Being closeted had always been a matter of safety and security for Oscar. The neighborhoods in Phoenix that he used to roam around with his group of hooligan friends weren’t exactly the safest or the most accepting. All it would have taken was the mere rumor that he was anything but into women, and Oscar’s life would have become utter hell. No one, save for those few he’d been with over the years, knew of Oscar’s tastes, and that was exactly how he preferred it.
As he gazed up at the brightly lit building, flashing ‘Raid’ in huge neon letters, he wondered where his common sense and self-preservation had gone. If there was ever a place that was well known for serving strictly gay men, it was Raid. He’d always avoided gay clubs and bars, not wanting to risk a straight best friend or even a gay or bi man who he hadn’t made sure would keep their mouth shut seeing him.
“This is stupid,” he told himself as he stood outside the doors, at a distance that wouldn’t make him seem like a total creep.
Something brushed his shoulder, and Oscar jerked away on reflex. A man only a few inches shorter than him, with streaks of green shot through his blond hair, looked up at him with a wide grin.
“Didn’t mean to scare you,” the man said.
“You didn’t,” Oscar grunted.
“So, you gonna go in or just stand out here all by yourself?”
“Who said I wanted to go in?”
The man shrugged. “You’ve been looking at the sign the whole time I was walking up, so I figured…”
Oscar scowled at him. “Well, you figured wrong.”
The man laughed, turning around as he walked backward toward the door. “Well, if I was right, don’t be scared, no one in there bites unless you ask them too. And no one’s gonna care about the arm either, with a face like that, you’ll have plenty of men wanting to count your every scar.”
Oscar growled at him again, which at least had the intended effect of ending the conversation. He honestly hadn’t been thinking about his arm, and the mere thought had him drawing his left hand over to his right elbow, gripping it self-consciously. Funny how normally, when he was out and about where civilians were, he was hyper-aware of every stare, and the possibility of comments being made, but he hadn’t tonight until the stranger said something. He’d been so caught up in chiding himself for even daring to stand outside the bar, the thought of his maimed body hadn’t entered his head.
“Oh, fuck this,” Oscar muttered.
Either he was going to stand out there all night, or he was going to go in and see what there was to see. It was a Wednesday night, which meant the chances of the usual party crowd being out and about were low, and he could probably get away without anyone recognizing him.
As he slipped through the front doors, paying the fee to get in, he couldn’t help but think of Troy again. The man had always been trying to get Oscar to go into such a place back when they’d dated, but Oscar had point-blank refused. There were plenty of places, secluded or private, where they could go to enjoy themselves, far away from any eyes or ears that might be able to identify them, and Oscar had been happy with those.
The second set of doors opened up into a wide, dimly lit space. Oscar looked around, noticing the dance floor that the patrons could get to from small steps that led down to it from all angles. To his right and toward the back was a huge sprawling bar, painted black and lit with neon lights around the top edge, and strips down the bottom. Several people were milling about the bar already, or near the tables toward the front, talking, drinking, and a few were getting a little handsy as well.
Music thumped out from the speakers lined up along the ceiling of the bar, and though he’d heard far louder in clubs, it was still more than Oscar would have liked. A few pairs of eyes turned to him as he stepped forward, looking to his left, where a set of stairs led up to a walkway. Along the walkway were small recesses, the entrances lined with what looked like velvet curtains that could be closed almost the whole way to allow for privacy. Oscar could only see into the nearest alcoves, where a table sat in the center of each, surrounded by cushioned benches on each side. There was enough room for half a dozen people to sit comfortably in each, or one frisky couple.
Deciding he didn’t want anything to do with the semi-private rooms, Oscar headed over to the bar. A wiry but well-muscled man in a black tank top worked the back of the bar, bouncing between customers as he approached. Oscar sidled up, aware of his bulk and presence more than ever as he waited for the man’s attention.
The bartender finally slid over to him, raising his brow in question. “What can I get ya?”
Oscar opened his mouth to order his usual rum and Coke, before remembering the pain pills he’d popped before heading out. Grimacing, he ordered himself a plain and perfectly safe glass of Coke instead. Oscar barely had a moment to look around, shifting uncomfortably as he found a few sets of eyes intently focused on him before the drink slid in front of him.
The bartender laughed as Oscar reached into his pants. “Don’t. Normally let the first drink go free for newcomers, so you can have it.”
“Oh boy, a Coke,” Oscar said dryly.
“You could always order yourself a big boy drink.”
“Meds,” Oscar offered with an irritated shrug.
“Never stopped anyone before.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not an idiot.”
The bartender smirked but hurried away as a call came from the other end of the bar. Oscar watched him go, wondering if he was beginning to lose his touch. Even at Basic, people tended to avoid too much contact with him, feeling some sort of vibe from him that warded them off. He looked down at his missing arm accusingly, wondering if perhaps people were just scared of a grumpy cripple.
A familiar face popped into view with a wide grin. “Well, look who decided to come in after all.”
Oscar stared at the green and yellow haired stranger. “Maybe I wanted a drink.”
“Yeah, not like there aren’t plenty of other places around here for you to get a drink, no, it’s gotta be this one, right?”
