by Beth Bolden
Matt had been in Los Angeles for almost a year now. He knew because it was impossible to not know how extravagantly some people lived in this city, but he still had to do a mental adjustment to wrap his head around dropping five thousand dollars just for booze.
“How do I get them out?” Matt asked.
“Flex and ask nicely. And if that doesn’t work, call security.”
“Right,” Matt muttered. He had a feeling he was going to be calling security every time.
“It doesn’t happen very often,” Alex added. “Especially on nights like tonight. I just wanted to warn you because Marcella will have your head if the VIP tables don’t pay out.”
Matt wanted to believe the way Alex’s unnaturally light eyes lingered on his exposed abs, making his skin prickle, and the concern in his voice meant he might care a little what happened to him. But maybe Alex just didn’t want to train another newbie.
“She seems . . .tough.” That was the nicest description Matt could come up with.
Alex nodded. “But she’ll have your back.” He hesitated. “And I will too. Let’s go over the shot specials.”
“Aren’t I a waiter though? Not a bartender?” Matt asked as they walked towards one of the huge bars flanking the dance floor.
They stopped at one of the computer terminals. “You’ll be anything you need to be, especially on busy nights like tonight.” He sighed. “Let me guess, you’re more used to men buying drinks for you than pouring them for yourself.”
Matt couldn’t help himself; he laughed. “No. No. Not at all, actually. Wait,” he asked. “are you saying that because you think I’m hot?”
Alex rolled his eyes. “We work here. We’re all hot.” But there was an uncomfortably honest glint in his light eyes. Like he’d been caught and he hadn’t really wanted to be.
“Right, okay. Well, I’m not actually a big drinker. I’m a depressing drunk and so I don’t tend to have more than one or two at a time.”
To Matt’s surprise, this news was not met with more eyerolls or disbelieving looks. Alex just carried on like Matt hadn’t confided in him, explaining the point of sale system, how to swipe his employee card. How to order drinks. How to run tabs. How to cash out tabs.
“There shouldn’t be any crazy money situations happening in VIP,” Alex said as a way of finishing up. “Most people who come here know what it costs and are prepared to pay for it. But I’ll be around if you run into trouble.”
“I appreciate that.” Matt flashed him his friendliest smile. “I’ll probably end up taking advantage of that.”
“It’s why I’m here,” Alex pointed out wryly. “I wouldn’t be much of a trainer otherwise.”
Matt remembered how, before he’d gone to find Alex in the back, Marcella had warned him that he’d scared off the last three new trainees. And that he shouldn’t let Alex “intimidate him” with his glowering or his generally bad temper.
It had been impossible not to brace himself for the worst, but while Alex seemed passingly frustrated with his lack of experience, he wasn’t mean or cruel like Marcella had hinted at.
Still, he wasn’t going to risk Alex’s anger by repeating any part of that conversation now.
“You’re a great trainer,” Matt said with enthusiasm, and Alex nearly chuckled. Matt could almost see him holding back. “I guess how good you are remains to be seen.”
“No, you’re just . . .precious,” Alex said, and while that might not have been a compliment it was hard not to take it as one.
At least that was what Matt told himself as Alex moved them behind the bar and showed him where all the different bottles and mixers were kept. He even pointed out the book with the plastic coated pages that detailed all the drink recipes he could ever need to make.
Right after they finished at the bar, the music increased in volume, and Matt was grateful he’d ducked out on that concert last week due to lack of funds. Not that his hearing was probably to continue to stay excellent—not with the pounding bass reverberating through him.
“You feel ready?” Alex asked, touching his robed arm to get his attention.
Matt didn’t feel ready for anything except Alex touching him again. And maybe someplace else than the polyester fabric he was currently wearing. Still, he nodded. He needed this job. Visions of red stamped final notice envelopes piled on his kitchen counter told him that he was as ready as he would ever be.
“Looks like we’ve got our first table,” Alex said. The bar was steadily filling, and they watched as a group was led past the velvet rope into the VIP section.
