My fingers gripped my keys so tightly that I thought I’d bend them. I was too petrified to remember his name or why he was out here. This was a gas; I was standing in front of Lou’s eye candy with possible raccoon eyes, and he was—
He was heading to the entrance of The Nest.
Both of us could have easily walked away, pretended this literal run-in didn’t happen, but we rooted to the ground. My keys burrowed into my skin, and the pain sparked my fight or flight. And I wasn’t contending anyone who rivaled Lou’s height in heels.
“I’m going to… My car is…” I thought I said.
Josiah—that was his name—rubbed under his eye and shoved his hands in his jacket pockets. “You seem in a hurry, so I’ll—”
I bolted and prayed this bag had an ounce of remover, but it was too late; he saw what I had done. My thin line of consolation was that he and I were virtually strangers. Once I realized my door key wouldn’t start the car, I made like a snake and rattled out of that parking lot. Down the street or into the nearest body of water didn’t matter—anywhere but home.
***
My night was far from over because why would anything go right for me? I should have well enough given myself a good scrub in the shower when I got home, but at the end of it all, I ended up at that bar. The one that was in the opposite direction of my apartment, the one that Lou gave me such good advice about going to. I was parked in front of it with blotches of mascara probably still on my cheeks.
I still had time to go home and crawl under the sheets with my leftover snacks, but going home meant wondering what Mathieu was doing. It meant being alone. And after I managed to spook myself with a wig, I deserved a drink.
I got out of the car and approached the door, trying not to freak out about how my latest bad decision would go. Luckily there was no one at the door, so I entered this seedy little bar with billowing smoke in the air, worn leather on the seats, and not a woman in sight.
This wasn’t my scene, and judging by the eyes on me, everyone here knew it too. I kept my head low and sat at the far end of the bar, hoping to look like I had less of a target on my back. Once they realized I wasn’t someone threatening their good time and just another lonesome soul, they returned to whispers and public displays under the table.
The bartender hovered and looked me up and down, giving me a crooked smile, more so because he had a few teeth missing. Must have been Rick. “What’ll it be, sweet cheeks?”
I cleared my throat and eyed the bottles behind him—they sure were bold here. One drink, and I could say I stayed long enough to placate Lou in one way tonight. “Tom Collins.”
Maybe Rick winked and poured the clear liquid into a shaker. He added ice to a glass and slid my drink to me. “Will that be all, or do you want to open a tab?”
“This is it for me,” I said. Lou needed better taste in men.
“Shame then. Haven’t seen you around here before, so don’t make yourself a stranger, baby doll.”
I snared the glass in my hand and restrained myself from knocking out the rest of his teeth. My first and last drink here was just above tolerable to be wasted on his shirt. I fished a few bills out of my wallet, but a hand blocked me. Beside me was someone dressed far more casually than anyone else in here, like he decided he’d come here last minute. Like me.
“Rick, don’t go bothering new people,” he said. He handed over a five-dollar bill. “That should cover it, and add a bourbon sour to my tab.”
“Whatever you say, Mr. Big Shot.”
Rick left me be and dawdled to the other end of the bar. Big Shot claimed the seat next to me and angled just close enough outside my space. “I could’ve paid for it myself.”
“Don’t sweat it. Rick likes to be a little...friendly with the new guys in here.”
I drained the rest of my drink. “Still, I was on my way out.”
Rick returned and sat the bourbon in front of the man next to me. “Here you go, Leon.” He turned to me and asked, “Want another one, cutie?”
“No, thank you.” If I made it out of here without dying from embarrassment or breaking someone’s nose, Lou wouldn’t hear about this.
“One more won’t hurt. You want a buzz, this ain’t it.” He tapped my glass. “Besides, I already paid for it.”
He was right; that drink didn’t do a thing. I wasn’t entirely positive since he was way too handsome for me not to have some degree of inebriated impairment. This man had been here long enough for a tab, yet enough bills for an extra set of drinks. He didn’t seem like one to strike out, and someone who looked like why just rolled out of bed had one thing on their mind.
Based on my overly complicated rationale over a simple request, I would say that one thing was me. And it was rude to waste someone else’s money. What were another few minutes in here? Free drinks couldn’t make this night any worse, and by the looks of it, neither could the one offering them.
All Darzsa wants are his fashions on the silver screen and the heart of dreamboat Mathieu in front of the camera. Dating a star comes with secrets, and hiding their relationship from an unyielding family and unforgiving industry shakes Mathieu’s commitment.
After one too many lonely nights, Darzsa confides in local diner cook Josiah. They dish up more than burgers and fries after recognizing each other on drag night at Catille’s. Shared confessions strengthen their bond but push Darzsa and Mathieu’s relationship on the rocks.
Darzsa snags a promising studio deal to sew for the stars, but nothing in Hollywood comes easy. The pressure of fame rattles Mathieu, compromising his big break and Darzsa’s newfound status. Their escalating mistrust and miscommunications leave lovelorn Darzsa drowning his sorrows in milkshakes.
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