Page 45 of The Comedown

“This one’s as damaged as they come,” another guy leans over to say, jerking a thumb at the drummer, then proceeds to shake up a bottle of champagne before spraying it all over the table, making everybody laugh.

After I wipe the cold liquid from my face, I ask, “It’s like that, huh?”

Shrugging, he repeats my answer of, “Unfortunately,” with an easy smile.

He’s got a grungy, almost emo look to him, with monochrome tattoos and dark, smudged eyeliner. His hair’s a dark brown and similarly cut to Julian’s, where it’s longer on the top than the back and sides. His energy is calm, but in an assessing sort of way, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s just as observant as his friend.

“I’m Axel,” he says.

I take his hand, asking, “Is that your real name or stage name?”

Axel keeps my hand, drawing me closer to him so he can speak against the shell of my ear. “Both. I started out going by a different stage name, but everyone kept calling me Axel, and it just kinda stuck. Last year, I had my name changed to Axel legally. Like you, right?”

“I didn’t change mine. Collette’s always been my real name. What was your original stage name?”

“XL.”

I rear back, giving him a more thorough once-over. He’s about the same size as Julian except a tad more muscular. He has nice biceps, the kind you could easily sink your nails into.

“Wanna see why?” Axel taunts with an arched eyebrow that I can’t help but snicker at. He’s sexy, too, but nothing like the way Julian is. My panties are wholly unaffected by him, and I don’t really care to see what he’s packing. Of course, I’m interested in finding out if he lives up to the namesake, but not that interested.

With my hand still in his, he stands, pulling me up, too.

Just as I lean in to give him the same talk I gave Julian, he drops back into his chair from a vicious shove, releasing my hand to put both of his up innocently.

“Sit the fuck down,” Julian warns him in a tone I haven’t heard before.

“Just having a little bit of fun,” Axel says with that relaxed smile of his.

“Not with her.”

“What’s your deal tonight?” I ask Julian. “First, you scared off my date—”

“Damn right I did. Now you get to see why.” Julian drains the rest of his drink, his eyes glazing over when they find mine. He drags two chairs over with zero tact whatsoever, just knocking into people left and right, then tells me to take a seat in one of them.

After sitting down, I make a show of getting my lap ready.

“Oh, shit,” one of the guys at the table says. “This should be good.”

A couple names are thrown around as recommendations, but Julian doesn’t seem to hear any as he motions a dancer over, his face severe, like he’s…

What is he right now? He was somewhat playful before when I said he owed me a lap dance, but now that’s all gone, and in its place is what looks and feels like anger. Why is he so damn angry? What happened?

Otep’s metal rendition of “Royals” starts up and every stage suddenly has a dancer on it, spinning rapidly around the poles. The synchronicity is breathtaking and it’s all I can do to sit here, watching in awe.

Julian sits next to me, draping an arm over the back of my chair, and when the tall blonde in a bandage dress saunters over, he nods at his own lap. Not mine.

What the—

She immediately pulls her dress over her head and gets to work dancing on top of Julian’s thighs. Julian doesn’t take his eyes off the woman on his lap, but now, I can’t take my eyes off him. What the hell is this?

The dancer lifts a platform-heeled foot over Julian’s shoulder and proceeds to bounce directly over his cock with ass cheeks that shake like maracas.

My face grows unbearably warm and my holey sweatshirt feels restricting. Stifling.

Finally, finally, Julian’s gaze swings over to mine. “What do you think?”

“About?”