Page 2
CHAPTER 2
A Decent Proposition
Madison
I passed by Neon Nights on an evening walk the following Tuesday. I had spent the day in my studio, working on a complicated piece with many moving characters, something I had never done before. Frustration over the elements not quite falling in place on the canvas still ran through my veins by the time I reached the Burrow, so I circled the block instead of returning to the apartment.
As I walked by the bar, I glanced inside. Warm lights poured out of the windows and onto the sidewalk, almost inviting me for a drink with my roommate and neighbors. Tristan wore an apron but sat with the rest of them around a table, little work going on in the kitchen. Cedric sat next to him, arm around Tristan’s shoulders, hand playing casually with Tristan’s ear. On the other side of the table, Roman sat, his chair leaning dangerously far on its hind legs, one arm thrown over the back of the chair, the other arm resting on the table, hand covered by Everett’s much larger hand. Everett lived above the bar in Mama Viv’s spare bedroom, falling low after living in the riches of his parents. It had been a valiant descent from the penthouse overlooking Central Park last year when Everett’s father attempted to force Mama Viv to sell Neon Nights and build a luxury hotel in the rubble. It was Everett’s willingness to leave behind his family and his comforts that ultimately saved the bar.
Mama Viv sat at the table, too, a magnificent drag queen who almost never appeared downstairs without complete makeup, wig, and dress. And with them, Luke and Rafael—Luke, the rising author of various fantasy and science fiction comics with gay twists, told some story that held everyone’s attention. Rafael grinned as he listened. They had gotten married last year in Neon Nights, and Mama Viv officiated.
Although single, Mama Viv was surrounded by photographs from forty years ago, her long-lost partner still present in her life, still watching over the bar.
My heart clenched as I walked by. Part of me wanted to stroll in and join them, but I had avoided doing that for two years, and changing my mind now would only be weird. I had avoided it because it would be awkward to be there and be recognized by some random patron of the bar. I didn’t want to see these people change their minds about me in real time.
It was a strange feeling. I wasn’t ashamed of what I did. In fact, I was rather proud. It had lifted me out of near extreme poverty, saved me from a life lived in the closet, and gave me the kind of future I never could have hoped for otherwise. I worked hard for what I had, yet I was afraid of my friends learning the truth.
As I pushed on, I threw another quick glance through the window, spotting Bradley Hayes behind the bar, preparing intricate cocktails for two girls who observed him with a mix of awe and instant crushing. It was common for straight girls to swing by and enjoy drinks without worrying about guys hitting on them, but nobody was immune to Bradley’s warm eyes and dimpled smiles.
A flush of heat rose into my face as I hurried away. That was, perhaps, the only regret I had about choosing the path I had picked. In rare moments such as this, feeling slightly struck by a guy’s smile was the furthest I could let things go. I’d been fully aware of that when I’d first started out. It was a price worth paying, especially when I hadn’t had any intentions of sharing my life with another person ever again.
I circled the block, passing along the Hudson River for a long time and letting the cold wind slap me in gusts until I shivered and decided it was time to get warm. My frustration over the painting had slowly shifted to a general feeling of unease, but I knew where that was coming from.
As I walked along the sidewalk on the side of Neon Nights, I cast a glance anew, finding it empty. The two girls enjoyed their cocktails alone on the far end of the bar, and Bradley was alone, polishing glasses. I would have lingered for only a heartbeat or two, watching him so absorbed in his work and letting myself go to sleep with something nice and wholesome to think about, but he lifted his gaze as if he could sense me and grinned at the sight of me.
Before I knew what I was doing, I walked in, warmth washing over me and chasing away the chills of the night.
“I don’t believe my eyes,” Bradley said as I neared the bar.
“A rare sighting of a previously-believed-to-be-extinct neighbor,” I said with grave significance.
Bradley threw his head back and laughed. “Want a drink?” he asked.
I shrugged. “Sure. Something to warm me up.”
He winked as if to say he knew exactly the right kind and got busy while I sat on a barstool.
“Where is everyone?” I asked.
Bradley glanced at me over his shoulder. “Gone home, I hope. It’s almost closing time.”
I looked at the vintage clock hanging above the window to my right. It was close to midnight. “Imagine that,” I mused.
“What are you up to?” Bradley asked, turning back with a mug of mulled wine, steam rising with the scent of cloves and spices.
“Just…clearing my head, I guess,” I said.
Bradley slid the mug toward me, his lips curling into a smile. “Well, as my Gran always says, ‘A clear head is just a cup away from a good decision—or a bad one you’ll at least enjoy.’”
My eyes widened. “That’s pretty damn accurate.” I brought my face close to the mug and inhaled deeply, unable to suppress a satisfied mmm that was dragged out of me by the scents.
“What is it that you need to clear from your head?” Bradley asked, leaning against the counter with both elbows. He wore a black T-shirt that fitted him as if Mama Viv had ordered it to be custom-made—it wouldn’t have surprised me if that was the case. His biceps swelled when he bent his arms, and I tore my gaze away from the sight.
