The Other Five Percent

by Quinn Anderson

  Ellis noticed him at the same time and waved.

  Logan hastened over as fast as he could without running. He focused on Ellis in the hopes of avoiding looking at anyone else. It backfired spectacularly when he realized what Ellis was wearing: unreasonably tight jeans and cinnamon-colored shirt that made his eyes stand out even in the soft light. His jacket—which was black and studded and sexy, of course—was slung over one of his thighs, which only served to emphasize that general area of his body. Not that it needed emphasizing, with jeans like that.

  Logan made a conscious effort not to stare. “Hey.”

  Ellis stood up, throwing his coat over his arm, but thankfully didn’t try to hug him. “You made it.” He flashed his wide, beautiful smile.

  Logan’s face was suddenly in danger of burning the whole place down. “Were you waiting long?”

  “Nah. I was here anyway. I just finished the day shift, and it didn’t make sense to go home only to come back in time for our . . .” He trailed off, frowning to himself. Logan’s brain silently supplied the missing word: date.

  Ellis recovered his smile. “Anyway, can I take your coat?”

  “Uh. That’s okay.” Logan slid it off and set it on an empty barstool. Ellis took his coat and placed it on top of Logan’s. Then they both stood there awkwardly, not speaking.

  Well, this is going swell.

  “I’m surprised at your clothing choice,” Ellis finally said.

  Logan blanched. “Is this not appropriate? I wasn’t sure what the dress here was like.”

  “No, you did great. This is the most relaxed I’ve seen you. I half expected you to show up in a tuxedo.”

  “I don’t own a whole lot of nonwork clothes,” Logan admitted. “I have suits, workout clothes, and what I sleep in.”

  Ellis snorted. “I can’t imagine you in a proper set of pajamas. I figured you just slept in a suit, or maybe naked because it’s more efficient or something like that.”

  Logan’s mouth went dry. “Too cold for that this time of year.”

  Ellis pushed his glasses up his nose and took his seat again. There was a snifter in front of him, which he took a sip from. If Logan had to guess, he’d say it was whiskey. “Anyway, I’m glad you could make it.”

  “Me too.” Despite the awkwardness, Logan meant it.

  The bartender appeared just then. He looked to be in his forties, but his wardrobe in no way reflected that. He had on skintight leather pants and a neon-pink mesh shirt. Two shiny nipple rings glinted through the porous fabric.

  Logan was rendered momentarily speechless. He knew it was horrible and stereotypical, but he’d never seen someone who looked so . . . gay.

  “Hey, Roy.” Ellis greeted him as if it were nothing.

  “Ellis, darling. So good to see you.” Roy leaned across the bar and kissed Ellis’s cheek. “You working tonight?”

  “Nah. I did the door yesterday, so I have the night off.” Ellis waved at him. “This is Logan. He’s never been to the Golden Flamingo before. I thought I’d give him the grand tour.”

  Roy glanced at Logan. Logan tried not to visibly stiffen as Roy dragged his eyes up and down his torso before whistling. “Better keep him close, honey. A cute, little, blond thing like that will get snapped up the second you look away.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Was he joking? Logan couldn’t tell. Did he not care that Roy thought they were together?

  “We’re just friends,” he blurted out. “We’re . . . old friends. College friends. We, uh, went to school together.”

  Roy and Ellis both stared at him before exchanging a look. Logan wondered if there was a single drop of his blood that wasn’t in his face right now.

  “Boy, you’ve got your work cut out for you,” Roy whispered loudly to Ellis. Then he eyed Logan. “A drink should loosen you up. What’re you having?”

  “Beer,” Logan answered immediately.

  “That’s great, sweetheart. Any particular kind?”

  “Uh.” Logan’s mind blanked. Shit. He had to know the name of at least one beer, right?

  Ellis looked at him askance. “You don’t drink beer, do you?”

  Logan shook his head, too embarrassed to speak.

  Ellis sighed. “Okay, Chandler. We get it. You’re straight. You can unclench now.” He turned to Roy. “Bring the guy a shot of something. Whatever you think will get him to chill.”

