Page 1 of Mad for Madison (The Boys of Hudson Burrow #4)

CHAPTER 1

Nights at the Burrow

Bradley

Parties at Neon Nights were a big thing, even if they were common. There was a sort of rhythm we all fell into when each Friday came around. The sense of expectations that mixed with the flurry of activity filled us all with the energy that was needed to push through the day.

I unlocked Neon Nights just after six in the morning and flicked the warm interior lights on. The city that never slept was still fast asleep, at least in our little corner of it. Across the street, where Roman and Tristan lived with their three other roommates, the lights were off. In truth, it was unlikely that Tristan was even there, and it wouldn’t have surprised me to find Roman descending the stairs from Mama Viv’s place above the bar. And if I were being completely honest, it only ever was one window I looked at whenever I arrived at work.

The place was neat and warm. Mama Viv automated the heating system downstairs so that the first ones to arrive each morning didn’t have to wait for the warmth to kick in. It was only one example of the quiet, deliberate care she provided to those around her.

We didn’t open for another hour, but a bar like Neon Nights always required maintenance and couldn’t open its doors to guests without a great deal of preparation, especially on a day when a lineup of drag queens was set to perform in front of a big crowd.

I went around the place to make sure everything was the way it should be. After checking that all the tables were clean, I ran through the inventory. The aroma of coffee I was making for myself filled the space as it always did. That first brew on a cold morning added something magical to my routine. I could have had a mug Gran made this morning, but they were never as good as a shot of espresso at Neon Nights.

It was just a few minutes later that deliveries began to arrive. Burger buns from a local baker, fresh produce from Amir around the corner, and several separate deliveries of beer from small brewers came in rapid succession. I checked them, signed for them, and exchanged a few polite words with each delivery person.

Before I could turn around, the time of quiet was over. Tristan arrived in a rush, but he always had a ready smile when he greeted you in the morning. “How’s it going?”

“Couldn’t be better,” I would say, regardless of whether it could. I made a cup of coffee for him while he set up the kitchen. There was a clear territorial division there. I led the bar, and Tris led the kitchen. We didn’t meddle in each other’s business.

“It’s freezing out there,” Tristan complained after joining me at the bar, putting both hands around the mug of hot coffee.

“I’m guessing you didn’t just cross the street, then,” I said.

He gave me a cheeky smile. “You’re guessing correctly.”

Cedric Phillipe Valois Montclair had an apartment just off the neighborhood’s edge in one of the big, fancy buildings. Tristan had practically moved in with him months ago. Despite that, he still paid his portion of the rent across the street and kept his room intact.

I was happy for him. He had always been a kind guy. Even before Mama Viv had employed him to manage the kitchen and expand the offerings Neon Nights had for our hungry guests, Tristan had been the first in line to do any odd job that was necessary. He never shied away from hard work. Even after he got together with a prince from a small, faraway kingdom, Tristan never let that go into his head. He could have dropped Neon Nights in a heartbeat. He probably could have opened a restaurant in the city and made a business out of it, but he remained loyal to Mama Viv, who needed a talented chef in her lineup.

I held back a dreamy sigh as my thoughts went far from the bar and into the realm of pure fantasy. It was hard not to entertain daydreams about being with the perfect guy when everyone around me seemed to have their dreams come true.

Roman, who had often worked the bar alongside me, found love in the unlikeliest of places, just like Tris. Roman’s stand against the crooked real estate mogul brought him straight to the mogul’s son, Everett, and they joined forces to stop Mr. Langley from forcing the sale of Neon Nights a few months ago.

Even our favorite delivery guy, Zain, no longer delivered fresh produce from his father’s store. He worked in research for one of the companies owned by Dominic Blackthorne, once upon a time called the Baron of Manhattan for the fact that he had a hand in half of Manhattan-based businesses.

Each and every one of my friends from the Burrow had fallen in love and found someone they could call their own in the last six months. And each story seemed more impossible than the one before it.

