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Chapter One
Cruz
I lifted the heavy tray of glassware to my shoulder and gave my friend Billy a look. If it hadn’t been for my promise to him, I wouldn’t have been here working on my one and only night off this week. How did I always let Billy talk me into things like this when I knew better?
As if on cue, Billy flitted into the room, dressed in an obscenely skimpy bathing suit and holding an empty cocktail glass.
“Let me guess. You need a refill for your boyfriend.”
Billy turned with a pouty expression on his face and actually stomped his little foot encased in a pair of glittery girls’ sandals. He had a small enough foot that they didn’t look bad on him, and I had to admit his toenails were done to perfection. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and his skin was already an improbable shade of bronze, helped along greatly by the tanning salon. His artfully tousled hair made him look as if he’d just walked in off the beach. All in all, he looked a little like a male Barbie doll, minus the giant boobs.
“Cruz, don’t be mean. I told you the guys I hired for the party canceled at the last minute so I needed help, because I can’t do all of this on my own. I want everything to be perfect tonight.”
“Okay, but it’s just a pool party, right, and not the queen’s ball? And if you want perfection, then maybe don’t wait until the last minute to try and do everything.”
I took the glass from him, gave it a refill of the expensive scotch his boyfriend had been drinking all night and kept up my litany of complaints.
“And if your boyfriend was too cheap to hire help, you should have at least told me, so I could have made an informed decision about whether or not I wanted to work like a dog tonight, while you flit around and look cute. I would have preferred to stay home on my couch and watch something on Netflix.”
“Oh, you think I look cute?” he asked, batting his lashes at me. When I rolled my eyes back at him, he sighed and leaned across the bar. “And just FYI, David’s not cheap. It’s my fault really. I kind of bragged to him that I could do it all myself when the caterers canceled, and he didn’t have to hire anyone else.”
“And he agreed to that? Has he met you?”
“Oh, very funny. Look, I thought I could do it, and then when the guest list kept growing, and I realized we’d need a full-time bartender as well as actual food, I began to panic. I confess I’m not the best with organization, and I can’t cook at all.”
I laughed out loud, because it was so true. Billy was the least organized person I knew. We’d been roommates for the first year of college, and our tiny apartment had always been—shall we say—untidy. The floor was pretty much always covered by dirty clothes and dirty dishes, which wasn’t a bad thing really, because they distracted from the fact that the floor hadn’t been swept or mopped in the past few weeks. It was a relief when Billy decided a few weeks ago to move out and go live with his boyfriend David, so at least half the mess had been cleared away.
“Your boyfriend has to have noticed you don’t cook by now, Billy.”
“He thinks I turned over a new leaf.” I laughed out loud again and noticed a few of the guests glancing over at us with more than a few interested looks. There were only about fifteen people there so far this evening, but a lot more were supposed to be coming.
David’s pool was massive, with what looked like an acre of blue tile, along with fountains and a hot tub at one end. It was lined with lounge chairs and soft music was coming from the poolside speakers. It was a beautiful home, and a nice night for a party. A soft breeze was blowing directly from the nearby ocean, bringing the smell of salt water, and the stars shone down like diamonds. It felt like powerful magic was at work that night with the music, the ocean and the stars. I shook myself a little and decided I was being way too fanciful.
The guests—all men so far—had been nice, if a little flirty, but I’d had no complaints about the drinks I’d made them. I hoped things stayed that way. I didn’t mind the flirting so long as no one was rude about it, and so far, so good.
“I thought I had plenty of time to prepare,” Billy was saying, “but the days just got away from me. And what David doesn’t know won’t hurt him. He thinks I made all this food, you know, and that you asked me if you could help so you could come to the party to meet some new guys.” Billy gave me a wink and a sly smile before turning around and bumping right into a tall, handsome older man who had walked up silently behind him. Billy’s face paled visibly as he gazed up into the man’s flinty expression.
I didn’t know much about Billy’s relationship, but he had shared with me the fact that he was now in “the lifestyle,” as he called it, and that his boyfriend was a Dom, which made Billy his submissive, I guess.
His boyfriend—or I should say his Dom, David, because Billy had told me Doms were not boyfriends—had arranged this party for some of his friends, and with typical bravado, Billy had assured the man he could handle all the preparation, set-up and serving. With over thirty plus people to make food and drinks for, however, he hadn’t contacted a caterer or hired someone to help. Instead, he’d delayed and dallied around and only called me for help late that afternoon to confide to me that he was in way over his head and beg for my help. Billy was a master at manipulation, and rather than come clean to his Master and confess that fact, he’d decided to bluff his way through and press me into service at the last minute.
I went on a deli run on the way to the party, but I doubted the kind of food I got from the deli was up to this man’s standards. He was wealthy from the looks of this house, and all these people had money and lots of it, so they’d expect something a good deal fancier than sandwiches, hot wings and potato salad.
“So please continue, Billy. What I don’t know won’t hurt me?”
“Master David!” Billy said, his voice high-pitched and shocked. “Oh, hi…I was just…”
“You were just being a brat, as usual. You were trying to get this poor boy here to do the work I was counting on you to do. You should have told me sooner that you needed help, boy.” He gave him a stern look. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of to get in over your head. What you need to worry about now is the fact you didn’t tell me. That you chose to lie to me about it instead.”
I was embarrassed to stand there and witness this, but it was like a car wreck—I couldn’t quite seem to look away.
“I know. I’m sorry, Sir.” Billy seemed to droop, his head down and his voice tremulous.
The man gave him one more scathing look and turned to me.
“Hello, I’m David Benson. Thank you for helping out here tonight. I’ll make sure you’re paid for all you’ve done, and I’m sorry you got caught up in this.”
I glanced over at Billy, whose shoulders were slumped. He was practically digging a hole in the carpet with the toe of his shoe, and he looked like he’d just lost his best friend. His lower lip stuck out in a pout, and it began trembling. It was a masterful act and a blatant play for sympathy, though, and I suspected “Master” David knew it too.
