“Having a hard time with that,” Ian muttered after Dalton turned and left.
For some unexplained reason, Nik and Jurgen needed to do something alone, so Sam had waited for Miller at his place, then gave directions while Miller drove them to the Monaco.It took forever to find a place to park, about five blocks from the club.They trekked toward it mostly in silence.As well as feeling sort of numb to everything, Sam didn’t feel much like talking.He only roused himself to tell Miller when it was time to cross a street or something.
“Turn here, it’s a shortcut,” Sam said, indicating an alleyway between two buildings.He saw the club entrance across the street at the other end.Some blond guy was standing there, looking around.Waiting for his friends, Sam guessed.Miller nodded and turned.He seemed a little nervous and had been since he’d picked Sam up.Sam was starting to have suspicions about that.
“I don’t think Nik is trying to set us up,” he blurted.He immediately felt his ears heat.Of course he’d said that, because he was a dorky, awkward social misfit who’d never have a boyfriend again and hadn’t been cute enough or sexy enough orsomethingenough to keep around the one chance he had at—
“Nik’s kinda weird, you know?”Miller said.“He thinks we’re both inneed, and maybe if he hooks us up we can help each other out.He doesn’t get it.Whatever it is you need, I ain’t it, and vice versa.No offense.”
“None taken.”Sam said, before beginning his defense of his best friend.Then he thought it over.“Yeah, he hasn’t really figured out giving emotional support yet.He’s much better at receiving it.”
“He tries, though.More than he used to be able to do.”
“He’s really changed since meeting Jurgen, hasn’t he?”
Sam didn’t expect Miller to have much of an answer.After all, other than high school, Miller hadn’t had a lot of contact with Nik.But Miller stopped halfway down the alleyway, turning to Sam.“Seems different to me.When I met him again last summer, he seemed just like he was ten years before.Snippy but so damned cute it about made my eyes cross.Sorta like one of those snarly lapdogs little old ladies carry around in their purse.”
Sam laughed so hard he snorted something out his nose.Thank God there was a handy brick wall for him to lean his shoulders against until the tears stopped rolling down his face and he could catch his breath.
Miller stood in front of him, grinning.“Guess that was kinda funny.”
And I really needed to laugh.“Tell me,” Sam gasped, “how he’s—”giggle“—different.”He wiped his eyes.
“He doesn’t walk like he owns the world anymore.More like the world owns him.Not in a bad way, but like he found his place or something.”Miller looked thoughtfully down the alley toward the street.
“Oh,” Sam said, sobering up.“That’s ...about right.”
“You know, as much of a brat as he could be in high school, he was pretty good to me.He put up with my stupid crush, and he never told anyone.I made a fool of myself ’bout fifty times over with him, but he never got sick enough of my B.S.to hurt me or tell everyone.”
“The city I grew up in wasn’t very big, but I never got the kind of shit Nik did.I can’t even imagine what hell they would have put you through if you’d been out, since you were sort of ‘one of them’ ...”Sam trailed off.Miller was still looking at the street, but his whole face had changed from thoughtful to alarming.
“Speak of the devil,” he said softly.
Sam looked, expecting to see Nik and Jurgen.It wasn’t them.“Miller?”
“Yeah?”
“Is that anactualpickup truck full of gay-bashing rednecks?”
“Sam, you need to run.They’re here for me,” Miller said, turning to face the threat squarely.
“But how did they—”
“I might have done something stupid a day or two ago.”
“Miller, is that yourboooyfriend?”the driver shouted out the window.Sam could hear thescreechof the parking brake when the guy set it.He opened the door, and Sam watched his gut spill out in front of him as he climbed down.The guy in the passenger seat was getting out, too, coming around the front.
“Get the fuck outta here, Sam,” Miller said quietly.Sam heard the threads of fear in his voice.
He swallowed.“No,” he said shakily.“It’s my first gay-bashing.I wouldn’t want to miss it.”He wasn’t as scared as he would have expected.The numbness that had settled over him earlier was good forsomething.
“That’s not funny,” Miller hissed.
Sam ignored him, watching the guys vault out of the bed of the truck like good ol’ red-blooded—straight—American boys.Some of them had difficulty—they’d stopped going to football practice or whatever about ten years ago, and Sam bet there’d been a lot of beer and potato chips between then and now.
Predictably, the one who looked like he worked out was the one with the baseball bat.
“If I live through this, it’ll make a really good scene in a book,” Sam whispered.
