Page 39 of Numbers Boy (Working Boys #2)
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Noah
THE AIR AT the club is electric. I’ve only been to Shimmer a few times before, and each time, it’s been crowded. But there’s something extra tonight, and it’s building up the anticipation flooding my system.
There are people everywhere, standing at high-top tables near the walls, milling around the bar, and filling in the chairs lined up near the stage.
The stage itself takes up a good portion of what’s normally the dance floor.
It’s a platform that butts up against the DJ booth, behind which hangs the glittering fabric that the club is known for.
There’s a curtain a few feet out from the next section of wall, giving the performers a way to appear onstage without being seen by the audience.
From the platform extends a catwalk, matching shimmering material hanging down to the floor.
After taking a selfie of all of us, we found chairs close to the stage, and now, most of us are saving our seats while a few of the guys get drinks.
Blake taps my arm and signals that he’s going to join them in line for the bar.
I nod and tell him what I want, having to nearly shout over the noise.
I’m about to talk to Mark, who’s on the other side of Blake’s seat, when I hear a gasp come from behind me.
I spin toward Henry to see him glaring daggers at someone in the crowd.
“Why the fuck is he here?”
I follow his narrowed gaze to a man looking down at his phone.
At first glance, he’s attractive, in an I’ve-got-my-life-put-together way.
His blond hair is neatly styled, and his short-sleeved dress shirt is clearly pressed.
But when I take a closer look, what stands out is the way his classically handsome face is pinched, his nose crinkled slightly like whatever he’s looking at disgusts him.
The expression doesn’t falter when he looks up.
If anything, his lip curls in disdain for his surroundings.
“Who is th–” I start to ask when Chad interrupts with the answer.
“Goddamn fucking Adam,” he mutters. His words might be said low, but I hear them just fine. I feel my eyes widen as I look at the man again with fresh perspective.
“ That’s Adam?” Maybe I’m biased, knowing how much Steve loves his cozy sweaters and cuddling, how much he scoffs at things that seem overly prim and proper, but I can’t imagine him with someone so visually uptight.
I’m distracted from that thought as I basically feel the steam coming off Henry beside me, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “Yep. Stupid cheating asshole. What is he even doing here? I thought he moved his sorry ass to Chicago.”
Before any of us can try to answer, Adam’s eyes swing our way.
When he realizes who he’s looking at, he locks in on Henry.
From this far away, I can’t quite make out the color of his eyes, but I can clearly see the calculating look as he dips them back to his phone and gives it a little shake.
He looks again at Henry as he slips the device into his pocket, a smug smirk on his lips.
“I swear to Madonna and all that is holy, if he texted Steve and ruined his night, I’m going to punch that look right off his stupid face,” Henry huffs as his feet move toward where Adam is standing.
Before he can get two steps, the lights start to dim, signaling the start of the show.
Chad quickly puts a hand on the smaller man’s bicep, pulling him gently back to his seat.
“Eve needs us here, Hen. We can worry about whatever the fuck that was later.”
Henry looks at the hand on his arm and blinks for a few seconds before swinging his aqua gaze to Chad.
“If he’s still around at the end of the show, I get a shot at him,” he bargains.
“If he’s dumb enough to still be around at the end of the show, I’ll hold his arms for you. I’m sure one of the other guys will bail us out.”
I stifle a laugh at the solemn expression on Chad’s face and the terse nod Henry gives in response, unable to help it regardless of the awful situation that prompted it.
I haven’t quite figured those two out. From what Steve has told me, Henry is madly in love with Chad.
But to me, the feeling seems mutual. Vows to go to jail for a person tend to give that impression.
So does the hand that Chad has now slid into Henry’s as he sits in the chair next to him.
Mark clears his throat quietly, and I give him my attention as the lights lower the rest of the way, leaving a single spotlight aimed at the entrance to the stage, and the music switches.
“I wouldn’t waste my time questioning it if I were you,” he advises me with a half-smile, nodding toward the other two men. “They seem to be in an unintentional battle for who can be the most oblivious.”
I nod, clapping absently as the emcee for the evening, Helen Wheels, is announced and enters to raucous applause. She’s on skates, and even though Steve has told me about her, I’m momentarily shocked by how easily she maneuvers around the stage.
Mark leans over the chair between us, recapturing my whole attention and surprising me by continuing. All of the times I’ve been around him, I’ve gotten the sense that he doesn’t speak up very often.
“And don’t worry about Steve. He’s made of tougher stuff than Adam can hurt, especially now that he has you.”
With that, Mark turns to watch the stage, and Blake slides into his open seat, holding out my beer.
I settle in for the show, thoughts torn between what’s happening in front of me and what might be going on backstage if Adam did text Steve.
I’m happy that Mark thinks I’ve helped him past what Adam did to him, but I know it’s been hard for him.
Adam’s attitude toward Eve is one of the main reasons it took Steve so long to bring it up and even longer to see if I wanted to be here tonight.
But I guess there isn’t any use worrying right now.
I’ll know soon enough what exactly Adam did, and I’ll be there to give Steve whatever he needs.
Just as I’ve made up my mind to put those worries away until I can do something about them, Helen introduces Eve R. Lasting, and all my thoughts of Adam fade away. Well, all thoughts but one.
How on earth could he have had this magnificent creature and not want to do whatever it took to keep him happy?
Fortunately, his loss is my gain. I watch in awe as Eve moves to the music, body changing effortlessly from fluid to jerky as fits the song.
Her hair is a much brighter red than Steve’s auburn locks, swinging around in a high ponytail.
Her white dress is nearly blinding under the stage lights, wrapping tight around her torso before flowing around her thighs, and her heels – those sexy fucking heels – show off her long legs.
God, if I thought Steve looked radiant while playing with my nieces, it has nothing on how Eve looks on stage.
With the girls, he had a relaxed, happy glow.
This is a confident, about to take over the world vividness that has nothing to do with the glittering rhinestones covering the gown or the giant heels she’s wearing.
Sure, those things help, but really, they just highlight how powerful Eve is.
I honestly don’t know which version I love seeing more. And the best part? I don’t have to choose. Both versions are part of the man I’ve come to love in the past few months.
“You’ve got a little something,” Blake whisper-shouts in my ear, reaching his thumb over to wipe at the corner of my mouth. I don’t break my concentration off Eve, not caring whether he’s teasing or if I am actually drooling.
From my other side, something is shoved into my hand.
I look down to see that Henry has given me a wad of cash.
I spare him a curious glance, and he nods toward where people have been lining up to tip the performers all evening.
My lips twitch up in a grin, and I hurry to join the row of admirers waiting to pay homage to Eve.
When it’s finally my turn, I hold out my offering.
Eve sends me a sassy wink and dances right in front of me.
She makes me wait as she lip-syncs to the song, swinging her hips and dropping into a crouch right at the edge of the stage.
I watch as her hand moves to one of the closures of her dress, and I’m confused for a second until the reason Steve wouldn’t tell me about the black underlay becomes abundantly clear.
In one swift move, Eve pulls off the white layer, leaving her in a black corset bodysuit, and my jaw drops.
Arm still outstretched with the bills, I’m unable to move as Eve takes them into her hand, then caresses my cheek with her long, bright red fingernails and blows me a kiss.
Someone pulls me back – Blake? Henry? – but we don’t go far as Eve finishes her number.
As soon as she exits the stage, I turn and head toward the dressing rooms, on a mission.
I reach behind me, grabbing hold of the hand of whoever came up to the tipping line with me, and drag them along.
They just volunteered to be door watcher because as soon as I find him, all of my attention is going to be focused on the love of my life.