exit. As they made their way to the door, Jason waved to people Chris assumed were his friends, saving a special, girly-sarcastic finger wiggle for Sebastian.
Chris couldn't help but laugh. He should've felt sorry for Sebastian, but after a whole night of enduring his insufferable arrogance and ability to get anything he wanted, seeing him humiliated was satisfying.
Chris had heard New Yorkers were more direct than Texans, but he hadn't yet seen a display that outrageous.
Jason surveyed Chris from the side. The corners of his lush lips turned up, the smile reaching his eyes.
"Liked that, did you?"
Chris nodded.
"Good. Because Sebastian's a jackass." When he looked away, Jason's smile turned to a sneer that he directed at everyone.
Once they were outside, chill air hit Chris in the face, luxurious after the heat of the club. Light beamed from the streetlamps, but not enough to overpower the neon glare of competing advertisements. A line wound down the block, potential patrons stamping the ground like frustrated horses, blowing smoke into the air.
Considering what had just transpired, Chris worried how he would get home.
Jason snatched his purse back, popped open a latch that released a long gold chain, and slung it over his shoulder. While it was open, Chris saw that it held a cigarette case, a small make-up bag, and a .25 pistol. Jason retrieved a joint from the cigarette case.
"You have a gun." Chris produced a lighter from his pocket and sparked it. He held it up, feeling suave like a film noir hero.
The unlit spliff tilted up when Jason grinned.
Delicately wrapping his gloved fingers around his joint to steady it into the flame, Jason inhaled deeply. Exhaling, he said, "They say diamonds are a girl's best friend, but clearly, they have never met with a brute in a dark alley while wearing platforms."
Hard to argue with that logic. Besides, concealed weaponry wasn't unusual back home.
The rancid herbal smell of cheap pot made Chris's head spin. When Jason offered the joint, Chris considered passing. In Austin, rich, homegrown pot was common. Chris hadn't ever bought from the street. A friend was always selling or willing to share. But he wasn't in Austin anymore. Gamely, he accepted the joint and inhaled. At least it would be a smoother way to mellow out than the scotch.
He'd wondered if Jason's magnificence would fade once they were out of the club and under harsher lights. Instead, his angular face glowed and his sequined pants shimmered hypnotically.
"So where are you staying?" Jason leaned in for a drag. "I do hope you're not stuck in that awful model warren they pass off as a co-op."
Chris opened and closed his mouth, turning away in the hope Jason wouldn't see his blush.
"All right, my place." Jason flagged a cab. A few passed with their lights on, but finally one stopped. He stood at the door expectantly until Chris opened it. Jason scooted in, leaving one leg along the back of the seat; the other dropped to the floor, forcing Chris to sit between his legs.
"Ritz Carlton, Central."
The hairy cab driver’s brows furrowed when he glanced at them in the rearview mirror, but he shrugged and put his car in gear.
Chris spoiled for something to say. The longer they were silent, the more self-conscious he became about his accent and whether Jason thought he was a redneck. Desperate, he blurted out, "I hear that's a nice hotel."
"Five-star, baby. Nothing but the best." Jason sparked up another joint. Chris caught his sidelong glance in the light of the flame.
Instantly the cabbie barked in a thick accent, "You can't smoke in here!"
Jason rolled down the window and squeezed his shoulders through to exhale. He wrapped his legs around Chris to keep him anchored. In panic that clinging to his legs would prove insufficient, Chris held Jason's corseted waist. Chris bit his bottom lip. He hadn't noticed the corset before. Now that his fingers explored the boning, he found it impossibly sexy.
"Hey, you get
Chris couldn't help but laugh. He should've felt sorry for Sebastian, but after a whole night of enduring his insufferable arrogance and ability to get anything he wanted, seeing him humiliated was satisfying.
Chris had heard New Yorkers were more direct than Texans, but he hadn't yet seen a display that outrageous.
Jason surveyed Chris from the side. The corners of his lush lips turned up, the smile reaching his eyes.
"Liked that, did you?"
Chris nodded.
"Good. Because Sebastian's a jackass." When he looked away, Jason's smile turned to a sneer that he directed at everyone.
Once they were outside, chill air hit Chris in the face, luxurious after the heat of the club. Light beamed from the streetlamps, but not enough to overpower the neon glare of competing advertisements. A line wound down the block, potential patrons stamping the ground like frustrated horses, blowing smoke into the air.
Considering what had just transpired, Chris worried how he would get home.
Jason snatched his purse back, popped open a latch that released a long gold chain, and slung it over his shoulder. While it was open, Chris saw that it held a cigarette case, a small make-up bag, and a .25 pistol. Jason retrieved a joint from the cigarette case.
"You have a gun." Chris produced a lighter from his pocket and sparked it. He held it up, feeling suave like a film noir hero.
The unlit spliff tilted up when Jason grinned.
Delicately wrapping his gloved fingers around his joint to steady it into the flame, Jason inhaled deeply. Exhaling, he said, "They say diamonds are a girl's best friend, but clearly, they have never met with a brute in a dark alley while wearing platforms."
Hard to argue with that logic. Besides, concealed weaponry wasn't unusual back home.
The rancid herbal smell of cheap pot made Chris's head spin. When Jason offered the joint, Chris considered passing. In Austin, rich, homegrown pot was common. Chris hadn't ever bought from the street. A friend was always selling or willing to share. But he wasn't in Austin anymore. Gamely, he accepted the joint and inhaled. At least it would be a smoother way to mellow out than the scotch.
He'd wondered if Jason's magnificence would fade once they were out of the club and under harsher lights. Instead, his angular face glowed and his sequined pants shimmered hypnotically.
"So where are you staying?" Jason leaned in for a drag. "I do hope you're not stuck in that awful model warren they pass off as a co-op."
Chris opened and closed his mouth, turning away in the hope Jason wouldn't see his blush.
"All right, my place." Jason flagged a cab. A few passed with their lights on, but finally one stopped. He stood at the door expectantly until Chris opened it. Jason scooted in, leaving one leg along the back of the seat; the other dropped to the floor, forcing Chris to sit between his legs.
"Ritz Carlton, Central."
The hairy cab driver’s brows furrowed when he glanced at them in the rearview mirror, but he shrugged and put his car in gear.
Chris spoiled for something to say. The longer they were silent, the more self-conscious he became about his accent and whether Jason thought he was a redneck. Desperate, he blurted out, "I hear that's a nice hotel."
"Five-star, baby. Nothing but the best." Jason sparked up another joint. Chris caught his sidelong glance in the light of the flame.
Instantly the cabbie barked in a thick accent, "You can't smoke in here!"
Jason rolled down the window and squeezed his shoulders through to exhale. He wrapped his legs around Chris to keep him anchored. In panic that clinging to his legs would prove insufficient, Chris held Jason's corseted waist. Chris bit his bottom lip. He hadn't noticed the corset before. Now that his fingers explored the boning, he found it impossibly sexy.
"Hey, you get
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