“What are they wearing?” Matt asked, squinting to see through the dark room and the strobing lights.
Alex tilted his head, and a smile curled up the edges of his lips. “Sexy Avengers?”
Iron Man was wearing a pair of red leather pants, a helmet, and a glowing light glued to the middle of his bare chest. Thor was in a big blond wig and jeans. Following the theme, he carried a big hammer but wasn’t wearing a shirt either. Another man was painted head to toe in green body paint. Hulk, Matt realized.
“Do you think they know?” Matt leaned in closer, so Alex could hear him better. Or at least that was what he told himself. He caught a strong whiff of Alex—woods and pine and something lighter, something sweeter. Matt told his mouth to stop watering and that he wasn’t going to be getting it on Alex’s skin or any other part of Alex anytime soon.
“That they look stupid?” Alex chuckled, the first laugh Matt had gotten out of him. “Trust me, that’s nothing.” He glanced over at Matt’s half-a-robe and gold lamé briefs and Matt had to smile back in agreement.
“Point taken,” Matt said. “Let’s go see if these heroes are thirsty.”
“They always are,” Alex said, and they walked towards the VIP section.
* * *
The problem wasn’t that Matt was new or clueless or didn’t even really drink.
No, the biggest problem was that Matt was nice and had kind eyes and really fantastic abs. Matt was incredibly distracting, and not because Alex was having to bail him out constantly.
Like Alex had anticipated after meeting him and spending half an hour with him, Matt took to waiting tables in VIP like a duck to water. Most of the time Alex thought Marcella was full of shit, but she’d been absolutely right about this guy.
He had a totally different vibe than Alex’s smoldering, sexy glower. He was sweet and almost innocently flirtatious, chattering genuinely to everyone he met, and the guys in VIP, who all loved attention thus why they were dumping lots of money to be the center of attention, ate it up.
Alex had given Matt the Sexy Avengers table, and had kept half an eye on him the whole time. His own table, full of half-hearted ninjas with cheap black masks and fake plastic nunchucks and swords, weren’t very much work, because they were a quiet, somewhat understated bunch. He was pretty sure they were a bunch of music execs from Columbia, and a year and a half ago, he would have shit himself and tried to pass them a demo tape. But tonight, he just accepted their crappy costumes and that they were all involved in their phones.
The upside was they definitely drank a lot, and Alex could appreciate that. While he was on the way to grab another bottle of Grey Goose, he ran into Matt at the POS computer.
“Everything okay?” he asked. The crowd was surging and the music had gotten impossibly even louder, but Matt was still smiling and it didn’t even look fake. Either Matt was a really great actor, or he was actually enjoying this job.
“Oh yeah,” Matt said, smiling over at him as he punched buttons confidently. Alex observed out of the corner of his eye and to his own surprise, they were all right.
Alex lifted an eyebrow. “The guys at my table are super nice,” he confided. “But you’re right, they all want my number.”
A man would have to be committed for life or dead not to want this magical ray of sly sunshine in his life. Alex resolutely pushed that thought aside. He might pick men up at Temple, but he’d never slept
with a fellow employee. You didn’t shit where you ate, that much he knew. And Matt, Matt would never believe in just a hookup anyway. You could read it in his eyes and his face. He wanted sex, sure, but he also wanted to fall in love. He wanted cohabitation and to adopt a puppy or a kid someday. And Alex, who was supposed to want those things too, but had gotten jaded and bitter somewhere along that road, didn’t want to be responsible for turning Matt into himself.
“We didn’t cover that,” Alex said carefully, his eyes glued to a patch of exposed skin that had a distinct greenish tint to it. Like he’d been rubbing up against the Hulk. Alex told himself that the flare of jealousy wasn’t jealousy at all. It was professional concern.
The problem was it wasn’t even a good lie.
“Cover what?” Matt asked in surprise.
“Hookups,” Alex said bluntly.
Matt’s eyes grew a little bigger.