  “Tequila it is.” Roy winked and whirled away before Logan could protest.

  As soon as he was gone, Ellis rounded on him. “Are you going to act like this all night?”

  Logan looked down and fingered the surface of the bar. “Act like what?”

  “Like a bro, or rather a poor imitation of one.” Ellis made an exasperated noise. “You don’t need to put on airs for me, okay? Your ass is safe.”

  Logan whipped his head toward him. “What?”

  “You heard me. Just because we’re in a gay club doesn’t mean you’re going to get hit on. You can stop guarding your ass now. Otherwise, this is going to be a really dull evening.”

  Logan hesitated for a fraction of a second before taking a deep breath. “I’m transparent, aren’t I?”

  “Pretty much. Though I suppose it might just be because I know you. Or I used to, at least.”

  Logan chewed on his lip. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to act like a bro. I’ve, um, never been to a gay bar before.”

  “No shit, Cher-lock.”

  Logan started to respond but stopped, not certain that he understood the joke.

  “Did I hear that right?” Roy was suddenly right in front of them, looking horrified. “Here, take this. We’re gonna need a lot more where that came from.” He shoved a shot and a lemon wedge into Logan’s hands and scurried off.

  Logan looked at the shot and then at Ellis, raising a brow.

  “Go for it.” Ellis took a swig of his whiskey as if in solidarity. “Roy won’t steer you wrong. Plus, if this is your first experience in a queer space, it can’t hurt to have a buzz going.”

  Logan happened to glance over Ellis’s shoulder at a group of drag queens that had just walked through the door. Every one of them was in some sort of skintight outfit, and there was enough glitter on them to supply a kindergarten class on arts and crafts day. That was all the motivation Logan needed.

  “Bottoms up.” He swallowed the shot, paused, and then jammed the lemon into his mouth. He’d forgotten how bitter shots could be. He hadn’t done one since—

  “Remember when we used to sneak into that one bar on Tequila Tuesdays?” Ellis tapped his glass with a fingernail. “Can’t think of the name.”

  Logan popped the lemon rind out of his mouth. “The Top. We used to go to the Top. For no better reason than they were lax about checking ID.”

  Ellis smiled. “You remember?”

  “Yeah, which means I must’ve been doing it wrong. With the amount we drank, we probably paid one of their utility bills.”

  “Oh, at least. I’m pretty sure there are photos of us on the walls.”

  Speaking of photos. Logan twiddled his thumbs and considered his next words carefully. “So, obviously you know I went through your Facebook the other day.”

  Ellis didn’t look up from his glass. “I figured that out, yeah.”

  “There were some photos of me that I’d never seen before. I was wondering why you never tagged me in them? And, uh, why you kept them all this time?”

  Ellis was silent for a moment. He drained the rest of his glass and set it down on the bar next to Logan’s empty shot glass before answering. “I didn’t tag you at the time because the photos weren’t for you, if that makes sense. They were for me. I probably would have shown them to you if we’d kept in touch. As for why I kept them: I don’t really know. I have some idea, but it’s not good bar conversation.”

  Logan was just about to argue with him when Roy reappeared. “Here you go.” He plunked two more shots down in front of Logan. “The third one is on
the house—my treat—but at some point I do expect you to pay for these.”

  “Oh right. Sorry.” Logan fumbled for his wallet.

  Ellis held out a hand. “I got it.”

  “Really? Why?”

  “You didn’t order these. Roy and I are forcing them on you. Granted, it’s for your own good, but it still doesn’t seem fair to make you pay for something you didn’t want. Though if you do finally think of a brand of beer, I expect you to pay for that yourself.”

  “Oh. Right.” Logan licked his dry lips. “Thank you.”

  “It’s my pleasure.”

  Logan was hit by a nicotine craving, probably because of the alcohol. He eyed Ellis. “No e-cig tonight?”

  “I don’t bring it with me when I’m drinking. I’m never going to quit if I keep the association between alcohol and smoking together, especially since I work at a club.”

  “Makes sense.”