Oscar snorted, shaking his head. “Don’t you have better things to do?”
“Well yeah, was kinda hoping that thing would be you, though.”
Oscar blinked, repressing his first urge to try and rip the man’s head off. He hated being hit on by other men in public. Not only did he severely envy their willingness to live life so openly, but the last thing he needed was for even the slightest whiff of gay sent in his direction and being misconstrued.
Oscar glowered at him. “If I’d wanted that, I would have taken you up on your not so subtle flirting outside.”
“You do know it’s okay in here, right?” the man asked.
“Yeah, and just because I might look lost and worried to you, and I’m a cripple, don’t mean that you’re getting yourself some free ass,” Oscar shot back at him.
The man’s eyes widened, and he backed up with a frown. “Alright, fine, fuck you too.”
Oscar didn’t know what pissed him off more, the fact that the guy hadn’t left well enough alone, or the fact that he’d shot the man down because he wasn’t in the mood. How the hell could he even remotely entertain the idea of being with someone else when every other goddamn thought found its way back to Troy? All it would take would be for Oscar to try his hand at a little bit of fun, catch sight of the man’s blond hair, and all interest in sex would have flown out the window in an instant.
Growling, both at himself and the situation, he stepped away from the man and the bar. Oscar’s eyes swept the relatively thin crowd, gaze darting away quickly whenever he caught someone looking back. Everyone seemed perfectly content to keep to their conversations, their drinks, or their dancing on the floor made of alternating lit tiles.
Careful to avoid the dance floor at all costs, Oscar wound his away around and up toward the walkway where the alcoves lay. Most of them were unoccupied, and those that were had a few people talking over drinks. Oscar snorted as he caught sight of a couple in th
e middle alcove, who looked more like one writhing creature than a duo. Oscar caught only a glimpse of the back of a blond head as the man went in for another hungry kiss on his partner, who was seated at the rear of the booth.
Oscar turned his eyes back to the rest of the bar as his stomach dropped. He froze, blinking as he tried to figure out why it felt as though someone had slapped him across the face with a bucket of ice-cold water. His mind ratcheted into gear, a stutter at first, and then fury as his conscious mind caught up with what he’d just seen.
Whirling back around, Oscar felt his dropping stomach twist and become hard as rock. He didn’t need the blond-haired man’s face to turn half toward him for Oscar to know exactly who he was seeing give some strange man a good taste of his tonsils.
Troy.
Oscar’s limbs felt heavy as he stared, witnessing Troy enjoy himself with a complete stranger. Oscar had always known Troy was prone to having a bit of casual fun, but thinking about it and seeing it were two very different things. God, he’d told the man to move on, to have his fun, and to leave Oscar alone, but fuck, witnessing it brought the taste of bile to the back of his throat.
Anger and pain pulled at his chest as he watched Troy’s lips close around the man’s neck, completely oblivious to the audience only a handful of feet away. Oscar’s head began to pound, aching with the same pain he could feel in his heart, remembering what it had felt like to have Troy’s mouth on him. A shudder ran through him, and Oscar forced himself to look away, feeling as though he had to rip his gaze from the two men.
Oscar set his glass on the railing nearby with a heavy, sluggish movement. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and tried to tell himself that it was what he’d wanted. When a soft gasp somehow managed to slip between the beats of the music, however, Oscar felt an invisible hot blade slip into his guts.
Shaking his head, Oscar stomped away as quickly as his legs would take him without having to break into a full run. He should have known that no matter what he did, he was bound to run into Troy. After what they’d said to each other the last time they’d met, it was inevitable that the same universe that saw fit to take his arm from him and cripple his hips would also make sure it would be at the worst time possible.
“Fuck,” he muttered, breaking out into the fresh air of the night.
He didn’t know where he was going, maybe back to his house. Maybe to another bar where he could forget about what he’d just seen. Maybe to the alley to throw up the light dinner and the Coke he’d just drunk.
Just anywhere else.
9
Troy
Normally, when he took the occasional weeknight to go out and have a bit of fun, Troy had some luck. Despite Wednesday being right at the heart of the working week, it was usually the best day to find something, or rather, someone to enjoy his night with. Out of all the different options available to him, Raid was usually the best place to go, offering more choices and opportunities on a slower weeknight.
Lo and behold he’d found someone. Troy couldn’t quite remember the guy’s name, but he was 90% sure it started with a ‘J’. What he knew for sure was that the guy was tall, dark, and handsome, and his voice didn’t make Troy want to cringe and get as far out of earshot as he could possibly get. Then again, between his mood and the limited selection, Troy might have been willing to forgo some of his requirements of a bed partner, so he was happy to take his stroke of good luck and willingly clambered into the man’s lap once they were hidden away in one of the semi-private booths.
The first twenty minutes of making out and heavy petting that counted as foreplay, before one of them got impatient enough to drag the other to a private room, was great. As the night dragged on, however, Troy found his mind beginning to drift away. At some point, Troy realized the man’s lips were on his neck and had been steadily moving down to his collarbone for a solid minute before Troy’s body alerted him to the sensation.
