Page 31 of Gay for Pay
“Oh, yeah? And what, exactly…” All rational thought disappeared when Chris looked over Linc’s shoulder to find Lance standing there, staring at him with open contempt and hate.
Chapter Thirty
Why Are You Here?
Linc immediately noticed the change in Chris’s body language, his shoulders tensing as the big man stood up straight, eyes narrowing. “What? What’s wrong?” he asked. Chris snarled, his grip on Linc’s hips tightening to the point of pain. Then it hit him; the unmistakable scent of Polo invaded Linc’s nostrils mere seconds before he felt a hand on his shoulder.Fucking Lance.Linc sighed before turning and facing his ex. Lance was trying his hardest to smile until Chris wrapped his arms around Linc’s waist and pulled him against his broad chest. The line had been drawn in the sand, Chris’s gesture silently daring Lance to make one wrong move.
Lance held his hands in the air and shook his head, giving Linc a sad smile. “I don’t want to fight. I wanted to talk to you for a minute, please.” Linc nodded but didn’t make a move to pull away from Chris. “Alone!” Lance barked. There was that entitled tone he was trying to hide, the one that grated on Linc’s last good nerve every fucking time he heard it.
“Oh, hell no!” Chris shouted.
The confrontation had drawn the attention of anyone within earshot, and they started to gather behind Chris and Linc. Oddly, no one stood behind Lance. Thankfully, before the situation could escalate, Victor found them. He moved the three of them over to the bar before he let Lance have it with both barrels. “Why you come here tonight? You are not welcome!” Victor snarled at him and motioned one of the bouncers over, a big, scary guy with arms the size of tree trunks that spoke the same language as Victor.
Lance’s eyes went wide when he saw the man stalking toward him. “Wait, I just want to talk to Linc, that’s all.” Lance actually looked terrified as he backed into the bar.
“It’s okay Victor, I’ll talk to him.” Linc grabbed Victor’s arm, pulling him away from Lance. It took some convincing, but finally Linc got Chris to go with Victor, assuring his boyfriend he was fine and would be right behind him shortly. Turning to Lance, who stood there holding two shot glasses with green liquid in them, Linc crossed his arms over his chest. “You’ve got five minutes.”
Lance tried to hand one of the shots to Linc, but he shook his head. “Speak.”
“I miss you, Lincoln.” Lance spoke so quietly, Linc had to strain to hear him over the thumping bass.
Linc growled through clenched teeth. “I told you not to call me Lincoln. You no longer have the privilege of using my real name. And I’m not going to have this conversation with you again, Lance. There is no us, and I don’t really fucking care what you want or what you miss. You should have thought about that when you were out sticking your dick in any ass that moved!” He turned to go.
“Wait, please, Linc, can we at least remain friends? I don’t want to lose you entirely.” Lance was pleading with him, honesty and sincerity evident in his tone, but Linc wasn’t convinced.
“I don’t know, Lance. I really don’t think I owe you anything. But I’ll think about it. Now, I’m going to go join my friends, if you’ll excuse me.” Lance shoved the shot glass into his hand as he turned to leave.What the hell, he thought. It was a free shot after all, probably a Midori kamikaze, judging by the vibrant green color. They were Lance’s favorite and didn’t taste half bad, but before Linc could down it, a group of guys barreled past him, almost knocking the shot out of his hand. Linc took the opportunity to turn and all but run back to the VIP area where Chris was waiting for him.
Chapter Thirty One
Unredeemable
Chris was rocking on his heels, watching the crowd that came and went through the VIP section, growing more and more anxious with each passing minute that Linc didn’t join them. He was about to go find his boyfriend when Linc came into view and quickly made his way over to Chris with a couple of beers. He grabbed Linc by the back of the neck and pulled him close, kissing him hard and thoroughly staking his claim. Linc laughed when Chris pulled away. He handed Chris one of the beers, sipping the other, a glass with something green in it in his other hand. “What the hell is that?” Chris asked.
“A Midori kamikaze; it’s Lance’s favorite shot. I think he wanted to toast to a new friendship, or some such shit. I told him I had to think about that, us being friends, but honestly, I just wanted to get the fuck away from him.” Linc shivered. Not an excited, full-body, I-want-you kind of movement. More like the reaction to a particularly violent climax at the end of a horror movie.
