Single Player (2 page)

He must have seen where Silas had exited from. “You have no idea.” He shook his head. “I don't know why my friend is paying all that money for a private room if she's going to pack the whole club into it.”

“Apparently she's the kind of girl who likes to make friends?” The bartender looked off into the packed space, then shook his head. “Man, she's gonna take all my money away in there. So, not much of the big party type, then?” The bartender gave him the once-over. It happened so fast, Silas couldn't be sure what it meant, but it certainly seemed like he'd just been checked out. He was suddenly glad Dee had made him dress up, because everyone here was dressed nicely, including the bartender himself, who wore a suit. Now that Silas looked closer, it was a very nice suit indeed. Dee would probably be able to tell if it was designer or not, but Silas—embarrassment to the gay community as Dee seemed to think he was—didn't know if it was actually nice or just a T.J. Maxx special that fit the guy well off the rack. Whatever it was, he looked good in it. He had a lean build, like Silas himself, and the gray suit tapered in at the hips to accentuate his frame. The color suited him, too, accenting his skin tone to a rich, dark amber almost as deeply toned as Dee. Between the perfection of his suit and the precision of his close-cropped hair, Silas could tell that this was a man who paid careful attention to his appearance. He had kind eyes, too. Silas found himself looking into them, trying to figure out whether they were more honey-brown or chocolate-brown.

Realizing he was staring, he averted his gaze. He thought he saw the bartender's smile widen. Great, now the guy was making fun of him. How embarrassing. “Can I get a drink?” Silas hadn't wanted to drink yet, but it seemed the only course of action.

“Sure.”

The bartender waited, looking expectantly at Silas, who remembered then that he hadn't actually ordered anything.

“Oh.” He could feel himself blush and hoped it wouldn't be noticed. “I'll have an iced tea.” No, he should probably get something alcoholic. “A Long Island Iced Tea.”

The bartender started mixing. “So, you know the party girl well, I take it? I wouldn't stretch outside my comfort zone for somebody unless they were a really good friend. Or really hot.”

“Dee's been my friend for a long time.” Silas glanced reflexively over at the private room that was no longer so private. Dee's party had spilled out into the main dance area, too, and she had spilled with it, now dancing enthusiastically with a group of people Silas didn't recognize at all. He realized the bartender had commented on his discomfort, which meant he wasn't doing as good a job of hiding his emotions as he'd thought. “Do I look that out of place here?”

“A little, but it's not a big deal. This isn't everybody's scene.” The bartender slid the drink over to Silas. “You want a check, or should I start you a tab?”

Silas considered the time. “A tab is fine.” He could always switch to something nonalcoholic. “You must like this sort of environment, to work here. I think I'd go crazy.”

“I don't work here much. This isn't my main job. I just pick up shifts here now and then when I want a little extra cash, or want to take a break from my real job.” The bartender glanced down the bar and saw that another patron at the other end needed a refill. He walked away, leaving Silas to wonder about his day job. While he was gone, Silas checked out the long lines of his back, the surprising leanness in his hips, and confirmed that yes, he was definitely attractive.

Silas realized he was halfway through with his Long Island Iced Tea before the bartender made it back, and that was definitely an alcohol buzz running hard down through his body. He needed to pace himself. He thought about paying his tab and going back to Dee's private room now that it had emptied out, but the thought of sitting in the room again was less appealing when he saw that the only people still in there were three women from Dee's PhD program, and he didn't know any of their names.

Before he'd made up his mind one way or the other, the bartender came back. “You like the drink?” He nodded to the half-empty glass in Silas's hand.

“Oh. Yeah.” Silas already felt like he was talking too loud, but how else was he going to be heard over the music? “I need to slow down, though. Don't want to get drunk and do something stupid.”

The other man's smile broadened. “Oh yeah? Do you usually do stupid things when you get drunk?”

Was that flirting? Silas had a sudden thought that he might be getting flirted with. God, he was terrible at assessing these things. He needed Dee here to nudge him in the ribs or steer him away. But she was gone, in the midst of a crowd of revelers, and he was on his own to navigate what may or may not be a flirtation. “I don't usually do stupid things at all.” That was the truth, at least. He wasn't the type of guy who lost himself in any situation, because he took careful precautions to always be in control. He took another sip and felt the alcohol warming his face.