Wincing, Troy pushed away from the man, forcing a smile onto his face. “Scuse me a minute, those drinks are catching up with me fast.”
The man chuckled. “Want me to come hold it for you?”
Ugh, there was an image he didn’t need. “I think I can manage on my own.”
Before his companion could say anything else, Troy shuffled back until he was out on the walkway that lined the row of semi-private booths. Winking at the dark-haired man, Troy turned to the right, as though heading toward the bathrooms at the back of the bar. Thankfully, the crowd around the bar and dancefloor had grown thicker as the night wore on, and he blessed his shorter height as he melted into it.
Reaching the bar, he leaned over the edge and called out to the bartender. “Hey, Ethan, can you cash me out?”
Ethan smirked as he hopped over to the nearest register and tapped away. “Strike gold already?”
Troy snorted. “Just wanna go home is all, it’s time.”
“Wow, Troy isn’t sticking around to find himself a guy? It’s a Christmas miracle.”
“You’re a few months off for all that.”
“Early Christmas miracle then.”
Troy rolled his eyes but let Ethan finish the rest of the sale, with Troy signing the receipt and slapping his normally big tip on the total before sliding it back. Even after only a few months of seeing Troy around, Ethan didn’t need to look at the slip before thanking Troy and giving him a wink. Ethan was good to Troy, occasionally slipping him a free drink, or ‘forgetting’ to include one on Troy’s tab. Troy attributed that more to the fact that he was fond of spoiling his waitstaff, especially when they were good at what they did, rather than any desire on Ethan’s part to get together with Troy. Everyone in Raid knew they could flirt all they wanted with Ethan, but the man’s heart and body belonged to his fiancé at home.
“Have a good and quiet night,” Ethan said as he turned away.
Troy grunted, slipping back through the crowd and glancing up toward the booths. The guy was still waiting for him up there, though his eyes were now glued to his phone. For a moment, he considered going up there and explaining himself, but Troy cringed at what would probably end up as an awkward conversation. Instead, he took the opportunity to slip through the front doors before the guy looked up and saw him making a break for it. Troy let out a low sigh of relief.
There weren’t a whole lot of people outside prowling the streets. It was late enough for most non-party people to be in their homes, while those who were out for some fun were still in the bars or clubs. Troy watched a couple of drunk people stumble past him, their arms slung around one another as they laughed at some private joke.
Troy’s lip curled, and he shoved his hands into his pockets. That probably could have been him if he’d stuck around with that guy a little longer. His mind slipping away hadn’t been the problem, it wasn’t like it had been a problem in the past. Troy’s mind had been restless for as long as he could remember, and even a hot guy wasn’t enough to keep him focused forever. With the sole exception of one man, the very same man Troy’s mind kept drifting back to rather than on the man whose lap he’d been plopped down in.
The thought brought a growl of frustration from Troy, and he kicked a stray bottle away from him, sending it skittering down the sidewalk with a clatter. The entire point of coming out and having a good time with someone else was to get his thoughts away from Oscar, not to obsess over them. It wasn’t his fault the man couldn’t make up his mind about what he really wanted, kissing Troy one minute as though it were the old days, and then pretending as if nothing had ever happened afterward. Troy was every bit within his rights to shove every memory of him and Oscar, every scrap of feelings toward the man, under the rug and out of sight while he enjoyed the company of someone who obviously wanted something out of him.
And yet he couldn’t even manage that.
Troy was so wrapped up in his thoughts, he almost slammed into someone coming out of one of the late-night stores. He skidded to a stop, stepping around them, muttering an apology.
Then a familiar voice spoke up, filled with a tightness that brought Troy’s head up as quickly as the words did.
“What, don’t have your little ‘friend’ with you?” Oscar asked.
Troy turned to face him, groaning in exasperation. “Seriously? Are you just following me around now?”
“Could ask you the same. All I did was buy something to drink,” Oscar told him, holding up the bottle of Pepsi to shake lightly for emphasis.
Troy’s frown deepened as Oscar’s words settled into his consciousness. “Doesn’t explain how you know that I might have had a ‘friend’ tonight, though.”
Oscar shrugged, dark eyes pinched in annoyance. “What, you’re the only one who goes out on a Wednesday night?”
Troy hesitated, raising a brow. “To Raid? Since when the hell do you go to somewhere like Raid?”
“Since tonight.”
Troy gritted his teeth. “Seriously? I tried to get you to go somewhere like that with me for months, Oscar, fucking months. But now, all of a sudden, you felt the urge to go, and just so happened to find me on the same night?”
“From the sounds of it, you like to go out a lot, so the chances of me finding you out and about are pretty high.”
Troy took a step back, holding his hands out before him. “Excuse me? I’m sorry, was that you just trying to make me feel bad for...what, doing single stuff?”
Oscar’s eyes flashed. “No, you can go sleep with every Tom, Dick, and Harry you want, it’s none of my business.”
“You’re damn right, it’s not your business!”
“But I would’ve thought that after what happened last week, you’d be a little smarter than to hop on the next guy who showed you a bit of attention,” Oscar continued.
Here We Go Again Page 9
