All my life, I wanted to have purpose. Growing up in foster care will make you seek out something to belong to, and when I couldn’t fit in, I created my own home. A world built around me…and I employed it with a bunch of misfits. Joker’s Sin was the type of place I’d dreamed of. It fed my need to entertain, and everything was played by my rules. It had a rocky start, and sure, I made some shitty business decisions at first. But now, it was the most popular gay bar and nightclub in Haven Hart. Through the many years I’d been here, I’d seen other clubs come and go, and gay or not gay, none held a candle to Joker’s Sin. The only one around for the last two years was Vick’s Tricks, and what an eyesore that place was.
Joker’s Sin was unique, with spontaneous themed days only my staff was aware of. If patrons wanted to know what they were walking into that night, they had to check out the Joker’s Sin website, and Lord help you if you showed up dressed like a sexy alien on 80s night. My head of security, Ciro, would just make a swipe with his hand, and you’d be gone. I knew what worked and what didn’t work in this business, and it was my whole world. If anyone tried to come between me and its success, they’d be met with a very angry man.
“Keith quit.” Max, my bar manager, rushed into my office in a panic. “It’s Saturday night, Atlas, and I have no floor manager to help it all run smoothly.”
Fuck. “What? Did he walk in, quit, and leave?” I shut down my laptop and stood from behind my desk, knuckles pressed against the dark wood. “Max, Keith wouldn’t just up and quit.”
I loved Max like a brother, but the way he was squirming told me there was a lot more to this story.
“We fought. Is that what you want to hear? He said I was a whore, I called him a prude-ass, he told me to go fuck myself, threw my bar rag in my face, and left.” Max pointed to his face, mystified by Keith’s reaction.
“And you know he quit, how? Maybe he just left because he was angry.”
“Oh…yeah…Ciro confirmed he quit.”
I rounded my desk and stood before Max, a good four inches taller and a lot broader than him. I knew I had a threatening stature when the situation called for it. Max was one of my best friends, and I didn’t want to scare him, but it wasn’t the first time this had happened.
“How’d Ciro know Keith quit?”
“Ciro came over to me after my argument with Keith and said Keith told him to tell you he quit. But I said I’d come tell you, and Ciro hates getting involved in personal drama so…” He lifted a shoulder nonchalantly.
“Max,” I growled. “This is the fifth employee in a year that has quit because you couldn’t keep it in your pants. I love you, but Keith’s right. You’re a whore. Fuck another employee, and I’ll kick your Italian ass right outta here, friendship be damned.” His expression was worrisome, and I was glad to see my words were affecting him. “This is my business, my world, and you’re making it difficult when you act more the playboy and less the bar manager I hired you to be. You get one more fucking chance.”
“Atlas, come on, I—”
“You’re done fucking employees.” I raised a brow. “Got it?”
“Fuck. Fine.”
“Good. Now, I’ll work the floor tonight. Get on the website and post that we’re looking for a floor manager with experience. I’m sure we’ll get bites real fast.” And we would. I was asked daily if there were job openings.
“Yeah.” Max’s cocky expression was back on his ridiculously handsome face. He was an unsteady guy when it came to love. He fucked until he was tired and then moved on. That was all well and good if the other person involved understood it. Me? I fucked when I needed an itch scratched. Love wasn’t for me, and I was never unclear about that fact with any of my lovers.
After Max left, I moved to the room next to my office. It was a dressing room of sorts with a bathroom and shower. Since I performed every night in one way or another, I needed this space. Working the floor was no exception; it was all still a performance. The floor put me into the thick of it, which I didn’t mind so much, but I felt centered when I was on my stage. Ahh, my stage. My pride and joy.
When I had the club designed, I wanted it to be unique, somewhere no one had ever been to before. The stage, while the focal point, wasn’t all Joker’s Sin was, but it was where I felt at home. It was a huge circle protected by the bar that ran its circumference. No one could get to the stage unless they jumped over the entire bar, and that wasn’t happening. The only way on or off was the back stairs, which always had security—not to mention, my DJ stood on a raised section against the stage wall. When I opened the stage for dancers, personally selected by me or him, that was the show right there. He overlooked everyone, the Master of Music, and he thrived on it just as much as he hid inside it. He often said he got a serenity from the vibrations, from people transforming with the sounds, and that was something I could relate to. It was his peace and for him to understand.
I chose a purple silk shirt and black leather pants and brought them with me to the bathroom to take a quick shower. When I was managing a station, I dressed one way and then changed when I was on stage. It was how I got into the right headspace for the moment.
