Page 2

CHAPTER 2

Geo

I swallow harshly as I look up at the sign for Saint & Sinner, the sex club Mateo agreed to get us into.

I wasn’t expecting the night to go this way, to be honest, but after Heart Killer ’s main frontmen, brothers Dare and Richie Wylde, showed up at the damn restaurant and hijacked the evening, I found myself intrigued.

I’ve been to a few clubs over the years, usually on dates, but those clubs were usually standard bars and dance floors.

I’ve never been to a strip club or a sex club before, but I didn’t want to be the odd man out, especially because Mateo never wants to go.

.

.

well, anywhere.

So, the fact he’d agreed to get us all into the newest hot spot in LA was kind of a big deal, and I wanted to support my friend emerging back into the world.

But I was not prepared for this.

I don’t have much time to rethink things, because as soon as I do consider turning around, Hailee and Richie show up.

Hailee casts me a sly smile, her eyes alight with excitement.

“This is going to be a blast!” she gushes, her smile warming my nerves, if only a fraction.

“It’s going to be something, that’s for sure,” I say as I note Celina and Hans bounding over to us, followed by a stoic Mateo and the younger Wylde brother, Dare.

I don’t miss the way Mateo casually slides his hands in his pockets, pretending not to look at the other man, and that alone makes me forget about my own insecurities.

I’m not here for me .

I’m here for my friend, and that’s enough to push away my feelings for the moment.

Mateo does his magic, speaking to the man at the front of the ropes, bypassing the gigantic line.

Cameras flash, and fans holler around us.

Within seconds, Mateo is waving us all in, and I make my way through the warm LA night, stopping to take a few selfies and sign a few boobs.

When I finally make my way into the club, I can’t help but marvel at the sight.

Once I come through a long, dark tunnel, I’m let out in a room that can only be described as the most stylized version of heaven I think I’ve ever seen.

The stage is lit up with ice-like plexiglass, and there are strippers on the stage, dancing and climbing their silver and white poles.

I casually walk past the main stage, noticing the strippers dressed in white, feathery lingerie.

My gaze travels up their long, toned legs, appreciating the physicality of how they move.

How they grip the pole with their thighs, flip, and climb the damn thing like it’s the monkey bars on a playground and not a damn stripper pole.

They’re pretty, but I don’t see the appeal, though I can appreciate the athleticism in their moves.

I know that’s got to take some core strength.

Then again, I’ve never really found women’s lingerie to be that intriguing, mostly because I don’t understand the purpose.

Why dress up in tiny pieces of clothing that don’t cover you?

If the point is to be naked, why not just be naked?

Then again, I guess I’m not the best judge of seduction, so what the fuck do I know?

I’ve never seduced anyone in my life, and if I tried, I’m sure I’d come off like Steve Carrel getting his fucking chest waxed.

“You okay?” Mateo’s voice pulls me from my thoughts and I turn around, nearly knocking him over.

I’d only had one drink at the restaurant, so I can’t even blame my jumpiness on the alcohol.

I glance around the room, taking in the sight of the sparkling bar, the bright, airy lights and the blue neon.

It’s like Antarctica meets the pearly gates.

Another stripper attendant waltzes past me, casting me a sexy smile that barely registers on my radar.

“Yeah, I’m good, why?” I feign nonchalance.

Mateo smirks at me, nudging my shoulder.

“You look like you’ve entered the seventh circle of Hell.”

I sigh, letting out a dry laugh.

“I mean, it’s just... a lot.”

Dare passes us, and I raise an eyebrow at him, a smirk playing on my lips as he casually leads me to what I assume is our VIP booth for the night.

Celina, Hans, Richie, Hailee are scattered about, some with drinks in hand already.

I shrug as a woman in an angel outfit—because dress would indicate there was actual fabric to cover things—and a man in tight, white shorts with wings come to our booth, dropping off a large tray of fruits, juices, and two bottles of champagne.

“Compliments of management,” the woman says, batting her eyelashes at me.

I nod as Hailee squeals with excitement.

The woman doesn’t drop her gaze, almost as if she is waiting for me to say something.

Mateo nods at her.

