"I have to grab my coat from the back." Lizzy's face was lit up like a Fourth of July sky as she disappeared through the swinging door.
"She's going out with Rodney Castle?" Nolan stared at the door as it rocked back and forth. His eyes shifted to Drew. "Really? That's her big date?"
Drew shrugged. "Apparently."
Both their attention was drawn down the bar to where Todd and Lane perched on stools. Rodney had made his way over to the two men. The guy wasn't hard on the eyes; at least six foot with wavy brown hair slightly long on top tapering down into a short, neat clip at the nape of the neck; hard body accentuated by his snug white shirt and even snugger dark blue pants; handsome face and a smile that could be quite cock-hardening if Nolan found him appealing at all. He didn't.
Nolan's face screwed up in an uncertain expression. "What does she see in him?" About time the words left his mouth, Nolan saw the irony. But Drew ran with it nonetheless.
"What did you see in Lane Cassiter?"
Nolan groaned as his eyes settled on Lane's tense face; he didn't seem overjoyed about the Hot Rod's sudden appearance. "Beats the fuck out of me," he sighed. "But...at least with Lane...there is a good guy in there somewhere." He looked at Drew. His friend's undivided attention was locked on Todd—that look creeping back in ever so slowly.
"Maybe there's a good guy somewhere inside him, too," he mumbled absently.
"Just needs someone to go in and root him out?" Nolan mused.
It took a moment for Drew to shift his focus to Nolan. He smiled. "Maybe." He shrugged. "But not me. I'm through digging for treasure."
Nolan laughed softly. "Yeah, well...why continue to dig for treasure when you've already struck gold?"
Drew caught his stare, then look away. "Nolan..." he said quietly with a strain. "Don't."
"I saw that look on his face when he noticed you were here," Nolan said. "That wasn't a...negative look."
"Babe." Drew turned on him abruptly. "Just stop, okay? What happened, happened. It didn't mean anything. It's over."
Nolan stared at him. The emotions surging and churning behind the man's eyes insisted it was anything but over. "Okay," he whispered with a nod and glanced down the bar. Lane refused to look his way. He knew he should accept that it was over for him, too. But Lane's final words to him remained fresh and impressed on his heart. It would take him a little longer to condition himself to the reality that he may never see "that" Lane Cassiter ever again.
♦
"Something stinks," Lane drawled and twisted the empty beer bottle. "Who the fuck tracked in dog shit?"
Todd leaned back and lifted his foot. "Wasn't me." He looked up and feigned surprise. "Oh hey, Rod. Your...aroma precedes you."
The force of keeping his eyes off Nolan was becoming a physical strain for Lane, causing a dull throbbing headache. Rodney Castle's sudden appearance enhanced it like an ice pick to the temple. What the fuck was he doing here?
"Still trying to be funny, aye, Todd?" Rodney's smirk was audible, and Lane could see it plastered across his face though his back was to the fucker. "I got something pretty funny to tell you, too," he said and took the stool on the far side of Todd. "At least I thought it was funny as fuck. But I don't know if you have my sense of humor."
Todd remained half-twisted on his stool, away from Rodney, his eyes on Lane. He held his cool, but his tension suddenly shot up by leaps and bounds. Lane's, too; what the hell was Rodney talking about?
You and Nolan weren't exactly "quiet" tonight...were Todd and Drew just as vocal? Lane felt sick. The employees' rooms were off from the main rental rooms, but had someone ventured down those halls at just the right moment, they would have gotten an earful. Rodney was just the type to discreetly survey Lane and Todd for anything to throw Lane off his game during the race.
"Up to date," Todd said dryly, sliding around forward and resting his elbows on the bar. "You haven't said a fucking word that isn't steeped in bullshit. I'm not interested in hearing it."
If anyone could pull off a smart-ass chuckle, it was Rodney Castle. "Don't be so sure." He glanced down the bar and raised his hand, motioning for the bartender. Lane stiffened and felt Todd go rigid when Nolan's friend Drew headed their way. Rodney's stare passed over Nolan, lingering briefly, then shifted past Todd to Lane. "So, what's this I hear about a bet you made with the local queer boy?" The corner of his mouth jerked. "Rumor has it that if you lose, your ass is the prize." His eyes squinted with dark humor. "Let me guess...you plan to lose?"
"Fuck off," Lane hissed tightly. "You don't know shit about shit." He clammed up when Drew approached. Todd ducked his head and plucked at the paper label on his beer bottle.
"What can I get you?" Drew asked.