“What else does your gran say?” I deflected silkily.
“She says, ‘Mulling over things is for wine, not for people. If it’s on your mind, let it out before it sours.’”
“You think you’re so clever,” I mock-accused. Bradley shrugged innocently, but a naughty smile spilled across his face. I rolled my eyes and inhaled deeply. “I warn you, it’s a long story.”
“Do I look busy?” Bradley asked.
I looked around. The two girls were finishing their cocktails and touching their things, probably preparing to leave. Sighing, I said, “There’s a party happening on Saturday. It’s a charity gala with plenty of people I know attending. I support the cause, of course—it’s very noble. It’s just that among the people coming, there are some I don’t exactly want to see. I’ve been avoiding this person for a year now, and you wouldn’t know this, but it’s kinda hard to avoid people in my circles. I’ve been doing a great job not running into this particular guy, but I’m running out of excuses, and I’m contractually obligated to attend anyway. So that’s what’s mulling.”
“That’s a long story?” Bradley joked.
I had cut out all the crucial context in order to avoid seeing whatever Bradley’s reaction would be if he discovered all of it. “I don’t do long speeches,” I said with a shrug.
He nodded seriously, thinking about my problem. “Why are you avoiding this person?”
“Because he’s mean,” I said. “And doesn’t know when to stop.” I shuddered and looked away.
“And this party, what’s it about?” he asked.
I regretted telling him anything. It was an open invitation for his questions. And yet, part of me wanted to get it off my chest. I couldn’t have spoken with Ricardo or, God forbid, Jett about it. I couldn’t tell anyone from the industry because it was such a small village. I sighed. “Look, I don’t know if I should be bothering you with this.”
“Don’t you know that bartenders are the original therapists?” Bradley asked.
I glanced at my mulled wine and couldn’t stop myself from laughing. Had it been a plain whiskey, we would have made a cliché scene from a noir film. “Can you keep a secret?” I asked, a tingle of fearful excitement passing through me.
Bradley nodded.
“The thing is, nobody knows this about me, and I…” And that’s when the fearfulness won over the excitement. I stammered and came to an underwhelming halt.
Bradley waited patiently, but he also leaned in conspiratorially close to me. And when no more words came from my lips, he asked me in the barest whisper, “Is it about, um, the work you do?”
My eyes widened. “How did you…?”
“Oh, I…” The blush creeping into his face was priceless. I would have appreciated it so much more if I weren’t blushing a little too. “I know.”
“You know?” I asked, my mouth dry.
“Sure I do,” Bradley said, looking away. He acted busy, picking up a cloth and wiping the clean counter just next to me. “Erm, not that I was, you know…I just stumbled on it.” He cleared his throat. “It’s good work.”
Seeing him flustered like this did the opposite thing to me of what I had expected. I had somehow thought that my carefully built confidence would shatter at the first encounter with someone awkwardly admitting they’d seen me do some seriously naughty things. Instead, his shyness empowered me. “You think so?”
Bradley huffed a chuckle and glanced at me. He nodded, shrugging simultaneously, and bit his lip. “Not that I’m watching your…you know.”
“But you’ve seen some,” I said, my heart lifting joyfully at the chance to tease him.
He laughed and dropped the cloth, deciding to face me. There was a spark of mischief in his eyes when his gaze met mine. “I have. And believe me, it wasn’t on purpose. It’s not like I was searching for you.”
I could have asked him what he was searching for, but I had a shred of mercy. “And it’s good stuff?”
He laughed again, letting out a strangled exhale and looking into my eyes with accusation. “I’m not exactly an expert judge if that’s what you mean.” And when I said nothing, he was compelled to add, “It was interesting.”
“I aim to please,” I said.
“I think that’s clear already,” he murmured, the naughtiness returning to his eyes.
“Honestly, it feels good to tell someone,” I admitted.
“You don’t think everyone knows?” Bradley asked.
I shook my head confidently. “No way.”
“You couldn’t tell that I knew,” he said.
And that was the core of it. “That’s so weird,” I said. “I can always tell in public.” Maybe because of the awkward shifting of feet or the pronounced ways people examined me in person or something else entirely, but I could always tell when someone recognized me. And then I realized that Bradley had never acted strange with me. Sure, he was awkward now, but I figured it was mostly the awkwardness about admitting to watching naughty videos. “You don’t judge people.”
“Me?” Bradley asked with surprise. “I’m the last person who should judge anyone.”
That caught me off guard. “Why’s that?”
Bradley rubbed the back of his neck, his expression thoughtful. “Let’s just say I’ve made my fair share of mistakes. Life doesn’t leave much room for judging when you’ve been judged enough yourself.” He shrugged, his humility striking in its simplicity. “Besides, what you do doesn’t hurt anyone. You’re not exactly robbing banks.”
I smiled softly, staring down at the steam curling from my mug. It was strange how easy it was to talk to him, even about this. Maybe it was because he didn’t know the whole picture—didn’t know Nico Hart the way the rest of the world did. To him, I was just Madison. Complicated, a little lost, but human.
