Dante - Daryl Banner Page 0,9

brief moment each time the curtain’s pulled, reveals a room lit in dim red light.

“What’s back there?” asks Connor.

“Exactly what you think’s back there,” I reply vaguely. “It’s Fetish Friday. Freak flags are flyin’.”

“Oh, cool!” Connor lights up, finding it all to be so entertaining, apparently. I’m still combing the club with my eyes. On a night like this full of bears and daddies, that poor kid is going to stick out like a swan in a murderous den of leather-clad sharks.

Why in the actual fuck did I suggest this humid hellhole to the kid? Even jokingly?

“I’m not really thinking of leaving Piazza Place so soon,” Connor says suddenly. “I didn’t mean to freak you out.”

Now that it isn’t news anymore, I put on my cool face a lot easier. “It ain’t me you’re gonna freak out when you go. It’ll be your fragile roomie-bro.”

He blinks, as if realizing. “Oh. He’ll implode.”

“He’ll implode,” I agree grimly.

We gaze out at the crowd of men, with special interest at whoever’s pouring in from the streets. I feel my heart sinking with every passing second. I just know I’m not gonna ever see him again.

I don’t even know his name.

Connor leans toward me. “I think you brought me with you tonight for a reason.”

I don’t take my eyes off the entrance when I grunt, “And what reason’s that?”

“Twink bait.”

I snort, cracking a smile despite myself. “Is that it? Using you to fish out my runaway client like some kind of twink magnet?”

“Brett told me he’s young. Wait … Would he even be able to get into any of the bars here? Heck, aren’t most of them twenty-one and up?”

“Most of them don’t care,” I point out.

“Maybe you should just forget about him. So many guys are hitting on you. Why don’t you—?”

Suddenly my view is eclipsed by a round-faced, pale-skinned bear in a leather vest with a chest full of curly dark hair. He tugs on his leather cap and asks, “What’s a beauty like you doing all alone?”

For the first second, I assume he’s talking to Connor. When I realize he’s addressing me, I lift my chin at him. “Huh?”

“What’s a beauty like you—?” he repeats.

“I ain’t alone,” I say. “Do I look alone to you?”

Then Connor goes and helpfully puts in, “Oh, but we’re not together. We just came here together. I do have a boyfriend, but he isn’t here.”

I sting Connor with my eyes.

Connor winces apologetically and spreads his hands, as innocent as buttered toast.

The bear, taking our awkward exchange for an invitation I guess, sits down next to me. “So do you come here often, sexy? I haven’t seen you before.”

When I say nothing, Connor nudges me. I give a roll of my eyes, then face the guy. “I know a few people. The owner is an old client of mine who—”

“Okay, I just gotta ask,” the bear cuts me off. He squints at my face. “You’ve got, like … such an exotic look. Like, you’re just …” He lifts his hands, as if to put my face in a frame, then drops them to his lap. “Your eyes are … so exotic.”

He just used “exotic”. Twice. In a row.

Here we go. The clumsy beat-around-the-bush ethnicity chat. I can smell it a mile away.

“Tell me,” the bear says, almost like an order. “Where’s your family from?”

“Upper-east side,” I answer dryly.

“Yeah, I get that, but …” He squints at me like an interrogator. “Where’s your family from-from?”

“All from upper-east side, Grayson Point, like I just said. Born and raised.”

The bear—clearly still unsatisfied—digs himself even deeper into the hole. “I meant, like … well, y’know …” In lieu of words, he starts gesturing weirdly at me. “Like … uh … where’s your family, uh …? Y’know …?”

“Oh!” I snap my fingers with mock realization. “You mean where are my parents’ families from?”

He breathes a sigh of relief. “Yes! That. Where are they from?”

“Glad you asked! My pop’s folks are also from Grayson Point. And my mamma’s family is from Whitaker Park. All here in the city. You know.” I burn him with my super exotic eyes. “Like I already fucking established three times.”

The bear blinks at me.

I think I might’ve just broken his poor brain.

“Oh, uh, my friends are calling me,” he decides suddenly, then excuses himself without another word. And I guess I’ll excuse him just as quickly, shaking my head and looking off.

Connor leans toward me tentatively. “I take it that … happens a lot?”

“It just reminds me of