Years had passed since he’d heard that condescending voice, but Marcus would recognize it in his sleep.
“Well, if it isn’t my dearolddad.”
With delicious satisfaction, he watched his barb score a hit. His father winced; then his lips narrowed to a thin white line, and he drew back his shoulders as if preparing for battle.
Bring it on, Daddy. I’ve been waiting for years.
“Oh, are you Paul’s son? I didn’t know he had children. Nice to meet you; I’m Savannah.” The busty, dark-haired young woman flashed her perfect teeth in a white, Miss America smile.
“Of course you are,” said Marcus, barely paying her any attention. It wasn’t rude of him; she’d be gone in a week or two anyway, so why bother?
“I thought you would’ve gotten that out of your system.” His father brushed back his silver hair, slightly long and curling over his shirt collar, and Marcus made a mental note to never pretend to be younger than he was. It looked desperate and pathetic.
“What, that I like dick?” He grinned at the gasp made by both his father and Savannah alike. “It’s not like it’s a twenty-four-hour bug. You don’t ‘get over’ being gay; I’ve known I like guys since the fifth grade. It’s not my problem you can’t deal with it; it’s yours.”
Without waiting for a response, he headed out the door and back to Sparks.
Chapter Four
‡
Tyler stretched hisarms over his head, unknotting the kinks in his back. When he accepted the dancer position at Sparks, he’d worked out with management that he would be able to use one of the back rooms for practice, provided there were no events. So far it hadn’t been a problem, and one of the rooms was usually free.
Even though he wouldn’t trade his life for anything now, it still hurt to have come so close to his dream, only to have to give it up, through no fault of his own.
The room filled with the melancholy sounds of the violin concerto he had cued up on his phone, and he began to dance. The stretch and pull of his muscles and tendons, coupled with the sound of his feet hitting the floorboard, sent the blood singing through his body. Dancing here at Sparks was going to save their lives, allow him to pay the bills, and put a bit away each month, but dancing on a Broadway stage was all Tyler had ever dreamed about. Itwashis life and giving it up had almost killed him.
But, Tyler reasoned, it wasn’t always about him and his dreams. Sometimes reality and life took a big bite out of your ass. That’s when it was time to man up and be there for his family. And the $350 in tips he made from just last night was fucking unreal. He put the cash away in a safe place and prayed he could make the same tonight, even though it was Sunday.
Forty-five minutes later, he finished his practice and wiped off the worst of the sweat with a towel. Good thing Sparks had showers for the employees; he could almost feel the beat of hot water on his sore muscles and couldn’t wait to get under the spray. He picked up the phone to shut it off.
“That was wonderful.”
“Shit.” Tyler jumped, and the phone flew out of his hands and crashed to the floor. If it broke, he was in deep shit. His fingers shook when he turned it over, and he could’ve cried, spying a spider’s web of cracks spreading from the center of the screen. God damn it. He didn’t have the money to buy a new phone.
“Did it break?” In two long strides Marcus joined him from where he’d stood in the doorway. “Damn. I’m sorry. Look, I’ll replace it, don’t worry. I’ll even buy you a better one.”
“No thanks.” Of course he would. Like every typical rich guy, all Marcus knew was to throw money at a problem to make it go away. This man hadn’t a single clue about the real world and making ends meet. Tyler didn’t want to owe him anything.
He grabbed the broken phone from Marcus, shoved it in his gym bag, and zipped it up. Maybe one of the cheapie places in Chinatown could fix the screen for him. Tyler slung the towel over his shoulder and walked toward the door.
Undeterred, Marcus followed him. “Why not?” He placed himself in front of Tyler, effectively barring his way. “It was my fault; I startled you.”
The man’s refusal to take no for an answer, coupled with his dog-like persistence, frustrated Tyler no end. Marcus failed to understand the basic concept of personal space and stood way too close to Tyler for comfort. So close he could touch Marcus’s stubble-rough jaw. Power rolled off Marcus’s body, and Tyler inhaled the heady concoction his body heat emanated. Marcus’s scent traveled straight through his bloodstream to Tyler’s rapidly swelling dick, and Tyler, already suffering from pent-up anger and frustration, wanted no part of this cat-and-mouse game he sensed Marcus played. Especially since Tyler suspected he did it with every man he met.
“Because I don’t want you to. I don’t need your charity. Now if you’d please move, I need to take a shower.”
But Marcus stayed put, crowding even closer to Tyler, their eyes clashing in a test of wills he knew without asking Marcus enjoyed playing. His heart jackhammered watching Marcus’s eyes deepen to a violet so dark they looked inky black, that infuriating shadow of a grin curling his sensuous lips up at the corner.
Alarmed at the pulse of desire through his veins, Tyler started forward, expecting Marcus to step to the side and allow him to pass. Instead, Marcus planted his feet wide, all traces of that sensual, teasing smile gone.
“I need to see you in my office afterward.”
Tyler’s heart, thumping madly only moments before, stuttered to an almost nonexistent beat.
“Wh-why? What’s the matter?” Did Marcus change his mind and decide to fire him? Did the guy from last night complain about him? Dread replaced the lust simmering in his bloodstream.
“We’ll talk when I see you.” Marcus stepped to the side, and Tyler raced past him to the staff bathroom.