“Thank you. That’ll be all for now.” His voice is back to that commanding, authoritative tone I know well.

The woman drops her gaze, and for the moment, I am thankful Mateo knows just how to control a room.

As well as the people in it, naturally.

Another talent I wish I possessed.

The cute angel boy glances at me from under his lashes, chewing on his lips.

“If you need anything, my name’s Rex.” His voice is drenched in a southern drawl that is as rich as dark chocolate.

His golden blond hair falls in his ocean blue eyes, and I can’t help but feel a bit warm.

Likely, because I’m practically melding together with Mateo from this angle while Celina, Hans, Hailee, and Richie set about to pouring drinks and snapping selfies.

“Thanks, but I think we’re good,” I reply, swallowing harshly.

Maybe Mateo’s right, maybe I need a drink.

Or two.

Or three.

Something to take the edge off and make me feel like the rockstar everyone keeps telling me I am.

Something to make me think about anything except Rex’s thick drawl and cerulean gaze.

I mean, you’d have to be an idiot not to notice he’s built like a damn brick house.

So he’s good looking.

So what?

So are the other strippers.

They’re probably all models.

Rex slides past me, knocking into my shoulder, forcing me to catch his dark gaze.

“I love your music, by the way,” he says, that sweet drawl warm on my skin as he leans close to me.

“ Devil In Me and Heaven Sent are totally on my fuck me playlist.”

I swallow harshly again, my gaze dipping to his lips.

Yeah, I definitely need a drink.

“Thanks,” I manage to say, my voice slightly rough.

He smiles as he walks away.

“Champagne?” Hailee offers me a glass, grinning.

“Absolutely,” I agree as I grab the flute from her hand.

Richie calls a toast, and we all clink our glasses, cheering Mateo and the upcoming Pillars Of Rock tour.

Hailee smirks at me.

“ Heaven Sent is a great song, you know,” she says sweetly.

“And that bass line in Devil In Me is—” She whistles and I blush.

I down my champagne like it’s a shot, relishing in the taste of the fizzy sweetness, reaching for the bottle to pour another glass.

Mateo watches me out of the corner of his eye, but he doesn’t say anything.

I try my best to change the subject.

“It’s so...” I swallow harshly, taking in the sight of everything, feeling slightly overwhelmed.

Mateo nonchalantly shifts a little closer to me, but not in an overbearing way.

Mateo has always had like this sixth sense of just knowing when something is going on, or if you are having an existential crisis, like I am, at the moment.

His gray-blue eyes implore me.

“Relaxing?” he taunts, elbowing me, much in the way an older brother would.

Technically, he is older than me.

By a couple weeks, but still.

“I was going to say... bright,” I tout, crossing my arms as another waitress in a white and blue angel uniform squeezes past us, clearly headed for the table beside us.

“Oh, that’s just Saint’s aesthetic. The dungeons are downstairs. Where the real sinners go,” Mateo annoys me, raising his eyebrows.

I roll my eyes, taking another pull of my champagne.

Kill me now.

Why did I agree to this?

Mateo doesn’t talk about his.

.

.

preferences, but he had called me when shit went sour with his ex, Edward.

I don’t know the steamy details of what happened, or how their relationship worked in general, but just because I’m a fucking virgin doesn’t mean I don’t know about the kind of debauchery that is a permanent fixture in Hollywood.

I know Mateo is into some kinky BDSM shit, even if he hasn’t been as direct about it, and honestly, I’d be surprised if he wasn’t.

Some guys just have that vibe, you know?

Like, they exude sex appeal and part of that appeal comes from the fact that they know shit.

Not just how to command a room, but.

.

.

They know how to make you see fucking stars when you come.

I mean, I wouldn’t know.

But I’ve heard stuff.

He grins, letting out a laugh as I flip him off.

He takes it stride, though.

“And the Hell aesthetic is stereotypically black and red.”

“Of course it is,” I murmur as Hailee and Celina squeal with excitement, dragging Richie and Hans to the dance floor.

“Dungeons? Like Dungeons and Dragons?” Dare speaks up inquisitively, drawing my attention to his curious gaze.

