Stage Fright (3 page)

to one side. His hair was longer; he looked like he only spent half his time lifting weights instead of every waking minute, and he’d ditched the football jacket since they’d left high school, but Jesse still recognized that flat, expressionless stare. He’d seen it directed often enough at him, usually just before Ben Mitchum had done something to make Jesse’s life miserable.

“Is this here in Vegas?”

 

“Scottsdale, but there’s an annual auction here in Vegas. We could go if you want.

It’d be awesome.”
“Maybe,” Jesse said noncommittally. He didn’t want to go to a car auction.
Especially if there was a chance that Ben Mitchum might be there.

* * * *

Val didn’t want to admit it, but he was starting to look forward to the meet and greet. The women’s behavior during the show still annoyed him, but most of them toned it down considerably at the after-show get-together. He supposed reaching out to slap a bare ass while anonymous strippers slipped between the crowded tables was one thing, but standing face-to-face and chatting with that same man once he had his clothes on was something else.

Val looked up and located Jesse, who smiled pleasantly as he chatted with three women. He was one of the most popular dancers. One at a time the women slipped an arm around his waist and crowded close to him, taking one another’s pictures with their cell phones. Jesse endured the invasion of his personal space and didn’t seem to mind the touches, but Val was starting to see a pattern. Jesse would tolerate the ladies’ attention for as long as he could, but eventually he’d excuse himself and come to the bar for his club soda.

“Where’d you grow up?” Jesse asked him one night.

The dancer’s attention was insanely flattering even though it made Val feel like an oyster. He imagined Jesse trying to pry open his shell as if expecting to find a pearl inside. He couldn’t see why Jesse was so fascinated. They had nothing in common. Well, maybe one thing. From the way he’d caught Jesse checking him out a couple of times, he was almost certain Jesse was gay too, which thrilled him because he had a much better chance with Jesse than any of those women did. He felt a sort of grim satisfaction at Jesse’s lack of response every time he saw one of them sneak in a sly touch.

Jesse was waiting for an answer, his face open and friendly. Val found himself answering even before he’d consciously made the decision to do so.
“Idaho.”
“Yeah? No town? Just Idaho?” Jesse teased. “What, were you raised by wolves or something?”
Val let out a sharp, surprised laugh. He bit his lip, trying not to smile. “Just a typical backwater town. Where every house has a junked car or a fridge in the front yard—”
“And in summer there’s always a stray dog or a toddler in a soggy diaper standing in the street,” Jesse finished.
Val did smile now. “You’ve been there.”
“I grew up in a place just like it, in South Dakota.” Jesse rested his hands on the bar.
Val studied Jesse’s nails—painfully short, as if he bit them right down to the nail beds. It wasn’t the first time Val had noticed. The cuticles of Jesse’s thumbs were ragged and sometimes bloody. Though Jesse did a good job of appearing at ease, those were signs of someone who was stressed.

“But you left Smalltown USA for the bright neon lights.” Val thought he knew why.
He was pretty sure Jesse was still closeted. He wasn’t so sure how he felt about that. He’d always prided himself on being honest about who he was and not giving a damn what anyone else thought of him, but Jesse might not feel the same way.
Jesse shrugged evasively. “Something like that.”

“Is it everything you’d hoped for?”

 

“Not yet, but it’s getting there,” Jesse said boldly.

Val ducked his head to hide his blush and sighed. He’d been a bastard the first time they’d spoken, pushing Jesse away over and over. Jesse had turned away, but not before Val had seen the flash of hurt in those expressive blue eyes. A man as friendly and determined as Jesse didn’t deserve Val’s initial reaction. The blond dancer wasn’t at all the arrogant douche bag Val had assumed. He wasn’t used to feeling like an asshole, and he didn’t like it.

“Look, about that first night…”

Jesse’s eyes grew wary, and he drew back a little. It hurt to see Jesse looking at him like that.
“I was a jerk. I’m sorry.” There. He’d gotten the words out, and they hadn’t killed him. For a guy who wanted to be a writer, he wasn’t very good at expressing himself, at least not verbally.
Jesse blinked at him. Then he smiled. Val already thought Jesse was attractive— more than attractive. But that smile transformed his face, lighting his eyes and animating his features. Jesse’s smile tugged on something in Val’s gut.
“Forget it. The first night in a new job’s always stressful, and I bet the ladies kept you hopping.”
Val’s chest eased, and he suddenly had more room to breathe.
“They do drink a lot,” Val said and immediately wanted to slap his forehead. Could he have said anything more obvious?
Jesse laughed, but he wasn’t laughing at Val. “That’s an understatement.” He dropped his gaze to the bar’s counter and ran his finger down the outside of his glass, scooping up condensation.
Val watched as he drew patterns on the bar.
Jesse looked up from under his lashes. “So. You going to be nice to me from now on?”
Val sucked in a breath. Was Jesse
flirting
with him? “I…”

