Page 4 of Grave Misgivings
My image stands out, my dark hair blowing in the wind.
I can see the faint ink through my white tank top, the definition in my arms.
It’s me, but it isn’t.
In so many ways, I feel like I’m still the same awkward guy I was over a decade ago; before the tattoo, before the body, before the fame.
I sigh in exasperation.
With the way I feel right now, maybe a night out with my friends is exactly what I need to get out of this mood.
Because for the first time in ten years, as I look at myself, I don’t know the man looking back at me.
CHAPTER 2
Geo
I swallow harshlyas I look up at the sign for Saint & Sinner, thesexclub Mateo agreed to get us into.
I wasn’t expecting the night to go this way, to be honest, but afterHeart Killer’s main frontmen, brothers Dare and Richie Wylde, showed up at the damn restaurant and hijacked the evening, I found myself intrigued.
I’ve been to a few clubs over the years, usually on dates, but those clubs were usually standard bars and dance floors. I’ve never been to a strip club or a sex club before, but I didn’t want to be the odd man out, especially because Mateoneverwants to go... well, anywhere.
So, the fact he’d agreed to get us all into the newest hot spot in LA was kind of a big deal, and I wanted to support my friend emerging back into the world.
But I was not prepared forthis.
I don’t have much time to rethink things, because as soon as Idoconsider turning around, Hailee and Richie show up.
Hailee casts me a sly smile, her eyes alight with excitement.
“This is going to be a blast!” she gushes, her smile warming my nerves, if only a fraction.
“It’s going to be something, that’s for sure,” I say as I note Celina and Hans bounding over to us, followed by a stoic Mateo and the younger Wylde brother, Dare.
I don’t miss the way Mateo casually slides his hands in his pockets, pretending not to look at the other man, and that alone makes me forget about my own insecurities.
I’m not here forme. I’m here for my friend, and that’s enough to push away my feelings for the moment.
Mateo does his magic, speaking to the man at the front of the ropes, bypassing the gigantic line. Cameras flash, and fans holler around us. Within seconds, Mateo is waving us all in, and I make my way through the warm LA night, stopping to take a few selfies and sign a few boobs.
When I finally make my way into the club, I can’t help but marvel at the sight.
Once I come through a long, dark tunnel, I’m let out in a room that can only be described as the most stylized version of heaven I think I’ve ever seen.
The stage is lit up with ice-like plexiglass, and there are strippers on the stage, dancing and climbing their silver and white poles.
I casually walk past the main stage, noticing the strippers dressed in white, feathery lingerie. My gaze travels up their long,toned legs, appreciating the physicality of how they move. How they grip the pole with their thighs, flip, and climb the damn thing like it’s the monkey bars on a playground and not a damn stripper pole.
They’re pretty, but I don’t see the appeal, though I can appreciate the athleticism in their moves. I know that’s got to take some core strength.
Then again, I’ve never really found women’s lingerie to be that intriguing, mostly because I don’t understand the purpose.
Why dress up in tiny pieces of clothing that don’t cover you?
If the point is to be naked, why not just be naked?
Then again, I guess I’m not the best judge of seduction, so what the fuck do I know?
