Chapter 18

Wednesday, December 11

Two Weeks Until Christmas

Anthony opened his eyes as the last notes faded away. “Have I told you how much I love your playing?”

Phil chuckled as he closed the key lid. “You might have mentioned it, once or twice.” He patted the piano bench. “But that’s enough practicing for now. Come sit here. I want to talk to you.”

He got up from his seat on Phil’s couch and sauntered over to the piano. “Uh-oh. This sounds serious.” Not that he had any objections to sitting so close to Phil.

Close enough to kiss.

Except Anthony was starting to despair of ever getting to that point. Every time Phil performed, Anthony was by his side. He spent a few evenings each week in Phil’s apartment, listening to him play, occasionally singing along. And every time he came back to the hotel, his heart would sink a little further.

Is he just a fan? Am I barking up the wrong tree?

Phil cleared his throat. “Have you given any more thought to my suggestion?”

Anthony had a few suggestions of his own, and most of them were carnal. He wouldn’t make the first move, however, much as he ached to say something.

I’ve wanted him for so long, but I want him to want me too.

Then he realized Phil expected a response.

“About me singing in the show, do you mean?”

Phil nodded. “Because I had an idea about it. Including what song would work, and who’d be singing it.”

He blinked. “Miss Dixx, of course.”

“I don’t think so. In fact, I think you should have a whole new character.”

Anthony stared. “Oh you do , do you? Well, okay then. Spill.” Phil mentioned the song title, which he recognized immediately. And when Phil outlined his ideas for not only the character but the costume, Anthony had to grin.

“You know what? You might have something there. Of course, it’ll need a new costume, new wig…” As soon as he was done there, Anthony was going shopping. He knew exactly the kind of fabric he needed. The wig might take a little longer, but he’d get on it ASAP.

“Then you’ll do it?” Phil gazed into his eyes. “For me?”

The look of naked adoration sent trickles of heat through him.

“Yeah, I’ll do it for you.” Then his heartbeat quickened when Phil leaned in closer, closer, until their lips were almost touching. “Yes,” he murmured in encouragement.

Please, don’t stop.

Phil’s eyes widened, and his breathing hitched as he cupped Anthony’s cheek. “I’ve wanted to do this for a long time,” he whispered.

Then Anthony forgot about everything but the man whose arms enfolded him, whose lips claimed his in the sweetest kiss he’d ever experienced. He cradled Phil’s nape, deepening the kiss, pouring into it all his desire, his need.

When they parted, Phil stared at him, his breathing erratic. “Whoa. When you kiss, you do it with your whole body.”

Anthony chuckled. “Want to see what other skills I have?”

“Is that a rhetorical question?” Phil sighed. “I’m sorry I took so long to show how I felt. But you should know by now I am by habit a nervous person. I never make a move until I’m certain of the outcome.” He stared at Anthony. “About those other skills of yours…” His eyes sparkled. “You’ve intrigued me.”

Anthony glanced down at the piano bench. “You know, I’ve seen porn videos where the actors fucked on one of these.” Anthony met Phil’s gaze, noting his flushed face, his large pupils. “Think that might be something you’d like to try?”

And please say yes.

Phil swallowed. “I think I could be persuaded.” He stood and walked away from the piano.

“And where are you going?”

He grinned. “Well, unless you’ve got a bottle of lube in that man bag of yours, we’re going to need supplies.”

Anthony snickered. “Honey, we’re gonna be doing this so often, you’ll need to keep a bottle in the piano.” He wanted to dance, sing, whoop and holler. He felt as light as a feather, and happier than he could remember.

Don’t they say good things come to those who wait?

It seemed his waiting days were over.

Sam placed his phone on the edge of the stage, then connected it to the portable speaker via Bluetooth. He scrolled through his music list, searching for something appropriate. Then he went over to the panel behind the velvet curtains, and flicked on the spots.

“Want to tell me what we’re doing in here?” Mike walked onto the stage. “Your message made it sound urgent.”

“I didn’t know where you were.”

“I’ve just got back.” Mike laughed. “And you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Oh, that sounds intriguing.”

Mike gazed up at the colored lights focused on the wooden stage. “Remember I told you I’d had an email from someone called Arden More?”

Sam snickered. “Yeah. I recall mentioning he could have a great career in porn with a name like that.”

To his surprise, Mike burst into laughter.

Sam blinked. “It wasn’t that funny.”

“But it is. We just met for coffee at Wired Puppy. Apparently, Arden was an old friend of Nick’s, and nine years ago, Nick loaned him three thousand dollars.” Mike’s eyes gleamed. “To help Arden set up his own porn studio.”

“No freaking way .”

Mike nodded. “Arden has done very well for himself, it seems. He was going to get in touch with Nick to set about paying him back, but then he saw the Facebook post about Nick’s death and the crowd-funding. So he looked me up.” He shook his head. “We talked about Nick for more than an hour. That man changed a lot of people’s lives.”

“So we’ve just added three grand to the bank balance? Fantastic.”

Another shake of his head. “Uh-uh. Three grand—plus interest.”

Sam stared at him. “How much are we talking?”

“Nick never said a word about interest, but Arden decided to pay it retroactively, so to speak. So he came up with a figure of eight percent, payable for every year of the loan. Which means we’ve received just over five grand.”

