Page 88 of Shift Change

My heart raced, but it wasn’t from fear; it was from the sheer, breathtaking knowledge that he loved me enough not to care who saw. I squeezed his hand, a silent promise to do my best not to fuck up.

28

mad dog

We were supposedto meet the boys after their golfing excursion and figure out a plan for the evening. That was the idea, anyway. But somewhere between Venice Beach and the Ritz-Carlton, a different plan took shape in my head. I glanced at Nate, hoping I wasn’t about to start trouble.

“You’ve been to West Hollywood, right?” I asked.

He shot me a look, already suspicious. “Yeah. Remember how I told you about Logan picking up a guy who turned out to be someone he’d already hooked up with?” Nate narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

The Uber driver glanced at us in the mirror, making me hesitate.Screw that. I’m Mad Dog, and Nate and I are boyfriends.I put on a bold smile. “My buddy Eckie and his husband go there whenever they visit LA. When Eckie and I were texting the other day, he said we should check it out.”

Nate pressed his lips together and brushed his thumb over the bracelet on my wrist. “I don’t know. We’ve had a long day.”

“It’s been amazing.” I waggled my eyebrows. “We could cap it off with a night in one of the most famous gay neighborhoods in the country.”

He gave me a look. “You know it would…”

When he trailed off, I pushed ahead. “Come on, you know we’ll have fun. I want to see what it’s like. We aren’t in LA often, and this is our only shot until next year unless we book a trip this summer.”

He gazed at the passing lights outside the window and let out a long-suffering sigh. “All right. I’d like to experience that with you. Let’s do it.”

We arrived back at the hotel as the boys were rolling in. Nate and I slipped upstairs for a quick PG-rated shower before changing for dinner.

Afterward, we found the guys in one of the hotel restaurants. They were planning to hit a sports bar later and invited us along, but we said we had other plans. Nobody batted an eye. Before heading out, we checked with Gabe, Brody, and Harpy in case any of them wanted to tag along. They were tired from golf but told us to have a good time.

“Have you guys seen Logan or Riley?” Gabe asked. “Neither of them showed for golf, and they’re not answering their phones.”

Nate shook his head. “Maybe they found something better to do. Riley’s got a habit of going off the grid and popping back up like nothing happened.”

“Logan’s the same,” Gabe said. “Hopefully they’re together, but either way, they know how to take care of themselves.”

* * *

Our Lyft dropped us on Santa Monica Boulevard, and as soon as I stepped onto the sidewalk, the world turned up the volume. Music thumped from every direction, merging with the sounds of voices and laughter ricocheting off glass storefronts. My heart shifted into high gear.

The air buzzed with energy and heat. The smells of cologne, street tacos, weed, and sweat all swirled together into what had to be the most unique aromatherapy ever. People flowed past in every direction, dressed in everything from harnesses to full-on club outfits like this was just another night. It was chaos, it was wild, and it was already perfect.

I tugged at the hem of my black button-down, second-guessing my outfit. I’d never been anywhere like this—queer on purpose—and my nerves were throwing a goddamn rave in my chest.

“That’s it up there,” Nate said, pointing.

About a block ahead, a cluster of buildings glowed in shifting rainbow light. Spotlights swept across the sky, and the sidewalk was packed with people lined up trying to get inside.

“Which one?” I asked.

“All of them.” Nate bumped my shoulder. “They combined them into one giant megaclub called Prism. It’s the biggest place in WeHo.”

As we got closer, the music intensified. The facade was sleek black with mirrored panels that caught the colored lights and threw back fractured glimpses of the waiting crowd. Above the entrance, PRISM blazed in silver block letters, haloed by a rotating LED light show that made the entrance shimmer like a doorway to another dimension.

Two bouncers in matching crop tops and combat boots managed the flow of bodies. I’d been to plenty of clubs, but never anything like this. When Nate reached for my hand, I squeezed back, thrilled to be there with him. We didn’t have to wait long because one of the bouncers was a hockey fan and recognized Nate. After a little conversation, he let us through.

Stepping inside was like being swallowed by sound and light. The main room was massive and open, with vaulted ceilings and a glittering chandelier shaped like a disco ball mid-explosion. Light refracted off mirrored walls and flashed across the dance floor, where a crush of sweaty bodies moved in time with a thundering remix. Shirtless bartenders worked behind an illuminated bar that stretched the entire back wall, slinging cocktails like it was a competitive sport.

The place was a riot of sound, color, and bodies. In the first few seconds, I caught flashes of leather and lace, sheer mesh shirts, cowboy boots, and neon eyeliner that glowed under the lights. Drag queens strutted through the crowd like royalty, parting the sea of couples—every configuration imaginable. I’d never seen anything like it, and my heart pounded as a grin broke across my face. This was awesome.

Nate leaned in, his mouth brushing my ear. “You okay?”

---