Mateo turns to him as well, and I don’t miss the way he raises his eyebrow at the young twenty-something man.

Dare’s expression is like a babe in the woods.

I would have assumed someone like him—young, attractive, with boatloads of charisma—would be more than familiar with a place like this.

I mean, isn’t that what young twenty-something guys do?

Go to clubs?

Fuck bitches, get money, and all that?

I mean, I wouldn’t know, because my twenties were spent at religious fairs and conservative events, and I had a fucking curfew.

Try dating in your twenties with a fucking chaperone and a curfew.

Tiffany, my first serious girlfriend came when I was twenty-one, and my manager—my mother, at the time—had a fucking field day with it.

That’s why I always liked working with Zeb, to be honest.

I didn’t have to pretend to be someone I wasn’t with him.

Despite my fucked up image and lack of a love life, Zeb didn’t care what I did or didn’t know about anything, and it was the one place I could escape being Geo Graves , Christian Rock Artist, and just be.

.

.

me.

For a couple years, anyway.

It was always about the music and nothing more.

Zeb was a safe place, despite the fact he’s the same age as my sister.

What did that say about me?

That at twenty-six, my best friend was a damn sixteen-year old?

A sixteen-year old who was a musical genius, but still.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Mateo drawls as I attempt to pour myself another glass of champagne, if only because I don’t want to think about how terrible of an idea this was.

“What are you even still doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be out there?” Mateo’s voice pulls me from my brooding walk down memory lane, and I turn to see him motion to Dare, shooing him and insinuating he should leave.

His tone is bitter, sarcastic, but I don’t miss the way his entire body shifts, or the way he adjusts his damn jeans.

Nonchalantly, of course.

I shoot Mateo a bombastic side-eye, because even though I know Dare didn’t notice, I’m more than sure it wasn’t coincidental.

I clutch my drink, and Mateo shrugs me off, proverbially flipping me an invisible finger as if to say, “You didn’t see shit, G.”

I’ve never had any issue with the fact Mateo is openly gay, despite the fact I was raised in purity culture.

Actually, if I’m being honest, it’s always been kind of a blessing because it is a lot easier knowing he is, because like Zeb, I don’t have to worry about sex the way I do when I am with everyone who is straight.

And I never assumed just because Mateo was gay that he was into me, like so many men do.

As if being a man in the presence of a man who likes men is an automatic I want to fuck you .

Besides, I’m not his type, and even if I was, it still wouldn’t bother me, I don’t think.

Mateo has always been cool with the fact I’ve built my career on being a virgin and straight edge, and I’ve always been cool with the fact that he was openly gay and a bit of a dick to everyone but the people he truly cares about.

I feign a look away, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t interested in the rare mating event happening before my eyes.

Seriously, it is like watching a National Geographic Special on Caveman Rituals.

Because honestly, it doesn’t make any sense.

Mateo, the poised, sarcastic, dark and moody sexpot, and the cute, young, emo golden retriever.

“What about you? You just going to sit here all night like a Kingpin?” Dare bites back at Mateo, who regards him with an annoyed look.

“I do not engage,” Mateo replies.

It feels like I’m watching something I have no business watching, but like a train wreck, I can’t look away, either.

Something about their exchange and banter makes me homesick.

For something I haven’t thought about in years.

“You like to watch, is that it?” Dare raises an eyebrow at Mateo as he goes for a glass of champagne, tossing a handful of strawberries in his glass, which makes some of the liquid spill out of the sides.

“What I like is none of your fucking business. Besides, you are stalling.” Mateo huffs, his tone flustered and on edge.

I can’t help the smirk that forms on my lips.

Mateo Starr isn’t so easily rattled, and the fact Dare can get under his skin so easily makes me like the kid all the more.

“Stalling for what?” My gaze drifts to Rex, who shoots me a sly grin as he drops off another bottle of champagne and a fresh bowl of strawberries.

Thankfully, Mateo speaks before I have to awkwardly thank the angel who keeps staring at me like I’m the bowl of strawberries.

It makes me uncomfortable.

Who the fuck am I kidding, this whole place makes me uncomfortable because I have no clue what I’m fucking doing.

