Rick stalked toward him, careful not to let either Max or his friends see him. He stopped close enough to feel the heat from Max’s lithe body inches away, close enough to reach out and caress him. Instead he chose to lean forward and whisper in Max’s ear, “I never pictured you for a fine china kind of guy.”
Max froze, his body rigid. The teacup slipped from his fingers, and before Rick could reach forward and grab it, the cup shattered into tiny pieces on the floor.
At the sound of china smashing, Sian and Tony whirled around. Rick waved, and Sian grinned at him. Max didn’t move.
“Hey, Rick,” Tony called out. He waved two different plates in the air. “You been breaking all your china too?” Sian elbowed him in the ribs, but he seemed to be expecting it and didn’t flinch. “Who knew it could take so long to choose a fucking plate, huh?”
Max’s back brushed against Rick as he crouched down and began to gather the broken china.
“Hi, Tony, Sian. How’s it going? Didn’t expect to see you in here,” Rick called back to them. He crouched next to Max. “It’s good to see you again,” he murmured and smiled as their eyes connected. “Are you okay?” Still Max didn’t reply, so Rick grasped Max’s clammy hand and examined it, but Max pulled away. “You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?”
“I’m okay.” Max turned his attention back to the broken china, gathering it from the floor tiles.
Max wasn’t exactly giving him anything to work with, but he also hadn’t told Rick to leave him alone. That had to be a good sign. “Here, let me take it. It was my fault. I’ll pay for it.”
They both stood, and Rick reached forward, careful to make sure their hands touched. Max flinched away and looked at something over Rick’s shoulder. For a split second, Rick could have sworn Max looked jealous, but the emotion was gone as quickly as it had appeared.
“No, it’s okay. I’ve got it.” Max grimaced as Rick caught a waft of his sister’s perfume and felt her arms around his waist.
“Max, this is my sister, Isla.”
“Hi,” Isla said.
Max’s expression lightened and he glanced between them. “Your sister?”
“Hold on… Max?” Isla said, letting go and taking a step forward. Oh no, this was never going to be good. Why the hell had he said anything to Isla about Friday? “The Max? From the band?”
“Uh, I guess.” Max glanced around.
Rick’s cheeks burned. So much for playing it cool. This was humiliating.
“From what I hear, you were very good on Friday.”
“Uh, thanks.”
“Really good, in fact. Isn’t that right, Rick?”
Rick elbowed her, hard. “It was a fun night, yeah.”
“Finally,” Tony said, shoving the box of plates he was carrying at Sian as they approached, “we can get the hell out of here. Bar next?”
“Black Ivy, remember?” Max said. “I have to get some new boots.”
“Is that the alternative clothing store we passed on the way in?” Isla asked.
“Yeah, that’s it,” Sian said. “We were going to stop in there and then grab a drink. Would you like to join us?”
Isla groaned. “But I still have to get a wedding gift for my friend.”
“Did you see the display over there?” Sian indicated the far corner. “They’ve got a whole summer-wedding theme going on.”
“No, I didn’t.” Isla’s face brightened, and she and Sian went over to investigate.
“I have to go pay for this,” Max said and started toward the cash register.
Rick made to follow him, but Tony grabbed his arm and held him back. That was odd. “This is the last place I expected to bump into you guys,” Rick said to him.
“Her fault.” He pointed at Sian.
“Couldn’t you and Max have waited in the music store?”
Tony took a step back and studied Rick for a moment. “Don’t get any ideas about my brother.”
“Ideas?”
Tony leaned in, and as Max approached, he said in a low voice, “He’s not gay and never will be. He’s in a heavy metal band, not some camp boy band. That should have been enough of a clue for you.”
Rick stared at him in disbelief.
“Ready for Black Ivy?” Tony said to Max as he drew near enough to hear them.
“Sure. They said not to worry about the cup. Looks like we’re all going, so we should wait for them.” Max turned and waved toward Isla and Sian, who were chattering away as they paid for their goods.
