5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Of course, the guy didn’t show for the rest of the week, Rowan thought as he watched the audience every night. No, it wasn’t the money. He’d gotten ten times that kind of tip before. It was his eyes.

The man had the most beautiful, warm eyes Rowan had ever seen. Emerald green around the outer edge and chocolate brown in the center, near the pupil. Hazel, he guessed he’d call it, but it was so much more than that.

Before he could thank the man, he was gone in the crowd.

Or maybe it was the money. At least a part of it. Usually, when a man tipped him like that, they wanted something in return. Maybe it was for Rowan to come to his table and sit with him, or maybe it was much more. The masked man, however, handed him the tip and ran off, like he was shy. A big, brawny man like that shy made Rowan curious to learn more about him.

It was strange for him to obsess over some guy, especially one he’d never exchanged words with. Rowan sat drinking his morning coffee, laughing at himself for thinking about the guy so much.

Jace called and asked what time he needed to rehearse for his big number, and his last night on the stage of Cowpokes. “Let me into the place about three. I will take a walk and enjoy the scenery before returning to LA.”

“You know you can stay, right? We don’t have a reservation for that cabin for another three weeks.”

That sounded like heaven. “Let me think about it. I should get home and get some paperwork done before I head out to start traveling again.”

“Well, think it over. It’s a great place to relieve your worries for a while.”

That was true, except for one thing. The man with the blue/green eyes was a worry he never thought he’d have. How the hell could such a brief encounter have rocked him so much? It was insane! He wasn’t some stupid kid that fell in love at a glance.

He collected the things he’d need for rehearsal, then decided to sit outside and enjoy the cool, crisp day while he still could, just in case Rowan decided to leave the following day.

As the door swung open, he smelled the air that was so fresh, so clean, it didn’t seem real. All those air fresheners he’d bought over the years for his car, including pine scent, were so bogus. Nothing in his life had ever smelled as good as that Montana air.

He took a step out the door, the toe of his shoe hit something light, and he looked down to see something strange. It looked like a rose, but it was wood.

After Rowan picked it up, he stared at it. It was…perfect. Whoever had done it had spent at least hours on it. Probably days. A perfect rose, every petal done with such care, and tiny blunt thorns down the long stem.

Examining the stem, he saw something else carved in it. Initials. SL.

“SL? Is that you? Is that so long ? Is this even the one I want it to be?”

Rowan laughed at himself, basically talking to a piece of wood. Well, it wouldn’t be the first time, but the other wood was…well, not made of actual wood…

His phone rang again, and he jumped from surprise and nearly dropped the rose, bouncing it from hand to hand until he closed his fist gently around it. After he grabbed his phone from his back pocket, he saw it was Jace again.

He answered, “Hey, Jace.”

“Sorry to bug you again. One of your backup dancers slipped on some ice and busted an ankle.”

“Please tell me it’s not Chaz.”

“It is. And his boyfriend won’t do the Santa gig without him being there, besides the fact he wants to be with Chaz to take care of him. Do you have any preference for someone to replace him?”

“Tonight’s the big Santa number, and Chaz’s boyfriend was supposed to be Santa, so even I’ll be dressed as an elf. Um…can you just play Santa?”

“Me?”

“I swear, you won’t have to dance. You’ll just have to endure three cute elves dancing all over you.”

Jace laughed nervously and assured, “If I can’t do it, I’ll find someone who can. No worries.”

“Thanks, Jace.”

Rowan pictured that big cowboy, Jace, in a fake beard and mustache, sitting on a throne on the stage, letting the dancers fawn over him. Rowan could already tell he’d blush seven shades of red.

Running the wooden petals of the rose over his lips, Rowan thought of the man who had been on his mind for days. “If you’re still here, please come tonight.”

Jace showing up at his door was weird, but the way he was bouncing made Sig laugh. “What is crawling up your ass, cowboy?”

“You have to do me a huge favor.”

“Within reason, sure thing. Come on in.”

Jace did, rushing through the door, shoving his hands into the front pockets of his Wranglers as he started to pace the small room anxiously. “Sorry to just show up. I thought about calling you, but…this is an emergency.”

“What fucking emergency would you possibly need my help with? Aren’t you like…the boss around here?”

