Red flags were waving all over the damn place but suspicion wasn’t enough to act on. Fuck it. If anyone asked, I’d been struck by a sudden and legitimate urge to take a piss.
I shouldered through the crowd, cutting a direct path toward the back hallway. The bass faded into a dull thump against the walls as I pushed through the heavy door and into the muted quiet of the men’s room.
The shoddy ceiling light in the corner flickered and hummed. The smell of cleaner didn’t quite cover the ammonia of urine, spilled liquor, and sweat that hung in the air. Vincent had pinned Oliver against the wall near the last urinal, his body leaned in close, his arm a barricade, braced beside Oliver’s head. The scene didn’t give me clear grounds to intervene outright; without the context I had it might even have looked intimate.
I strode toward the row of urinals, stopping one over from them. My hands went to my fly.
“Yo, you mind?” Vincent snapped.
I flicked him a glance over my shoulder. “Oh, shit bro, my bad. Didn’t mean to step on your moment. Just gotta take a leak. You know how it is. I’ll be out of your hair in a jiff.” I shook my head with a rueful grin. “Don’t let me cramp your style, though.”
“Maybe take the next one over.”
“I would, bro, but the flusher’s busted on that one,” I said, flashing him an easy grin as I unbuttoned and unzipped. “So, what brings you to the club tonight?”
Vincent smirked at my question, giving Oliver’s shoulder a squeeze that made him flinch. “Big week at work. Figured we’d come out, have a few drinks, unwind.”
“Hell yeah, man. Gotta celebrate the wins, right? Where you work?”
“I’m a junior associate at a law firm downtown,” Vincent said, rich with importance.
I let out an appreciative whistle. “Respect. Big brain stuff. Gotta be sharp to swim with those sharks. Me, I’m just a glorified hall monitor,” I said with a self-deprecating edge that men like him tended to eat up.
“Yeah, it’s cutthroat. Not everyone’s built for it,” Vincent gloated.
“Cutthroat sounds about right. Bet the hours are brutal too. How late they keep you grinding?”
“Till whatever hour it takes. That’s the game. You want a seat at the table, you put in the sweat.”
“Yeah, I get that. Gotta feel good that you have someone in your life who’ll ride shotgun with you, am I right?” I said up-nodding to Oliver.
Vincent’s arm pressed more firmly into Oliver’s shoulder, his grin curling into a sneer. “More like princess is lucky I put up with him. Most guys wouldn’t.”
Oliver kept his head down, eyes pinned to the floor, chewing on his lower lip.
I did my best to keep my face neutral, but the more I talked to this a-hole the more he gave me the ick. But I couldn’t let that show. I needed to play the part of the easygoing dude who didn’t have a brain. That’s the job sometimes—make the douche think you’re on his team so he doesn’t circle his wagons tighter.
“Relationships aren’t always easy, that’s for sure, but sounds like you’re smart enough to hold onto what you got. Having someone who’s steady enough to roll with you through the long hours? That’s rare. I’d say you lucked out too.” I hoped that while I was playing to Vincent’s ego, Oliver understood I was defending him the only way I could in Vincent’s presence.
“Yeah, maybe. Still, he’s got it easy. Doesn’t know what real pressure looks like.”
I shrugged. “Pressure’s pressure, everybody’s got their version. Take here for instance. While I’m not a hotshot lawyer puttin’ in those long hours, nights here can be a grind too. Lotta people tryin’ to blow off steam in ways that sometimes get messy.” I shifted, aiming my body at Oliver, hoping to signal that what I said next was for him.
“It’s mostly chill, though. Most of the time my job is just to make sure people know there’s someone in the room who’s paying attention, someone they can approach if things go sideways. Just that knowledge can change the whole night for someone.” Oliver’s eyes skittered up to mine, but before they held, he looked away.
Vincent chuckled, thankfully missing my underlying meaning. “Yeah, guess that’s where our jobs are the same, people always crying about their problems to strangers.”
“Comes with the territory, man,” I said with a shrug. “I’ll take it. I’m in the business of protecting people, and lending an earsure as hell beats scrubbing vomit off multiple surfaces or prying two drunk assholes apart before they kill each other.”
Zipping myself up, I headed over to the sink to wash my hands. “Anyway, congrats on the big week.” I paused before angling my body once more toward Oliver. “I’ll be around if either of you need anything. I’m here to make sure everyone has a good time while they’re here.” Drying off my hands, I crumpled the paper towel and banked it into the trash before leaving the restroom.
I didn’t see them the rest of the night, but the sick worry in my gut refused to abate.
Chapter 2
Luke
Two weeks later, while I was back on shift at the club, Vincent and Oliver returned. I glanced towards the entry right as they walked in. Even at a distance, something about Oliver seemed wrong, worse somehow than the last time I’d seen him. His frame, slight to begin with, appeared whittled down.