Or what I’m supposed to be doing.

Dare downs some of his drink, about half in one gulp, before he refills his glass.

I never got to do the whole drinking ‘til dawn in my early twenties stage.

I was touring locally with a bunch of other up and coming Christian Rock groups at the time, dating Tiffany, and curfew was strictly enforced.

But I guess, when in Rome...

“Our darling little Heart Killer has a mission tonight.” Mateo grins, Dare stopping mid-pour.

“What’s that?” I ask, Rex nudging my shoulder as he leaves. The motion puts his skin against mine, and a flush heats my entire body.

His skin is warm, slick with oil, and my damn cock twitches.

I take a heavy sip of my drink, hoping it will make me forget about this entire, weird night and my stupid cock.

Mateo’s voice is direct, but it isn’t venomous.

“Find someone to fuck.”

Dare curses and I nearly spit out my champagne.

Mateo is always direct, but his words coupled with the attractive man in angelic booty-shorts and wings slithering past me, my buzz, and my cock acting weird as fuck, I can’t help myself.

You’re just having an off night, G.

It’s fine.

You’re fine.

Mateo slaps me on the back, running his hand between my shoulders in a friendly way as he lets out a dark chuckle.

“And what about you, Matty? You take a vow of celibacy I don’t know about?” Dare bites back petulantly.

“No,” Mateo snaps, and I let out an exasperated breath.

The tension is so thick, and I’m half-concerned the two of them are going to whip out their dicks and have a measuring contest right fucking here.

Like there can only be one Highlander, Dare and Mateo look like they are ready to fight to the death.

Over what I’m not sure, but I know enough of my friend to know the way his jaw is set, he’s not as pissed as he looks.

Agitated, maybe, but not pissed.

And all at once, I realize, they aren’t dick measuring.

Like pretty peacocks, they’re fanning their fucking feathers and trying to impress one another.

They’re flirting.

“Maybe you should engage for once. Put yourself back out there,” I say, a slow smile forming on my face.

Dare’s wide grin spreads and before Mateo can even speak, he grabs him, yanking him up from the couch with ease like the man isn’t made of solid muscle.

I watch as Dare drags him to the dance floor, watch as my notoriously secluded friend navigates his way through a crowd, and I feel a pang of jealousy.

I watch all of them on the dance floor.

Richie and Hailee, Celina and Hans, and Dare and Mateo.

I wish I had that.

Confidence, zest.

A peacock of my own to pull through the crowd.

I pull out my phone, feeling melancholy alone in the booth with the champagne and an overabundance of fruit.

I fill my glass, noting that I’m starting to feel a little more than buzzed.

Maybe getting drunk is the answer to all my problems.

Likely, not, but I wouldn’t know because I’ve never really let myself have more than one or two drinks before, if only because it has been drilled into me from a young age that I need to be a good boy and good boys don’t stay out past curfew, have sex, or drink in excess.

I know I’m not a kid anymore.

I’m fucking thirty-nine.

But some things aren’t that easy to let go of.

I scroll through my phone, browsing my contact list, or lack thereof.

Seriously, how sad is it that I barely have thirty people in my phone?

I reach for a strawberry, hoping the fruit quells my brooding.

But it doesn’t.

I’m just about to drain the last of my drink and call it a night, when my thumb accidentally hits the call button.

I fumble with my phone, realizing my error, but because of the alcohol, my fingers don’t work as fast as they normally do, and the unfortunate soul answers me before I can hang up.

“Hello?” The voice on the other end of the phone makes my heart stop.

It’s familiar, in a sense, but it’s also foreign.

Deeper, older.

Gravelly.

Like I woke him up or something.

I sit there for a moment, frozen in Saint & Sinner as angels surround me in various states of skimpy outfits, the haze of the blue lights reflecting on my phone.

“Hello?” he says again.

“Geo, is that you?”

My breath catches in my throat, and I can barely process his voice.

There are a thousand things I want to say.

A thousand stories, a thousand apologies.

But all I manage to say is, “I miss you.”

Silence fills the air, and I think I’ve lost him.

Again.