“Yeah, sure, that’s true, and I could likely get forty volunteers to do it, but…but…I’m gonna be truthful with you, Sig. You were the one that came to mind, and you haven’t left it since.”

Sig was more than intrigued. “Sit down so you’re not hopping around like a jackrabbit.”

They sat in the two armchairs in front of the small fireplace. Jace sat back and sighed heavily. “God, I…okay, this is the deal, I’m not good in front of a crowd, but I’m getting better. The thing he wants me to do, however, that might just get me killed.”

“What the hell could you possibly do that could get you killed?”

“Have a bunch of dancers, rubbing all over me on stage.”

The surprise hit him almost as hard as the laughter did, and he was soon bent over his lap, enjoying the belly laughs that came over him.

“Oh, I’m real glad you find this so funny!”

“Sorry! Sorry, man, I just pictured you getting your ass beat by your guys. Funny shit.”

Jace laughed along for a minute before he pled, “Please, man, take my place. You kinda had a thing for the main dancer, Rowan, right?”

“I don’t get things for guys, Jace. And, by the way, fuck you.”

Jace laughed and slapped his leg. “Yeah, you definitely like him, and who could blame you? The guy is pretty as a New Mexico sunrise.”

“We’re in Montana. The guy probably lives on the east coast or some shit. It wouldn't work if I did like him, which I never once said I did.”

“Why do some guys talk long-term? Why do you need to think that far ahead?”

Sig sighed heavily and then ended that sigh with a tittering laugh. “You’re not going to get me that way.”

“Sure, I am! Spend some time with the guy. Don’t worry about tomorrow, dude, and this is straight shooting. After all the crap we had to go down trying to build this place, I was reminded that tomorrow is not guaranteed.”

It certainly wasn’t for Jake, either. “Fine, I’ll be the fucking Santa, but…I need a mask or something. I mean…I just…”

“You’re afraid someone will somehow figure out who you are and how rich you are.”

He’d had it happen before, men and women vying for his attention to get his money. “Sorry! It sucks. Having money made me mistrust many people because once they find out, they try to get close to me.”

Jace calmed down and reached over to pat Sig’s knee. “Buddy, I get it. I’m not mad at you about it. You do whatever you need to do, but you can just wear the fake beard and mustache, the wig too, and barely a sliver of your face will show.”

“Didn’t think of that.”

“Unless,” Jace said and sat up on his seat, staring hard at Sig’s face. “You have a great beard. Long, it’s already streaked with white in places. It wouldn’t be too hard to get the rest white, I’m guessing. We have a good makeup artist who works in the club when we need him. Let me call him and see if we can’t get you looking like Santa.”

“That kills my disguise.”

“Not really. Your real hair is what…? Reddish brown? Like a cow patty?”

“Ass,” he said, laughing. “Fine, fine. I’ll do it.”

Jace slapped his knee and rose, heading for the door. “Great! Oh,” he started as he opened the cabin door. “You have to strip out of the suit, and you’ll be wearing a Dom outfit underneath. See you tonight,” he said, then fled as Sig’s jaw dropped.

“You mother fucker,” Sig said as he laughed.

After calling family members and close friends, Rowan showered and readied for the night.

Even if Santa wasn’t there, the rehearsal had gone well, but that wasn’t important. Jace found someone to take part, and he was schooled in his role, sitting, being fawned over, and then standing to reveal the Dom outfit underneath.

Dressing in his loose sweats that wouldn’t leave lines, Rowan grabbed his bag with his makeup, hair products, and favorite brushes, both makeup and hair and headed out to get into the stagecoach.

He’d been offered rides, but he was early enough, he wanted to take the coach. It moved a little slower, letting him take in the scenery.

He was set to leave in two days after a full day of rest from the last shows, and he wanted to take it all in before he left. Loving the mountains and the snow, a twinge came to his heart at the thought of leaving.

There were two men in the coach with him, but they were quietly watching out the windows, too. The huge sky was filled with clouds, dimming the light being cast on the trees and on the river they were crossing. Hell, even the water seemed to move slower that day.

“Aren’t you the dancer?” One of the men asked.

He was wearing a beautiful green knitted scarf and hat to match, and his black, trimmed beard moved as he scratched.

