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I stuck out my hand to shake his, trying to ignore the drama emanating from Billy’s direction.
“I’m Cruz Martin, and it’s no problem. I work as a bartender in my everyday job, so this is pretty easy.”
He nodded. “I’ve made a few calls after seeing the food, so I think that situation will be under control soon. If you’ll stay and help with the drinks, I’ll make sure you’re well compensated.”
“Sure, I don’t have to work until tomorrow evening, so I can hang out.”
“Well, thank you again, Cruz. Actually, I’d intended all along to hire help with all this, but Billy kept insisting he could do it alone.” He glanced over at Billy again, who wilted a bit more. “Let me know if there’s anything you need,” he told me. “This shouldn’t last late this evening—it’s as much of a business meeting as anything else. Most of these guys are investors.”
I nodded. High powered finance was way above my pay grade. David smiled at me again, gave Billy a scathing look and walked out of the room.
“Shit,” Billy said, chewing his bottom lip. “I think I better go try to handle that. Thanks, Cruz. I owe you one.”
I grinned and shook my head. He owed me way more than one. Billy was a great guy in his own way and one of my friends, but he did tend to stretch the truth a bit. I didn’t know much about the D/s lifestyle, and I was pretty sure I didn’t want to, although Billy seemed happy enough. Actually, whenever he talked about his boyfriend, his eyes glowed, and he lit up from the inside, so I was happy for him. There was somebody for everyone.
I wondered if the guest list at the party tonight included a lot of handsome Doms like his Master David and just what that might entail. A sudden little shiver of anticipation took me by surprise, but I shook it off. No, the lifestyle Billy was in was not for me. It sounded a little dangerous and exciting, but no way would I ever be interested in that kind of thing. I’d had enough trouble in my life.
Not that I didn’t have my own secrets, though, and some people—a lot of people—would no doubt say my interests were pretty damn odd. I guess everybody had their weird little fantasies and inner thoughts they never admitted out loud to anyone. I had no room to judge anybody else, so I tried not to.
Billy had come a long way, too, since he’d met David. He didn’t talk much about his past, but I knew he’d come to the city from a small town in the Midwest after his wealthy parents had kicked him out because he was gay. He was blond and good-looking and was lucky enough to be going to the University of Central Florida on a full scholarship in Music Education. We had both found jobs at a place called Gio’s downtown, near the courthouse, waiting tables and tending bar. It was a good gig, and paid great in tips, mostly because the patrons, who consisted of a lot of lawyers, both male and female, liked to ogle the young men and women serving them. Whatever—it more than paid the rent, and I needed the money.
When I first met Billy, he was kind of a mess—drinking way too much and taking a lot of recreational drugs, like E or Molly, just because he thought it was cool, or his friends were doing it. Once he met David, all of that stopped, and I gave them both a lot of the credit for that. Billy told me that his Master had given him an ultimatum. If he wanted to be in his life, he would clean up his act and take better care of himself. No more drinking and definitely no more drugs. It had been almost a year since they’d met, a few months since Billy had moved in, and Billy was still clean and sober.
Still, the idea of letting another man boss me around to that degree, maybe calling him Sir and letting him give me orders—I had really mixed feelings about it.
I’d never want a full-time, 24/7 relationship like that. I didn’t think so anyway. Though sometimes, when the stress of my work and my bills and worrying about what I was going to do with the rest of my life got really bad, and when I wasn’t sure how I was going to manage any of it, I craved the feeling of comfort and security that kind of a relationship might bring. It might be nice to have someone I could lean on when the worry and stress got to be too much.
What I really wanted was someone to help me find control—for the times when the old, panicky feelings I’d had since I was a child set in. When I’d been not quite four years old, there had been an incident with my mother that had resulted in me going into foster care and since then I suffered from anxiety attacks.
Things were different now. I was a grown man—or close enough—and I didn’t have to worry about the same things I did back then. Now I had to worry about how I had so much student debt I’d never get out from under it; or about how badly I needed to clean my apartment and do laundry and do all the other adult things; and about how I never seemed to be able to manage my time well enough to get them all done. The stress of that was constant and never stopped plaguing me. Apparently it wasn’t bad enough to get me to stop procrastinating and do something about it. But I was a world-class worrier. It never stopped either, racing around inside me, buzzing in my head, until I felt like I could never just be.
When those times got really bad, I locked my door, dug out my special things, watched my movies and just didn’t think about anything. The fact that I sucked my thumb while I was doing it and kept my childhood teddy bear clutched in my arms was irrelevant. Or so I told myself.
I felt ashamed of anyone finding out. It was embarrassing and indicated something was seriously wrong with me, like inside my brain. And I sometimes wished I had someone who would understand that part of me regardless of that and take care of me when I was feeling stressed…who would make all the decisions for me and just tell me what to do… somebody who might even run me a warm bubble bath or bring me a glass of milk with Hershey’s chocolate syrup stirred in like one of the foster moms used to make, or just hold me close and tell me things would be okay.
I knew none of that would never happen. Not one of those daydreams would ever come true for me. And before you think I was some sad sack who felt sorry for himself, I wasn’t normally. I’d been taught to just get on with things, and I tried to do that.
But I wasn’t cute and little and blond like Billy. I had a beard and tattoos, and I worked out a little. I looked like I was more than capable of looking after myself. I knew about Doms who took care of boys like Billy. I’d even heard of Daddies, who did even more than that. Sometimes, I browsed the internet reading what they had to say in the internet ads. But what Daddy or Dom would look at a guy like me and think, “Yeah, that’s just what I want in a boy.”
Nobody, that’s who, and I thought that was just being realistic.
I finished setting up my glasses and got ready to serve. People had already arrived, and music was playing softly in another room. The place was filling up with men of all shapes and sizes, and I wondered what the evening would bring. I told myself again to stop being so fanciful, took a deep breath and got ready.
Chapter Two
Michael
I glanced at the bar, giving the boy working there as a bartender another appreciative glance. He was young—probably too young for me—with a gorgeous body and amazing brown eyes. His dark hair kept falling over his face and I had the strangest urge to brush it back for him and tuck it behind his ear.
My friend Dave came up behind me and clapped me on the shoulder. “See something you like?”
“Me and probably half the men here at the party,” I said, smiling at my friend. “What’s his name?”
“Cruz. He’s a friend of Billy’s—works as a bartender with him at Gio’s.”
“Mmm…” I said, noncommittally, taking another sip of my drink.
“Don’t pretend, Michael. He’s just your type, isn’t he?”
