TB9 Tunnel of Love Read online

  “It was that red spandex. I told Mikey he should have let me wear that outfit.”

  “You’ll get your turn, honey.”

  “Bonus time!” Rich cackled. Christian shot him the flattest stare that he could before stepping through the group and stepping high on his heels. He headed for the back entrance.

  When he got there, the balding man was waiting, along with someone small -- and wearing a blue pendant.

  Fuck the C-note. Christian backpedaled and almost tripped over one of his heels. He crashed into a garbage can and had to grab on to right himself. By the time he was steady again, it was too late.

  “Is this guy your pimp?” Christian’s trick wanted to know. “He says he’s here to keep an eye out for you.”

  Damn it all to hell. It was Liam. “Liam, go home, and don’t you tell anyone you saw me here.”

  “I had wondered for a long time where you worked and how you earned your bread,” Liam said, his strange accent thicker than usual. “There are other ways, Christian. You need not do this. Please. Come with me, back to my home. To Simon’s. Somewhere, but anyplace away from here.”

  Escape. Freedom. Prison break.

  “Liam, please go home.” Christian put his hands on his hips. “I’m a big boy. I know what I’m doing.”

  “Do you? I wonder.” Liam turned and plucked a bill out of the trick’s hands. “You will not be asking for this back, will you?” he asked, cheerful as if they were passing the time of day. Then he did -- something -- with his face. Christian couldn’t quite see, but the trick could, turning a whiter shade of pale.

  “No. No, it’s okay,” he said, taking a couple of steps backward himself. “Keep it.”

  “I thought you might be fine with Christian keeping this.” Liam extended the C-note.

  Christian knocked the money out of Liam’s hands. “I don’t need your charity! I was going to earn that.”

  “No one should have to earn their way through life sucking on cocks for business, not pleasure. Unless that business is their pleasure. And certainly not one of the Brotherhood. You know that I have a special interest in --”

  “Fuck your special interest!” Christian shouted. He could see the trick, a source of even more money, moving away, out of the service alley. Mikey would be pissed. He would have seen him go off with this guy, knowing what Christian was going to do, and he’d probably punch him in the gut when he didn’t come back with the big man’s share. Christian knew he could lose his job over this, and then what? Flip burgers?

  “I cannot leave this alone.” Liam sounded sad. “But I suspect I cannot extract a promise from you not to do this again, and I am not the sort who forces a man against his will. Take the money, Christian. I have seen you dance. You earned it with the shame written on your cheeks beneath that awful paint.”

  Christian stamped on the bill, grinding it into the dirty concrete. Let Rich find it when he brought his next guy outside. “Fuck you, Liam,” he said, his chin going up. “I do what I have to do to get by.”

  “I can see as much. But, Christian, you miss out on so many things.” Liam shook his head. “Go on, then. Dance and earn your living. I will not tell anyone what I have seen here.”

  “You swear?” Promise, vow, bind to. “Your hand to God, you swear?”

  “My hand to my mother instead,” Liam answered. He gave his pendant a gentle tug. “She gave me this, and I cherish it more than a stack of Bibles.”

  Christian made a face. “Whatever. Just -- keep this quiet.”

  “As you say. You will not miss our trip to Amour Magique just so that you may dance here, though, will you?”

  “I -- what?” Christian blinked. “Fuck, no. I’m going.”

  “Then at least you have some common sense left to you. Good night, Christian.” Liam turned on his heel to walk out of the alley. “Take care, please.”

  Christian watched the crazy little man go, and waited. Time ticked by on hummingbird wings, each second flickering past. Finally, Liam was gone and the sound of his footsteps had faded. Christian took in a deep breath, smelling the garbage in the alley, perfume, and a newly familiar cologne.

  Just as he’d suspected, his trick stepped back out of the shadows where he’d been waiting. He bent to pick up the hundred-dollar bill and waved it at Christian. “That’s right. You know how to give a man good service, don’t you?”

  “I try.” Christian felt dead inside.

  “I’ve been watching you for over a week now, and I finally picked you.”

  More like you got paid today.