His partner, holding his free hand, looked lazily over to give attention to the answer as well.

“I am. This is my last night.”

“We’ll be there,” the bearded man said. “We’re heading home tomorrow evening. Taking the private plane back to Dallas. We’ll miss this place.”

“Me too,” he admitted. “This place is magical.”

“That’s exactly what this one said the first day we came,” the bearded man said. “I’m Joe, and this is Andre.”

Rowan shook each of their hands and said, “Rowan.”

“We know,” Andre assured. “You’ve been great. You’re a wonderful dancer.”

“Thanks. I never knew how much I loved dancing when I started doing this.”

“I dance at clubs,” Andre confessed with giggles.

Again, Rowan found himself jealous. Not that he’d deny anyone that happiness of finding someone special. But how he’d love to have that himself, and then maybe he’d start to dance places where he could keep all his clothes on his body.

They were dropped at the restaurant as the sky began to shed big, magnificent snowflakes. Why Rowan was so enraptured by them, he didn’t know, but he didn’t think a snowflake could ever be so big. His eyes followed one as it drifted slowly past the window, and he saw every crystalized line of it, how it formed into a piece of art that would melt and be gone forever.

For the first time, he wished he could paint. He’d paint it, hang it on his wall, and pass it down to others so it could live forever. But then again, that would take away what was so special about it.

“Joe, isn’t it beautiful?”

“We don’t see a lot of snow in Tucson,” Joe whispered. “I think that’s one reason we wanted to come for Christmas. That trite, cliché white Christmas.”

Rowan broke into their conversation, “There’s nothing trite or cliché about this.”

Once at the club, after leaving his things in his dressing room, he mingled for a couple of hours, drinking a tall orange and mango juice while watching the first couple of shows.

He watched again for that sweet man who had given him the hundred-dollar bill, and possibly the rose. He’d brought the rose with him, and it sat on his dressing table in the basement.

The night fell quickly, and he saw that when he went for some fresh air. The night was complete, and the snow was still falling. It was dark except for the snow, which, with each flake, seemed to illuminate the air.

At nine that evening, after heading back inside the club, he went straight down to the basement and into his dressing room. He took off his sweats and sat in front of the big vanity mirror, laughing at the rosiness of his cheeks. The cold had brought out more color in his face than he’d had in years. He was a child of the night, usually, and worked until early in the morning, sleeping until five in the afternoon.

Only when he was home did he see the sun at all, but the cold was elusive to him except for getting in and out of Ubers to get to gigs or back to hotels.

Soon enough, those roses on his cheeks were covered with foundation, and he was defining his cheekbones. A little eyeliner, auburn, some blush, and just a bit of eyeshadow would match perfectly with the Christmas red of this outfit.

The elves were dressed in red or green, and the white faux fur around their collars and cuffs was fluffed and soft. He teased his hair just a bit so it would not be overly flat under the baseball cap with Cowpokes written across the front.

It was campy and cute. It showed his full legs covered in white lace hosiery with poinsettia flowers in the lacing.

His ankle boots for the evening were red and had a three-inch heel, the tallest he’d agree to dance in. He wasn’t out to break his ankle and be benched for months.

As he twirled in front of the full-length mirror, he smiled as he saw himself as an elf. It was possibly the cutest outfit he’d ever had.

The big show was the highlight of the night. He wasn’t dancing until ten, but he’d watch on the closed-circuit television they’d set up in the dressing room for him. He held the rose in his lap, running a thumb along the smooth outer petals as he watched the dancers turn out on the stage. They leaped around, twirled, twerked, and had the audience roundly applauding them.

It excited him to get out there under the red and green lights on stage, have the crowd cheer for him, and feel, for that little while on stage, that he was a god.

How he loved how the audience lit up, their faces fully turned to him, their adoration, their joy. There was nothing like it.

He heard the knock on the door, and he hollered for whomever it was to enter. It was Jace.

“Hey, are you ready?”

“I am, sure, but whoever you got to be, Santa, is he ready? We didn’t rehearse with him.”

“I had one of the other dancers go over his part. As we discussed, it’s a small part, so it's no biggie. He’s ready to have all you hotties dancing for him, so yeah.”

After taking a deep breath, Rowan set the rose on the vanity surface.

