4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Rehearsal was amazing, even though he was super full from the lunch he had. Whoever Binxie was, he deserved the praise that everyone heaped on him.

The men were waiting for him, and Scott was the first to approach him, shaking his hand. “I’ve heard of you. It’s so great you want me to work with you.”

“You were great last night,” Rowan said to him.

“Wow. You saw me? Wow.”

The others weren’t as gushy, but they were pleased, too, and once they got started, it came easily. They took direction well, and the concept just fell from him. He went to the two racks for the wardrobe choices and picked out the Santa outfit first, then two elf outfits, getting another idea rolling around in his head.

Chaz, one of the other dancers, talked to him about his new boyfriend earlier. An older man with a long white beard. “Chaz, how would your boyfriend feel about sitting on stage and having four very cute elves dancing around him?”

“Oh, he’d just hate that,” Chaz teased. Chaz was a professional dancer who had hurt his knee a few years back and was on the club circuit until he found Cowpokes.

“If I can find a Santa outfit that could fit him…”

“There’s a bunch down in storage,” Scott informed them. “I’ve seen Santa and big bad Dom outfits, and you name it. Slutae does the clothes, and they have a special sideline making costumes for the clubs they work with.”

“Perfect,” he said before he got an even better idea. “How about, after we dance for Santa, he stands up and takes off his Santa coat, revealing a leather outfit.”

The other dancers all squealed with delight over the idea.

Chaz was laughing, and privately told him, “You’re good, Rowan. The excitement of the place hasn’t worn off yet, but it was starting to wane a little. You just got them excited again.”

“This place is great. You’re all lucky to dance here all the time.”

“Are you kidding? You’re traveling all over the world! Enjoy it before you get flabby and can’t dance anymore.”

Rowan knew that to be true, but he also longed for more. Traveling and seeing the world were great, but he wanted to be somewhere beautiful, somewhere…with someone.

After a long steam shower at the cabin, Jace picked him up to get to the club early and dressed. For the first night, he would be the Santa, and the backup dancers his elves. He heard a knock on his dressing room door as he sat in front of the vanity, getting the Santa hat in place with bobby pins.

“Come in,” he called as he poked his head with the pin. “Dammit.”

It was Blaine Carrillo. “Hi, I just wanted to come back and wish you luck, and tell you again how pleased we are that you’re here.”

“Thank you! Come in, sit a minute. I’ve got an hour before I go on.”

“You’re wearing your hat that long?” Blaine asked as he closed the door.

Laughing, embarrassed, he admitted, “Hats…they tend to fall off my head. Weirdly shaped, or something. My mother used to tell me it was because I was always falling on my head.”

“We have two little boys already showing tendencies to make us insane with worry. I can see that happening.”

He got the last pin in place and turned his head. “Stupid?”

“Festive. You look good in red.”

All he had on was the hat and the boy shorts, which were fuzzy and red and had a black belt printed on them. “I’m not putting that coat on yet. It’s warm in here.”

“For the basement, we have heat, but we turn it way down on the main floor. With all those bodies, it gets stifling.”

“I felt that last night. I came to see how the place looked packed with people, and it is that, packed.”

Blaine sat in the chair next to the vanity. “It’s popular. My husband, despite his assurances that he knew it would be, I could tell he was worried. Up here? People traveling this far for something they could get in any city with a gay club?”

“No. I know I just got here, but…it’s beautiful here. It’s…peaceful. Sure, the club itself is hopping, but the rest of it? It’s…I don’t know.”

“No, I understand. We have a home here. It’s just quiet and lovely. It will be a perfect place to watch our kids grow.”

“Kids. That’s great. How long, if I’m not prying, have you been together?”

“Sixteen years now.”

It was almost a shock to his system to hear that. “Since you were born?”

“No,” Blaine said, laughing. “I’m older than I look. The best thing about having money is buying all the creams and stuff that keep you looking young. Dante wants Botox, and I’ve talked him out of it. So far, anyway.”

“Neither of you need it. You look great.”

“Thank you,” he said with a warm smile. “Listen, I want to thank you for coming here for this holiday. It means a lot to us. And we’d like to invite you back this summer for a Pride celebration.”

As his jaw dropped, he stared at Blaine. “I haven’t danced yet. How do you know you want me to come back?”

