“Really,” Jack assured him.
“Do you know his favorites?” Gregory asked, handing another platter of food off to Landon.
Jack scoffed. “Red. Tombstone. Fall. Being alone.”
“And the regret?” Gregory pressed with a haughty lift of his eyebrow.
“Letting him take so long to be here,” Callum answered.
“You two make me want to throw up,” Verity interjected, stepping up onto the deck and taking a seat at Gregory’s picnic table. Aaron sat beside them, their thighs touching and Jack noticed Verity didn’t push him away.
25
Callum
Callum staredat the clock behind the bar as the digital readout flicked over to read 12:01 am. It was officially Monday. He survived the weekend. He was going to marry Jack today and, God willing, Jack would let him finally come. Callum had promised Jack no less than ten times a day that he wouldn’t even look at his cock again without his permission if Jack would just put him out of his misery, but every time Jack just kissed him softly and repeated the same word,Monday.
Sundays at Rapture were always busy, but generally slower than Friday or Saturday so the night dragged on with Callum literally counting the seconds until last call. At quarter to two, Callum flipped the house lights on and caught a glimpse of a familiar looking mop of curly brown hair near the side door.
There was less than two dozen people left in the club who were now reluctantly making their way toward the exit, but Keith wasn’t one of them. He was loitering near the side exit, looking around nervously. Callum ducked out from underneath the bar and ran to the office, pushing the door open.
“Verity, can you watch the bar a minute?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder.
“Sure,” they said, pushing back from Landon’s desk and maneuvering past Callum toward the bar.
Callum jogged toward the door Keith had been in front of in time to see him push it open and slip into the dark. Callum caught the door with his hand, pushing it open and calling out, “Keith!”
The door closed behind him and Callum jogged down the side of the building, calling out a second time. Keith’s steps faltered and he stopped, looking over his shoulder at Callum nervously.
“Yeah?” he questioned, his eyes darting around suspiciously.
“I’m Callum. I’m the bartender?”
Keith nodded. “Alright. And?”
“Uh, well, I just haven’t seen you around, and Justin and Micah, you know, they seem worried about you is all,” Callum explained, closing the space between them.
“Are they here?” he asked, rubbing his throat absentmindedly.
“No. I haven’t seen them tonight.”
In the dim light on the side of the building, Keith looked tired. It could have just been the shadows from the one amber light mounted behind them, but Keith had what looked like dark bags under his eyes and worry lines around his mouth.
“I need to talk to them.”
“You should call them,” Callum suggested.
“I can’t. It’s not safe.” Keith dared another glance over Callum’s shoulder, then behind him again.
“What are you talking about?” Callum asked, confused. He reached for Keith and grabbed his hand, tugging him back toward the door. “Come inside and we can give them a call.”
Under the light more directly now, Callum realized the shadows on Keith’s face weren’t bags, but bruises.
“Keith, what the fuck is going on?” Callum turned away and grabbed the door knob. It was locked. In his distraction over Jack and finding Keith, he’d forgotten to disengage the auto-locking deadbolt on his way out. “Come on, we’ll go in the front.”
Keith let Callum pull him a few steps out of the light before he started to resist.
“It’s not safe,” he protested. “It wasn’t safe for them and I left and I need to warn them that he knows.”
