Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
It should have lifted his spirits. But for whatever reason, Z couldn’t shake the unease that had been twisting his stomach since that afternoon. Something about the encounter with Hot Fudge had knocked him off his game.
* * *
“What got into you tonight, babe?” Ansel asked as they entered the dressing room after the performance.
“What do you mean?”
“You were in the zone. Good thing Fitch isn’t here tonight, he has a jealous streak.”
“Please.” Z tugged off his gloves. “You’re the one who licked me.”
“Yeah, and whose hands were grabbing my ass?” Ansel flung off the glittery vest he’d been wearing.
“That’s the choreography.”
“Except tonight it was like you were out to prove something.”
Z quieted as he unsnapped the feather choker. He had been out to prove something, mainly that he could still turn heads. He was desirable. Connelly’s rejection had bothered him more than he wanted to admit. It wasn’t the first time he’d been rejected, and it wouldn’t be the last.
Obviously the cop had serious issues. Hell, Z hadn’t even believed he was gay. That had to say something about how deeply he was living in the closet, no matter what he said. No one looked over their shoulder as much as that guy had unless they were hiding something.
Plain and simple.
Z didn’t do closet cases. He didn’t do secrets. And he definitely didn’t do cops.
“Just working it for our audience. You may no longer depend on the aftershow, but the rest of us do.”
In the mirror, Ansel met his eyes. “Don’t get bitchy.”
Lirim pushed his way to the second chair and sat to remove his lipstick. “Don’t fight, you’ll kill the mood.”
“No one is fighting,” Ansel said. “Right?” This was said to Z and accompanied by wide eyes.
Z sighed and went back to undressing. The sooner he changed the sooner he could get out front. He only had a few more hours before closing time.
Tam passed him on the way to his bag and squeezed his shoulder. No one did subtle comfort better than Tam.
“The energy is really good tonight, don’t you think?” Lirim asked no one in particular, clearly an attempt to defuse the tension.
Z gave in. “I thought so too.”
“Lately it’s been kind of quiet. I was worried.” Tam was already dressed in a pair of pink booty shorts over fishnet stockings with heels to match.
“Maybe Castor finally got off his ass and started promoting the place.”
“Doubtful.”
“Well, we should take advantage of it while it lasts.”
“My thought exactly.” Z stood before the mirror.
He’d tugged on a pair of high-waisted leather shorts over his bare legs, adorned with his favorite thigh chains. On his feet he’d slipped on his spiked platforms. He didn’t usually go topless, but since he was doing his best to fill his wallet tonight the only decoration he used was Ansel’s body glitter which he rubbed all over his torso. He added a bit to his cheeks and lips too, just for good measure, but stayed away from his hair because the shit was a bitch to wash out.
“You look hot, Z.”
“Yeah?” He turned to check out his ass in the mirror. Yep, that would work.
“Are you sure there’s not someone out there you’re trying to impress?”
Z couldn’t hold back the sarcastic laugh if he’d tried. “The only person I’d work this hard for is myself. You know that.”
“That makes you sound selfish,” Tam said.
“I am.”
“No, you’re not.” Lirim had also finished getting ready and was fluffing his hair.
“Maybe we’re just used to your special brand of bitchatude,” Tam said.
“Yeah, we’re totally immune to you now.”
Z sighed. Maybe. Or maybe they saw something in him that he didn’t see himself.
Chapter Four
Captain Bell’s office smelled like shoe polish and gun oil. Connelly entered behind his partner, Raoul.
“Shut the door, Boy Scout.”
“Ah, come on, Cap. Not you too.” Connelly shut the door with a sigh.
Raoul laughed as he sat in one of the chairs facing the captain’s desk.
“Nothing wrong with being detail-oriented. Sit down.”
“What’s this about?” Raoul asked.
The captain sat back in his chair and looked at them over the rims of his overlarge glasses. “How’s it going with Martin and Hopkins?”
“Complaints already? Damn, we just started working with them.”
“I wanted your perspective on the case.” Captain Bell eyed Connelly.
“It’s a hate crime.” Connelly crossed his arms.
The captain scrubbed his face with both hands and cursed under his breath. “Last thing I fucking need.” He sat back and looked at Connelly and Raoul in turn. “They’re the senior detectives and they disagree.”
“Clearly, which is why they haven’t gotten anywhere.”
“Not every murdered queer in the city is the victim of a hate crime.”
It wasn’t murder, not yet. But it had been damn near close and as it was, the poor girl’s life was forever changed. Connelly gritted his teeth but just before he was about to reply, Raoul spoke up. “All due respect to Martin and Hopkins, but there’s video evidence.”