On one side behind a tinted glass door was a dance floor, and Reed’s body shook from the pounding beat. Peering through the glass, he could see the swaying bodies pressed together, and Reed imagined a hot and sweaty Carter hard up against him, their hips gyrating to the slow pulse of the music. Maybe the time had come for him to learn some moves.
On the other side, raucous laughter and loud, off-key singing could be heard, and Reed guessed that was the karaoke club.
Carter tugged at his hand. “Let’s listen to some karaoke before we dance.”
Giving Carter a surprised look, Reed huffed out a laugh. “You? Karaoke?”
Without answering, Carter led him inside the room, still holding tight to his hand. They followed the hostess to a small round table for two, set with a flickering candle on top of a glittering cloth. The room was half-empty; there were around fifty people seated at the same small round tables scattered about the room. A waitress appeared in a scanty black tank top and leggings, accentuating her lean, muscled body. If Reed were to hazard a thought as to her day job, he’d pick dancer or maybe personal trainer.
“Good evening, gentlemen. What can I get you?” The lights picked up the slash of her bold red lipstick and the colorful feather earrings sweeping her shoulders.
“I’ll have a Grey Goose on the rocks. Reed, what do you want?”
Because of all the medications he took, Reed didn’t often drink, but tonight, being here in public with Carter for the first time, he felt a little reckless and decided to indulge.
“I’ll have a Sam Adams.”
The waitress left, and he and Carter soon became so engrossed in the hilarious karaoke, neither noticed the waitress setting their drinks down on the table. An unexpected, flirty side of Carter emerged, and Reed enjoyed the neck nuzzling and Carter holding his hand and toying with his fingers. His heart lurched with a happiness he hadn’t felt in years, and he struggled to remember it was all a fantasy.
Without even realizing it, he’d finished his first beer only to find it replaced with another. It slid down his throat cool and easy, and to his surprise he watched Carter take a big gulp of his own drink.
Maybe he was nervous too.
And somehow that small chink in the armor, letting in the tiniest light of vulnerability to shine through, endeared Carter all the more to Reed.
When the group on stage had finally finished, a lull fell over the now-crowded room. Carter nudged his thigh and whispered in his ear. “Want to try?”
Reed almost choked on his beer. “Me? I sound like a dying chicken when I sing.” He wiped his chin. “Do you sing?”
Carter downed his drink and stood. “Guess you’re about to find out.”
Chapter Six
‡
When Reed hadasked for a night out, Carter’s first inclination was to refuse. He had no desire to go out in public together; after all, their arrangement had been to spend their time having as much sex as they could possibly cram into their weekend. But the disappointment in Reed’s pretty golden eyes bothered Carter more than he imagined it could, and he found himself agreeing simply to keep Reed happy because he liked to see Reed smile. Another alien concept Carter mulled over as they walked together in the cold.
Once they were out and strolling through the city, Carter admitted to himself he enjoyed it. It was a rarity for him to take the time and wander about, look at restaurant menus or simply people-watch—he and Reed had even played a fun game ofGuess Where the Tourist is From.Once Jackson had come to live with him, Carter had thrown himself headfirst into work, pushing all thoughts of personal pleasure out of the way. Jackson had to and always did come first. Carter had promised himself his brother would never end up feeling unloved and unwanted like he did.
But for this night Carter gave in, not only to Reed’s wishes but his own desire to be part of a crowd; a desire he didn’t know existed until he walked with Reed amid the throngs of people in Times Square. The usual hawkers were about, shoving pamphlets in their faces encouraging them to take a tour bus ride around the city or listen to a comedy act. Carter ignored them and chose to focus strictly on Reed: his animated voice, the excited sweep of his hand as he pointed out something of interest, and the sweet curve of his smile.
With some difficulty Carter forced himself to look away from Reed; not an easy task with the man so close he could see the smattering of freckles along the bridge of his nose and the vivacious sparkle in his eyes. Happier than he could recall in recent memory, an idea popped into his head as they walked up Broadway toward 50th St. A client had recently opened a nightclub that featured both karaoke and dance, and watching Reed walk slightly in front of him, Carter pictured them with their arms around each other, dancing to a slow, rhythmic beat. Inside of twenty minutes, they were seated at a cozy table, having a drink and listening to terrible singing, with Carter enjoying himself more than he thought possible. He ordered a second round, figuring it would loosen Reed up for the dancing he had planned. And, God knows, he needed the buzz.
So this is what regular people do on dates.
Casting a sly look at Reed, he whispered in his ear, feeling him shiver and loving how affected Reed was by his simplest touch.
“Want to try?”
Reed almost choked on his beer. “Me? I sound like a dying chicken when I sing.” He wiped his chin. “Do you sing?”
Carter downed his second drink and stood. “Guess you’re about to find out.”
What did it matter the problems he had waiting for him when he came home after this weekend? Tonight, with Reed unable to keep his eyes off him and alcohol and anticipation buzzing through his veins, Carter felt almost invincible when he took the stage. He hit the button on the machine, almost laughing at the song that popped up, “Trapped Again” by Southside Johnny and the Asbury Jukes.
How appropriate.
In the early days when Jacks had first come to live with him, Carter had spent many nights singing him lullabies to ease whatever fears he might have. He soon had the crowd clapping and singing, forgetting about their drinks when they realized he could not only sing but sing well. But Carter wasn’t interested in the crowd. He kept his gaze firmly trained on Reed who, when Carter began singing, set his bottle of beer on the table and stared at him, open-mouthed, his eyes round with wonder. Shocked surprise—exactly the reaction he’d hoped for.
