Chapter 6

“You can’t just throw us out.” Anthony squared his broad shoulders. “Not when we’re the ones who’ve paid the bills, the taxes, everything since Nick died.”

“ You paid the taxes?” Mike stared at them.

Sam nodded. “We used up all our savings doing it, too. We’re down to our last dollars.”

“We could’ve left this place a year ago,” Elliott added. “But that would have meant giving Benjamin Sharp and slimeballs like him an open door, and we couldn’t do that to Nick.”

Mike frowned. “Who’s Benjamin Sharp?”

Jim sneered. “A businessman who wants to relaunch the Velvet House as a swanky historic hotel.”

“This Sharp guy, he wants to buy the place?”

Anthony nodded. “And news spreads fast. I give it a day, two at tops, before he comes sniffing around here with an offer.”

Mike thought fast. “But if I sell, that solves your money problems. I can pay you back everything you’ve laid out.”

And then you can leave, and I can find another place to live.

Sam frowned. “You don’t understand. Sharp isn’t from around here.”

“Does it matter if he isn’t local?”

Elliott sighed. “In the last two years, three multistate hotel groups have bought properties in P-town. A trend no one here wants to see continue any further.”

“So we stayed.” Jim sounded worn down. “Even when we couldn’t find jobs, because those are in short supply around here out of season.”

“During the summer, we all tended bar anywhere we could, we worked as servers, we cleaned up after events. Anywhere we could that would give us money.” Elliott shot a glance at Sam. “Some of us might even have done a few… extracurricular activities.”

Sam responded with a superior eye roll. “Bitch, shut up. He was a nice guy.”

“He gave you a hundred bucks. No one is that nice. Not unless they got something out of it.”

Sam placed his hands on his hips. “Sure he did. He got the pleasure of my company. Believe me, that was all he wanted. To sit with a lovely lady while he told her all about his wife who he’d lost to cancer last year. His words, by the way. Sure, he knew I was a guy. He came to one of the shows.”

Elliott swallowed. “I… I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

Sam swiped away a tear. “Before he went back home, he kissed me on the cheek and handed me a hundred. I smiled, wrapped his hand around it, and told him to keep it. That I’d loved hearing about Janelle and wished I could have met her. He shook his head and insisted I take the money because, he said, she would have been furious for him wasting my time.”

Mike watched their byplay, confused as fuck. He was starting to think the situation was more complicated than he’d anticipated.

Now what do I do?

“There’s something I don’t understand.” Ashley frowned. “You have a bar here, don’t you? Couldn’t you have worked here? Or put on a show. That would have brought the money rolling in.”

Jim gave a tired smile. “Sounds good in theory, but you need to remember something. One, this wasn’t our place—it was Nick’s, and he was gone. That meant we had no legal rights. Two, even if we’d had rights, running a bar means supplies of alcohol, and we didn’t have the money for that. Three, if we could have run this place, that would have meant electricity, heating…I refer you to points one and two.”

“Plus, there hasn’t been a show here since we lost Nick,” Anthony added.

“You did shows here?” Mike glanced at the lobby. He couldn’t imagine they could have packed an audience into the limited space.

Elliott chuckled. “Not in here. Oh, we had small gatherings, with someone on a mic, but not a show.” He stood. “Come with me. I’ll show you.” He headed for the door.

“Will we need jackets?” Ashley asked.

“We’re not going far,” Sam told her. The others stood, and Mike followed Elliott out onto the porch and around the corner to another door. Inside, it was a long space but not that big, with chairs and a fireplace at one end, a bar at the other, and another door.

Sam turned left and headed through two more doors.

“Hit the lights, Ant,” Elliott called out.

Anthony went to the wall and flipped a couple of switches. “Ta-daaa!”

Mike was standing in what looked like a theater. There was a stage at one end, framed by red velvet curtains, spotlights aimed at them. The rest of the space was bare, just wooden floorboards, and windows along one side, covered with more red velvet. Pillars stood at intervals.

“The good times we’ve had in here,” Elliott murmured.

“Carnival drag bingo, drag brunches, shows…” Sam glanced around, sorrow etched across his face.

Mike’s stomach growled, and Anthony frowned. “I have the manners of a jackass. Of course you’re hungry. It’s dinner time. I’ll go rustle up some food.” He hurried back the way they’d come.

“While he’s doing that, why don’t we help you move all your stuff from the truck? We can stow it all in here for the moment,” Sam suggested. He cocked an ear. “I think the rain’s stopped, so if we move quickly, we can get it done before it starts up again.” He grinned. “And it will.”

“Where’s he gonna sleep?” Jim demanded. “The only rooms made up are ours.”

Sam smiled. “He can have Nick’s room. I think that’s only right, don’t you?”

Mike liked the sound of that.

“And what about his bestie?” Elliott asked.

