Page 63 of Resist
“That’s what I like to hear.” Patsy fixed the collar of his blazer. “I like your suit.”
“Thank you.” He struck a pose.
“It would look good on me.” She sized it up and down before continuing. “So, tell me, is this your first time to a Wild Nights show? Are my boys poppin’ your cherry?”
He nodded and made a popping sound with his lips.
“Excellent! So who’s your fav?”
“Surfer! He can ride my board any time.”
His partner gave him a friendly punch on the arm.
“And what about you, love? Who’s your favourite? Noah? Chief?”
His eyes turned dreamy. “Lucas. He’s just … gorgeous.”
“Well, you’re in luck, my friend, because our resident dimple bearing spunk rat is about to take the stage.” Patsy turned toward the front of the room and raised her voice. “Everybody, please put your hands together for Lucas ‘Dimps’ Malooooone.”
The room darkened, and Guns N’ Roses blared through the speakers. All five men stood on stage: heads bowed, legs apart, hands behind their backs, Lucas at the helm. The fluorescent orange of their construction vests pierced through the shadows when the stage light swirled toward them, the colourful flash exciting the crowd — a small glimpse, a tease of what they’d all been waiting for. I found that it excited me as well despite the many times I’d seen them perform, and it got me wondering … what was it about them in character, on stage, that thrilled and exhilarated beyond what I already expected?
Attraction.
It was obvious I was attracted to Lucas, but more than that, I was attracted to what the revue offered, as was everyone else in the room or they wouldn’t have bought a ticket in the first place. And how had we become attracted? Through advertising or word of mouth but, essentially, advertising. If I wanted more ticket sales, we’d need to advertise, bigger and bolder.
I made a mental note to speak to Patsy about it just as the lights switched on and Lucas came into sight. Straight away, I noticed something different about his persona. Determination. Aggression. Superiority. The way he strutted across the stage and used the props; his actions were sharp, almost nasty and a little fearful. Almost like Josh.
I didn’t like it. It wasn’thim.
Needing a better look, I hobbled closer to the stage and took a seat next to an ornate curtain that draped from the ceiling where I zeroed in on Lucas’s facial expression. Not one dimple, and no seductive, playful mist in his eyes. They were dark, almost black. Narrowed mailbox slits. And his lip was curved. Predatory. Snarling.
Something wasn’t right.
Shit!My stomach jerked, and that awful thing called regret tugged on my insides again, this time harder. I should’ve gone back and apologized or at least pulled him aside before he went on stage to explain how I felt.
The crowd roared, which was when I shifted my focus from the prop ladder on stage to Lucas, his hand now beneath his pants.No! What is he doing? He can’t do that yet. Not during this routine.He removed his hand and simultaneously shook his outstretched pointer finger and head at the crowd before leaping off the stage. I sighed with relief, but the crowd sounded a disappointed ‘oh’ then cheered and clapped that he’d joined them.
Oh thank God!The last thing I wanted was for him to masturbate here and now, during this act, and certainly not in the mood that he was in. It would ruin everything we had planned.
Calming my racing pulse with a slow exhale, I followed Lucas with my eyes as he trailed his fingertip over the faces of various women while he wandered through the crowd. Each of them smiled appreciatively, some even blushing and fanning their faces.
I knew how they felt.
He looked up and scanned the nearby tables, his eyes locking with mine. They seared and seethed and bit me hard without teeth. It hurt, but I flared caution at him regardless, until he looked away and zeroed in on a woman.
A very attractive woman.
A very attractive ‘older’ woman, possibly my age or a little older.
His dimples sunk into his cheeks and his eyes brightened, but his smile wasn’t pleasant, not even close. It was ostentatious, greedy, and somewhat cruel. It was Hannibal Lecter before a dinner date with someone’s brains.
My heart seized when he approached her and straddled her lap, his hands seductively running down her long brown hair, which he plumped to sit on her shoulders. The woman blushed and winked at him. Fucking winked.
I clenched my fist, my fingernails indenting my skin, but it wasn’t until he traced a circle on the tip of her nose then tapped it that I really lost my shit.
GREEN. All I could see was green. Green lights, green women, green Lucas. It was no longer my favourite colour. No longer calm, soothing, and of life and health. Instead, it was poison ivy, gangrene, and the evil witch’s face inWizard of Oz.
It was verdant fuckery fucking with my head.
