They passed within a few feet of where I stood. Oliver met my eyes for a brief second before looking away, but in that split second I saw everything I needed to. His eyes were void of any joy, dull and resigned.
I knew better than to hover and fixate; keeping obvious tabs wouldn’t help Oliver, only put a target on his back. So I kept to my routine, chatting with patrons and making myself visible.
An hour later I caught sight of them at the far end of the floor, backed into a corner. Vincent’s gestures were impatient, one hand slicing through the air, the other jabbing a finger at Oliver’s chest.
Fist closing in a flash around the front of Oliver’s shirt, Vincent yanked him forward, his other hand seizing Oliver’s jaw, forcing his face upward. Oliver’s whole body flinched before he reassembled himself, shutting off every outward sign of discomfort. After a conversation I couldn’t hear, Vincent let Oliver go, turned, and strode toward the bar.
Oliver didn’t follow right away, seeming to take a moment to collect himself. After a long pause he forced himself into motion, trailing after Vincent with the reluctant, mechanical obedience of someone who had forgotten their own freedom.
Needing to act, I tapped my earpiece. “Ez, you copy?”
A second later, my best friend’s voice came through. “Copy. What’s up?”
“A couple is heading toward the bar right now. One man, tall, brown hair, dressed expensively in business casual, the other man is shorter with platinum-blond hair, long bangs?”
“I spot them. What’s going on?”
“Can I get a cherry drop on the taller one?” I requested, using the club-employed lingo that had the bartenders distract and isolate a suspicious partner, allowing security time to engage with the other.
“How long do you need?”
“Ideally ten, but I’ll take five.”
Parking myself by the bar, I kept a close eye on Vincent and Oliver as they headed over. Ezra met them with his effortless powerful charm. When he gave you his attention it was like he’d plugged straight into whatever part of your brain controlled loyalty and serotonin. Made you want to stand closer, bask a little. His face didn’t hurt either. Men, women, everybody ended up tripping over themselves for a scrap of his attention.
Vincent was no different. The second he started talking to Ezra, his chest puffed out like he was auditioning for “Most Impressive Man Alive.” Though I didn’t think he wanted Ezra, not in any real way. After our little bathroom run-in, Vincent struck me as the type who needed eyes on him, attention being the air he breathed, even if he never planned to follow through with the person giving it to him.
Ezra wasn’t giving him anything real, though. Whatever flirty energy he threw out behind the bar was all part of the show,honed, polished, and specifically designed to bump the tip jar. His heart was locked up tight with his boyfriend, Micah.
I could tell Ezra had launched the “on the house” bar challenge. Win and you earned a custom, one-of-a-kind cocktail, free of charge. We didn’t pull that card often since handing out free drinks didn’t help the bottom line, but we had the freedom to use it when the vibe called for it. Ezra made the challenge irresistible, and Vincent, predictably, took the bait.
Once Vincent proved distracted, I made my way toward Oliver, blending into the crowd to avoid drawing Vincent’s attention. When I reached Oliver’s side, he clean jumped out of his skin. Another sign I’d entered red flag city.
“Everything okay?” I asked. “Need me to do anything?”
Oliver’s eyes lifted to meet mine, and for the first time I saw their full impact. They were a glacial, crystalline blue. Paired with the luminous sweep of his pale blond hair, he looked almost spectral.
The instinct to brush me off, to pretend everything was fine, flashed across his face. “I...” His eyes darted back toward Vincent.
“Can I walk you outside, get you some air?”
Oliver pulled his lower lip between his teeth before he gave a hesitant nod.
I led him toward the side exit. Oliver exhaled, long and shaky, as we stepped into the night.
Leaning back against the wall, I kept my whole posture loose and easy, nothing threatening. People tend to get twitchy around me as it is. Being tall as hell doesn’t help, and the muscle I’ve put on over the years just doubles the effect. Add the full sleeve down my left arm and, yeah, most folks take one look and assume I’m here to enforce the rules of the universe. Intimidation kind of comes with the package, even when I’m minding my own business. I probably should’ve grabbed mycoworker Dean, also on shift tonight. Guy’s just as strong and capable, but he’s got this gentle, new dad energy going on. But I’d already been the main point of contact earlier, and sometimes familiarity makes all the difference. Switching to someone brand new can spook a guy who’s already on edge.
“You good?” I asked.
“That’s a loaded question,” he answered.
The sound of his voice carried a depth and richness I hadn’t anticipated. I privately cursed myself for the assumptions I’d made. Foolishly, I’d imagined something lighter, almost airy, simply because his appearance leaned toward delicate. Shame on me for letting that kind of unconscious, lazy bias slip through.
Oliver glanced back at the door. “I shouldn’t be out here.”
The words struck me as rehearsed, expectations of how he’d been conditioned to behave. “My buddy Ezra, the bartender, is keeping Vincent occupied. He’ll let me know if that changes. We don’t have to stay out here long, but I thought you might need a moment.”
His teeth dug into his lower lip again. “Do you think he’s bad? Vincent, I mean.”
