Page 11 of After Midnight

Sebastian

BACK IN THE CLUB, I look for Lucas in our booth, but I don’t find him there. I turn, scanning the crowd, searching the mass of bodies for a flash of floppy pale hair. And I eventually find him at the bar, but he’s with a different girl now.

And he’s still drinking.

Shit.

Before Lucas and I left the hotel, Michael warned me not to let Lucas get shit-faced, and I got so distracted by Mirage that I’m pretty sure I’ve failed at my job.

But how could I not get distracted by her? When she first stepped onto the stage, my eyes were immediately drawn to her, like everything in my periphery went dark and she was all I could see. Even now, I find myself wanting to glance back, to get my eyes on her just one more time. She seemed in a hurry to leave though. Maybe my dick made her uncomfortable. I didn’t mean to get hard on her like that, but I couldn’t control myself. Even now, I’m still partially hard.

“Idiot,” I grumble as I cross the floor, weaving through drunk men and half-naked women. I step up to Lucas before he even realizes I’m there, one hand clapping down on his shoulder. “I think it’s time to go,” I say.

He looks up at me, eyes glazed in that way they get when he’s had too much to drink. The girl he’s with tips her head and pouts, popping one hip.

“Already?” she asks. “It was just about to get interesting.”

“You go,” Lucas says. “But I’m staying.”

He turns back to the woman, one hand on her waist, the other clutching a bottle of beer.

But I don’t give up. Instead, I wrap my arm around Lucas’s shoulders, giving him a hug that obviously makes him annoyed, given the irritable grumble that slips out of him.

“We,” I say, “have a plane to catch. And you’re always grumpy when you don’t get your sleep.” I look at the woman. “He’s kind of a man baby like that.”

Her lips flick up in a smile.

Lucas shakes me off, and when I look down at him, he flexes his jaw, anger flickering across his face.

Lucas is smaller than me, but he’s no joke in a brawl. He used to fight when we were younger, before he found purpose in music instead of senseless violence. I can’t count the number of times he came back to our shitty apartment with a busted lip and bloody knuckles. And tonight, under the neon lights, it looks like he’s drifting, forgetting who he is now in favor of who he used to be.

It makes concern thread through me.

So I soften my tone, shift my tactics. Pushing Lucas too hard never results in anything but a mess, like shaking a beer bottle before popping the top. “Come on, man. I’m exhausted. I need food and sleep. Let’s get pizza.”

He holds my gaze for a long moment, the club’s lights flashing across his face and the piercings running the length of one ear. Then he draws a breath, sets his beer on the bar, and takes his hand off the girl’s waist.

“Fuck. All right.”

With a sigh, the dancer flicks her hair and walks away, leaving the two of us alone.

“You call the car?” Lucas asks. He slumps a bit, and I can tell he’s tired, even if he won’t admit it.

I reach into my pocket and pull out my cell, then send a text to our driver. “Yeah. He’ll be out front in five.”

“I’m gonna piss. Meet you out there.”

“Okay.”

Lucas walks away, and I watch him go. He’s not stumbling, so I caught him before he drank too much. Thankfully. Now Dex and Michael won’t be pissed at us in the morning.

I head for the front door, my exhaustion from the Vegas heat and our show finally starting to catch up to me. But before I can step into the entryway, I catch sight of her again.

Mirage.

She’s standing across the club, talking to another man, her sparkly top shimmering in the lights. He must be funny—probably funnier than me—because she tips her head back and laughs.

Then her gaze flicks in my direction, and she meets my eyes.