Wood (A True Lover's Story #2) - A.E. Via Page 0,106

as he continued. “At forty-eight, I really need to take my high blood pressure and diabetes more seriously. Doc says I gotta get more weight off my heart. And Mama’s been making sure I stick to it after my last episode.”

Trent sighed, wishing he’d dropped by and checked on his friend more. Well, Roderick had been Miles’s friend, but the moment he’d started bringing Trent with him to the club, he and Roderick had clicked pretty quickly. “I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t sweat it. We all can’t be cool-as-fuck, skinny white boys that know jazz better than Gillespie himself.” Roderick knocked him on his arm.

Trent let out a genuine laugh, remembering how they all used to sit around after 3:00 a.m. when cleanup was over and Trent would listen to the old heads talk about music for hours. Miles would sometimes let Trent in the front of the house after they closed since he was only a teen and it was illegal for him to be in a nightclub.

A tall man with deep brown skin and slim dreadlocks that touched the center of his back came out the main door wearing a tailored suit and stopped in front of Trent. He extended his slim hand. “Trent, right?” The guy smiled, and he went from good-looking to fine.

Trent was too tired to overanalyze how little attention he’d paid to the women earlier—none—and the details he’d immediately noticed about the man in front of him. Everything. “Have we met?” Trent asked while gripping the guy’s hand.

“No.” He continued smiling and assessing. “I’m one of Mama’s many adopted sons, Marcus. She sent me out here to get you.”

Trent tucked both hands in the pockets of his leather coat after their introduction. “How’d she even know I was here?”

“Mama knows everything.” Marcus laughed a rich, baritone sound that reminded Trent of one of his favorite instruments.

Roderick winked at Trent and nodded toward the video cameras mounted above the door.

“She wasn’t sure you were going to come inside, so she sent me out here to make sure you do.” Marcus opened the door and waited for Trent to walk in before him. He did a quick glance around wanting to see any new changes made to Mama’s, but not wanting to make eye contact with anyone. However, that didn’t appear to be an issue because Marcus commanded attention when he moved.

Thankfully it wasn’t crowded for a Sunday night. A few couples occupied the outside tables near the stage, and three couples were slowly winding against each other on the dance floor as the band played a slower rendition of “They Say It’s Wonderful.” Trent recognized the song immediately, and it was already soothing his wounded soul as he followed the man in front of him.

Marcus stopped at the end of the bar before a set of double doors that Trent knew led to the kitchen. Or as it was well known. Mama’s house. “What can I get you to drink?” Marcus asked, leaning against the bar facing him.

Now that they were inside and under the bar lights, Trent could see that Marcus’s eyes were practically onyx, and his long black lashes made them appear made up. Blinding. Trent turned away and glanced toward the beer selection. “I’ll have a Heineken,” he said just loud enough to be heard over the music.

Marcus’s dark eyes scanned down Trent’s body, and instantly his thoughts went to Wood. Was Trent about to have a drink with another man who was clearly showing he was interested in him? Did he even have a boyfriend anymore?

“It looks like you can use something a little stronger than that,” Marcus said, his devilish grin remaining in place. He kept his body toward Trent as he returned his attention to the cute bartender who was waiting to take their order. “Liza, get Trent a double shot of Hennessey.”

Trent was about to refuse, but the drink was in front of him before he could open his mouth. He was mindful he still had to drive home, but he planned to be there a few more hours. One drink wouldn’t hurt. Casting Wood and his heartache to the back of his mind, Trent downed the shot, welcoming the burning sensation in the pit of his stomach.

“There you go,” Marcus said creepily, having somehow moved closer. “You feel better already, don’t you? How about one more?”

Trent glared. Marcus looked to be a few years older than him, maybe, but Trent didn’t appreciate the ply-him-with-hard-liquor approach. “No, thanks,” he