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“I beg your pardon?” A syrupy tenor asked, incredulity dripping in his tone.
A golden blonde head tossed as midnight black eyes rolled, “I said, I’ve decided to go with V3 Enterprises.”
Amber orbs blinked down at his seated companion. It was rather difficult to not pick up the shorter male and shake some sense into him. Just taller than typical, more pretty than handsome, and with more lean muscle than bulk, Alastor Monet was the chief entertainer at AM Studios, a company he had stood up a few years ago that had already become a staple in New Orleans performing scene. Whether it was providing singing, dancing, or any other sort of talent, his firm had it, even providing staffing for media outlets, as with his preferred medium, radio. It had been a dream come true to launch his own operation after working under the directions of others for so long, and the success of AM Studios had opened doors for him in even the loftiest circles of society.
Any competition had either folded or moved on, all of them smart enough to understand the folly of trying to go up against so clever a businessman, or so gifted a workforce. That is, until V3 Enterprises had stormed onto the stage a few months ago. Just thinking of them set his teeth on edge. Easily twice the size of his organization, the monster of an entertainment team had not only brought a large enough staff to occupy at least a third of the entire state, but also the latest in technological gadgets in which to broadcast their shows.
V3 was so named because of the three founders that ran the circus. There was Velvet, a petite, doll-like woman who oversaw advertising and social media; Valentino, a towering, dark chocolate skinned man who led their talent and ran their rather successful adult entertainment wing; last was Vox, who ran everything else and was twice as troubling than the other two in Alastor’s opinion. With the looks of the finest leading man and a brain sharper than most knives in his kitchen, he was both painfully charming and deviously ruthless in social gatherings and business dealings alike. It had been the debonair, forked tongued Vox that had cost him most of his gigs lately.
Hiding the venom behind a smile, Alastor dipped slightly at his waist, making a grand, sweeping gesture with his hand. “Lucifer, my friend! We have known each other for years! I thought you trusted your events to no one else. Did Lilith not enjoy her birthday party? Did she not speak of the countless compliments she received and praise it for months after?”
Shrugging noncommittally, the other man offered a wane smile. “This isn’t about friendship. This is business, Alastor. You of all people should know that. You’re good. I would have said the best. But, you’re behind the times. This stubbornness you have to stay rooted in the past will be your undoing.” When his guest bristled and looked like he was preparing a retort, Lucifer held a regal hand in the air. “I know you’re upset, but I’m not changing my mind.”
“Very well,” Alastor all but growled out, doing his best to maintain his professional demeanor in the face of someone telling him he had essentially turned into a relic. “Until next we meet, my good fellow.”
Unbridled rage simmered underneath his skin as he saw himself out of the golden-haired man’s office, favoring a walk over a taxi to attempt cooling off. This was getting out of hand. Any more lost events would mean he would have to start cutting away at his overhead; yet he couldn’t afford to let anyone go lest his quality begin decaying. If things continued, he would go under, and he was far too young, far too successful to throw in the towel now. This was all Vox’s fault.
Like a storm cloud he stalked down the sidewalk, darkening the atmosphere with his barely contained hostility. There was a tickle of delight to see people scramble out of his path, which did a little to improve his overall mood, but his countenance still crackled with unspent fury. He was too damn good at his job to let it slip through his fingers! If newer equipment meant the difference between booking events and financial destitution, he could certainly swallow his pride to get new cameras, lights, or whatever the hell V3 Enterprises used. And then, he supposed, he’d have to hire someone who actually knew how to operate the junk. Damn Vox.
It was when he was muddling through exactly what he would have to buy, how many people he’d have to employ, and doing his best to not get dizzy in the process when he passed his favorite bar. Perhaps whetting his whistle was what he needed to take his mind off his most recent loss and forget the mumbo jumbo about fancy electronic doohickeys.
Tinkling of bells signaled his entrance, the gentle sound echoing in the empty joint. In the early afternoon, it was blessedly quiet, the ambience still dim and moody, only the lone proprietor polishing glasses to get ready for the evening crowd. Average height with dark hair, thick mutton chops obscuring half his jaw, and deep-set brown eyes razor focused on his tasks, the familiar scene did wonders to ease his indignation.
Not bothering to look up, the older man gruffly greeted his guest. “What can I get ya?”
“The usual, Husker chum,” came the singsong reply as he settled himself onto a bar stool on the end of the counter.
“Sure…um…,” Amber eyes lifted to brown. “Didn’t know ya where gonna be in this early…” The unsure tone made the entertainer raise an eyebrow and follow the subtle jerk of the bartender’s chin.