Chaz’s voice cut off Val’s tentative response. “Jesse, get over here. Now.” Jesse straightened quickly. “I’ve got to go.” Val watched him as he made his way back to the table where Chaz sat on the

opposite side of the room. Chaz stared at Val, his black eyes inscrutable. Val stared too, refusing to back down. Chaz broke first and looked away.

Jesse spent another ten minutes chatting and allowing the women to pet him before he left. Val lost count of how many times their eyes met and their gazes lingered just a little too long. He sighed again. He’d always been an observer, not a participant, but maybe his attraction to Jesse would trump the desire to remain a loner.

* * * *

When Jesse got home after work, Chris was gone, but he’d left a note.
I ordered pizza. One piece won’t kill you.
Well, he did have something to celebrate, sort of. Jesse took the biggest slice and

warmed it in the microwave. He turned on the TV and tried to eat the pizza slowly, savoring the soggy crust and the greasy pepperoni and cheese. He hadn’t had pizza in months, and he’d missed this. All too soon it was gone, and he resisted eating a second piece. Why did the food that was bad for you always taste so good?

If Chris had been home, Jesse probably would have told him about Val and his breakthrough, even though Chris would have teased him and demanded details. He often told Jesse that for a guy who spent so much time naked, he led a pretty boring life.

On impulse he called Mike. The phone rang three or four times. It looked like Jesse was the only one with nothing going on. He was just about to hang up when Mike answered.

“Jesse? Everything okay?”

 

For a second he wondered how Mike knew who was calling. Then he remembered Mike had call display. “You were right.”

“’Course I was.” Jesse heard fabric rustling as, presumably, Mike got settled. “What was I right about this time?”
“Val. You were right.” Jesse remembered the way Val had looked at him earlier. He was sure he was grinning from ear to ear. “He is interested.”

“I knew it.” Mike sounded happy for him. “You gonna kiss and tell? They say the quiet ones are sex machines.”
“Mike…”

“Can he hear you?”

 

“He’s not here.”

“Don’t tell me you kicked him out already,” Mike teased. “Unless he was a really bad lay, you should have let him stay over for a repeat performance. Or maybe Chris is coming home? Is that it? ’Cause you told me he made you promise not to fu—have a guy over when he’s home. I hope he gives you the same courtesy when he entertains the ladies.”

Jesse wished he hadn’t called. Now he’d have to admit he hadn’t even spoken to Val outside work. “Listen, I have to go.”
“Jesse?” Mike sounded alert. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you? Should I come over?”
“Jesus, no!” Why the hell had he thought calling Mike was a good idea? This was mortifying. “We didn’t have sex.”

“Oh… Did he ask you out, then? A date’s good.” Mike sounded only marginally convinced.
“No. I have to—”

“You asked him out? Way to go, Jesse, you stud.”

 

“No.” Jesse gripped the phone so hard it creaked. “We just…talked.” And how stupid did that sound?

Mike was silent. “Oh. Well. That’s…a start,” he said finally. In the background Jesse heard the rumble of a man’s voice. “Just a sec.” Mike’s next words were muffled as if he’d put his hand over the phone.

And now the rustling sounds and Mike’s delay in answering the phone made sense. Mike had been in bed when Jesse had called, and he wasn’t alone. Shit.
Mike came back on the line. “Jesse? You still there?”
“Yeah, look, I’m gonna hang up now.”

“Jesse—” Mike’s voice was gentle.
“I have to go.” He put the phone down quickly. He’d interrupted Mike in the middle of sex because he just had to tell someone that Val liked him. He was a real idiot.

Chapter Three

Mike came to work the next night in a very good mood. Jesse studied him as Mike organized the props, humming under his breath, an extra spring in his step. Yep. He’d definitely seen some action. Mike raised his head and caught Jesse looking. He grinned and came over.

Jesse squared his shoulders and smiled back. “Sorry about last night. You should have said you had someone with you.”
“Nah. He was getting ready to go when you called.”

“Still. If I’d known you had a date, I wouldn’t have called.” Thank God he hadn’t phoned any earlier.
“No worries.” Mike shrugged. “It was just casual, you know?”