  The man waved his money enticingly. Christian tracked it with his eyes. Rent. Bills. Food. “I’ve got another of these if you treat me right.”

  Christian put on his most seductive smile, red like a clown’s mask. “I’ll treat you like a prince, baby.” Christian kissed the trick, turning his lips crimson, too. “What do you want?” How much do you have?

  “Everything you’ve got to hand out.”

  “Mmm.” Christian closed his eyes and thought about Emily Dickinson. He finally found the quiet place inside himself and popped out, his mind floating free, leaving just his body to go through the motions. “We’ll do it your way, sugar. But we wear condoms.”

  “How much to do it without one?”

  “Club policy,” Christian lied. “I’ll get fired.”

  The trick made a noise of disgust. “Goddamn rules. Okay, fine. First, I want you to get on your knees.”

  The positioning was awkward, but Christian managed it, not even breaking a heel. He faced down the worst part of his job without a flinch.

  Shudder. Shiver. Break in composure.

  Time to earn his real money.

  Chapter Two

  “Hey, there.” A palm came to rest in the middle of Christian’s back, rubbing in small circles. Why were people always touching him? Christian bristled and would have told the man to get his hands the fuck off, but this was David, and you just didn’t say things like that to David. “Ready for the big night?”

  Christian, his Brotherhood face carefully in place, tossed his head and laughed. “Are you kidding? I am so ready to rock, roll, and take this place down. Aren’t you?”

  David bit his lip. “Well, sort of. It kind of depends on a couple of things.”

  “Like what?” Christian turned to face the bigger man. He liked the big, shy bear, and he knew that David had a soft spot for him, too. “Have you got someone in there waiting for you?”

  A lover. Paramour. Dalliance.

  David’s blush gave him away. Christian hooted, but softly, so that the others -- caught up in some kind of argument -- didn’t hear him. “Fuck me, you do have a guy waiting on you. Who is he? How long have you been seeing each other? Is he cool? Is --”

  “Slow down, slow down.” David’s warm, easy smile parted his lips over white teeth. He looked like a friendly grizzly come out to play in the honey pot. “His name’s Jory. And I think he’s pretty cool. Sort of.”

  Christian folded his arms. “Trouble in paradise? Come on, David, spill. What did you do?”

  “Me? I didn’t ... oh, jeez, Christian.” David put his hands on his hips. Christian, giggling, hopped back, even though he knew David wouldn’t take a swipe at him. “It’s not something I did myself. We sort of got into this together. And I’m hoping once I see him here, we’ll get things worked out.”

  “You sly dog.” Christian leaned up against the brick walls of Amour Magique and grinned. “So, how long have you been seeing him?”

  “A few weeks. Long enough to tell ...” David blushed. “Well, I think it’s the real thing, Christian. He’s a good guy.”

  “Better than your last?” Christian asked softly. He knew the other man’s story. And even if he himself was on the small, slender side, he’d love to have kicked David’s abusive ex-boyfriend’s ass.

  David smiled again, and it was like the sun coming out from behind a shadow. “So much better.”

  “And the sex is good?” Ch
ristian tagged David and began shadowboxing with himself. “Ha! Yah! You have a good time between the sheets?”

  “Christian,” David chided. Christian could almost hear David’s cheeks heating up. “Give it a rest, huh?”

  “Aw, that’s no fun.” Christian stopped his boxing and settled down, hands in his pockets. He grew as serious as he let himself be around the Brotherhood. “Glad you found someone, David. Not everyone’s as lucky as you are.” He glanced at their motley crew, lingering over the sight of Bree with his multiple piercings. Ouch. Punctured. Stapled. Serrated. “Some of these guys won’t find anyone for even one dance.”

  “You don’t know that. Even money says everyone finds somebody tonight.”

  “Real money? How much?” Christian tried not to sound too eager. But, come on, a sure bet was a sure bet, and David made enough of a decent salary that he didn’t feel like he’d be cheating the guy. “Ten bucks? Fifteen?” He needed to do laundry. The outfit he had on tonight was made up of some of his last clean things.

  “Fifty.” David opened his wallet and pulled out a note. He pressed it into Christian’s hand. “That says everyone finds somebody for them. You hold onto it for now, though. And if you want a drink or something, you can go ahead and take it out of that.”