“Awesome,” Tony said, his brow creased.
TONY’S WORDS had stung, and as Rick followed the others down the steps into Black Ivy, part of him wanted to walk away right then. The other part, however, the fighter in him, wanted Max more than ever, wanted to help him reach a point where he could tell everyone the truth and not have to hide who he was anymore.
Everyone had dispersed into the store, and Rick paused for a moment to take it all in. Hard-core dance music blared, deafening him. There were black cages on either side of the entrance, containing mannequins dressed as androgynous dancers in skimpy clubwear. They had futuristic-looking goggles on their heads next to their huge, brightly colored dreadlocks, and the most incredible makeup. Wow! What was this place? It was like nothing he had ever seen before.
Rick looked down; his white T-shirt was glowing. The store was bathed in black light, giving the entire place an odd look. Tall glass cases were interspersed between the racks of mostly black clothing, and they contained all kinds of bizarre-looking things, from delicate metal contraptions that would not have looked out of place on a cyborg—but were some kind of club accessory—to huge, odd-looking dildos, and some of the most extreme bondage gear he’d ever seen. He was hot, too hot, and swallowed down his panic. Where had the others gotten to?
“Need any help?” a petite, immaculate store assistant with bloodred hair asked him.
What was it Max had said earlier? “Um, yeah. My friends were looking for footwear?”
“Through there.” The assistant pointed with long black nails toward a curtained-off area near a staircase at the other end of the floor.
“Thanks.”
Rick weaved his way toward the curtain and was relieved to find Max and Sian in the cornered-off space, which was filled with some of the oddest-looking boots and stilettos he’d ever seen, but also some of the coolest.
“What do you think of these?” Sian asked Rick, holding up a pair of chunky New Rock boots with metal plates on the front and a platform sole.
“For you or for him?” Rick nodded at Max, who was stretching up, scrabbling to reach another pair of boots from a high shelf. Rick walked over and grabbed the boots, then handed them to Max.
“Him,” Sian said.
“Thanks,” Max said to Rick. “These are better, though, don’t you think?”
Max had chosen a knee-length boot, which had a flat, chunky sole, silver scalelike leather sections up the front, and five huge metallic buckles at the sides. They looked incredible.
“Those”—Rick pointed at Max’s choice—“definitely those.”
Sian sighed. “You won’t even be able to see them beneath your pants.”
“But I’ll know they’re there.”
“You’ll be far too hot in them.”
“Don’t care. These are awesome.”
“Suit yourself.” Sian shrugged. “Don’t come moaning to me if your feet get all sweaty.”
“Eew, they won’t,” Max said, and Rick laughed. “They’re cool, though, right?” Max asked Sian, his eyes dancing with excitement.
The curtain pushed open, and Tony and Isla walked through, both of them carrying Black Ivy bags.
“What did you get?” Rick asked Isla.
“Just a top to wear out clubbing.”
“I got some DVDs,” Tony said.
“Oh yeah,” Isla said, “which ones?”
Sian groaned. “We learned long ago never to ask that.”
Tony held up one o
f the DVDs triumphantly. “Animated superhero porn.”
“Thanks for that,” Max grumbled and shoved past Rick as he went to pay for his boots. “I have enough nightmares about him sleeping in the room opposite me without actually knowing what he’s jacking off to.”
“Come on, guys,” Sian said, “sounds to me like we could all use a drink.”
THE BAR adjoining the Torrens Club was quiet, but then it was Monday afternoon. Rick didn’t usually go into bars during the week, but if it meant he got to spend some more time with Max, then he’d go with it for now. As they walked in, Angelo was polishing glasses behind the bar, and he returned Rick’s smile. They’d spent a lot of time chatting at the party, and Rick had enjoyed his company. Even though he’d told Angelo he wasn’t looking for anything at the moment, that hadn’t stopped Angelo’s flirting. But like Pete had said, he was harmless enough.
