Page 16 of In the Nick of Time
Agent Swanson shifted uneasily. Nick wondered if he wasn’t used to being fawned over.
“I want a vodka and Red Bull,” Nick said. “My man here will have a McClellan’s. Neat with a lemon twist.”
“Ohhh.” Twink Face drew out the word just like he had the word hello. Maybe his best sound was anOsound. “A manly drink for a manly man. We’ll be right back.”
Seriously, Nick was going to vomit, and he was going to make sure it covered Sven’s face.
“My man?” Swanson mouthed at him.
Nick shrugged. A man had to do what a man had to do.
He watched Swanson watch Sven walk away from them, his stupid ass swinging back and forth. Nick squashed down the unreasonable jealousy. They were work partners and he already knew what Agent Swanson thought of him.
Loser.
Just like everyone else in Nick’s life did.
Maybe he would get the chance to prove himself.
Sven—Nickscoffed because no way was that the guy’s real name, Nick refused to believe it—returned relatively quickly with their drinks. When Swanson tapped a black Amex againstthe card reader, Sven practically shivered in anticipation. Nick rolled his eyes. Gag.
“Thanks,” he said, not meaning it. “We’ll wave you down when we want another.”
“Oh, don’t you worry, honey, I’ll keep my eye on you.”
There was that rising bile again. Nick washed it down with a big gulp of his drink and continued to watch the dance floor. It was a pretty typical scene, with groups of guys and a few women dancing and grinding on each other. A couple at the far side of the writhing bodies looked to be a tad more intimate.
Nick swallowed down the rest of his vodka.
“Ready, big man?”
Without waiting for Swanson to answer or even to note whether he’d finished his whisky, Nick grabbed the sleeve of his suit jacket and dragged him toward the dance floor. He resisted at first, but Nick tugged harder and Swanson gave in with a sigh that Nick was able to hear over Madonna’s sultry voice.
The key to dancing, Nick had decided long ago, was that, unless you were on TV or in a ballroom, you should just let your body do whatever. Swanson would be his maypole. He laughed out loud at the thought, ignoring Swanson’s quizzical expression. If he weren’t so grouchy, he could be Nick’sanytimepole.
His shaft.
This job just might end up being fun.
Madonna ended and Kylie came on. More club-goers flocked to the dance floor, forcing Nick to move closer to Swanson’s body.
“At least pretend like you’re having a good time,” Nick whispered in his ear after a particularly good twirl. “Or I’ll call Sven over here and let him have his way with you.”
Scowling at him, Swanson began swaying back and forth in a reasonably close imitation of actual dancing.
Nick grinned. “I’m enjoying this assignment!”
Swanson shook his head, continuing to watch the other dancers and patrons with a gimlet eye. Nick was fairly sure he was also watching the door he’d indicated earlier, the one that had gaming on the other side.
Nick managed to keep him shuffling his feet for two more songs.
“I’ve worked up a fearsome thirst,” Nick said.
“Thank fucking god,” Swanson replied. “I wanna go sit at the bar now.”
Nick thought that was a fine idea. Better to avoid their new friend, Sven.
Turning around, Swanson barreled through the crowd of dancers like a bull in a china shop, making a beeline for the bar. Lucky them, there were two open seats next to each other.