  Christian felt his face go hard. He pushed the bill back at David. “I don’t take handouts,” he said flatly. Then, with an effort, he grinned again. “I have my own cash, Davey. You don’t have to worry about me once we’re inside.”

  “You’ll be okay on your own, then?”

  “Je-e-e-ez, David.” Christian rolled his eyes. “It’s not like I need to be led around by the hand. I can take care of myself.” He held up his hand, two fingers upright. “Scout’s honor.”

  “I seem to be hearing that a lot lately,” David mumbled oddly, but gave Christian a nod all the same. “Okay. But if you want somebody, find me or one of the other Brothers. Liam, maybe, since he was the one to score the tickets. They’ll help you out. That’s what we do.”

  Maybe you do. But they don’t. And I don’t, except when it comes to you. And Liam ... I don’t trust him. He saw. He said he wouldn’t tell, but how do I know he hasn’t whispered it around here and there? He claims he looks out for our well-being, says so all the time. He’d probably see outing me as being in my own best interest.

  No. I’m staying the fuck away from Liam as soon as we get inside. And ... oops, looks like we’re moving.

  A bouncer who appeared to be made of solid granite lumps glued together unclicked a velvet rope to let the Brotherhood pass. Christian got into line, smoothing his hands down the front of his tight jeans. He could feel David behind him, a big and comforting presence. Liam was back there somewhere, and Simon right in front of him.

  Christian took one step forward into the dance club, his first impression one of noise, lights, and music ...

  ... then came to a dead stop. So did everything else.

  “What the hell?” He turned around in a circle, staring at the four plain beige walls that had appeared around him. Each one featured an oil painting, post-modernist. Dancers. They were all paintings of dancers. And he was alone.

  “Damn it!” His heart pounding in his throat, Christian made for the door, but it was locked tight.

  Barred. Sealed. Enclosed.

  “This isn’t funny!” he shouted. “Whoever’s doing this, stop it. Do you hear me? Stop it!”

  “It is not meant to be funny.”

  “Fuck me!” Christian’s hand flew to his heart, and he whirled around to see Liam standing in the corner, where he definitely hadn’t been before. “What the hell, Liam?”

  The small man shook his head, autumn-colored curls swaying. “That is the question, is it not? I saw to it that you were separated from the others as you entered Amour Magique because we need to talk, you and I.”

  Christian tensed, going on the alert. “There’s nothing we need to talk about.”

  “Oh, but I think there is.” Liam had a walking stick in one hand with a carving on the top. Some sort of bird. He leaned on it, resting all his weight on the object. “Do you see the paintings? Do you like them? I picked them out especially for you. I know you are doing a course in the fine arts, you see.”

  “What do you mean, you picked them out? And, yeah, everyone knows that about me.” Christian took a couple of steps backward. “So what?”

  “Do you not like post-modernism?”

  Despite himself, Christian took another glance at the artwork. The pieces on display were some of his favorites. “Yeah, I like them. But, Liam, how’d you do this? Last thing I know, I’m walking into a big club, then bam! Here I am in a tiny cell. What the hell is going on?”

  “As I said, we need to talk.” Liam dropped his mask of cheery good nature and grew serious. “Just like your customer, I did not leave the alley entirely the other night after I saw you dance.”

  “Oh, God.” Christian felt his face turn crimson. He wanted to hide his eyes. Instead, he turned his back on Liam. For a second, it felt like he was back in the goddamn red spandex and stilettos, his face caked with makeup, instead of tonight’s tight black wifebeater, jeans so well-fitting they looked painted on, plus heavy boots. “You watched, didn’t you? Fucking pervert! Did you jerk off as well?”

  “There was more than enough perversion there. I would not add to such a thing. Christian, look at me. Turn around and look at me, I say.”

  Despite his determined intentions otherwise, Christian found himself obeying Liam, one grudging footstep at a time. He raised his chin, staring Liam down from a few inches up. “So I sucked a guy off for a little money. So what?”