“So, what's your name, anyway?” The bartender leaned forward so his toned arms rested on the bar's cut-granite surface, and yes, even Silas could tell that this was probably flirting. Either he went for guys, or he was looking for a bigger tip. Silas found himself hoping it was the former, even though he had no intention of taking things any further than this conversation. The thought of this handsome bartender being interested in him was indulgent, and for once, he let himself indulge.

“Silas.” He put his drink down so he wouldn't keep pounding it and get completely hammered. Maybe he should be ashamed of his low tolerance, but the Long Island Iced Tea had around five shots of alcohol and he hadn't eaten much that evening, so he had a good defense for being a lightweight. “What's yours?”

“Matthew.” The bartender pulled a rag out from behind the counter and started wiping down the bar.

“Matthew? Not Matt?” Silas never heard anyone use the full name. If there was any halfway decent nickname for Silas, he'd have started using it immediately.

“Nope. Matthew.” Matthew smiled. “Silas, huh? That's got a certain ‘Amish farmer' ring to it.”

He got that a lot. Keeping a straight face, he nodded. “Actually, I'm on my
rumspringa
right now. I was a bit of a late bloomer. I'm here getting drunk and having debauched gay sex with everyone I can find.”

Matthew laughed out loud, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Yeah? That sounds like a pretty good time.”

All right, definitely flirting. Silas felt his body heat for a reason unconnected to the alcohol.

“And where do you usually work, if not here?” Silas leaned forward on the bar, resting his chin on his hand. Yes, he was flirting back, but what was the harm in that? Nothing had to come of it.

“I'm a programmer at PI Games. Players Incorporated. You ever heard of it?” Matthew began rinsing glasses in one of the sinks under the bar, his actions practiced and routine. This may be his side job, but he clearly did it often enough for it to appear easy and natural.

“Can't say that I have.” Silas put his lips to the glass and tipped his head back, the alcohol burning cold as it went down his throat.

Matthew definitely watched him as he drank. Silas was starting to feel a certain recklessness, which was quite unusual for him. He didn't do reckless. He certainly didn't do reckless with a complete stranger at a bar. Before they could take any steps forward, though, a young woman came up to the bar, and Matthew walked away to serve her. Silas returned to his drink, feeling unsettled in an entirely new way.

Matthew loved Friday nights
at Gigi's
.
First off, the crowds were lively, the dance-until-you-drop groups fun to watch and even more fun to serve. Even though he had to stay behind the bar and couldn't participate in the action, he could live vicariously through the crowd, maybe end up at a party afterward. Second, the tips tended to be high and free flowing. Since he picked up these shifts to make extra cash, he loved getting a prime Friday or Saturday night instead of a useless weeknight. Even though it had been years since he stopped working full-time here to become a programmer, he'd remained friends with the owner, and she called on him once or twice a month when another bartender wanted a night off or they were expecting a big turnout. As clubs went, it wasn't as big as some, but it attracted a steady crowd, and a steady crowd meant steady tips.

Tonight, though, he wasn't expecting Mr. Hot, White, and Dorky to end up at his bar looking lost and uncomfortable, in need of a little liquid comfort and some conversation. Silas, with a name that suited long beards instead of hipster haircuts, was an enigma. He clearly didn't like crowds and wanted to be anywhere else but in this club, and yet he was here for his friend's birthday anyway. He had the uptight affect of a guy who needed a good roll in the hay, but he also clearly had the ability to joke around. That joke had been immediately about gay sex, too, so either he was completely clueless about the implications of his words, or he was flirting. Between that comment and the way he'd been ogling Matthew earlier, his money was on the latter.

He didn't normally have flings with customers. It was unprofessional, made only slightly better by the fact that this wasn't his full-time job anymore. And yeah, he'd bent those rules a time or two, but really, he wasn't looking for a fling at all tonight. He flirted with everything on two legs, sure, because it made him a lot of money and flirting was fun. Generally, people flirted back, regardless of gender or sexual orientation. Everyone wanted to feel like they were interesting or alluring enough to get someone's attention, and Matthew had no qualms about lavishing that attention in spades, innocent as it was. Silas, though, had an intensity about him that made Matthew want to dig deeper. His years tending bar gave him the ability to read people, and Silas looked like the sort of uptight, controlling guy who would be really fun to unravel.