“I have a sixth sense about things, Rowan. And about people. I know you’re going to be great.” He got up to leave and gave Rowan a wink. “Break a leg.”

Rowan smiled and caught that in the mirror. He hadn’t seen a genuine smile on his own face in a very long time.

Jace gave his friend a handshake as he came into the club. “How you doin’, Sig?”

“Came to see the show,” he hollered. The volume of the crowd was worse than the music thumping the speakers.

Jace nodded and pulled him over to the back of the stage, where an aftercare room was located. “Sorry, couldn’t hear a damn thing.”

“Everyone’s awfully rowdy,” Sig said, laughing. “Upbeat, to say the least.”

“This is every night, but I guess they’re really excited tonight. We have that dancer, Rowan.”

Sig nodded, unwilling to admit that was why he was there that night. “Well, I hope it’s a good show for everyone.”

Jace nodded and handed him something, and Sig took it, staring at it for a moment or two. “What the hell is this?”

“A mask. I know you don’t like crowds, and you don’t like anyone knowing who you are. Well, this will help both.”

The mask was leather that fit just right around his head, covering all but the lower part of his face and his eyes. “Who do I look like, the Lone Ranger?”

“Thought you’d like that. That’s been your thing since I’ve known you. Doing things on your own.” Jace laughed and slapped him on the back. “Go get yourself a nice twink and have some fun tonight.”

It had been a long time since he’d played in any leather club. A very long time. “Jace…I…”

“He’s been gone for over ten years, man. I know you loved him, but he’d want you to have some fun at least.”

Sig took off his hat and handed it to Jace so he could get the mask on his face. “You’re a bastard.”

“I know. Some good, anonymous fun. No strings, and you can head back to the desert with a nice memory. Unless, of course, you find some guy you’d like to take home.”

The picture of the dancer went through his mind again, but he pushed it away quickly. “I’m taking my own ass home. That’s enough.”

He went out with Jace, who set him up at a reserved table near the front, but luckily behind a table of rowdies. They’d take any focus off him the men on stage could have, and he could watch…anonymously as Jace said.

The stage lights were turned off, and the lights in the audience brightened, but Sig could still see the go-go dancers setting up a screen, like those old bedroom screens that people would get undressed behind.

There was more movement, but it was hard to follow, especially with the dancers all in black silky robes. The dressing screen was removed, and there was a dark lump in the middle of the stage.

The crowd barely noticed as they were talking, laughing, and ass-grabbing, but the second the lights went off above the crowd and the green and red lights pointing to the stage came on, the audience quieted by more than half.

The sound of jingling bells came over the speakers as the big red bag in the center of the stage was surrounded by skipping dancers dressed as elves.

They were adorable, wearing pointed green hats, tiny green boy shorts, pointed green shoes on their feet, and red vests that barely covered their chests.

Jingle Bell Rock began to play, and the dancers did a great number, coming to the front of the stage, dancing sexily but campy. Cheeky grins, bodies moving in waves, but Sig’s eyes were on that bag.

He caught it moving the few times he could get a good look at it between the legs of the other dancers. He knew that the man he’d seen on the stage would pop out of there like an old-timey burlesque dancer popped out of cakes.

And then, it came. The dancers surrounded the bag, the front two dropping to the floor and writhing sexily while Rowan McDuffy let the bag drop to appear as a sexy Santa.

The hat on his head, the skimpy Santa coat, and the sexy shorts were all playful and fun, but he also had on long black boots that went to his knees and were obviously leather. That was the sexiest part of the costume.

If there was one thing Sig loved, it was a twink in leather boots. For him, a twink wearing leather boots and nothing else as he was bent over a spanking bench, taking licks from Sig’s belt…

Or maybe the way Rowan made him feel had him suddenly picturing that particular twink in the boots and nothing else…

Since he’d seen him rehearsing, he hadn’t been able to get Rowan off his mind. Then seeing the number they were performing that night as he sat at that table, transfixed all over again, he knew that was it. He had a crush, and it wasn’t a small crush.

Thoughts of his late partner drifted through his mind. That smiling face and laughter fell from him like birds taking off from the trees. The sight of the man on a horse, riding off into the desert, lived with him, suffocating his heart for years after he’d died.