“Let’s go by the window,” Sian said, and pulled out a chair to put her box of china onto before taking the seat next to it. “It’s too hot to sit outside.”
Rick was about to sit next to Max, but Tony frowned at him, and he thought better of it. He’d bide his time and keep Tony sweet for now. Instead he held out the chair next to Max for Isla and scanned the bar.
There was an occasional chitck from the pool table, which was partially hidden behind a partition, where two guys were playing with limited success, judging by the white ball rolling across the floor toward him. The only other customers were a group of students who were having a heated discussion about the merits of artificial intelligence versus the human brain, and they had claimed a large table by the restrooms near the end of the bar.
“Hey, guys,” Angelo said, and Rick turned to watch him approach. “Beers all round, or are you hitting the hard stuff?”
“Beers?” Tony said, and Rick looked across the table at him and nodded.
“I’ll have tequila as well,” Max said, fumbling with a coaster.
“Sure, be right back.” Angelo’s warm fingers brushed the back of Rick’s neck, and he shivered. The guy was relentless.
“Everything still okay for the Villains gig?” Tony asked.
“Yeah,” Angelo called over as he prepared their tray of drinks. “I spoke to Lee earlier and settled the details. You guys need to be set up by five.”
“Still think they should be opening for us,” Tony said in a quieter voice, out of earshot of Angelo.
“They’ve sold way more records than us,” Max said.
Tony scowled at him. “Honestly, Max, whose side are you on?”
“You don’t think that gives them the right to headline?” Rick asked. “You can’t argue with relative sales figures.”
“No?” Tony said. “And what about image, stage presence, and pure fucking talent? You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. You’re not even a metalhead.”
Rick clenched his fists under the table and forced himself to remain calm.
“Tony!” Sian gasped. “Be nice. What’s Rick ever done to you?”
Angelo wisely stayed out of it, delivering the drinks without a word and then heading straight back behind the bar.
“Anyone want to play pool?” Max downed his tequila and grabbed his beer. “I think the table’s free now.”
That was a good idea, the perfect excuse to get away from Tony. “Sure, I’ll play,” Rick said to no one in particular and followed Max.
Out of sight of the others, Rick slid his arm around Max’s waist, and Max flinched at the contact. Rick gave him a brief squeeze and whispered in his ear, “It doesn’t bother you that I’m not a metalhead, does it?”
Max spun around to face him. “I’m playing with you?” The corner of Rick’s mouth twitched, and Max sighed. “You know what I meant.”
“Think you can handle it?”
Max’s cheeks colored, and he drained his beer. “Yeah, I can handle it. Can you?”
Was Max flirting with him? Rick grinned. It seemed Max had found courage from someplace, perhaps from that beer. “I’ve been playing for years. I’m sure I can hold my own. What about you? Much experience?”
“At pool?”
Rick winked at him and set up the balls. “If you like.”
“I’m fucking fantastic.” Max placed the white ball on the table, bent over, and took a few practice thrusts with his cue. “At pool.”
“Are you now?”
God, Max was sexy. It was all Rick could do to not walk up behind and push him against the table, thrust up against that tight ass—he’d seen Max naked at the party, and the image flashed into his head. If he wasn’t careful, his desire would be all too visible. He took a breath and walked closer to the table and set up the colored balls, ignoring the flutter of excitement that rippled through his body.
“Ready?” Max asked as Rick removed the triangle.
Rick nodded and Max pulled the cue back, steadied it on the bridge of his hand, and made a powerful break. The balls scattered, and two fell into the pockets.
“Nice.” Rick nodded. “Like your style.”
“Thanks.” Max assessed the balls and got into position for his next shot.
“Cleaned up after the party yet?” Rick had been wondering whether Max had found the piece of paper with his number on it that he’d left on his bedside table—wondering whether he was deliberately not contacting him.
He frowned and glanced at Rick. “Yeah, why?”
“Find anything interesting?”
Max froze, and Rick walked around the table until he was standing right next to him. As Max bent over to line up his next shot, Rick leaned closer to him. “You found it… didn’t you?”