"A quick round of shots for me and my buddies." Rodney looked at the two men beside him. "They look like they could use a pick-me-up." He bumped Todd with his shoulder. "Especially this one."
Todd's head snapped up and he shot the guy a fierce look. "What the fuck do you mean by that?" His eyes jerked nervously toward Drew without meeting his stare directly.
"Nothing," Rodney smiled. "You just seem a bit...droopy." His lips pursed, and eyes squinted a bit more.
Oh fuck, Lane groaned inwardly, picking up on his insinuation. The increased tension in Todd told him his friend was picking up on it, too. How the fuck did he find out about that?
Todd's face twitched with the beginning of a snarl, which defused the instant Drew set up the shot glasses.
"Lizzy will be out in a moment," Drew told Rodney, his eyes guarded as he stared at the man. "A word to the wise?"
Rodney raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"
"Treat her with respect," he said low, a notable warning in his tone. "She's a good friend and an amazing girl. You hurt her in any way..." he shook his head, eyes hardening. "I might just take it personally."
Rodney stared at him in a silent battle of wills, then smiled. "How could you think I would ever disrespect or hurt an angel like Lizzy? Rest assured, she will return with a smile on her face."
Flattening his hands on the bar, Drew leaned on his arms and drilled Rodney with a chilled stare. "I don't like you," he murmured. "You fuck with her...you fuck with me."
"Is that a request for a threesome?" Rodney shot a glance toward Nolan. "Saw you chatting with the fag boy, you one of his kind? Looking to get down my pants?"
Drew gazed at him dryly. "I wouldn't fuck you if you were the last man on earth. I have my standards."
Chuckling, Rodney quipped, "But apparently your little buddy doesn't—if he's looking to stuff his cock up Lane's ass."
Lane glared at him. "Go fuck yourself, Castle." Lane's heart pound, making it hard to breathe.
"You got a bet going with all the contestants?" Rodney leaned forward on his elbows, looked past Todd and grinned at Lane. "What do I get if I win? You gonna suck my cock?"
"Fuck you!" Lane jumped to his feet, his stool kicking back and nearly toppling. His chest heaved and eyes burned as the reality of what had happened tonight in Nolan's room began to punch him until he couldn't breathe.
"Whoa, there," Rodney grinned with dark amusement. "A blow job will suffice. No need for unnecessary penetration."
"Go to hell, you fuck!" Lane kicked the stool out of his way and headed toward the restrooms, his throat closing and vision distorting.
♦
Drew cast Rodney a disgusted look, muttered 'Prick', and moved down the bar to serve another customer. As nervous and on edge as it made Todd to have Drew nearby—it was worse being alone with Rodney. Typically, Lane was his target, yet despite what just happened, Todd had a sick feeling that he was the one in the crosshairs this time.
"You're a fucking ass," Todd growled. "I know why you do that shit. You know Lane's a better skier, and you're trying to fuck with his head to throw him off his game."
Rodney tossed back his shot, wiped his mouth and looked at Todd with a thoughtful smile. "People are saying that it was you who proposed the bet. That true?" Drew had left the bottle sitting on the counter, and Rodney grabbed it, refilling his shot glass.
"Yeah," Todd murmured warily. "It was just a fucking joke. I didn't know the kid would actually accept it."
"Uh-huh." Rodney snorted and downed another shot and dragged his palm over his mouth. "Sure."
"What the fuck are you getting at?" He watched the guy pour himself a third shot. "Don't you think you should ease up? You're going to be driving."
"Ah, you worried about me?" Rodney smiled.
"Concern for your date," Todd muttered. "For all I care, you can drive your ass off a cliff."
Rodney cleared his throat. "Anyway, back to the bet." He twisted on the stool and gazed at Todd, making him fidget. "I know why you did it?"
"Did what?"
"Made up that bet." He leaned closer and Todd leaned away, staring at him with a frown. "Because you didn't want to be a fag all by yourself. And maybe you thought if you get Lane to take cock, he would like it, too, and be your butt buddy from now on."
For a split second, Todd couldn't move, couldn't speak. His eyes bulged in shock; what the hell is he talking about? "You're out of your fucking mind," Todd trembled, wanting to flee but unable to stand. His heart thumped in his throat, choking him. Drew wasn't so far away that he couldn't have overheard. His focus appeared to be directed elsewhere, but what if he was discreetly listening?
"We'll see." Rodney sipped on his third shot. "How about I tell you my little story first before we make judgment calls."
His story? Todd frowned. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"Last year," Rodney said. "The Hamptons. I wiped the slopes with Lane. Remember?"