“Well,” I said after a beat, “if I don’t want to deal with people like this guy, I need a plan. And I might have one.”
Bradley tilted his head, his eyebrows lifting in curiosity. “Let’s hear it.”
I hesitated, twirling the mug in my hands. “You’re not going to like it.”
He leaned his elbows on the counter, a teasing smile on his lips. “You’d be surprised what I’ll entertain after midnight.”
I smirked despite myself, nerves bubbling under the surface. “Okay, what if…you came with me to the gala?”
Bradley froze, the smile faltering. “Me?”
“Yes, you. As my, uh, date.”
His jaw dropped slightly, and he laughed, though it sounded more nervous than amused. “That’s a good one.”
“I’m serious,” I said, sitting up straighter. “If you come with me, people will assume we’re together. And if people think we’re together, this guy won’t bother me. He’s not the type to make a scene if I’m already…you know, spoken for.”
Bradley blinked at me, his brow furrowing. “Madison, I’m not exactly…” He trailed off, gesturing vaguely at himself.
“Not exactly what?” I pressed.
He looked down at the counter, his voice quieter. “I’m not the kind of guy people would believe someone like you would be with.”
That stung more than it should have. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He shifted uncomfortably. “I mean, look at you. You’re…well, you’re you. And I’m just…this.” He gestured to his plain black T-shirt and jeans as if they were the epitome of mediocrity.
I leaned forward, forcing him to meet my eyes. “You’re exactly the kind of guy I’d want to be seen with. You’re kind, down-to-earth, and—whether you realize it or not—insanely good-looking.”
His face turned a deep shade of red, and he scratched the back of his neck again, clearly flustered. “Now you’re just buttering me up.”
“Would it work?” I teased, trying to lighten the mood.
He sighed, his lips twitching into a reluctant smile. “You really think that’ll help?”
“I do. And honestly? I’d feel a lot better knowing you’re there.”
Bradley was quiet for a moment, his gaze thoughtful. Finally, he nodded, though his expression was still hesitant. “Okay. I gotta think about it. But if this goes sideways, you owe me.”
A grin spread across my face, the first genuine one I’d felt all day. This was the closest to a solution I had gotten so far. “Deal. Think about it.”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “Gran’s going to have a field day with this one.”
“Gran doesn’t need to know,” I said quickly, though I couldn’t help laughing along with him. For the first time in a while, the weight on my chest felt a little lighter.
As Bradley chuckled and shook his head, I couldn’t help but feel the tiniest flutter in my chest—a reaction I hadn’t expected, much less welcomed. There was something about the way he’d agreed, his quiet humility and that boyish charm, that made my pulse quicken. It was ridiculous. I couldn’t let myself go there. Bradley was the kind of guy who deserved something uncomplicated, someone who could meet his kindness with the same sincerity without dragging him into the mess of their past or the chaos of their present. And me? I was anything but uncomplicated. An adult film star with a reputation that preceded me, I lived in a world that didn’t make room for normal, much less for sweet, good-hearted men like Bradley. This plan isn’t about anything more than survival , I reminded myself. Bradley was my solution, not my possibility. And yet, as he shot me one of those genuine, slightly shy smiles that punched deep dimples in his cheeks, I had to wonder if I’d just made things more complicated than ever.
“Tell me about the guy,” Bradley said. “If we do this, I have to be ready.”
I held my breath for a few heartbeats. Exhaling, I began, “Dane Pierce. He’s all charm and confident swagger until you get close to him. He’ll make you think he’s glazed in honey until it’s too late. We had a…thing. Or so I thought.” It didn’t escape me that Bradley glanced away when I admitted to having had something like a relationship with Dane. “But he’s not a good guy, Bradley, not once you scratch under the facade. He’s manipulative, he’s passive-aggressive, and he’s controlling in ways that…it doesn’t matter. He’s just not a good guy.”
“Christ,” Bradley huffed. “Did he do something to you?”
I deflected. “He’s apparently starting a production company. He wants me to sign with him as if nothing… Never mind. I’m not doing it, but he’s not exactly the kind of guy who takes no for an answer.”
Bradley’s friendly, nonaggressive demeanor was gone. He seemed sharp and ready for a fight, which took me aback. “I see,” he said, his voice dropping to the range of a growl. “I didn’t realize it was that serious.”
Fuck , I thought and looked at my mulled wine. I should have kept it light and easy. What the hell had I been thinking? I practically told him I needed a human shield from a very bad man who had a lot of power in a small community. What the hell had I been expecting? Of course he would change his mind. “Look, I get it if you’d rather not get involved.”
“What?” Bradley asked, surprise replacing the anger on his face for an instant. “You think I’m pulling out? Like hell I am. We’re doing this, Madison. I’m coming with you.”
My heart leaped so suddenly that I barely kept it contained in my chest. “Are you sure?”
“Positive,” Bradley growled.
And for the first time in a very, very long while, I felt like I had a friend watching my back.
I was going to make it worth his while, that much was guaranteed.