Max took the shot and missed. His face was flushed as he stood.
“You weren’t tempted… not even a bit? Should I be hurt?” Rick tried to keep his tone teasing, but he was desperate to know.
“I get numbers thrown at me all the time. How was I supposed to know it was yours?”
Rick chuckled, his heart sinking a little. He knew that was likely to be the truth, but hearing it aloud didn’t do much for his ego. “That told me.” He reached out and rested his hand on Max’s shoulder. It was worth at least one last attempt. “Do you still have it?”
“What does it matter?”
Rick let go and moved around the table to take his shot, hope niggling at him. Perhaps a softer approach would work better. “You don’t think we could be friends?”
“Friends?”
“You didn’t think I listened before when you told me—” Movement caught his eye, and Rick nodded toward his sister as she approached. “Hey, Isla. You okay? Sorry for abandoning you.”
“That’s okay. Who’s winning?”
“Max.”
Isla sighed and perched on the edge of a table. “So unfair. Rick always beats me. You must be really good.”
“He is.” Rick waggled his eyebrows at Max and potted two balls in quick succession, then a third. He wasn’t going to let Max beat him for long.
“You never told me you were this good,” Max groaned.
“Actually, I believe I did.”
“Give him a proper chance before you kick his ass,” Isla warned her brother. “I got a text from Mom. She and Dad are going to meet us for dinner over at the steak house on Park Avenue. We need to leave in a minute.”
“Already?”
“Yeah, they’ve asked Logan to cover the evening class.”
“That’s at the dance school, right?” Max asked.
“Yeah,” Isla said. “I’m amazed they got someone to cover. It’s totally unlike them. They’re more obsessed with dance than I am.”
“You’re a dancer?” Max asked.
“Yeah. I’m doing a show on the Vegas strip at the moment.”
“Which is why she doesn’t visit often enough.” Rick gave his sister a friendly shove. “Or so she says.”
“You’re just jealous you’re not onstage too.”
“The last thing I want is to be a dancer. I had
enough of that growing up, thank you very much.”
“At least I don’t crack bones for a living. That’s totally gross.”
Max’s jaw dropped. “You can dance?”
Oh great. He’d been hoping to keep that a secret for a little longer.
“Mom was devastated when he went down the martial arts route instead. Rick, come on,” Isla whined. “We need to go.”
He sighed. “Sorry, Max.”
“For what?”
Rick potted all his remaining balls, plus the black. No way was he going to let Max win. Besides, a rematch would be a good excuse to meet up… if Max ever decided to call him. “For that.”
“Oh.”
“I’ll go get my bag,” Isla said and left them to it.
Rick grabbed Max’s arm, pulling him out of sight of prying eyes. There was no telling when he’d get a chance to bump into him again without looking like a stalker. This was his last opportunity to convince Max that calling his number would be the best thing he ever did.
“Listen,” Rick said. It was time to lay it on the line. “You know I want you. I’ve made no secret of that. But I know this isn’t easy for you, so I’m going to say this: if you decide to keep my number, we can be friends. No pressure for anything more, I promise.” He leaned closer and whispered, “However, if you do want more, you only have to say the word.”
Had that worked? Max looked more shocked than thoughtful.
Rick took a deep breath; the suspense was killing him. “Think about it.” Walking away, he said quietly and more seriously, “But don’t make me wait forever if that is what you want, okay?”
THE LAST MMA student left, and Rick locked the door behind them. It was Tuesday. Accounts day. Something he despised, but was unfortunately unavoidable if he wanted to run his own business. He did need some new boxing gloves, though… maybe the accounts could wait a few minutes more. They wouldn’t take him that long. He sat at his desk and logged into his computer, wondering whether to go with Everlast or Venum.
There was a knock at the door, followed by the door handle rattling. Rick sighed. So much for having some time-out this evening. He unlocked the door, and his eyebrows rose when he saw who it was.
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