Rule Breakers (Off Limits #2) - Nicky James Page 0,70

had just laughed in the morning when I told him, promising he would look into an upgrade as soon as possible.

The Manhole had a small room in the back where staff could take breaks and get ready for the evening. There was a vanity mirror, and I applied a bit of liner around my eyes like I’d been taught by a coworker on my first night. I wasn’t sure I loved the look, but it garnered me a lot of attention, so I guessed it was worth it. Tips were my goal, and I made a killing already without being very good at the job. I always wore my shirt unbuttoned to just above my navel and added a few bits of edgy jewelry to finish the look.

Tonight, for the first time since my first day on the job, I was nervous. Uncle Denver and Dad were coming, and I was convinced I would screw up somehow while they were there watching. I had yet to drop a drink or trip on my feet while carrying a tray, but it had been close a few times.

Once my eyes were appropriately lined, I stared at myself in the mirror, fixing the collar on my shirt and loosening one more button. There was a hickey about two inches away from my right nipple, closer to the side of my body. It was covered by my shirt, but I pulled the fabric aside to see it again. Uncle Denver had put it there. Dad had given me one on the inside of my thigh. My body was littered with their marks, and it made me smile.

“Hey, hot stuff.”

I tugged my shirt back in place and glanced at the door through the mirror. Glen, a guy who’d helped train me, leaned against the doorframe, a dimpled smile on his face. He was in his midtwenties.

The music from the bar pulsed through the open door. It wasn’t as loud as it would be in a few hours, but it was loud enough we had to shout over it when working the floor.

Glen had told me that I’d get good at hand signals and reading people’s lips when taking their orders because it was impossible to hear anything once midnight struck on a Friday and Saturday night and the DJ turned the volume to max. Then the whole building vibrated.

“Hey. I’m coming. Just getting ready.”

“No rush. It’s still quiet. You okay? You look a bit worried.”

“I have friends coming tonight. I don’t want to mess up.” I’d decided it was easier to refer to Dad and Uncle Denver as friends. Even if people didn’t know we were related, poly relationships could garner weird looks from people who didn’t understand them.

Dad said we were a throuple. I told him it sounded weird. Uncle Denver just laughed.

Dad had also said I should stick to first names and drop the titles outside the house and inside. It was proving difficult, but I tried.

“Boyfriend?” Glen asked, a mischievous look in his eyes.

I shrugged. He smiled and left to go back on the floor.

It was so much more than that, but he would never understand. Not many people would. The idea of having a boyfriend had vanished once Uncle Denver, Dad, and I had found our feet. This was all I needed, all I wanted, and it was perfect.

The whole world could go to hell. Happiness was priceless. So long as you weren’t hurting anyone, it shouldn’t matter how you achieved it. Right or wrong, we didn’t care. It was ours.

Chapter Seventeen

Denver

Harley had taken a night off from the strip joint. We’d let Edison find his feet with his new job, but it had been two weeks, and we’d decided that was enough time. We wanted to see him in action. Harley glowed with pride the minute we walked into The Manhole. Not many parents would feel the same way about their kid working at a gay nightclub, but Harley was thrilled.

It was after eleven on Friday night, and the club was packed. The dance floor, the tables, and the bar were all filled with men—and a surprising amount of women—all tipsy, dressed in their most seductive attire, and enjoying their evening.

The music was deafening, the temperature was sweltering—especially when coming in from the cold winter night—and the heady scent of sweat and booze and sex lingered thick in the air.

My no-fucks-to-give brother was back. Harley was all touchy-feely, holding my hand, wrapping an arm around me, pecking my cheek on