It didn't hurt that Silas also looked like he'd just wandered out of a J.Crew catalog, from his tousled light brown hair to his two-day stubble and chiseled jaw. He wore a black necktie over a lavender shirt and tweed blazer, and while Matthew couldn't see the rest of him, he was probably just as polished the whole way down. It was an inarguable truth that the more someone was put together, the more fun they'd be to take apart.

Silas was also pounding that Long Island Iced Tea distractedly, implying he didn't drink very much at all. Matthew knew how those could sneak up on you, where one minute you'd be engaged in a heated discussion about Marvel vs. DC and the next minute rubbing up on some hottie on the dance floor. He didn't know if Silas was the type of guy who got drunk, but he found himself hoping he stayed sober. His intentions for that were not entirely altruistic: he was definitely considering seeing how far he could go with this guy, but that wasn't an option if Silas got drunk and sloppy. It was so not Matthew's style to take advantage of the inebriated.

When he returned from serving the other customer, Silas was staring down into his drink, which was mostly gone. “This is a very good drink.” He looked up at Matthew. “I can't even taste the alcohol, but I'm definitely starting to feel it.” He laughed, a nervous titter that made him seem a lot younger than he probably was. He looked to be in his late twenties, so likely a couple years younger than Matthew.

“Well, take it easy. There's a lot of alcohol in there.” Matthew put the slices of lime into the half-empty fruit tray and then started slicing a lemon.

“I know. Five shots.” Silas took another sip. “Don't worry. We took a cab here. It saved me from having to be the designated driver. Dee didn't want to ruin my chances of picking up a date tonight.” He rolled his eyes.

“Silas!” A short black woman with killer curves and a gorgeous gold dress staggered over from the dance floor and threw her arms around Silas's waist, squeezing him close to her from where she was standing. He reached an arm around her and patted her awkwardly on the shoulder, then tried to extricate himself from her embrace.

“Aww, don't pull away from me! You never let me hug you.” She pouted, the gesture exaggerated with her obvious drunkenness, but she let him go and turned her attention to Matthew. “Say! Check out this tall drink of cool water. I was wondering what could get you of all people to the bar, and now I think I know.” She waggled her eyebrows at Matthew, who smiled neutrally in greeting.

“You must be Dee. I'm Matthew. I hear it's your birthday?”

“The big two-five! A quarter of a century.” She was holding a martini, clearly not her first, and she raised it in a toast to herself. “Happy birthday to me. How old are you, Matthew?”

Oh, so she was one of those people. Cheerful but way too nosy and uninhibited when drunk. He was starting to see why Silas had wanted to escape. This was part of his job, though, and he dealt with many people—both women and men—whose lips got a bit too loose after a few too many. “I'll be thirty in a couple of months.” He had a hard time believing he was at that milestone already.

“Ooh! Not too old for my sweet Silas here, then.” Dee elbowed Silas. “He's twenty-seven.”

So Matthew's guess had been correct. Silas turned pink and tried to shoo her away. “Dee, I think you should go back and leave the bartender alone. You have a private server, right? Back in the room.” He moved his hands in a “go on” motion.

“What, you want him all to yourself?” Dee gave an exaggerated sigh. “Oh fine. I understand. He's a cutie.” She made kissy faces in Matthew's direction, but let herself be pushed gently but firmly away, back to the dance floor. “All right, all right! You two have fun.”

Silas shook his head and looked at Matthew with a mixture of horror and embarrassment. “I'm so sorry about that. Dee doesn't get drunk very often, but when she does, she really goes all out.”

Matthew couldn't resist teasing a little. “What, so you don't think I'm a cutie?”

Silas's eyes widened, and he scanned down Matthew's torso quickly before looking back up again. “I think Dee has very good taste,” he said so softly that Matthew almost missed it. Immediately, he downed the rest of his drink and promptly started coughing.

“Hey, now, easy there. I'm just teasing you.” Matthew poured Silas a glass of water and slid it over the bar toward him. “Don't choke and die on me now.”