I hung my clothes on the back of the door, grabbed a thick and sturdy hair tie, lifted my braids, and wrapped them up. I didn’t have time to go through the procedure of washing my hair since I had to be on the floor in an hour, so I’d just wash my body.
Under the spray of the water, I thought about how the night would be altered now that I’d be on the floor.…And wasn’t that always a fun game? I loved being kept on my toes in situations like this.
I dressed and sat in front of my large vanity. I wasn’t a man who feared makeup or signs of femininity, and I was a showman who liked to look good. I was blessed with amazing genes: my dark skin was always impeccable, my honey-brown eyes practically glowed, and I loved adding a little liner to help them pop even more. My mama didn’t give me much, but she did pass along her good looks.
Even though I grew up in foster care, I knew who she was. I remembered her vanilla scent and how she hummed. I also remembered how she tried to sell me for drugs once, and that memory overpowered everything else.
“Hey, Atlas, you coming out?” Max shouted from my office, and I left to meet him.
“Of course I am.” I smirked when I noticed how he was drinking me in.
“Damn, if you weren’t like a brother to me, I’d fuck you.”
Laughing, I pushed him out the door. “Since when would me being your brother stop you?”
“Eew, man, even I have limitations.”
I rolled my eyes and followed him out into the fray. Fuck, I love my life.
Chapter Two
Toby
“You’re looking good, Toby.” My sister, Poppy, wheeled herself into my bedroom, fighting her way through the doorway.
“Thanks. It’s my only night off so—”
“So you’re going to Joker’s Sin and hoping super-duper hard that The Atlas will see you, save you from your dull and poor life, and whisk you away.” She batted her eyes at me comically, so I threw a pair of socks at her, making her giggle.
Poppy was all I had in this shitty world. We were twins in every sense of the word. We looked alike: wavy brown hair and matching eyes, same height, same laugh…same everything. We both even liked men. When we were eighteen, during the summer before college, we went hiking. I was responsible for her. At one point we decided to climb around a steep hill, and I told her I’d go first, keep her safe by tying a rope around her and connecting it to my waist. Every time I remembered that moment, my stomach rolled. In one second, everything changed, everything crumbled. The rope got loose and she fell; I don’t think I will ever forget how she screamed. My mistake left her paralyzed. She had to hold off on college until she’d healed, accepted, and adjusted to her new normal, but she’d lost interest by the time the doctor gave her the all-clear. For years the guilt ate at me, until Poppy got angry one day. Told me climbing that hill was as much her choice as it was mine, and she refused to live a life shrouded in guilt. For her, I tried. I would always wish I caught her or did something differently at that moment, and nothing she could say would change that.
My parents did what they could, but our father passed when we were twenty and our mom just a couple of years later. We lost ourselves in the grief of mourning our parents and at the end of that tunnel, we clung to each other. Drew strength from what we had together.
I wanted to provide for her, but I left college after my second year and fucked around so much, that when I was ready to work, all I could get were shitty jobs. Poppy worked for a seamstress and was able to do so from home while I spent my nights mostly at Vick’s Tricks, doing whatever Vick asked me to do.
On my nights off, I loved going to Joker’s Sin; I wished I were a part of that world instead of the one I was in. Poppy spent these nights with her friends doing what she called “Drunken Book Club.” I loved that Poppy had a group of amazing friends and that even though we were the most important people in each other’s lives, we had our own to live.
“So what book are you all on now?” I shot her a grin. “And what are you drinking?”
“Oh, Toby! It’s a good one. City of Girls by Elizabeth Gilbert.”
“The Eat, Pray, Love author?” I asked as I used my fingers to comb styling gel through my hair.
“Yes, very good, my young padawan. And we’re drinking four different types of wine.”
“Just remember, if they get drunk, you can’t have them in my room.”
“One time, Toby.” She chuckled.
Turning, I folded my arms. “She was drunk, and I didn’t know she was there and when I slipped into bed, she kept calling me Mr. Darcy and tried to get me to ‘make a baby.’ ” I used air quotes.
Poppy was laughing so hard, tears danced in her pretty brown eyes. “Classic fun.”
I rolled my eyes and moved in front of her, pushing her through my doorway. “I’ll be home late. No women in my bed—that’s just mean.”
“I need to get more guys to come to my book club.” She pouted.
“Then I might not mind if they try to make a baby with me in my bed.” I winked, snatched up my keys, and left to the sound of Poppy’s contagious laughter.