It was impossible not to hope for a similarly happy ending, even though I knew I was not destined to have one.

“Who’s coming tonight?” I asked Tristan.

“The usual suspects,” he replied, sighing after taking a sip of coffee. “I think Zain’s bringing Dominic again. Roman’s coming for sure, and so is Everett. Luke and Rafael won’t miss it.”

“Nobody else from across the street?” I asked, hoping I sounded casual.

“I don’t think so,” Tristan replied. “I don’t think Oakley’s ever been to a party.”

For the other two roommates, the excuses were already well-known. Lane came from time to time, but he was probably working out whenever he didn’t come, and Madison…well, who the hell knew what Madison was up to?

“And who the hell knows what Madison is up to,” Tristan said.

I suppressed a laugh. Madison’s name was rarely spoken without the rest of the adage.

Sometimes, if the work wasn’t busy, I found myself standing nearer to the window, looking out, and I would spot him leaving the building. Not that I was stalking or anything like that. His schedule was way too irregular for anyone to stalk him with any success.

“Maybe he’ll surprise us,” I offered, focusing on polishing the glasses behind the bar. My tone was neutral, but Tristan’s knowing grin told me he wasn’t fooled.

“Surprise us? Madison wouldn’t show up here if we paid him,” Tristan said, leaning his elbows on the counter. “I’ve known him long enough to know he’s allergic to fun.”

“Or maybe he’s just busy.” I tried to sound indifferent, but Tristan’s raised eyebrows almost made me regret speaking.

“Busy doing what, exactly?” he shot back, chuckling. “It’s not like he’s told any of us what he actually does. He could be a spy for all I know.”

“A spy?” I smirked, shaking my head. “You’ve been watching too much Netflix.”

“Hey, if the guy wants to keep his life a mystery, I’m allowed to speculate,” Tristan said, grinning. “Though I gotta admit, you seem pretty invested in the enigma that is Madison Masters.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m just making conversation, Tris.”

“Right,” he said, drawing the word out like he didn’t believe me. “Anyway, don’t let me distract you too much. I’ve got prep work to do, and you’ve got all those people to charm later.”

As Tristan headed toward the kitchen, I turned my attention back to setting up the bar. The usual rhythm of the day started to take hold—checking glassware, restocking the shelves, and running through tonight’s cocktail specials in my head. Still, my thoughts drifted.

Madison really was a mystery, even to someone like me who saw him almost every day. He wasn’t rude or standoffish, but there was a wall there, a quiet kind of detachment that made him hard to approach. And yet, I couldn’t help but be drawn to him, like trying to solve a puzzle I knew I shouldn’t touch.

The door chimed as a new delivery arrived, pulling me from my thoughts. I greeted the driver with a smile, signing off on yet another box of supplies. As I turned back to the bar, I caught a glimpse of movement outside.

Madison, stepping out of his building.

He looked hurried, bundled in a dark coat, a beanie pulled low over his ears. Before he could see me, he turned and walked away, his strides quick and purposeful.

Yet I knew the secret he didn’t want anyone else to know. I half suspected everyone knew it in the same way as me. I suspected that we all knew what Madison did when he was away but that we all respected Madison’s privacy enough not to talk about it. I did, at least. If he didn’t want people to know, I wasn’t going to tell them.

My heartbeat returned to normal after a few minutes. The bar was officially open, but it was too early for most customers to come around. So I kept myself busy with all the little tasks that I never got around to taking care of. And as I went around the bar doing these little things, I tried my best not to think too much about the way life had turned out.

It wasn’t a bad life. I loved and was loved in return, which was more than I would have hoped for ten years ago. The fact that my life consisted of home and work was simply how most people lived. Comparing myself to Tristan, who dated a prince, or Madison, who had everything I could possibly want, was an exercise in torment. It was also pointless.

Tristan said he needed to run an errand real quick and disappeared from the bar, leaving me alone.