Sam beamed. “I think Arden gets free tickets to any show he wants to see, don’t you?”

Mike smiled. “And a free stay at the hotel when it opens. Which reminds me…” He peered at his phone. “Ashley and Patrick should be on their way back from Maine by now. In fact, they could be here in less than an hour.”

“How did he get roped into collecting the bathroom supplies?”

“He borrowed his uncle’s truck for the trip, and insisted he went along too.” Sam started humming the wedding march, and Mike laughed. “Yeah, I know. Elliott and Anthony are placing bets that he’ll be down on one knee by Christmas Day.” He put his phone away and folded his arms. “So… why did you message me?”

Sam walked over the curtain and reached behind it with both hands. He held up two pairs of high-heeled shoes. “Practice time.”

Mike groaned. “Now?”

Sam speared him with a look. “Have you even tried them on? Hmm?”

“No, but—”

“But nothing. We’ve got less than two weeks until Christmas Eve. You know, the night you make your debut? And speaking of which, have you come up with a name yet?” Except he already knew the answer.

“No. I’ve been a little busy, remember?”

Sam grinned. “Then isn’t it a good thing you’ve got me around? Because I’ve come up with the perfect persona.”

Mike narrowed his gaze. “Do I even want to hear this?” When Sam didn’t bite, he rolled his eyes. “Okay, hit me with it.”

Sam schooled his features. “Cheap Trix. That’s T-R-I- X, by the way.”

Mike gaped at him. “Really?”

“Why not? It’ll get you some laughs.” He dangled the shoes. “And you’re still not worming your way out of it. I’m going to help.” He coughed. “Boots and socks off. Now.”

Mike gave him a mock glare. “Are you always this bossy? Because this is a trait I haven’t seen until now.”

Sam cackled. “Honey, I’m probably the bossiest bitch you’ll ever meet. Now do what you’re told.”

Mike grumbled as he toed off his boots, then removed his socks, muttering about cutting off Sam’s privileges.

Sam snorted. “You wouldn’t do that. You enjoy filling my ass every chance you get. Almost as much as I enjoy being full of your dick.” He kicked off his sneakers, pulled off his socks, and held out one of the pairs of shoes. “These are for you. They should fit.”

Mike gazed at the sparkling high heels. “They’re beautiful.”

“They were Nick’s. None of us could wear them, seeing as how he had abnormally large feet.” He glanced down and smirked. “Not unlike yours.”

He shrugged. “Family trait. My sister’s are bigger—and way smellier—than mine.” He took the shoes.

Sam stepped into the pair of blue stiletto shoes. He glanced at Mike. “Well, come on, Cinderfella, put ’em on.”

“Bossy,” Mike groused. He squeezed his feet into them, tried an experimental step, and wobbled. Sam caught him. Mike gave another eye roll. “How does Ashley walk in these things?”

“What have I been telling you? Practice.” Sam stepped back. “Okay, walk around the stage in them. Get used to them.”

Mike managed a few steps, as ungainly as a waddling duck.

That was okay. By the time Sam was finished with him, Mike would be the most graceful swan ever.

He hoped.

After ten minutes or so, Mike could walk without falling. He was ready for the next step.

Sam went over to his phone and crouched beside it. He scrolled, then clicked on the short playlist he’d put together. He stood, beckoning Mike with his finger.

“Come here, lover boy.”

“Hungry Eyes” filled the air, and Mike laughed. “ Dirty Dancing ? Seriously?”

Sam merely grinned. “It’ll help you with balance. Plus, you should move a little with the mic when you lip-sync. So it’s all good.” He held his palms up. “Press your hands to mine, then do what I do.”

They stood in the middle of the stage. Mike took a minute or two to get the hang of copying Sam’s steps, his gaze rooted on his feet.

“That’s it, you’re getting it,” Sam encouraged him. “Now move in time to the music.”

Mike’s movements were halting at first, but it wasn’t long before he stepped with greater confidence, and their dance morphed into something more sensual.

“Yeah, that’s better,” Sam praised. “Now, put your hands on my shoulders.” He moved his to Mike’s hips, guiding him, getting him to mimic Sam’s swaying. And all the while, he got Mike to focus on Sam’s face, not on his own feet.

“How’m I doing?”

Sam beamed at him. “You’re a natural.”

Mike snorted. “Yeah right.”

He kissed the tip of Mike nose. “You’re doing beautifully.”

“Hungry Eyes” gave way to “Cry To Me”, and Mike chuckled. “Just how many songs have you lined up for us? Or is it the whole playlist?”

Sam ignored the question, moving with him, slow and sinuous, their bodies almost touching. He stood behind Mike, trailing his fingers down Mike’s side.

Mike chuckled. “I remember this part in the movie. Maybe this is where I should mention I’m not ticklish.” Then his breathing caught when Sam slid his hand over Mike’s stomach, moving lower until he dipped his fingers under the waistband of Mike’s jeans.

Sam leaned in to whisper, “I think the dance class is over, don’t you?”

“Not the class—we’re just changing the venue.” Mike turned in his arms. “Let’s move this upstairs to someplace where no one can walk in on us.”

He laughed. “Especially Ashley.”