No one knew about that little heart defect. Why would they? He’d been raised in a poor home, and they were the same as so many others, only seeing the doctor for broken bones and severe injuries.

But for the first time since he’d lost Jake, he felt a pull to someone—someone beautiful, someone who held the audience captive in his hand. The way his body moved, like he was liquid, the coat being tossed as soon as it was off his body, the glistening of his skin in the green and red lights, Sig was captivated.

He was captivated, held by the man, and unable to look away for a moment. All his riches, all his land, and his home were a distant memory as Rowan McDuffy held him.

When he turned around, he and the dancers bent over to show a line of fine little asses, but he barely saw the others. Rowan’s was the only one that caught his attention.

Sig stayed for the entire night, watching every show. Rowan danced in the Santa outfit, playing with the other dancers and chasing them in a running/skipping dance step that was as playful as it was sexy.

One of the dancers held mistletoe up as the others danced around Rowan, each stealing a kiss from the main attraction, and it was adorable, seeing him blushing as they took a little longer of a kiss than they’d likely rehearsed.

When he came off the stage for his final number of the night, people surrounded him, all vying for his attention, and Sig was almost too intimidated to move. Still, he felt the tug toward the guy, and he had to try to…something.

Well, he was a dancer. They lived on tips. He’d tip the guy! Yes! He’d tip the guy!

Jace was suddenly there, smiling at him. “What are you still doing here?”

His dry laugh worsened as he turned his head to follow Rowan through the room.

“I see. He’s beautiful. I’ll let you…do whatever you’re doing.”

“That’s the problem. I have no idea what I’m doing. I’m…out of practice.”

Jace sidled up to him and growled, “You are wearing a mask. Go…go talk to him. You’re a big, hot man with a lot to offer. You don’t have to marry him tonight.”

Then, Jace was just gone. And he was confronted with all those words, all those words that made perfect sense. He reached for his wallet and took out a hundred-dollar bill, with nothing else coming to mind.

He waited until the crowd waned a bit and was lucky enough to get him alone for a brief moment.

Sig had never been shy, never feared anything. For some reason, that beautiful man scared the shit out of him. Stepping up to him, Rowan took notice and granted Sig a smile that could turn a wax museum into a flowing river.

“Hi,” Rowan said happily.

Sig couldn’t say a word. Instead, he grabbed Rowan’s wrist, and was shocked when Rowan didn’t pull away as he turned his hand.

Placing the money in the palm of Rowan’s hand, he smiled a little and then let the guy go and took off like his ass was on fire.

Analyzing himself for the rest of the night, Sig was embarrassed and ashamed. Where did the shyness come from? Since when did he run from a guy instead of trying to spend some time with him?

Then, it came to him like a bullet to the heart.

Jake happened.

Sig had fallen in love, been a partner, loved deeply, and still loved the guy. That depressed him. Sig didn’t know if he’d ever be ready to move on from that death, that epic heartbreak.

For the rest of the night, he lay awake, thinking about it, trying to find something in his heart to let him move on from Jake. Jake had told him many times that Sig wasn’t to ever wallow if they broke up or something happened to him. Like Jake knew almost from the moment they met that he wouldn’t be forever for Sig.

He took a walk as the sun rose, and watched the colors splash across the big sky. He’d heard about Big Sky Country all his life, but Sig was so partial to New Mexico that he never thought any sky could be as big.

Well, Montana won him over. Not that he loved it more than his beloved home state, but he saw it, saw how big and beautiful the sky truly was.

Maybe what won him over was that man on the stage. Laughing at himself, Sig thought how silly he was to have some schoolboy crush on a guy everyone in the club had drooled over. He wasn’t a teenager any longer, far from it. He’d lived forty-seven years. There was just something about Rowan that had wound his way into Sig’s heart and camped there.

For the rest of the week, he stayed in his cabin come nighttime. During the days, he made phone calls, did his business with Jace, Dallas McIntyre, and the Carrillo men, and took a lot of walks. He even did a little woodcarving, a hobby he hadn’t revisited in years.

When it came to that Christmas Eve, however, he found himself picking up the mask and running his thumb over it. “Dammit, Jake. I…miss you, but…you’re not here and…fuck! Maybe he won’t want a damn thing to do with me, but I need to try. I need to try to…get the fuck on with my goddamned fucking life!”