I returned to my thoughts with a sort of melancholy you kept close to your heart. I wasn’t a melancholic type, but sometimes, these wintry feelings took hold of me, and I was reluctant to let them go too soon. I’d made my choices over the years, and things turned out better than anyone would have expected.

“Anyone working here?” the voice came from behind while I was on my knees near the stage on the far side of the bar, trying to untangle a cluster of cables that had knotted seemingly decades ago and wouldn’t let go of each other.

“Be right there,” I blurted as I got up, turning around to find Madison Masters standing by the bar. My heart lurched, but I kept my features neutral. I was pretty sure everyone reacted the same way around Madison. It was impossible not to flush when his dark brown eyes undressed you where you stood. Or did I just hope that was what he was doing? Not that there was much for him to see, even if he did. I worked out, but I was no model.

As I crossed the space between us, navigating between the tables and chairs, Madison leaned against the bar with his signature swagger and observed. The weight of his gaze was impossible to ignore. He was a few inches taller than me, which wasn’t so common given I was six foot two. And it was just enough that I was always aware of the height difference and had to look up when speaking to him. It was a refreshing feeling, exhilarating at times.

“I thought you’d gone somewhere,” I said, hating myself as soon as I heard the words that had come out of my mouth.

Madison’s black eyebrows wiggled playfully. “Good to know I have a guardian angel watching over me.”

Heat rose into my face in an instant. Even my voice was raspy, like it had dried out. “I wasn’t watching… I…”

“I’m teasing you,” Madison said.

I wiped my hands on my black apron and walked behind the bar. With the boards under my feet, I was taller now. Even so, Madison had a way of looking at you from somewhere far above. And when he did that, you felt special for being noticed.

“I forgot my keys,” he said. “And Oakley’s either dead asleep or out already.” He made circles on the counter with his finger as he spoke. “Tris went to Cedric’s to bring his keys and let me in.”

“Too bad,” I said. “Won’t you be late for something?”

He sucked his teeth in reply. “Nobody’s gonna be angry with me for that.”

I asked him what he was having and geared up to brew him a mean cup of coffee when he ordered.

“There’s a party tonight,” I said as thick brown liquid dripped into the small cup. “Mama Viv has a bunch of queens lined up.”

“Sounds like you’re gonna be a busy guy,” Madison replied. He had a habit of looking right into your eyes when he spoke. It felt like being caught by a lasso and pulled in. I didn’t mind it a bit.

“I enjoy it,” I said, struggling for air. He still hadn’t taken his eyes off me. “Mama Viv’s throws the best parties.”

“She does,” he agreed, his voice low, his face satisfied.

I didn’t know what lightning bolt of stupidity had struck me then. I would tell myself later that I only wanted him to have a good time or that I wanted more people to spend money at Neon Nights so that Mama Viv would continue to be successful. I would come up with a million excuses, but recalling this moment never failed to make my cheeks heat up. “You should come,” I said, letting the words tumble out.

And if that wasn’t bad enough, Madison casting his gaze down was the last nail in my coffin. “Ah, I don’t know. I expect I’ll be tired.”

“Of course,” I said, hiding my disappointment as best as I could. In fact, his words were just another reminder of the different worlds we lived in. Inviting him to sit at the bar while I served countless thirsty people was nobody’s idea of a fun date, even if I were a hot catch—which I was not—but Madison was more than just a cute guy who was about to have a busy day.

Madison was off-limits. He was as off-limits as a guy could be. Because he wasn’t just going to have a long, hard day that would leave him tired by the time the party rolled around.

He was on his way to work. I imagined a well-lit studio somewhere downtown, a small crew of guys who knew how to operate it all, fresh towels and plenty of hot water in the shower, camera lenses pointed toward the bed, the armchair, the dining table, or whatever else the scene required. And a guy whose job it was to give Madison the kind of pleasure I couldn’t dream of.