“Give me that.” Chris set the kryptonite on the table, just wanting the damn thing out of Linc’s hand.
“You don’t want it?” Mattie asked, leaning forward and picking up the glass. Linc shook his head. Mattie sniffed it, shrugging his shoulders. “It smells good, how does it taste?”
“Oh, they’re delicious, I just can’t drinkthatshot.” Linc shook his head, sipping his beer and leaning against Chris.
“All right then.” Mattie downed the shot in one gulp. “Oh, yummy.” He grinned, licking his lips. “That’s nice, I like that. Andy, baby, put ingredients for Midori kamikazes on the grocery list.” The two men kissed, Andrew pulling his young lover over onto his lap.
“I have no idea what that is, but I’ll pencil it in.” Andrew grinned at Mattie. Chris couldn’t stop himself from watching the two men laughing, unable to not touch each other. Linc slid his hand into Chris’s back pocket, such a simple gesture, but so endearing.
One minute they were all laughing, drinking, dancing, and having a great time. Michael was telling Linc stories of their crazy days in high school while Colton flirted with the bartender, and then everything went to hell in a handbasket.
Mattie climbed out of Andrew’s lap, obviously a little tipsy, plopping down beside Gabe, his eyes glassing over as he swayed to the side. Chris figured Mattie was just drunk—he’d had a few drinks in addition to the shot, but then his posture stiffened, and the little man couldn’t seem to catch his breath. Mattie reached for the water bottle Victor held out to him, the plastic slipping through his fingers and landing on the floor at his feet. Andrew turned to Mattie and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “You okay, Matt?” His voice was tinged with concern. It seemed to take a great deal of effort on Mattie’s part to simply turn his head and look at Andrew.
Andrew caught Mattie when he swayed, falling into his arms. Fear the likes of which Chris had never seen clouded Andrew’s usually brilliant blue eyes. As if that wasn’t enough to scare Chris, the sheer terror he saw on Mattie’s face—well, that gutted him. What the fuck was going on? “Victor!” Andrew shouted.
The big, imposing man shoved people and the table aside with ease, his hands gentling when he reached for Mattie’s face. Tears were rolling down Mattie’s cheeks but he wasn’t crying, moving, or speaking. “Linc, something’s very wrong with him.” Chris could do nothing but stand there and watch the youngest member of their odd little family, immobile and obviously in pain. What was worse, Mattie seemed to be having trouble breathing. Victor shouted for someone to call an ambulance and moved around behind Mattie just as his body fell limp in Victor’s arms. Andrew and Victor, the two that were always so calm, cool, and collected, the voice of reason within their clan, were shouting, at each other—hell, at anyone that would listen—Victor speaking only in Romanian, which thankfully, the damn bouncer obviously understood.
Chris thought the ambulance must have been parked out back, waiting. Not even five minutes had passed between Victor yelling at the bouncer to call and the paramedics pushing their way through the crowd. There were three of them: two men and a woman. While the men worked on Mattie, the woman spoke with the bouncers, asking them to get everyone out of the club. Everything happened so fast, Chris’s head was spinning. He was so thankful to have Linc by his side, his lover’s hand in his, grounding him, keeping him calm.
All he could do was stand there and watch while the paramedics loaded Mattie onto a stretcher, wheeling him toward the exit with Andrew glued to his lover’s side. That alone gave Chris a little peace of mind. Mattie was awake and hopefully coherent, but he couldn’t move, and his breathing was labored. That was what bothered the female paramedic most—the fact that Mattie couldn’t seem to catch his breath. He was constantly panting, even with the oxygen mask over his nose and mouth.
Victor stayed behind, barking orders at the bouncers in Romanian. And then there were two cops there, detectives Chris assumed, since they were in suits and not uniforms, asking questions and taking statements. Was Matthew a heavy drinker? Did he use drugs? Victor was fuming, so Chris and Linc intervened before he tore off their heads. Then one of the cops asked Victor what his relationship to the victim was. Chris cringed at the word…victim. It sounded so filthy the way the officer said it, the connotation not in line with the definition of the term. Victor told them he was his partner, his husband for all intents and purposes. The older guy with a bulging belly and receding hairline curled his lip in disgust, and Chris was pretty sure Victor was fixing to go to jail for murder.