“You’re free to do whatever you want, after hours. Get as many numbers as you want,” Alex said, and he knew he sounded like a harsh asshole, but there was that flare again, and he didn’t want to call it what it was. Plain, old-fashioned jealousy. “Just don’t bring any of that baggage here.”
Matt stared up at him. “What if I don’t want any numbers?”
Alex realized he must be gaping a little because Matt laughed self-consciously. “They’re hot, yeah, and connected, and I guess I should. But I’m just not really interested.”
Alex found his voice. “Then don’t let them pressure you. Remember, security isn’t just here to protect the patrons, it’s here for us too.”
Laughing, Matt held up his robed arm, and must have flexed because his abs tightened in a way that Alex absolutely did not find distracting. “I remember. Just flex, right?”
Matt’s laugh echoed in his ears as he departed back to the VIP section, and Alex faced the computer, trying to remember what it was he’d even come over here for.
It took a good thirty seconds to remember, and by the time he made it back to the VIP section with the bottle of alcohol, the ninjas were restless. One of them had removed his mask and shot Alex a lazy glare.
“Where have you been?” he asked.
Alex had dealt with a multitude of shitty customers over the years. He’d learned to swallow his annoyance and his anger and deal with it. “It’s a busy night,” he offered non committedly as he set the bottle on the middle of the table and began refreshing drinks.
“Yeah, you were busy alright,” one of the other ninjas snickered with a drunken belligerence. Again, nothing that Alex wasn’t used to, but it was still a struggle to not react. “Busy flirting with the cute blond priest.”
“You should ask him to leave the Avengers to their hero antics and come over here,” another ninja chimed in. Alex’s hand tightened on the bottle of Goose he was pouring. “You’re hot but not any fun.”
“I got you your vodka, didn’t I?” Alex snapped finally. “And I wasn’t flirting. I was training. He’s new.”
“Doesn’t look new to me,” the first ninja pointed out slyly. And damn him, Alex couldn’t help but glance over to the Sexy Avengers table, where Matt was clearly laughing at something that Iron Man had just shown him on his phone. He looked relaxed and happy and not overwhelmed or overworked like Alex remembered being, having to socialize and have a good time with a bunch of strangers.
The truth was, Alex didn’t know what he was more jealous of, the easy way Matt had fit in at Temple, or the way Iron Man was resting his hand casually across his back.
He had zero intention of asking Matt to hang out with the ninjas, who were drunk and getting drunker by the minute, if the way they were sucking down the new bottle of Grey Goose was any indication. But he went over to the Avengers table anyway, because no matter how fantastic Matt looked like he was doing, he’d made a promise to check on him.
Matt was still preoccupied by his conversation with Iron Man, and didn’t hear Alex walk up.
“I didn’t even know there were Iowa memes,” Matt confided with a bright, excited voice. “I’m definitely going to follow that site as soon as I go on break.”
“It’s a little bit of home, even if I’d rather die than go back,” Iron Man said, grinning. He’d taken off his helmet and he was handsome, with dark wavy hair and a jawline that could cut steel. Or iron, Alex thought humorlessly.
“Oh,” Matt said turning around, “I didn’t know you’d come over.” There was an apology in his eyes, like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t be.
“Just wanted to check in and see how you were doing,” Alex said, trying for casual and not quite hitting it.
“Oh, I’m good. These guys are great,” Matt said, beaming.
“There’ll be a few more tables that’ll show up right before the big costume contest,” Alex pointed out. He wasn’t trying to say that Matt had been slacking; it was clear he hadn’t been. The drawers all looked full as various Avengers opened and closed them, fixing drinks. And there were several bottles of alcohol on the table. There wouldn’t be a concern about the Avengers hitting the table minimum.
“That’s fine,” Matt said calmly. “Rick and I were just sharing some Midwestern memes. You know, can you parallel park a tractor?”
Any other night of the year—any other person—and Alex would have shook his head regretfully, no. He always pretended he didn’t know anything about trailers or farms or harvests, but there must have been a Halloween spell in the air because the truth spilled out before he could stop it.