Because he was a porn star.

He was one of those people who strode with such unbending confidence in his own success, and I could only sit back in awe of what he had achieved. And under the awe, there was a never-changing layer of sadness. He was the guy I saw leaving the building on most mornings, and for a heartbeat or two, I would have him in my thoughts as fully and completely as if we stood right in front of one another. Then, he would be gone, and I would know that he had the most exciting things lined up for the day and that he wouldn’t notice if I disappeared off the face of the earth by the time he returned.

Tristan strolled into the bar, keys hanging from his index finger. “I won’t need them today. You can leave them here in the morning.”

“You’re a lifesaver, Tris,” Madison said, snatching the keys off Tristan’s finger. “Thanks for the coffee,” he told me, taking a moment to make eye contact as he slid a bill across the counter to pay for his coffee.

He twirled around and hurried away.

“What do you think is the rush?” Tristan asked.

Life , I thought— exciting, impossible, unapologetic life . “Who knows what he’s up to,” I sighed instead.

Madison

I rubbed my hair dry with the smaller towel, the bigger one tied around my waist, as I walked down the hallway between the big, spacious bathroom and the open-concept living room.

Craig was already packing the lights into cases marked with the Eros Edge Productions logo. There was a flurry of activity, with two runners carrying out the equipment after a long day of shooting. Everyone wanted to go home.

Jett, the director, stood by the fireplace, talking to Ricardo, my scene partner. Ricardo wore a pair of gym shorts, probably commando-style, and ate a slice of pizza while his beer can was balancing on the middle of the armrest. His dad body never failed to cause a little tingle deep inside my stomach. We’d spent the last three days working together on a particularly salacious scene, and it was, without a doubt, an absolute pleasure working with him. Not that I had a particular type. In this line of work, you could have a great time if you weren’t exclusive. And luckily, I was into all kinds of guys. Older and younger, skinny, toned, muscled, soft, hairy, smooth, and any other type that came to mind.

Ricardo spotted me as I moved around, looking for my backpack. I had a pair of clean underwear somewhere. “Great work today,” Ricardo said.

“Beautiful, Nico,” said Jett.

I’d told him before that he was welcome to call me by my name when the cameras were off, but he’d discovered me on Twitter as Nico, and some habits never died. Nico Hart, Eros on Earth, the prince of seduction and a lover of all kinds of pleasure.

Nico was a persona fabricated for the audience, but I would be a liar if I said he wasn’t based on me. Only some parts were exaggerated, and others were toned down. He was braver, but he was also single-minded. Nobody would ever say that Nico was creative or original. He was hot, forward, flirtatious, sex-positive, but there was little else to him. And that was all that people knew.

I was flirtatious, too. I couldn’t help it. It was my nature to close the distance between my arm and someone else’s. It was my instinct to listen, nod, smile, and meet their eyes. I dialed it to a hundred for work, but that was still me.

“Thanks, boys,” I said. “Now, did anyone see my underwear?”

Laughter rippled around the room, and a runner, a guy my age, lifted my backpack from the corner of the living room. “Are they in here, Nico?”

I nodded and thanked him for finding the backpack. Pulling up the soft, expensive fabric of the dark green boxer briefs was another kind of pleasure. I’d grown up wearing third-hand clothes but new underwear. The only trouble was, the underwear that was bought for me had to last until next Christmas. Often, it didn’t. Holes appeared around the waistband, and it would itch and bother me. On the upside, torn underwear went just fine with torn sweaters and sweatpants my older brothers had worn to death.

Once my boxer briefs were on, I took off the towel. Early on, I wasn’t sure about the on-set etiquette. Just because I had been naked and in action for three days in front of these people, every inch of my body seen and scrutinized, it didn’t mean I could or should just drop my clothes and change in front of them. I also quickly learned why we spent days together before shooting anything and how much it mattered to be on the same page about everyone’s comfort levels. In some ways, it felt like being part of a big family—something I would never tell anyone because of how terribly wrong it sounded.