Tilting in the stool to see around Husk, he stiffened and almost fell off his seat when he saw Vox at the opposite end of the bar. His stunning turquoise eyes were gazing down at his laptop, white earbuds nearly obscured by silky, obsidian tresses falling in front of a face that looked like it belonged in center stage instead of behind the cameras. Sneering angrily, Alastor pushed off his chair and stomped over to him. As if it wasn’t enough to tolerate the man taking his clients, now the man was hiding in his favorite haunt? What else did that unfairly handsome idiot plan to take from him?!
Several seconds passed before Vox realized someone was trying to intimidate him. Tugging the headphones out of his ears by the cords he straightened and looked to the graceful figure doing his best to seem menacing. An amused smile split his face in response. He wasn’t sure quite what he had done to earn the ire of Alastor Monet, but he did so delight in this game of cat and mouse. Resting his chin in his palm as he placed his elbow near his computer, he gave the beautiful man his full attention.
“Well, this is quite a treat. How are you, sweetheart?” Vox purred, his voice deep and smooth like rolling thunder.
“Don’t you ‘sweetheart’ me, you parasite,” Alastor snarled, fighting the blush threatening to spread on his cheeks at that dashing smile. “What the hell are you doing in here, and after stealing the Magne engagement!”
Standing slowly, the taller man tried not to chuckle at the childish exasperation permeating the brunette’s intonation. “Come now, Alastor, it’s merely business. Besides, my offer still stands. At least consider it for this event.”
Pressed in close, the alluring scent of him assaulted him, and it fed Alastor’s irritation to know he wanted him to get even closer. Shaking his primly styled auburn locks to clear his head, he took a step back.
“If you’re talking about a partnership, you must already be drunk to think I would even consider it,” he quipped, his voice stronger than his body language as he retreated.
Pursuing the shorter male, one hand sliding along the polished wood of the counter while the other outstretched to his delicious prey. Coincidentally, he had been pouring over numbers of V3’s market saturation in New Orleans, its expected trajectory and scale of their current growth, and had been calculating just how soon they would put AM Studios out of business. His admiration of Alastor Monet had been one of the reasons he got into the entertainment business in the first place, and it had never been his intention to run him off. He wasn’t going to give up on the man, even if he had to drag him kicking and screaming to reason. Pointedly he ignored the more selfish reasons he might want the attractive performer close.
Leaning over, he hit a button on his laptop, and music began filling the air. Grinning, he side-stepped around Alastor to head him off. “Right here, right now, I put the offer out. I don't want to chase you down; I know you see it.”
Wide eyed, the brunette backed away the other direction. He hadn’t realized Vox could sing. It was bordering on unfair on how much talent seemed packed into that mouth-watering body.
The raven-haired man followed, reaching out to encircle a large hand about the slender waist and pulled Alastor close in for an improvised dance. “You run with me, and I can cut you free, out of the drudgery and walls you keep in.”
Spinning him out before moving into more energetic footwork, Vox grinning as he noticed Alastor was following his lead. “So trade that typical for something colorful, and if it's crazy, live a little crazy! You can play it sensible, a king of conventional, or you can risk it all and see.”
With a suave turn, he separated from the brunette, settling him onto a bar stool as he spread his arms wide, dancing away, throwing himself into the song, and basking in having the entertainer’s complete attention. “Don't you wanna get away from the same old part you gotta play? 'Cause I got what you need, so come with me and take the ride; it'll take you to the other side! 'Cause you can do like you do, or you can do like me; stay in the cage, or you'll finally take the key. Oh, damn! Suddenly you're free to fly, it'll take you to the other side!”
For a beat it took a moment for Alastor to overcome his awe, the charm of being wooed this way nearly impossible to resist, before narrowing his burnt orange eyes, angrily escaping toward the door. Just as his hand floated on the brass handle, he snapped back around. “Okay, my friend, you want to cut me in. Well, I hate to tell you, but it just won't happen. So thanks, but no, I think I'm good to go! 'Cause I quite enjoy the life you say I'm trapped in.”
Elegance in his movements, he twirled just out of Vox’s reach as the man tried to pull him close again, snatching the man’s tie and yanking his face closer with a bemused smirk. “Now I admire you, and that whole show you do; you're onto something, really it's something! But I live among the swells, and we don't pick up peanut shells, I'll have to leave that up to you!”