“Born in bred in rural Ohio, myself,” Alex said wryly. “So yes, I do know about that.”
It only hit Alex after he turned to leave what they had in common; and what they should never have in common.
He reached out and grabbed Matt’s arm, closing it around the cheap fabric of the robe. He could feel the muscles underneath tense. And Alex couldn’t help but wonder if Matt outwardly enjoying the Avengers touchy-feely flirtation was actually just an act.
Maybe Matt was a better actor than he’d believed. And if that was true, then they definitely needed to talk.
“Need you for a minute,” Alex said, surprising himself with how rough his voice sounded.
“Sure,” Matt said.
Alex took him back to the backroom, gesturing quickly to one of the other waiters to keep an eye out in the VIP. It was better they take their break now anyway, before it got closer to the big 1 AM costume contest. Typically they wouldn’t take their breaks together, but with only two tables full right now, it would be fine.
“What’s going on?” Matt asked, the confident smile slipping only when he thought he’d done something wrong.
“You’re from Iowa?” Alex asked.
“Yeah, and you’re from Ohio.” Matt’s smile came back, brighter than ever, like he’d just discovered the jackpot—something they had in common. And they did have something in common. Something that Alex wished to god they didn’t.
“That’s exactly the problem. You came to LA to be an actor and what, ditch all the mud and tractors and ignorance behind? Get some sun? Make it big?”
Matt nodded.
Alex grimaced. “I did too. I came here to be a musician. I believed my voice and my songs were too good for me not to make it. But you know what happened?”
Matt didn’t speak. Didn’t move.
“What happened,” Alex growled out, “is that life got in the fucking way. Reality got in the fucking way. I learned that I was good but there’s always someone around who’s great. There’s a million people in this town who all want something better, and there’s never enough stardust to go around.”
“I don’t understand what this has to do with me,” Matt said. There was a pucker, the very beginning of a frown forming between his blond brows, and it was the first time all night that he hadn’t looked happy. And that was Alex’s fault. He should stop now, while he was still ahead, but instead he plowed on recklessly.
“Because you’re working here! You’re a natural.
Not quite the same style as me, but give it a year or two, and the shine will be a little more manufactured and you’ll stop going to auditions, you’ll stop calling your agent, you’ll live and die by the tips here, and you’ll be perfectly okay getting numbers for hookups.”
Matt’s gaze turned a little more calculating. “So basically what you’re saying is that you don’t want me to become you.”
He ran his hand through his hair, not even caring if it looked like shit. Who was he even trying to impress anyway? The fucking ninjas? Thor? The Hulk?
“I’m saying you can’t work here and not get stuck. Not when you could be as good at it as me. Just. . .just don’t do it.”
“I need this job,” Matt said steadily. “And just because working here made you give up on your dreams doesn’t mean that I’m going to give up on mine.”
Alex stared at him. The light in the locker room was pathetic at best, a few rickety fluorescent bulbs illuminating everything a sickly green hue. But Matt shone, his blond hair glittering in the terrible light, nearly too good to be true. A mirror of everything that Alex had been, and a mirror of everything Alex had lost.
“I wanted to work here,” Matt continued, “because important people come here. People who could help me in my career. I’m not here to drink on the downlow and hook up when I’m bored. I’m here because I want more and Temple is a stepping stone to that.”
It was almost laughable. “I thought that too, at one point,” Alex said. He’d long since stopped trying to pass off his demo recordings, and instead took the tips and phone numbers instead. Case in point: the ninjas back in VIP now. Even if Alex was still bringing his demo tapes to work, he wouldn’t even have dreamt of trying to get them interested in his music.
Matt reached out for him, hands slipping up past the leather harness of his wings, to his neck. His hands were delicate but strong. Certain and sure, Alex thought with a tinge of despair.
“I want to hear you sing sometime,” Matt said softly, and before Alex could warn him off, tell him this was the worst idea anyone had ever had, leaned in and kissed him.
