“Uh, nothing, club soda.”
Shooting me a thoughtful look, he filled the glass. “José.” He extended a hand.
A bit surprised, after a momentary hesitation, I shook it. “Aaron.”
“Yeah, I know.” He flashed me a grin. “So lemme tell you something, Aaron. I hate to break it to you, but you aren’t the center of everyone’s world.”
I squinted at him. “Huh?”
“It’s not you we’re all concerned about. It’s Frankie. No one’s waiting for you to fuck up. We’re here to make sure Frankie’s okay.”
I felt stupid, and I hated that. Before I went away, I’d have picked a fight with him and probably gotten thrown out. But that was then. Being in prison taught me one thing: I ain’t never going to do anything to put me back inside. Therapy had given me the mindset to use my head before reacting with my fists.
Was it always gonna be like this? Everywhere I went I’d need to prove myself over and over again?
The music ended, and I watched as Frankie and his partner collected their tips. Afterward they posed for pictures, and Frankie never once lost his smile. He could be tired as fuck, but knew as a showman, he had to perform. Only I got to see the real Frankie.
The tall, masked man was more somber and whether it was part of his act or not, for him, smiling seemed more painful than natural. I wondered what his mask hid. Whatever he had going on, it worked. People loved mystery, and he had men lined up to take pictures with him.
“Frankie’s gonna come over now to give me his tips.”
Proving José right, Frankie and the other man made their way through the crowd, stopping to talk, chat, and blowing kisses to the people waving at them. The second Frankie spotted me, he ran over and gave me a hug. I didn’t care that he was sweaty and oily. Once he put his arms around me, I could breathe for the first time that night.
“What’re you doing here?” He pushed the crown back and swept his waves to the side of his face. “I thought you didn’t really wanna come and see me here.”
“I like seeing you everywhere.” I squeezed him around the waist. “I got bored and wanted to see my man.”
At those words, Frankie’s cheeks grew red, and as the other dancer handed his bills to José, he said, “How sweet. Frankie, you still know how to blush.”
Doing the same with his money, Frankie tilted his head and fluttered his lashes. “I don’t blush, Tristan. I glow, baby.”
José gave Frankie a margarita, and Frankie drank it down with a sigh. “Umm, that’s delicious.” Wiggling, he nestled in closer to me. “This is nice. I’m so glad you came.”
“Me too.” I sipped my club soda and saw Frankie’s eyes dart to my glass. He tensed, and I snapped, “It’s club soda, man. I told you I wasn’t drinking. I’m not stupid, you know.” I clenched my jaw tight.
“I wasn’t checking.”
Frankie stepped away from me. José frowned and shook his head.
Dammit.
“I shouldn’t have said that.” I touched Frankie’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. Really.”
Frankie knew how ugly it could get if I drank. He laid his head back on my chest, and I couldn’t resist kissing his cheek. It was warm and smooth, and it took all my effort not to cover his mouth with mine and show everyone who he belonged to. But then I remembered I didn’t have that right. I had to earn it back, and pushing him, even with a kiss, would hurt the trust we were building. Maybe his boss, James, was right after all.
So I held on to him and kept nuzzling his neck, listening to his pulse race beneath my lips.
“Thanks for coming to see me,” he whispered in my ear. “It means a lot. And I’m sorry too.”
“About what?”
Frankie set his unfinished drink back on the bar. “I shouldn’t be drinking so much around you. I’m gonna slow it down.”
“You’re amazing. Thank you. I do wanna support you. I know I didn’t used to, and I was wrong. You’re really great at this.” I raised my head to address Tristan. “That dance you two did was cool.”
Tristan dipped his head in acknowledgment, then with a sharp turn that set his black cape flaring out behind him, he strode away to join a group of older men who waved over the waiter to pour them drinks. He began to dance, grinding himself on a man who held his hips and urged him on.
“What’s his story?” I nudged Frankie.
