“You okay? Do you need a doctor?”
Tyler shook his head and exhaled. “No, thanks. But I think I need to call it a night. I know it’s early but…”
“It’s fine. I told Marcus there was a problem, but you’ll need to fill him in on exactly what happened. He’s waiting in his office for my report. Do you want to come with me now or talk to him tomorrow?”
Exhausted and a bit unsure if Marcus would believe him, Tyler wanted nothing more than to go home and go to sleep, but knew if he wanted to keep his job he had to tell his side of the story. Marcus would understand it wasn’t his fault.
“I’ll come with you.” He managed a tired smile. “I thought this was supposed to be a fun gig, you know?”
“Sometimes you do your job too well and the consequences are unexpected,” said Darius with a tight, grim smile.
“Yeah,” said Tyler, grateful at least Darius understood. “I hope Marcus knows it wasn’t my fault; I only dance like that for the tips.”
They halted outside a wood-paneled door Tyler recognized as the entrance to Marcus’s office. “You’re good, man. Too good for this kind of place.” Darius patted him on the shoulder and knocked on the door.
His throat tight with some strange emotion, Tyler followed Darius into Marcus’s spacious office. Marcus sat behind a big wooden desk that featured a computer and nothing else. No photographs, no knickknacks or anything personal. If Marcus disappeared, there would be no trace of him left in that room. It rang as odd to Tyler, knowing how social a creature Marcus was.
“Sit down, Tyler. Do you want a drink?” Marcus nodded toward the bar behind him.
He shook his head and dropped into one of the chairs in front of the desk. It was then he became uncomfortably aware of all the money stuffed down his shorts. Shit. The tight lycra left nothing to the imagination. Marcus quirked a brow.
“Go ahead; you can take out the money. I’m sure it doesn’t feel good.”
Damning his flaming cheeks, Tyler pulled out enough bills so he could sit with ease.
Gesturing to the money, Marcus remarked, “That’s quite a haul. You must’ve done well tonight.”
“Marcus, Tyler was assaulted by a drunken guest tonight. That’s why he’s here. To give you his side, in case the person makes some bogus complaint.”
Tyler threw Darius a grateful smile but jumped slightly when Marcus slammed his hand on the desk.
“What the fuck are you talking about? You just said there was an incident; last thing I saw, Ty was dancing on the bar, surrounded by an adoring crowd.” Marcus’s eyes blazed, and Tyler now understood he was witnessing the other side of Marcus Feldman, Party Boy.
“One of those adoring men had Ty backed up against the wall, squeezing his nuts.” Darius stretched out his legs. “I saw it with my own eyes, Boss.”
“Shut up with that boss shit.” Marcus flicked Darius a glance, then returned that steely gaze to him. “Talk to me, Tyler.” His voice softened. “What happened?”
The concern in Marcus’s voice startled him. Embarrassed, Tyler shifted in his chair, wanting nothing more than to forget this night in its entirety. But the encouraging sound of Marcus’s voice held him to his seat to repeat his story and watch anger descend like a black curtain over Marcus’s face.
“Where is that son of a bitch now?”
Tyler had to strain to hear Marcus’s low voice. He’d yet to hear the man sound so deadly.
“I had my guys toss him out and told them to add him to the no-fly list.” Darius checked his phone. “He’ll never be allowed back here again.”
“He’s fucking crazy to think he can touch one of my guys. Do you know who he is?”
Darius nodded. “Yeah. Some hedge-fund party boy. His friends all left as well.” He checked his watch. “I mean, it’s almost two a.m.; the club is still full, but by now it’s mostly regulars.”
“Okay. Thanks for all your help, man. You can go back outside. I want to talk to Tyler alone for a minute.”
Darius shot Marcus a troubled look but left the room without speaking.
When the door shut behind Darius, Tyler grew nervous. This was different than his initial job interview where he met with Marcus. Desperation made people act in ways they never thought necessary, and Tyler had buried his normally quiet and introspective nature, forcing himself to flirt with the other bartenders and even Marcus when he met him at the interview.
He didn’t know Marcus then, not that he knew him any better from the little interaction they’d had, but the staff loved to gossip, and their sexy and sexually voracious boss was the number one topic of discussion. He learned Marcus loved the pretty boys, and heard the stories of how Marcus went through the staff as if they were a bottle of scotch.
Shane the bartender had clued Tyler in that Marcus was on the tail-end of a three-month stretch of celibacy, and he’d be ready to blow off steam with any man in striking distance. Warily, Tyler eyed Marcus, who continued to study him from beneath ridiculously long dark lashes.
