open. They hooted when I ran my eyes all over his long lithe body. And they whistled again once he bent over while holding the card, big ass pressing to my crotch, and flipped it to show them his “gay agenda” to seduce me. I hovered my hands over him, making them shake comically, and shot the audience a helpless look. They laughed, thank God. They were into this. We were good.

  Charles tossed the card to the side and whirled to me. “Good luck, sugar,” he said loudly enough for his voice to carry. The slow wet kiss he pressed to my lips was unscripted, unrehearsed, and it was exactly what I needed right now. Especially when he mouthed ‘I love you’ right before sashaying away.

  I wasn’t feigning the expression of shock on my face right before I dramatically dropped to my knees. I held out my arms for him, and he threw a coquettish look over his shoulder. This time, his eyes widened even as a naughty smile crossed his face.

  Me? he mouthed, turning again.

  I knee-walked closer, pressing my hands together in supplication. The crowd ate it up as Charles tapped his lip with a finger, cocking his head and pretending to think even as he winked at them. After a moment, he gestured for me to stand, and I did so with just enough wiggle for my trunks to fall to my feet. Once the rainbow jockstrap was out, everyone was in.

  The rest of the performance was solid.

  I danced for him at first, expressing my love with each move, as he paced around me as if trying to figure out if I was worth his time. When I did the splits in my jock, Charles fanned himself as if he was going to die. Then it was his turn to dance for me. His routine was part of choreography we’d rehearsed together more times than I could count, but seeing him put his heart into a performance while the remnants of tears clung to his face made me love him so fucking much I felt like my heart would burst.

  When I dragged him up into a dramatic kiss for the crowd, I couldn’t help the de
sperate way I held him to my chest. His fingers dug into me as he lashed his tongue against mine, tempting and sensual and delicious. Forget fighting nerves, I was now trying to control my fucking hard-on. Charles grinned against my mouth. I pulled away just enough to mouth you okay? He nodded and mouthed I’m sorry right before we transitioned into the dirty dancing part of the routine.

  We moved together, kissing and groping frequently for the hysterical crowd, then facing each other while mirroring the moves. By the time we finished, we were both streaked with sweat, but the audience gave us a standing ovation as he gripped my jockstrap and I tangled my fingers in his hair.

  We kissed, unscripted yet again, and pulled away laughing.

  “I love you,” he said, but this time it was too loud and the words carried.

  The audience went nuts.

  “You better,” Yaneris shouted.

  I burst out laughing. So did Charles.

  We bowed for the crowd and ran backstage where I once again swept him up in my arms. The applause was still thundering as I held him close, and felt the tension slowly return to his lean body.

  “What happened?” I asked between breaths. “You look wrecked. I was so worried.”

  Charles pulled away, worry crossing his face. “Landon showed up and got all in my head,” he said over the applause. “He—I don’t know, Luis. He—”

  “Did he fucking touch you? Because—”

  “No.” Charles shook his head vehemently. “But he said some things that made me think… He just made me think the wrong things. I freaked out so badly. Totally went to pieces. Even after I finally got dressed, I was sure that I would be too late.” Charles inhaled deeply before speaking again. “I thought about calling Caleb, but I didn’t want him to rescue me again. I don’t want to always call other people to bail me out when I fuck up—”

  "You didn’t,” I said softly. “You were freaked out and panicked. It’s different.”

  Charles squeezed me tighter, his eyes glittering. “I tried to take a cab to the ferry, realized I’d miss the ferry, and ended up asking the cabbie to take me all the way here. But there was traffic, and my phone died—” Charles sucked in another breath. “It was just a mess. Part me wondered if I should bother to come at all if I was going to make a mess of it, but I didn’t want to let Landon ruin this for me. For us.”

  My heart dropped to my boxing boots, and I pulled him to my chest again. “I knew something was wrong. I fucking knew it.”

  “I shouldn’t have let him get to me,” he whispered in my ear. “God, for those first few hours I was so messed up thinking I should stay away from you, and I’m bad luck, and it would be better if I blew off the show so you could see how unreliable and shitty I am.”

  “That’s not true. It’s not.”

  “I know.” Charles pulled back, wiping his face. “It took me curling in a ball for three hours for me to be able to think rationally again. But… then I forced myself to stop thinking about how much better off you’d be without me, and I got mad at myself for letting him manipulate me again. I pictured this whole life we planned, and remembered how you asked me to stop leaving you out in the cold.” He shook his head, eyes damp. “I figured even if I was late, at least I wasn’t shutting you out or leaving you hanging. You’d know I tried even if my usual bullshit caused me to mess it up.”

  “No, dude. Don’t insult yourself. It wasn’t bullshit.” I kissed his forehead, unable to stop touching him. The fact that he relaxed each time I put my hands on him only encouraged me further. “Whatever selfcare you need to use, you fucking use it. Yeah, it sucked not being able to get in touch with you, but I knew there was a reason. I trust you. And I know you.”

  Charles stared at me, blinking and silent.

  “I’m serious,” I said. “Marquis came at me with some bullshit, talking mess, and I told him—”

  “I know,” Charles said. “He reamed me when I sprinted in, and then he told me what you said. And… I just, I don’t know. It meant a lot.”

  “Is that why you finally said the three words?” I asked, flashing a tiny grin. “Or was that for the crowd?”