Releasing the taller man, he sauntered away, deeper into the pub again, the sway of those sinful hips hypnotizing to bright blue eyes. With a skill that would have made Fred Astaire envious, the brunette belted out the next few lines while stepping onto a chair, ascending to a nearby table. “Don't you know that I'm okay, with this uptown part I get to play? 'Cause I got what I need and I don't want to take the ride; I don't need to see the other side! So go and do like you do, I'm good to do like me. Ain't in a cage, so I don't need to take the key. Oh, damn! Can't you see I'm doing fine? I don't need to see the other side!”
After contributing his piece, Alastor danced back down, head held high and smile satisfied to have put the matter to rest. But when Vox began singing again, he couldn’t help but linger, tawny eyes glancing over his shoulders coyly. “Now is this really how you like to spend your days? Whiskey and misery, and parties and plays?”
A fading resistance filled the soft response that called to him, and Vox smiled patiently, enjoying the skill of that saccharine voice despite the criticism in the words. “If I were mixed up with you, I'd be the talk of the town, disgraced and disowned; another one of the clowns.”
Lowering his voice, gentle beckoning slipped into his melody. “But you would finally live a little, finally laugh a little. Just let me give you the freedom to dream, and it'll wake you up and cure your aching; take your walls and start 'em breaking. Now that's a deal that seems worth taking, but I guess I'll leave that up to you.” Alastor had turned away, walking toward the door again, but when his rival continued, the lingering notes gave him pause yet again.
A soft ping deep in his chest made him smile, to hear Vox appealing to him so. Seeking him out, wanting a partnership with him, despite the fact they both knew it was Alastor that needed the help. Smiling triumphantly, he turned on his heel, and basked in the confident light playing in those breathtaking turquoise orbs. “Well it's intriguing, but to go would cost me greatly. So, what percentage of the show would I be taking?”
Grinning devilishly at the interested glimmer in the amber eyes, the raven-haired man took a step closer. “Fair enough, you'd want a piece of all the action. I'd give you seven, we could shake and make it happen.”
The brunette laughed as he matched the step, moving closer along the line of the bar. “I wasn't born this morning, eighteen would be just fine.”
Scoffing, Vox looked down his nose at the shorter male as they continued to press nearer. “Why not just go ahead and ask for nickels on the dime!”
“Fifteen.” Step.
“I'd do eight.” Step.
“Twelve.” Step.
“Maybe nine.” Step.
“Ten.” Step.
Breathing came a little labored due to their activity, their chests almost brushed, cheeks slightly blushed as they both gazed at each other with matching smiles. The svelte entertainer sucked in a breath when the handsome businessman leaned down to place his lips next to his ear.
“You’ve got yourself a deal, Alastor,” he cooed, chuckling softly at the quiet moan from the other.
Boldly he grabbed that body he so desired, pulling him close, a hand at his waist and intertwining the fingers of the other. As if they had been matched together for years, their synchronization so expertly masterful, they launched into the chorus, together this time, as they danced around the pub.
Don't you wanna get away to a whole new part you're gonna play
'Cause I got what you need, so come with me and take the ride
To the other side
So if you do like I do
So if you do like me
Forget the cage, 'cause we know how to make the key
Oh, damn! Suddenly we're free to fly
Twirling around a few pillars, they separated and reunited in such joyful mirth that they looked more like young lovers than professional tradesmen. Getting a little carried away, Vox scooped the smaller male into his arms for a brief second of delectable contact before placing him on top of the bar itself. They matched beat for beat as they continued dancing on different elevations, the blending of their talented voices akin to the smoothest of cocktails.
We're going to the other side
So if you do like I do
(To the other side)
So if you do like me
(We're going to the other side)
'Cause if we do we're going to the other side
We're going to the other side
Never would he admit it to the man holding his hand up in a dashing gesture to help him down, but it had been too long since Alastor had enjoyed himself so much. He was again reminded of the shame of sequestering Vox behind the public eye; their energetic rendezvous could have been the talk of the town, had anyone been around to witness it. Instead of releasing his fingers once he stepped down, however, the raven-haired executive spun him close again, then dipped him with the most roguishly captivating smile Alastor had ever seen, and he didn’t even bother to resist the warm kiss pressed to his lips. For a few blissful moments they embraced passionately, there in the middle of an empty tavern, eagerly losing themselves in each other.
An angry growl startled them both, turquoise and amber snapping over to the counter, Husk leveling them with the most impatient, deadly glare they’d ever seen on the man.
“Get da fuck outta my bar…”