I put on the rest of my clothes and ruffled my black curls with my fingers. My hair would look awful as it dried, but I didn’t plan on being seen in that state.

Jett pulled out an envelope from the inside pocket of his jacket and offered it to me. “This is the New Year’s bonus from our friends at EEP, Nico.”

“Thank you,” I singsonged as I plucked the envelope from the director’s hand. That was going straight into my savings. I stuffed it into my backpack and glanced around the room. You’d never guess the mess we’d made all over this place for the scene just by looking at it.

Jett was called away to make a decision about some task that didn’t matter to me.

“Are you down for drinks?” Ricardo asked.

I looked at him, my gaze sliding over the hairy chest and stomach, muscles and fat evenly distributed to take an edge off his firm physique. His beard was cropped short, but his mustache was a little thicker, and his dark hair was specked with silver. He was a sweet muffin, alright, but I didn’t mix work and life. “I think I’ll take a rain check,” I said.

“I’m not trying to get into your pants, Nico,” he said in that deep purr that could send chills down my spine if only he used the right words.

I threw my head back and laughed out loud. “Is that so?”

Ricardo gave a deep nod, assuring me he wasn’t trying to sleep with me. Then, relaxing a little, he said, “I’ve been doing this for a long time. I know what making friends is like when you do this sort of work.”

“I have friends,” I said, hoping no flicker of doubt crossed my face.

“I’m sure you do,” Ricardo said without the trace of sarcasm I was expecting. “But hey, some things you can’t talk about with your outside friends.”

So I could talk to the guy who’d spent three days inside of me for the pleasure of strangers? I didn’t think so. But I thanked him politely anyway because Ricardo was a genuinely nice guy, and I hoped to do a scene with him again someday. Not everyone knew how to strike a balance between rough—and rough was the entire brand for Eros Edge—and attentive. One had to appear on camera and be believable; the other needed to remain between us. Ricardo knew how to do that.

“I guess I’ll see you around,” Ricardo said. His brow furrowed. “Are you going to the gala?”

I snorted. “My contract says I am.”

“Figures.” Ricardo scratched his beard and nodded. “See you there, then.”

I saluted him with two fingers before pulling my beanie down my head and walking away. The cold evening air seared my lungs until I got used to it, and I headed for the subway. Although I had a very clear destination in mind, it crossed my mind that Bradley had asked me to come to the party at Neon Nights. Or had come as close to asking as Bradley would. He always floated the idea as a theoretical possibility. I wondered if he was just gathering people to make the party bigger for Mama Viv or if he wanted me there.

I didn’t do parties at Neon Nights for the simple reason of wanting to separate my life and my work. A glitter bash at a gay bar was the likeliest place to be recognized, although stray glances came from the unlikeliest of places throughout my daily life. Still, I didn’t want my roommates, Mama Viv, or Bradley, getting dragged into conversations about my choices. I’d done enough of that in my life.

Instead of going back to Hudson Burrow and debating whether or not to show up at Neon Nights, I went to a shabby studio on the top floor of a defunct residential building. I was not reckless with my money. This studio was given to me as a favor from a scene partner. Otherwise, I never would have rented a place like this. My money went into savings with rigor and strictness that my parents never would have understood. It simply didn’t exist in my mind.

There were, however, things I spent my money on. Peeling Palace, for which I split rent with four other guys, stylish clothes, and various equipment for my solo videos. Oh, and my canvases and paint that were scattered around the studio.

It was my slice of heaven. I flicked the lights on, filling the space with the radiant orange-yellow glow of the industrial Edison bulbs hanging from the ceiling. The warmth from the heater took its time, but half an hour later, I changed into my painting rags and picked a canvas for the night’s work.