Ashley gave Mike a beseeching glance. “Can I share your room tonight?”

“There’s only one bed,” Jim remonstrated.

Her eyes twinkled. “Duh. Like we haven’t shared a bed before.”

Mike knew where she was coming from. Ashley’s life was as upside down as his, and she wanted a little stability.

“Sure.” He gave her a reassuring smile. “We’ll sort you out a room tomorrow.”

Everything was still up in the air, nothing was settled, and he still had a whole heap of questions.

They can wait until after we’ve eaten.

One thing was certain. The four squatters were definitely not what he’d expected. And as much as he hated to admit it, he liked them.

“My compliments to the chef.” Mike felt a damn sight better with hot food inside him.

Anthony snorted. “It was only soup and a grilled cheese sandwich.” He glanced at the others. “I don’t know about you guys, but I could use a drink.”

Jim laughed. “Is there any booze left? Because I sure as hell didn’t buy anymore at the store. No money for luxuries like alcohol.”

Mike smiled. “I happen to have a bottle of whiskey. My dad gave it to me before we left Boston. Hasn’t even been opened yet.”

Sam grinned. “Well, hell- oo there, new best friend.”

He laughed. “Then you’d better bring some glasses.”

“I’m on it.” Sam was out of there in a heartbeat.

Mike stood. “I’ll go fetch the bottle. It’s still in the truck.” It had completely slipped his mind.

“I’ll get it.” Ashley held her hand out for the keys, and Mike fished them from his pockets. As soon as she closed the door behind her, Anthony gave him an inquiring glance.

“So, what’s the story with you and Little Miss Feisty?”

“It’s like she said. We’re roommates.”

“And that’s all?” Elliott arched his eyebrows. “Because you two seem to be an awfully good fit.”

“We were best friends in college, and we stayed that way.” Mike watched as Sam approached with a tray of glasses, hips swaying a little. “She moved into my place when things got a little sticky, and so far, it’s worked out just fine. As long as she remembers the number one rule.”

“What’s that? Don’t use your toothbrush?” Anthony’s eyes sparkled.

“No—check her messages before she walks through the front door, just in case I’m… occupied.”

“I get the feeling you’re speaking from experience,” Jim said with a smile.

“Unfortunately, yes. My guest didn’t know where to look when she walked in on us.”

Anthony fanned himself with his hand. “Nothing too compromising, I hope. I might blush.”

Mike could read the room. He didn’t think he was about to shock his audience.

“I’d call bending him over the dining table pretty compromising, wouldn’t you?”

The stunned silence that followed had him doubting his assumption.

Sam was the first to speak. “You’re gay? Or bi?”

“The former. I’m surprised my uncle didn’t tell you, seeing as he was the one who caught me sneaking a gay porn magazine from under his pillow one Christmas.” Mike smiled. “I was fifteen at the time, and he was so cool about it.”

“How very interesting.” Anthony grinned.

Elliott chuckled. “The old dog never said a word.”

The door opened, and Ashley came inside. “I swear it’s even colder out there.”

“Wait until December hits,” Sam told her. He glanced at Mike. “You’ll be here then?”

“I guess. I’ve kinda burnt my bridges, as it were. My life’s going to be here from now on.”

What that life was going to look like, he had no idea.

Which led him back to the present predicament. His whole life lay in boxes piled high in the theater, waiting to be unpacked into God knew where. He had a roof over his head, a bed to sleep in, and four drag queens to—

Evict?

He had to admit, what had seemed such an easy solution in Mr. Hopkins’s office was now much more complicated.

I don’t know what to do.

What bothered him was that Uncle Nick wouldn’t be happy at the thought of Sam, Anthony, Elliott, and Jim being tossed out into the street. Uncle Nick would’ve given the shirt off his back to anyone in need. He was that kind of man.

And what kind of man does that make me?

Mike sighed. “Look, it’s getting late, and I could really use some sleep. But tomorrow morning, all of us need to sit down and talk seriously.”

Before his head got more muddled than it already was.

“You’re right,” Sam agreed. “Maybe things will seem clearer in daylight.”

“And maybe by then you’ll have a better idea of which way you want to go,” Elliott added. “The night brings counsel, my grandpa used to say.”

“Maybe the night will bring you some answers,” Jim suggested.

“Yeah.” Anthony flashed him a smile. “Let’s see what happens.”

Mike had a feeling he’d missed something important.

“How about a nightcap?” Ashley held up the bottle. “Seeing as I froze my ass off retrieving it.”

Mike cracked the seal, and poured whiskey into six glasses.

“What should we drink to?” Elliott asked.

Before Mike could open his mouth, Sam got in first. “To Nick. May he rest in peace.” The others murmured his words.

“And wherever he is, I hope he looks fabulous,” Jim muttered.

Mike blinked. “To Uncle Nick.”

Fabulous?