  “So that makes you a whore, does it not?” The word hit Christian like a slap in the face, especially when it came from Liam’s mouth. “Do you do this often? And you did not just suck him. You let him fuck you up against that dirty wall, with the red catsuit down around your ankles. Your mouth and your ass were his for the right amount of money. It is as I have said. Whore.”

  “Liam, get off it.” Christian was getting over his shock and turning angry. Furious. Enraged. Incensed. “Everyone in the Brotherhood knows that you have more sex in one week than the rest of us do in a year.”

  “Except you?”

  “I don’t -- not that often. I mean --”

  “Not willingly, you mean?”

  “It isn’t like that.”

  “So many things often are not.” Liam hummed softly and rotated his walking stick between his hands. “The man asked if I was your pimp. That is incorrect, of course. I would never sell you for any amount of money. I will not ‘fuck’ my special interest in the men I call Brothers. It remains intact. And you, I think, need more care than some others.”

  Christian was opening his mouth to say something in return, when Liam flickered. It was like watching a TV go in and out. When he was solid again, Liam blinked and tried to continue, but Christian was shaking his head.

  “No. No way, uh-uh. I don’t know what kind of freak show is going on, but I’m out of here.”

  “The door is locked. You are not going anywhere.” Liam looked even more real than he usually did, vital and full of life. “Forget what you just saw. It did not happen. Are we clear?”

  Christian felt something swimming behind his eyes, kind of like the way he felt when he popped out of himself at the dance club, then blinked. He’d been about to say something ... hadn’t he? Oh, yeah. He was going to give Liam hell about calling him a whore.

  “Be quiet.” Liam raised a hand, and Christian’s mouth snapped shut. “Some of the Brothers need my guidance before they even enter Amour Magique. You are one such. I want your promise, Christian, that you will not sell yourself for any amount of money here tonight.”

  Christian felt his outrage growing. “I’m not a two-dollar hooker,” he blurted. “Look, what you saw ... it’s just temporary, okay? And it’s just on the job. I’m doing what I have to do; I want to get through college, and I need the mone
y.”

  “You could not find better employment?”

  “Find me something else that pays a hundred dollars for ten minutes of my time.”

  “Ah, I see.” Liam gave the pendant at his neck a small twirl. “So that is the way of it. I think, perhaps, you need a lesson. But I will not be the one to give it to you. It will come to you of its own accord.”

  “Yeah. Right. Whatever. Look, can I go now?” Music was beginning to filter into the small room, and Christian ached to get out there and dance like he couldn’t at the Pleasure Palace. Really become one with the music, like he did in interpretive class sometimes, not just wiggle his ass in the hopes of a bigger tip. “Come on, Liam. Please?”

  Liam flickered again. The memory jumped back into Christian’s mind, and he yelled, lunging for the doorway and wrenching at the knob, willing it to open. It stayed firmly shut.

  “You will behave yourself?” Liam asked behind him.

  “Yeah, yeah. I promise. I swear. Whatever you want. Just let me out of here!”

  Liam’s hand, still coming in and out of focus, reached past Christian and turned the knob. The door to the club opened, letting music and laughter come roaring in. Christian flinched at the thought of how close Liam must have been behind him. Probably still was.

  “You promised, remember that,” Liam whispered, then gave him a solid push. Christian stumbled to a stop a few feet out, and, gathering his courage, turned to face Liam. Except he couldn’t, because the small room was gone. Nothing stood between him and the main entrance/exit except a space of well-kept carpeting covered in men walking to and fro, partnering up, or saying goodnight.

  What the fuck? I must have inhaled something I wasn’t supposed to. Did Bree do something to me? No, we were standing pretty far apart. But then how ...

  Shaking his head slowly, Christian righted himself and headed for the vast hall full of men. He thought he saw Bree out there in the middle of a punk group, moshing to the pounding music, but there were plenty of other places to go and dance. Places that didn’t have the Brothers were exactly where he wanted to be.

  Letting the music be his guide, Christian found his way to the heart of another circle, picking a partner at random by putting his hands on the tall, dark man’s hips and grabbing his attention by swinging him into the dance. The guy had two horns pasted on, golden ones, and a pointed goatee. Horny little devil. I like it.