The studio’s bare brick walls were covered with paintings. Portraits, predictably. Figure paintings of all sorts and kinds: young men rolling in grass fields on summer afternoons, other young men jumping off jagged cliffs into deep seas, fictional scenes of times long gone in a world that never was. This was my indulgence. This was where I came for pleasure. This was what I did to feel things that I couldn’t feel in the real world.

So I picked up a notebook and examined my studies for a long time before bringing the pencil to the canvas. And when the tip of it touched the taut linen, every wrong in the world felt put to right again.

Bradley

I turned the key quietly and stepped inside the apartment. The part had gone on until late, and the work after closing had been significant, but these things reflected on my paycheck, and not much else mattered. Besides, I would sleep in tomorrow before our big day out.

My grandmother was fast asleep, no doubt. The apartment was dark and quiet. It was so warm that I had to take my scarf, beanie, and jacket off quickly and make my quiet way down the hallway, past my grandmother’s door, into the living room, and to the other side, where two rooms faced one another. My door was shut, but Lily’s was slightly ajar, a soft night-light pouring through the crack and casting a gentle beam into the hallway.

I pushed the door a little and looked at the sleeping angel. She had pushed the blanket off herself, so I tiptoed across the room, avoiding the minefield of Transformers and Barbie dolls that cluttered the floor, and stroked her golden hair before pulling the blanket up and tucking Lily in.

She had Ava’s hair, her big green eyes, and her Cupid’s bow. In fact, every unique feature of Lily’s face had come from Ava, which was lucky because I didn’t have any unique features for her to inherit. And Ava was beautiful, or had been when I’d last seen her four years ago.

Lily gave a tiny, childish snore as she settled into the folds of the blanket, and I ran my hand over the back of her head again. “We’re gonna go to the zoo tomorrow,” I whispered. “We’ll see lions, the kings of the jungle. And penguins. They’re way cuter than lions, you’ll see. Oh, and Pudding, Tristan’s panda bear. We’ll have the whole day together, just you and me, baby.”

She slept peacefully; I hoped images of penguins waddling along filled her dreams.

As quietly as I could, I snuck out of Lily’s room without stepping on LEGO or tripping over a toy tractor. Lily wanted to be a farmer and a princess and an astronaut, all depending on the time of day and the person asking. And I always promised that she would be precisely what she wanted.

Lily was the reason I got out of bed every morning. God knew my life was far from perfect. It was barely passable on most days. My place was behind the bar, looking at people living lives I couldn’t have. But it was for Lily and her future, so it wasn’t hard.

Ava had been my first and only girlfriend. She’d been my best friend in school. Our relationship had been a natural progression of that friendship, combined with our parents’ expectations. When we got together, it was to everyone’s delight. But we had been a doomed couple from the start. I’d gone into it hiding a secret that was eating me alive, eating my soul from the inside. The final piece of proof I needed to stop my mind’s denial gave us Lily, but it also ended our relationship.

After the first time we had sex, Ava knew. I hadn’t told her, but she knew something was wrong with me. For one thing, I couldn’t look her in the eyes the next day. She resented me, hated me even, and decided there were way more attractive guys out there. I could hardly blame her. That one desperate act of running from the truth of who I was had felt like violating myself and Ava at once.

But then she told me she was pregnant. And then she told me she was keeping the baby. It wasn’t until the time for making decisions was far too late that Ava changed her mind and decided keeping our child was no longer an option.

“Have her,” she’d told me. “I’ll always be her mother. I’ll be there for her.”

But that changed a week after Lily was born. She couldn’t be involved, so she wouldn’t be involved.

Things turned out well for Lily and me. Gran had a place big enough for all three of us and enough free time to help me take care of Lily.

I didn’t know where Ava was now. I hadn’t heard from her in just under four years.

And in that time, I redirected my life to Lily. Crying over the way I’d missed my chances when I should have tried things out served no purpose. Instead, I worked hard and made time for my daughter. I made the right choices now and seized all chances I could.

That was enough to let me sleep at night.