“Where’d you get that?”

“Isn’t it beautiful? Someone left it on my doorstep.”

Jace walked over and picked it up, turning it in his fingers. As Jace saw the initials, Rowan thought he saw a flash of recognition, but the moment passed quickly. “Pretty, yeah. Okay, let’s get going.”

Rowan pushed everything else away as they started for the stairs. Moving past one of the dressing rooms, the door opened, and out poured the other three dancers, squealing and giggling as they saw Rowan.

“You look fabulous,” seemed to be the consensus as they all said it almost in unity.

“You all do too! Ready for this?”

There was more squealing and laughter as they headed up the stairs. The entire main club was dark, except for just enough light for them to find the stage. Three room dividers on the front of the stage blocked the view of them from the crowd while they all hurried to get into place.

Santa was right behind them, and Jace took him to the throne that someone had decorated with twinkle lights and shining white and gold garland.

The guy was big, at least a few inches over six foot tall, but Rowan could tell his fluff was padding. His face wasn’t thick at all, though it did have a long white beard.

The elves lined up behind the throne, and Jace scurried off the stage, hanging out just to the side of it to make the announcement.

The lights rose, and the crowd quieted before some men took down the room dividers. The music faded in slowly while Jace said, “Ho, ho, ho, friends of Cowpokes! Welcome to our grand finale Christmas show!”

“The Cowpokes dancers, Tory, Henry, and Jon, are performing as well as our secret Santa Claus and, of course, the main attraction, Rowan McDuffy! So, sit back and put your yule logs away for a few so your eyes can have a little enjoyment! Please welcome, Santa and his naughty elves!”

The music started. A sexy beat with jingle bells keeping time, trombones, bass guitar, and a sax joining the arrangement as, one by one, the other dancers came out from behind the throne and started to dance.

Then it was just him, Rowan, alone behind that throne, waiting for the lights and beat of the music to signal his emergence.

Once they moved to either side of the stage, Rowan could see the others dancing, and the jingling bells and upbeat music moved through him, calling him to dance. Once the lights brightened and the beat changed, Rowan stood, moving smoothly around the throne and draping himself over Santa's lap, kicking his leg up into the air.

Briefly glancing at Santa, he looked into the man’s eyes and was riveted so badly that he stopped hearing the music and stopped feeling his own body. Those eyes were the blue/green eyes of the man he’d been looking for since his first night dancing at Cowpokes.

Santa’s hand patted his leg and said, “Better get back to it. You have fans waiting.”

The music came back, and the lights moved. His body slammed with the rhythm, and he moved off the lap to take a skipping trip around the stage. Then, he began his flirting moves with Santa. The other dancers got into position on all fours, beginning to crawl as he stood tall for a few more beats, and then he, too, dropped.

They all crawled to Santa, but Santa’s eyes were only on him.

The others pulled themselves up in slinky waves, but Rowan moved right to Santa’s legs, pulling himself up before straddling Santa’s lap. The next move was to look over his shoulder, cheekily winking at the audience, but he was caught in Santa’s eyes for a long moment before he did the move, throwing off the dancers for a moment.

No one seemed to notice.

The crowd was standing, cheering as Rowan gave Santa a seductive lap dance. He breathed on his neck and ran his tongue there, then found himself whispering, “You’re the one who gave me the rose.”

The man just chuckled and patted his ass a little.

After he moved off Santa, the others took turns giving him a personal dance while still playing up for the crowd. Rowan moved to the edge of the stage, where he could dance and flirt with the crowd.

And the crowd was rowdy, very much enjoying the Christmas spirit. He saw men usually wrapped in leather donned with garland and bows, and everyone looked to be in love.

As the song wound down, the crowd got louder, and it was Rowan’s turn on Santa’s lap once more. The second he crawled up to straddle that lap, however, the lights all went off, and the crowd first booed, then quieted.

Jace was hollering, “It’s the storm! We’re working on the generator! Everyone stay put so we don’t have anyone falling or hurting themselves or anyone else!”

Rowan was still on Santa’s lap, lost in the complete darkness. Hands moved around his waist, and he heard a voice whispering roughly to him. “Don’t worry, Naughty Elf. Santa will protect you.”