Page 39 of Sight Unseen

According to Suze, The Empty Closet was garish with red and copper neon blazing in the shiny downtown street. The logo above the club, an actual door that opened and closed, revealed the silhouette of a man. I shuddered. It sounded more tacky than trendy and I wondered what the hell I’d let myself in for.

Suzanne held tightly to my arm as we walked in. I wasn’t sure if it was for her benefit or for mine. She uttered small gasps as she steered us over to what I hoped was a table.

“Right, we’re at the table now, Nate. Take a seat, I’ll try to find my friends and get us a drink. You want your usual beer?”

I hated that she needed to do that for me. In the past I’d be the one at the bar.

I nodded my agreement, felt for the back of the chair then sat. Within moments, bodies began brushing my arms and the heat radiating off them, sweaty, some smelly and all of them sexually charged, told me our table was close to the dance floor. The pulsing music was an assault to my senses, the noise throbbing through my brain. Even when sighted I hadn’t been all that fond of the jostling and raucousness of clubs. Dancing hadn’t been one of my favorite things; I did it, but I had to be in the mood.

Why had I agreed to come here tonight? I knew I’d joked with Suzanne about needing to get laid, but casual sex wasn’t me. I liked to get to know someone before jumping into bed with them. So I supposed I was here being sociable. A couple of drinks might loosen me up so I could chat with other people —potential relationship material—and that wasn’t such a bad idea.

Tucking my stick under the table, I made sure I could feel it resting against my thigh. It wasn’t particularly club friendly and I’d be mortified if I swept some guy off his feet in a non-romantic sexy way.

Suzanne’s perfume hit my nose before she sat down beside me. Glass clinked against the glass on the table.

“I got you a beer. It’s at your one o’clock,” Suzanne shouted above the music. “I have to say, this place is pumping. I never expected it to be this busy.” She leaned in close; her breath tickled my ear. “If you want to leave after one drink, I’ll understand. This is your evening, Nate. You set the pace.”

My instinct was to gulp down my drink and rush back to the quiet of my home. I clamped that desire down. Suzanne had brought me here and bought me a drink. The least I could do was stay a while to see how I coped. I’d done street theaters and music venues with Cody by my side. I could do a vibrant gay nightclub.

“It’s fine,” I said, raising my voice. “I’ll sit here and get a little tipsy and enjoy the music.”

I’d made my expectations for the night clear, and one of them was not to be hovered over; she was here to have a good time too.

She nudged my arm. “Cool. Okay, so I’m going to hit the dance floor with a couple of friends. I won’t be long. You sure you don’t want to come dance with us?”

“Nope. Go enjoy yourself. I’ll sit here and see what happens.” I heard her leave and I sipped my beer. It was cold and refreshing with a hint of citrus. I enjoyed flavored beers. They teased my palate, made me think of summer days, warm nights and those times Cody and I had sat together out on the patio and enjoyed each other’s company.

I wondered idly what Jon was doing now. Wouldn’t he be surprised to see me at a place like this? Interestingly, I didn’t feel nostalgic about our past and that bothered me a little. How could you be with someone for almost two years, live with them for one and when they leave, not feel it that much? Did that make me shallow and fickle?

I’d finished my beer and was wondering where the toilet was when someone plonked down next to me. Someone decidedly male with the tang of sweat, some earthy and spicy cologne, and a body that radiated a furnace of heat.

“Your lady friend told me to bring this over when yours ran dry. She also said to bring it over personally and still capped?” I heard bemusement in his voice. “I said I’d be glad to. It’s criminal having a guy like you sit all alone here.” His voice was husky, slightly Southern, and I smelled cigarette smoke on his clothes.

The glass was plonked somewhere on the table and I sighed. I’d have to figure out where it was and hoped I didn’t knock it over in the process.

“You see a lot of action with a pick-up line like that?”

He laughed loudly and for some inexplicable reason I pictured a cowboy. Rangy, lean, wearing a Stetson and tight, worn blue jeans.

“I can’t complain. But I wasn’t trying to pick you up. Well, maybe a little. I’m the bartender. Name’s Blu.” He shifted and I waited for the mortifying offer of a handshake I couldn’t see.

He cleared his throat after a couple of awkward moments. “Okay, no handshake. No problem.”

“I’m blind,” I said quietly. “So not too good at doing stuff like that.”

His stillness in the throb of the music and the sighs and pants of people dancing around me was telling.

“Ah, the capped bottle makes sense now.” He exhaled in a long, drawn-out whoosh and I smelled peppermint and cigarettes on his breath. Sexy. “Sorry. She didn’t tell me that. Okay, well, your drink is on your left, about a forearm distance away. Or ten o’clock if you prefer. It’s the same beer you had. I brought an opener with.”

I was surprised at the time position reference. “You’ve had experience with blind people?” If so, perhaps it explained why he wasn’t running for the hills when he’d discovered I was.

He stilled, and must have been holding his breath because the exhale was noticeable. “Yeah. My little sister was blind.”

I heard pain and guilt in his voice at the use of the word “was” so didn’t push. Instead, I reached over, picked up the bottle and waggled it at him. It was still capped. If it hadn’t been, there would have no ways on earth I’d have accepted it. “Okay, well, you can open my beer for me, and I’ll toast you a thanks for the exceptional bar service here at The Empty Closet.”

Blu chuckled. “That works for me.” He took the bottle and I heard the pop as he opened it. He placed it back in my hand and squeezed mine gently. My skin tingled at feeling another man’s hand on me. It had been so long since I’d had any sort of skin-to-skin contact. “There you go.”

“Thanks.” I raised the bottle in his direction and tipped my head. “To the bartender who goes above and beyond the call of duty for his patrons.”