  “That was for you,” he said sharply. “Fuck the crowd.”

  Another laugh burst out of me. “Nah, I think I’ll take your fine ass somewhere and fuck you.”

  Marquis appeared at our sides, rolling his eyes but smiling grudgingly. “Not before you go out there for another round of applause, fools. They’re demanding to see your mushy asses again.”

  I blinked, astonished. “Did anyone else go out twice?”

  “Nope,” Marquis said. “And… a certain casting director for the Broadway version of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory is lurking around and waiting to speak to you, Luis. Apparently, he’s been coming to all our shows for the past few months, and he’s interested.”

  My jaw dropped just as comically as it had out on stage. “You’re fucking with me.”

  “Holy shit,” Charles exclaimed. “That’s amazing!”

  “Mmmhmm. He needs strong dancers with comedic skills for the ensemble, so…” Marquis jerked his head at the stage. “Go bow again, soak it up, then go impress the man.”

  When I continued to gape, Charles grabbed my hand.

  “Let’s do this,” he said. “Everything is going to be all right.”

  “How do you know?” I asked, breathless and wide-eyed, and feeling like someone was playing a trick on me.

  “Because if you get a part on a Broadway show, you’ll have the money to save for the gym. Your dream isn’t thwarted!”

  “Our dream,” I corrected. “We’re in this together, lindo.”

  As bloodshot as they were, there was happiness in those big brown eyes of his. “We are.”

  “You sure you want to go back out there? We can say fuck this and—”

  Charles shut me up with another firm kiss. “No. I need this right now. That crowd? Dancing with you?” He shivered. “God, it brought me back. I loved it. I love you. And I want more clapping.”

  I grabbed his hand. “Then let’s go get it.”

  Marquis shoved us towards the curtain, muttering about our over-the-top sap, but even his grumpiness couldn’t ruin the moment.

  After everything Charles and I had gone through in the past, this all should have felt like a fantasy, but it didn’t. This was as real as it got, and so was our future together.

  Epilogue to come

  North Shore, epilogue

  Epilogue

  Charles

  “Wait, we need a picture!”

  I groaned from where I’d collapsed on the gym floor in a pile of sweaty and aching limbs. “Ashton, come the fuck on. That workout was brutal.”

  Ashton kicked my foot with one rainbow colored running shoe. “It was brutal because your boyfriend is an amazing trainer, so now I need to tell all my Instagram followers about it and direct them to this gym, kay?”

  Who could argue with that argument? Also, how could I be the only one in a ball of pain while he and Val strutted around like the brutal lower body workout we’d just endured for an hour hadn’t been literal torture? My boyfriend may be amazing, but he was also killing me by drawing me into his early morning pre-client training.

  My ass was looking quite delicious, though.

  “Okay,” I whined, crawling to my feet. “I’m up. Picture time, and then I get a mimosa.”

  “Pretty sure mimosas aren’t in our nutrition plans,” Ashton said sweetly.

  I gave him a death look. “I’m not on a nutrition plan, pal. I dance all day with my clients, so I get to eat like a horse. Give me my alcohol.”

  Luis came up behind me, rubbing his face all over my sweaty neck. “I’ll give you something all right.”

  My body immediately reacted to the feel of his crotch fit to my ass and his rock-hard chest against my back. We’d merged apartments to share his (since he had access to the backyard) a few months ago, but even though now lived together and worked side-by-side in our gym, we
still could not stop touching each other. Not even in front of other people.

  “Okay,” Val groaned, interrupting our slow kisses. “Just take the picture and quit your PDA.”

  Luis pulled away, scoffing. “You should talk, Mr. Caught Macking on A-Town Against a Tree in Page Six.”

  “Why do you stay reading gossip columns?” Val wondered. “That’s the real issue here.”

  “No, the issue is my lack of a mimosa,” I grumbled.

  “Okay everyone,” Ashton sang. “Shut the fuck up and do your sweatiest, toughest, mean mug for the selfie!”

  He swung out a long arm, gathering us around him, and I had zero issues glaring at his giant phone. He snapped a million pictures in like one second, then instantly frowned down at the screen before carefully selecting the perfect image.

  Unable to help it, I peered over his shoulder. As grumpy as I was now that our brunch routine had been pushed back for our group training with Luis, I couldn’t deny the picture was grade A adorbs. Val and I were glaring at the camera as if our lives depended on looking super pissed off about having to be in this picture, but Luis had stuck out his tongue so it looked like he was licking my ear, and Ashton’s mean face was just sultry and fuck-me-now. He literally could not help it, and it was funny because he was the biggest dork.

  “Okay, how’s this caption,” he asked. “Just finished a brutal workout at #SavageEleganceStudios with my beautiful boyfriend, bestie, and @trainerluisramos. Guys, he is LEGIT. I was already in okay shape, but I’m seeing definition in eight weeks that I haven’t seen in my LIFE. If you’re down to make the trek to the north shore of Staten Island, I can totally put in a good word so you can get on his list!”

  Luis’ eyes nearly popped out of his head. “What if people actually come?”

  “Babe, that’s the fucking point,” I said.

  “But…” He looked from Val to Ashton. “What if—”

  Val gave him a side eye. “Are you seriously being insecure right now? Because I might record this to memorialize it.”