Todd remembered that Lane was sick with the flu during that tournament and was nowhere near at the top of his game. But to say so would only fuel Rodney's ego, convinced Todd was just trying to make excuses for his friend's poor performance. "What about it?"
"The after-party at the lodge. You and your hot girlfriend showed up. Lane didn't. Too embarrassed to show his face, I'm assuming."
"Are you going somewhere with this?" Todd mumbled. "Or do you just like to hear yourself talk?"
"I'm getting there." Rodney downed the remained of the third shot, reached for the bottle—and had it snatched away as Drew returned.
"You're driving my friend," Drew told him coolly. "No more drinks."
Rodney shrugged. "As you wish." When Drew turned his back, Rodney went back to his story. "Anyway, you were getting shitfaced and got into a fight with your girl because she said I won fair and square, and you insisted Lane was sick, and that's why he didn't do well. You remember getting into a fight with her?"
"Vaguely," Todd murmured. "I remember she was being a grade-A, number one bitch that night."
"And do you remember her accusing you of having a hard-on for Lane, the way you were always defending him?"
Todd stared at him uncertainly; that night was a haze. He'd gotten totally wasted and didn't remember much after the fight started with Tonya. "No. She didn't say that."
"I was there," Rodney smirked. "And not nearly as drunk off my ass as you were. She said it, and it pissed you off. You walked away, and I thought you'd left the party, until..." He smiled.
Swallowing hard, Todd's brow knit tightly. "Until what?" He glanced uneasily at Drew, who didn't appear to be paying attention to them but had a sinking feeling he was catching every word.
Rodney sniffed and cleared his throat. "Until I walked in on you and one of the pretty boy waiters going at it in the restroom, fucking your brains out."
His eyes widening in shock and horror, Todd stumbled off the stool and grabbed the edge of the bar, his legs nearly buckling. He shot a panicked look at Drew's back, and the visible stiffness in his muscles confirmed Todd's fears—he'd heard every fucking word. Todd shook his head. "You're a fucking liar," he hissed thickly at Rodney. "I didn't..." His throat worked and tears sprang to his eyes. "I didn't fuck a guy."
Rodney looked at him as he casually twisted around on his stool. "Then that was one well-endowed chick giving it to you up the ass."
"Shut up," Todd bit sharply. "You're fucking lying."
"It makes sense," Rodney said. "Isn't that about the time you really started having trouble getting it up for your hot girlfriend?"
Todd went deathly still. "What?" he trembled.
"Yeah," Rodney nodded. "She told me all about your little problem while she was bouncing on my dick just a short while ago."
"You fuck!" Todd lunged, his fist striking erratically as his vision blurred and blinded him, but it struck enough of its mark to knock the prick off the stool. "Motherfucker!" Todd went for him full force, his fist cocked again as he launched forward—and collided with Drew as the man vaulted over the bar and landed between Todd and his intended victim.
"Todd!" Drew caught his fist and pushed him against the edge of the bar, pinning him with a forearm to his collarbone. "Stop!"
Rodney crawled to his feet and rubbed his jaw. "Fuck, that's some crazy rage you closeted fags carry around."
Todd roared and shoved against Drew's arm, but the man held him in place. "Get a grip!" he snapped at Todd then turned on Rodney, stabbing a rigid finger at him. "You—get the fuck out of here or I'll throw you out myself!"
"Drew...?" The girl—Lizzy—came around the end of the bar, slipping into her jacket. "What's going on?" Doubt darkened her eyes as they darted between the three of them.
Rodney smoothed his shirt and ran a hand through his wavy locks. "Just us boys bonding," he smiled at Todd. "Isn't that right?"
"Fuck off!"
Rodney grimaced. "Guess I didn't do it right," he mused. "Maybe I should have bent you over instead."
"Fucker!" Todd lunged against Drew's grip and nearly broke free, then he was jerked back again.
"Get him out of here, Lizzy," Drew ordered tightly. "Before I take his head off."
"Damn, you boys are uptight," Rodney chuckled. "Maybe you two should fuck."
Todd was shaking, his heart racing wildly and head spinning as rage and fear engulfed him, pulled him under. He's lying—he's fucking lying! You didn't fuck a guy that night! You would have fucking remembered!
As soon as Rodney and the girl were gone, Drew looked at Todd, his grip loosening. "Are you-"
"Get off me, faggot!" Todd wrenched free of Drew's hold, his face knotted with rage and...something else much more troubling that burned deep within. He shoved Drew back, his throat hurting. "Don't fucking touch me again!"
Drew started to speak, but Todd was already walking away—then running for the restroom as his stomach knotted up and he knew he was going to puke.