“ID.” The bouncer outside Joker’s Sin was no joke at all. His name was Ciro, and he ran all things security-related. He was huge, head shaved close to the scalp, always in black, and I don’t think he ever smiled.
“Oh, shoot. I left it in my other boy shorts.” The twink in front of me clearly had never been here before and thought he could bat his glittery eyes and get Ciro to let him in.
“Guess you better go back home and get it, then,” Ciro grumbled and waved his hand dismissively. “Move.”
The twink was at least smart enough not to argue, and he did move on.
“Hey, Ciro,” I said as I offered him my ID.
“Hi, Toby, go on in.” Still no smile but he was at least nice to me.
“Thanks.”
The doors opened, and as always, the sounds and smells hugged me right to my soul. It was crazy how at home I felt here. Whenever I went into Vick’s, I felt dirty, greasy, and like I was in some purgatory. I accepted my life, but it didn’t stop me from dreaming of one that was right here in this magical place.
It was clear from the music playing that it was a full-on dance night. I was glad too, because I’d forgotten to check the website to see if there was a theme tonight. My eyes went right to the stage where the DJ was on his pedestal. I loved how there was a song playing and a video to go with it behind him on a huge screen. This one was a remix of “The Spark.” I’d be sure to add it to my playlist.
Bodies were jumping, swaying, spinning, and so in tune with the music, it was almost poetic. Each person who entered this place felt that “it.” I didn’t know what “it” was, but it invaded you, and you were honored to be “its” slave. If you went there sad and depressed, out of sorts or lonely, it was as if the magic of the place wouldn’t let you feel anything but amazing. “It” would move your legs, force a smile, make you love just being alive.
I walked over to the bar; Max must’ve been on the other side, so I ordered a watermelon margarita from another bartender and watched the stage that stood above the bar.
“Here you go, sweetheart.” He winked and slid my drink over. It was nice to think I was desired by someone even if he was just doing his job.
“Thanks.” I sipped the delicious drink. Fresh watermelon squares made up the ice cubes—so fresh, so different from Vick’s.
It was obvious Atlas wasn’t on the stage, and for a moment I wondered if maybe he wasn’t working tonight. Spinning on the stool, I scanned the crowd on the floor. It was a sea of people, but I knew he’d stand out. I heard a cacophony of laughter so loud it jolted me, I turned and there he was. The center of attention, surrounded by at least twenty people listening to whatever he was saying. I couldn’t make out his story, but the animation on his gorgeous face told me it was probably the best story ever told. Just looking at the man made my heart ache like a lovesick child.
“You got it bad, sugar.” I turned around at the voice. I’d seen the guy around sometimes, but he never talked to me. He had hot-pink hair, stunning makeup, and was dressed in some sort of glittery jumpsuit.
“Um…what do you mean?” I shrugged and set my half-empty drink down.
Hot-pink man lifted his chin, gesturing to where Atlas stood. “I don’t have time for pretending you don’t know who I’m talking about. You got it bad for Atlas.”
Rolling my eyes, I didn’t deny it. “Yeah, me and like a hundred other people.”
He chuckled. “Try more like thousands.” He stared at Atlas as if he were a science experiment, and I was intrigued by what would come out of those bright-purple lips. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him with anyone longer than a night.”
“Have you two, um?”
He laughed, transforming his entire face from sharp glamour to stunning joy. “Oh, hell no. Atlas is a hell of a guy, but I don’t need that love ’em and leave ’em sort of thing.” He held out his hand. “Everyone calls me Sparkles, who are you?”
“Oh. Toby.” Shaking his hand I noticed his nails were red glitter and…wow, he was a show in himself. “I love everything about your outfit.”
Sparkles smiled. “Thanks, sugar. I’m a work of art, what can I say?”
“You can say you’ll let me drive you home tonight.” Sparkles and I both turned toward the deep voice. Max stood there with a hungry gaze aimed at Sparkles.
“Aww, aren’t you sweet. But if I wanted herpes, I’d just head on over to Vick’s.”
Sparkles’s reaction only made Max huff, but I couldn’t hold back my laughter.
“I don’t have herpes. Come and…come on.” Max gestured to his cock.
“And they say romance is dead,” Sparkles said and looked at me. “Don’t sleep with that ever. You’ll likely die of something long and hard to pronounce.” With that, Sparkles took the drink Max gave him and sauntered off.
I finished my drink, ordered another margarita, and got lost in whatever Atlas was saying to his admirers. A guy could dream.