  Ellis ordered another drink for himself and then settled in. “So, tell me more about this job of yours.”

  Logan grinned. “Do you really want to know about it? I work for a big, evil corporation with regular hours and—brace yourself—benefits. Considering the distaste you’ve shown for my suits, I wouldn’t think it would interest you.”

  “I asked, didn’t I? I’m curious. I can’t imagine working a nine-to-five.”

  Logan picked up the second shot and sniffed it. Bleh. That was a mistake. He swallowed it anyway. “Well, I can’t imagine working a bunch of part-time jobs. We graduated from the same school. Couldn’t you have done something else?” He downed the third shot and coughed hard enough that it took him a minute to notice the murderous look Ellis was giving him. “What?”

  “You mean couldn’t I have done something better, right?”

  “No.”

  Ellis’s look intensified.

  “Well . . . not exactly. I just never pictured you doing grunt work. Coffee shops and record stores are where teenagers work after school.” His stomach warmed from the alcohol. He fancied he could actually feel it sliding into his veins.

  “Well, I work there around sculpting. What’s wrong with that?”

  “Nothing, I guess. I don’t know what I’m trying to say.” Logan was not a lightweight. He’d had three or four glasses of wine earlier that week and hadn’t even flinched. But hard liquor was another story, and his thoughts were already growing fuzzy around the edges.

  Roy placed a drink in front of Ellis. Ellis swallowed it—the whole thing—and signaled for another, which was promptly placed in front of him despite a growing number of patrons crowding around the bar.

  After, he turned to Logan. “Look, you probably don’t realize how classist you sound right now, so I’m going to break it down for you: you think going to college means you automatically deserve a ‘nice’ job, and you think my patchwork employment is beneath me. Personally, I would rather work somewhere that’s looked down on than become a good little drone like you. I make my own hours, I don’t take my work home with me at the end of the day, and I have time to do the things I really enjoy. If that’s not good enough for you, then that’s your problem.”

  “Whoa.” Logan waved his hands in a gesture for peace. “I didn’t mean that. Well, no, I meant the bit about your jobs being beneath you, and that was wrong of me to say, but I just can’t imagine a schedule like yours. I like knowing where I’m going every day and where my next paycheck is coming from. I like stability.”

  “And I like knowing that if I decide I hate one of my jobs, I can quit and find another one doing anything I please. You’re probably trying to work your way up the corporate ladder, right?”

  Logan shrugged. “No, actually. I’m entry-level at the moment, and once I get a couple of promotions, I plan to stop there. I could go for director of my division, but that doesn’t interest me.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because just like you, I don’t want to take my work home with me. I like what I do and all, but I don’t want to spend my whole life paying bills only to die. I want to have a life outside of work. It’s admittedly lacking right now, but it’ll be even worse if I take one of those jobs that consumes all my time. I joke about wanting a corner office someday, but in truth, I just want to be happy.”

  Logan trailed off. Fuck. That was more than he’d meant to admit. He glanced at Ellis and did a double take. Ellis was staring at him. “What? Do I have something on my face?”

  “Did you mean that?”

  “More or less, yeah.” Logan rubbed the back of his head. “I guess tequila makes me sentimental.” He waited for the good-natured ribbing he so clearly deserved, but Ellis was silent. He looked like he was thinking hard about something.

  Logan took the opportunity to order some water and a glass of wine. By the time they arrived, Ellis seemed to have worked through whatever had given him pause.

  “You know, I wasn’t sure what to expect from tonight, but I definitely didn’t expect you to surprise me.”

  Before Logan could ask what he meant, a side door he hadn’t noticed burst open. A person in a sparkly sequin leotard announced to the crowd, “Club’s open, my darlings! Come on in. Drag show’s on at eleven.”

  Ellis stood up. “We should get in there and claim some seats before it gets too crowded.”

  Logan followed suit, grabbing his wine and coat. “Not that I’m an expert on what people do at clubs, but I didn’t think you’d be the sort to hold up the bar.”

  “I’m not, but I figured if I asked you to dance, you might fall over.”

