Page 363 of A Matter of Time

“No, man.” He shook his head. “It’s boring as shit at home.” Zach’s eyes flicked to mine. “Nobody at home gives a crap.”

“Won’t you get some money tonight?” I cleared my throat, walking into the club behind Zach.

“No. We actually owe Rego money. We both had him front us cash.”

I nodded, realizing the kind of club I was in. Bar in front with the dance floor, rooms in back, and farther back, bigger rooms down long, dark hallways. It was a half step up from a bathhouse. When I had first moved to the city, I had been a regular in the meat market type places, but because I worked every day for Dane Harcourt, I hadn’t been able to completely lose myself in the scene. For the millionth time, I realized how lucky I was to have finished high school and college and have had a good job the whole time. I could have easily been Zachary or William if things had gone different.

I followed silently behind them through the dark club, to a table where a guy sat with several other men on couches, close to the back rooms.

“Finally,” the guy said, standing up. “Gimme your coat, he’s waiting.”

Billy shed his coat to reveal tight black jeans and a black spandex T-shirt that clung like a second skin to his chest and abdomen. Not that there was a lot of definition there, but he still had a nice body. He turned quickly to look at me.

“Hang tight, Jory.”

I nodded.

“Dance or something,” he said before he bolted toward the door and went through it.

“Zach!”

We both turned to look at the man who had yelled for him.

“Get your ass in the back too.”

Zach squeezed my arm before he too darted away. When I turned to walk back to the bar, the man stepped in front of me.

“Who’re you?”

I looked up into the face of a very handsome man. Immediately I was drawn to the thick brows, the big olive-green eyes, and his dark, full lips. The suit he was wearing fit like a glove, and the dress shirt was open at the collar.

“Asked you a question.”

“Who’re you?” I asked instead of answering.

“I’m Rego. Now you.”

“Oh, you’re him.”

“Yeah, I’m him.”

“I’m Jory.”

He nodded, looked me up and down. “You a friend of Zach and Billy?”

“No.”

“Rego.”

He looked away from me to the man sitting on the couch beside him.

“Is he new?”

He shook his head and returned his eyes to mine. “You don’t need a job, right?”

“No. I’m a graphic designer.”

He nodded. “Sit with me.”