When Silas could breathe again, he was laughing through the coughing. “I'm not going to die,” he wheezed, and took a sip of water. He blinked watering eyes and smiled. “That would be a fine thing, ending up at the hospital on Dee's birthday.” He glanced over at the dance floor. Matthew followed his gaze and saw Dee dancing with a couple of people, and one white guy in particular seemed especially interested in putting his hands on her. Dee seemed just as interested in getting her hands on him, too, at least from this angle. Silas sighed. “Then again, she might not notice.”

“Nah, I'm sure she would. It's obviously important to her that you're here. She came over to say hello.” Matthew shrugged.

Silas rolled his eyes. “She did not come over here to say hello. She just tried to hook me up with you. For some reason, Dee fancies herself my ‘wingman.' ” Silas made air quotes around the last word, his face a mask of distaste.

“And you don't like having a wingman? Generally do fine picking up guys on your own?” Matthew found it amusing to think of Silas off picking up strangers, all straitlaced and uptight.

“I generally don't have any interest in picking up strange men.” Silas gave him a once-over again, and Matthew noticed, although Silas's gaze was fleeting. Then he deliberately looked away. “But yes, if I wanted to, I could. I have done it before.”

“You want another drink?” Matthew slid the empty glass out from in front of Silas.

“I suppose so, yes.” Silas watched his glass disappear beneath the counter as Matthew grabbed a fresh one.

“The same thing?”

“Something a little milder, I think.” Silas drank the rest of his water. “And another water, too.”

Matthew sized him up, trying to guess what kind of drink he'd enjoy. Something simple, probably, but with a little kick. No real frills. He guessed Silas wasn't normally a Long Island Iced Tea kind of guy. “Vodka and cranberry?”

“That would be fine.”

Matthew began mixing up another drink, then slid it across the bar with ease and updated Silas's tab. He could feel Silas watching him. The longer he spent here, the more interested Matthew became in seeing what he was like under all this uptightness. Matthew knew he could get Silas begging and gasping in no time at all if they were alone. Guys like this were a challenge, but the best kind of challenge, the kind that evoked his inner competitive spirit.

A few arriving customers at the bar drew him away from Silas for a little while, and he kept expecting to see him leave, but he instead lingered with his drink and watched Matthew work. The expression on his face wasn't quite lust, but it was definitely interest.

When the rest of the customers had been served, Matthew eased back over to where Silas was nursing the vodka and cranberry. “So what do you do for work, Silas?”

“I'm a biomedical engineer, specializing in biomechatronics. I work with neuroscientists to build advanced prosthetics that interact with the nervous system.” Silas sipped his drink.

Of course that's what he did. Matthew figured it had to be something in the sciences, since he'd become good at sizing people up in this line of work, and it only made sense that it was something obscure and highly intellectual. “Sounds rewarding.”

“Yes, it is. Quite.” Silas nodded vigorously.

All right, so he was the trifecta: brilliant, handsome, and way too wound up for his own good. Matthew leaned fully on the counter and gave Silas a smirk. “And what are you doing when you get out of here tonight?”

Silas turned the most adorable shade of red, full-on beet red, and the obvious blushing was certainly a plus about flirting with white guys. After a moment of being flustered, though, Silas licked his lips and studied Matthew. He waited so long to answer that Matthew started to think he wasn't going to, but then he tipped his head to the side in a casual “maybe” gesture. “I don't have plans right now. Maybe we can talk.”

Matthew lifted his chin in a half nod. “I'm off at one when the closer takes over. Stick around.”

Silas returned his nod. “We'll see. I'll settle my tab now, though.”

Those were not the actions of someone who was going to come back. Matthew was surprised how disappointed he was, especially since he'd had no plans for a fling earlier tonight when he came in for his shift. Silas, though, was the kind of challenge he enjoyed, and it was sad to see him settle up and, with a final small smile, wander back to the private room again. A few people came up to the bar just then, and Matthew was back in work mode for the rest of his shift. Every time he checked the private room, and it was more times than he wanted to admit, Silas was still in there. A few times he saw Silas looking back. Everything was in his hands now, though, and Matthew could do nothing but focus on work and write him off with a few thoughts about what could have been.