Death Becomes Him - 28

When they got to the first club, one they’d often gone to in the past, Rory almost changed his mind and suggested they go somewhere else.

If anyone’s here who knew me…

Trent obviously picked up on his hesitation. Putting his arm around Rory’s waist, he whispered, “Sooner or later you know you’ll run into some old friend or another. You have your story for why you were gone. Use it.”

Rory nodded. “You’re right. I’m just being a chicken.”

Trent snorted, raking his glance over his lover. “A rooster, maybe, but far from a chicken.” With a wink, he undid enough buttons on Rory’s shirt to open it almost to his waist.

Rory preened a bit, and moved through the doorway into the club.

It was just as he remembered it, right down to the tourists standing somewhat hesitantly around the edges watching the man dancing on the stage at the far end of the room.

“Whew, now there’s a body for you,” Rory muttered in appreciation.

“Hands off,” Trent replied with a laugh.

Rory grinned, gave him a quick kiss, and they made their way to the bar.

“What’ll it be?” the bartender asked when they managed to squeeze in between two men near the end of the bar.

“Beer, please,” Trent told him.

“A glass of red wine,” was Rory’s reply, earning him a raised eyebrow and a nod from the bartender.

“Guess he doesn’t see you as the wine type,” Trent said with a light laugh.

“Well,” Rory whispered, his mouth a hairsbreadth from Trent’s ear, “I could have ordered a bottle of his best blood, but somehow I doubt that would have gone over too well, even in New Orleans.”

Now Trent really laughed. “Definitely not.”

The bartender returned with their drinks and for a while they just watched the crowded room, occasionally commenting on one man or another. Then Rory hissed softly, nodding toward one of the wide-open doors leading into the bar.

“Oh boy,” Trent muttered. “I didn’t know he was still around.”

The ‘he’ was Jamie Kent, a man who had come on to Rory more than once when Rory and Trent had been doing the bar scene a few years back. Jamie was with two other men. They started toward the dance floor, checking out the other customers. Jamie stopped dead, looking at Rory, then veered away from his companions, headed straight for him.

“When did you get back in town?” Jamie asked, flinging one arm around Rory’s shoulders, completely oblivious it seemed to the fact that Rory had his arm around Trent’s waist by that point.

“About a week ago,” Rory lied.

“And you didn’t call me?” Jamie said, pouting.

Rory chuckled. “Apparently not.”

Still ignoring Trent’s presence, even though he knew him, Jamie said, “So tell me all about—wherever it was you vanished to.”

“New York, and it was great, but not my kind of town I decided. Besides,”—Rory made a production of moving out of Jamie’s grip while tightening his hold on Trent—“I missed Trent, a lot. So here I am again.”

Jamie cast a sneering glance at Trent before turning his full attention back to Rory. “Do you have an apartment?”

Biting back a laugh, Rory shook his head. “I’m living with Trent, and his dog.”

That obviously didn’t sit too well with Jamie from the look on his face but he managed to say somewhat spitefully, “Congratulations. But if you ever need to get away from… the zoo…”

“I know where to find you, yeah. But I won’t so why don’t you go back to your friends,” Rory practically spat out, tired of Jamie’s games.

“Well you don’t have to get all pissy.” Jamie stepped back, grumbled something under his breath and walked away.

Rory started after him, his hands fisted, only to have Trent grab his arm. “Whatever he said, ignore it. It’s not worth getting into a fight over.”

Rory was tempted to repeat Jamie’s less than kind words about Trent but changed his mind. They would only hurt the man he loved and that he was not about to do. “You’re right,” he said. “How about we finish our drinks and go somewhere else where we won’t run into asses like him.”