  Right on cue, Logan stumbled over his own feet. “Dance?”

  Ellis burst out laughing, collected his jacket, and entered the club through the side door without waiting to see if Logan was following. Logan scrambled after him, of course. God forbid if they got separated and he had to navigate his first gay club by himself.

  They made a brief stop at coat check and then headed into the main room. As Logan trotted behind Ellis, he tried not to gape at the décor. The windows were covered in thick blackout curtains. The only light came from a myriad of overhead fixtures: disco balls, string lights, pink spotlights, and more. Pictures of half-naked men adorned the walls. And everything, absolutely everything, was covered in glitter.

  Logan had told himself a hundred times not to stereotype gay clubs, but it seemed this club was more than happy to stereotype itself. Maybe it was a gay-pride thing. Taking back the glitter, so to speak.

  “So—” Ellis spread out his arms to encompass the room “—what do you think?”

  “This place is . . .” Logan waved a hand as if he could snatch the words out of the air, “colorful.”

  “Nice one.” Ellis leaned over the bar and helped himself to a bottle of whiskey and a fresh glass. Logan glanced at the bartender, but she didn’t so much as bat an eye. Damn. Ellis had connections.

  Logan took one of the rapidly filling seats. “What do you mean ‘nice one’?”

  “That was a joke, right?” Ellis took the seat next to him. “Colorful? Rainbows? I thought you were saying this place is really gay.”

  “Ah. That wasn’t my intention. Though now that you mention it, the decorating is a little over-the-top.”

  Ellis made a loud, sharp sound that vaguely resembled a laugh. “You can say that again. I don’t think the owners have ever heard the word ‘subtle.’”

  Logan chuckled. “Right? I know there aren’t degrees of being gay, but this place is super gay. Like, so gay I almost expected the seats to have dildos glued to them.”

  “Hey.” Ellis stabbed a finger at him. “It’s only okay when we say things like that.”

  Logan paled. “Oh, wow. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I’m screwing with you.”

  “Um, okay.” Logan took a sip of his wine for lack of anything better to do.

  Ellis poured himself some whiskey, clinked their glasses together in a mock cheer, and downed a healthy swallow. He set his glass down and muttered something Logan coul
dn’t hear over the music.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” Ellis sighed. “The alcohol must be kicking in, because I suddenly want to ask you all these things I wouldn’t have before.”

  Logan swallowed. “You can ask me things.”

  Ellis looked him up and down. “Are you really still insisting that you’re straight?”

  “Dude, I am straight. I told you that. Isn’t it, like, problematic, or whatever it is people say, to question someone’s orientation?”

  “Probably, but I think it’s more problematic to be so clearly offended by the suggestion that you’re not straight.” Before Logan could protest, Ellis poured more whiskey into his glass and slid it down the bar to Logan. “Here. Drink this. It’s a better sipping alcohol than wine.”

  Logan looked from him to it and back again.

  “What? Afraid you’ll get the gay on you if we share a glass?” Ellis smiled beatifically.

  Logan grumbled something that he would swear later was not “condescending dickhead” and swallowed the drink. He covered his mouth and coughed. “Oh God. What is this? It tastes like charcoal.”

  “That’s the peat. When picking a good Scotch, the smokier the better.”

  “Maybe to you.” Logan cleared his throat. “If it’s all the same to you, I’m going to slow down for a while.”

  “Can’t hold your liquor?”

  “Apparently not.”

  Ellis chuckled. “You never could.”

  Logan peeked over at him, absently noting the way his thick eyelashes caught the colored light. “How do you remember so much about me from college? I’m struggling to keep up.”

  Before Ellis could answer, a short, dark-haired man appeared behind him and tapped him on the shoulder. Ellis turned around, and his face split into a huge grin. “Angel.”

  “Hey, babe.” Angel winked at him before leaning in to kiss both of his cheeks. “Wasn’t expecting to see you tonight.”

  “As if I’d miss Drag Night.” Ellis swiveled in his seat back toward Logan. “Meet my friend.” Logan in no way missed the emphasis. “We went to school together. It’s his first time here.”