“Sure,” Jesse answered. As if he picked up guys regularly.

 

There was an awkward pause. Jesse glanced at his watch. “I need to get changed.” He headed to his locker and pulled off his T-shirt.

Mike followed him. He looked around and lowered his voice. “Listen. I know a bar. It’s not the best part of town, but next time you want to hook up, maybe we could go together, be each other’s wingman. It’s a hell of a lot easier than all that flirting and dating.”

“Thanks, Mike, but I don’t think so.” Jesse kicked off his shoes, undid his jeans, and stepped out of them. He pulled off his socks and dropped his boxers.
Mike looked elsewhere, giving him some privacy. “If you’re leery, you don’t need to take a stranger home with you. They have a couple of rooms, so you can get a little relief right there. So…if you change your mind…let me know. Okay?”
Jesse pulled on his thong. “I don’t want to hook up with someone in some—” He bit off the rest of that sentence. Mike had probably met last night’s bedmate there. “I don’t want to hook up.”
Now Mike did look at him. Odd how having your dick covered meant you weren’t naked, even when your ass cheeks were still hanging out.
“Okay.” Mike held his arms up, palms facing out, in a gesture of surrender. “Just trying to help.”

“I know, and I appreciate it,” Jesse said as he pulled on the pants for the first number.

He liked sex. Who didn’t? Before Vegas he’d had a few sporadic fuck buddies, but he’d never had much opportunity for the whole anonymous, sex-with-strangers thing. And he hadn’t made much of an effort here either. He’d hooked up with tourists a few times, but sex in a hotel room with someone who was in Vegas for a three-day weekend made him feel like some kind of prostitute. Sure, the sex had satisfied a physical urge, but Jesse hungered for something more. Or maybe not something, but someone.

Someone like Val. Jesse didn’t know him well, but he found the taciturn bartender seriously sexy. Val was cool and reserved, but underneath that calm exterior Jesse was sure there was passion. He’d seen it in the way Val tracked him when he was on the stage.

Val had a way of looking at him that left him frustrated and aching. He stared as if he was imagining Jesse putting on a private show. That wasn’t too different from his own fantasies.

“Shit. You’re holding out for Val, aren’t you?”

Jesse flushed. If he got the chance, he was going for it. He just had to figure out a way to break through that restraint. To make the passion he sensed in Val flare and flame.

“Val watches me onstage, and he talks to me after,” he said. “He doesn’t seem to be into hookups, though, or maybe he’s just got something against strippers. I don’t know, but I’m trying to wear down his resistance.”

“I don’t think he’s got a problem with strippers. That stick up his ass was there long before he started working with us,” Mike muttered.
Jesse ignored his comment.
“So how’s it going so far?” Mike leaned against an empty locker, settling in.

Jesse shrugged. “It’s hard to tell. I talk to him, try to let him get to know me.” He paused to grab his shirt. “Last night he dropped his guard. He doesn’t say much, but I
think
the attraction’s mutual.”

Mike raised his eyebrows. “Here’s a plan: just get him drunk and take him home with you. Give him a taste of what he could have every night.”

Jesse shook his head. He thought of Val’s gaze softening as they looked at each other. He wasn’t sure Mike would get it. A couple of times he’d thought maybe there could be something more between him and Val than just an urge to screw each other’s brains out. Moving too soon might kill whatever that was before it had a real chance to develop. “That’s not really my style.”

“Celibate appears to be your style,” Mike teased.
Jesse bent to grab his shoes so Mike couldn’t see his hurt.
When he straightened, Mike bumped their shoulders together. “Hey. Do whatever

works for you. Subtle’s never worked for me, but maybe the indirect approach is the way to go here. I didn’t get anywhere with a head-on attack.”

Mike’s gaze shifted past Jesse, over his shoulder, and his expression changed. “So when you’re up on the table, I’ll toss you the water bottle.”
“Huh? What are you—”
“Hey, Chaz. Should be a good crowd tonight,” Mike said.
Jesse turned to see Chaz standing behind him. As always his heart sped up. His reaction was irrational, but Chaz made him anxious. Maybe it was the way he seemed to sneak up on everyone. Or maybe it was the way Chaz looked. He reminded Jesse of Ben Mitchum, the jock in high school who’d liked to catch him alone and taunt him. Call him a pathetic fag and ask him if he liked it hard and fast.
“Mike.” Chaz’s dark eyebrows drew together. “Everything set up?”
“Relax, Chaz. It’s all under control.” Mike leaned one shoulder against the locker.