I thanked him and walked inside. My eyes darted in an attempt to piece together the gaps between my memories and the current state of the club. It looked completely different, making being here slightly easier.
A young bartender wiped glasses as I approached, his blonde hair standing in spikes. He noticed me and said, “Hey, man. We’re not officially open yet.”
“I’m waiting for Eliot.”
“Oh, right, the special guest! I’m Brandon. What can I get you?”
“Do you have orange juice?”
“You mean like with vodka?”
“I mean like with oranges.”
He made a face. “We have the best liquor in the world, man—don’t do this to me!” He sounded dramatic, and I wondered if he was an aspiring actor, working here when he wasn't drifting from audition to audition. A dark thought crossed my mind.Why hadn’t Eliot sent him instead of Nick?
Feeling bad for thinking that, I reluctantly said, “A bit of red wine, then. Barolo.”
“Fancy! Coming right up, handsome.”
I ignored his comment and took the opportunity to look around. The dance floor was larger than it used to be, and the booths now had seats covered in green velvet instead of red.
“There you go.”
As I expected, Brandon had poured too much. I took a few sips, acknowledging the high quality.
“Have you known Eliot long?” Brandon asked, leaning on his elbows and watching me with curious green eyes.
“Yes.”
“He’s great, isn’t he? I love how he talks. So smart.”
“Yeah.” I swirled the wine, glancing at my watch. Eliot was only a few minutes late, which was very much like him.
“Were you two a thing back in the day?” He kept his voice down, as if we were gossiping. “Though you’re much too young.”
I gave him an impatient look. “We weren’t.”
“Oh. Then you’re not gay? It’s hard to tell with some. I’m gay, but it’s like saying I’m blond—you can just tell.”
I chuckled despite myself. Even in LA, there had been a time when you couldn’t just ask someone that.
“Yes, I’m gay.”
Brandon clapped. “Wonderful! We should totally go on a date. You can choose the place—I’m terrible at making decisions, ask anyone.”
I opened my mouth to inform him there wouldn’t be a date, but the sound of approaching footsteps stopped me. “Brandon, are you harassing my dear friend?”
My skin crawled. I held the glass tightly enough to risk shattering it.
“Harassing? Me? Never!”
A hand on my back—a casual gesture he had no right making. I couldn’t bring myself to speak or even turn to look at him. Nothing could have prepared me for the storm inside my body. I’d been a fool to think I could face him.
But this is not about me.
Brandon frowned. “You okay?”
I managed a stiff nod as Eliot moved to stand beside me. His delicate fingers closed around my glass. He gently took it from my numb hand and had a sip. “Barolo. A fine choice.” There were a few more lines around his lips and at the corners of his eyes, but that did nothing to dim his beauty. His blue eyes were as vibrant and enchanting as the day we first met. He put the glass down and smiled. “Jonah, you’re still a sight. Isn’t he, Brandon?”
