Page 13 of Glitter

With a loud laugh, Dennis mock-punched my shoulder, as if to invite me to join in on the joke.

The truth of the matter was that probably about half of the phone calls we received on a daily basis wouldn’t have to be made if the people who bought our products did read and follow the instructions that came with them. It was something all of us in the customer support call center resignedly complained about on a regular basis. One of the first prompts in our scripted customer interaction dialogue was even to ask each caller whether or not they had a copy of the instructions and had reviewed them.

But as somebody who had their own problems with any sort of hands-on projects—as multiple collapsed childhood birdhouses and an unknown quantity of injured birds could attest to—I’d always had a fair amount of sympathy for the struggles of the customers I talked to for my job. The instructions weren’t always written clearly, and following along with them wasn’t always easy.

So, my answering laugh was half-hearted at best—enough to come across as collegial but not so much that I’d feel guilty over being part of essentially making fun of the people we were paid to help.

“Yeah, you’re…totally right, Dennis.”

“Hell yeah, I am. But you’re also right, Benny—those calls aren’t going to answer themselves. Which is why…we’re going to have to wait until lunchtime, when we can head on down to the café, and then you can tell me all the details about this angel of yours. And I do meanallthe details. Including when you’re seeing this guy again. Friendly minds want to know.”

As Dennis waggled his eyebrows, while pointing a double set of finger guns at me, then strolling away from my cubicle as casually he’d approached it, there was nothing, absolutely nothing, that I wanted to do less than rehash my encounters with my angel again. Not with Dennis. Not with any of the other coworkers who were sure to be in the store café scarfing down lunch and eagerly eavesdropping on what everyone was talking about. No one. I wanted to hoard those moments to myself, tucked away like the treasure they were.

Great, now I was going to have to avoid the cafe and make do with vending machine snacks for lunch. Dammit. And I'd really been looking forward to splurging on some Swedish meatballs today.

I’d figured that I deserved the extra calories. I had to have burned off more than I usually did over the weekend. And the extra-filling meal could’ve come in handy for tonight. Which just meant that I had to make sure to scarf down something more substantial than a salad for dinner.

Because, while I normally didn’t venture out at night during the workweek, I’d already made up my mind to hit up Glitter again tonight. There’s no way I’d be able to stay away.

There were no guarantees that my angel would be there tonight, but I had a feeling he would be. Thus, so would I.

I just had to hope—in addition to my initial, heaping mountain of hope that he would be there—that, if he was there, he would be as happy to see me as I would be to see him. And not have already turned his beautiful blue eyes to any of the other men that would also gladly endure any level of proximal glitterization in order to get close to him.

Chapter 7

Having only ever visited Glitter on a Friday or Saturday night, I wasn’t really sure what to expect walking through its doors on a weeknight. But other than being slightly less crowded—guys standing only two or three deep around the bar, instead of four or five, and a bit more space in between the groups of people so you could maneuver around them without feeling like you were constantly bumping into someone—it didn’t seem all that different.

The music was just as loud. The lights illuminating the dance floor were just as bright and just as strobing as they had been on the weekend. And while the density of men in the rest of the club was sparser, the number of grinding and writhing bodies on the dance floor was just as closely packed as any other time I’d seen it.

It was even entirely possible that the four bartenders manning the bar and filling drink requests were the same four bartenders that had been back there last night and the night before. Maybe not probable, but it was possible.

The one glaring difference in being in Glitter on Monday night versus Friday or Saturday night? The devastating lack of any sight of my angel.

The last hour or two of work—Right, who was I kidding? The whole eight-plus hours of my workday, all I could think about was getting to Glitter. All those long, interminable, dragging on forever hours, my mind danced with visions of me walking through the club doors and immediately spotting him. I mentally teased myself by speculating what sort of captivating and sexy outfit he’d be wearing tonight and what color glitter he might choose to go with it.

But now all that guessing and fantasizing had fallen flat.

Because he wasn’t here.

I scanned over the throng of men on the dance floor. Once. Twice. Three, four, five times over. Thoroughly. Obsessively. From each different side of the dance floor, I stood along the perimeter and peered over, and under, and around each and every single man on that dance floor.

None of them were him.

I did the same with the lines of men all along the length of the bar. All the men—the patient ones, the impatient ones. The ones standing by themselves and the ones waiting for their turn in a group. From one end of the bar to the other, I paced and scanned, scanned and paced, casting my searching gaze over each and every man.

I even let my eyes linger on a few of the women, just on the chance that my angel had opted to dress completely femme for the night.

But no one, not a single person I saw… None of them were him.

Perhaps it was still just too early in the night?

It wasn’t any earlier in the evening than when I’d come to Glitter the last two nights, despite everything in me wanting to obey the urge to come to the club immediately after clocking out for the day. But instead of doing that—because who in their right mind would show up to a nightclub at six o’clock at night—I’d forced myself to go home, changed out of my business casual khakis and collared shirt and into some jeans and a t-shirt, and scarfed down a microwave dinner. Once I’d done all that, I’d made myself sit on my couch and wait. And wait. And wait. And wait some more. Until…it was finally the somewhat acceptable time of nine o’clock. Then, and only then, had I allowed myself to drive into the busier part of town, where Glitter was located.

I don’t know why I assumed that just because my angel had already been here, out on the dance floor, the last two nights when I’d shown up at Glitter shortly after 9PM, he would also already be here, waiting for me, tonight.

Taking a deep breath, I rolled my shoulders and shook out my arms to try to dispel the anxiety and disappointment coursing through me. I then had to hastily blurt out an apology in response to the dirty look sent my way by the man I’d nearly walloped as he’d walked by me.

Okay, I could do this. It was still pretty early in the night, as far as clubbing practices went. So, all I had to do was set myself up in a location where I could keep an eye on the door. Then I would be sure to see my angel the moment he stepped his beautiful self into the club.

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