Dix jerked his thumb at Brandon. ‘This one’s taking a stand.’
Tiffani’s eyes lit up and she leant forwards, creating a truly impressive wedge of cleavage. ‘Oh, yeah? What’s going on? Your woman trying to rein you in? Keep you on a short leash?’
Dix laughed aloud, then shot Brandon a glance and toned it down. Brandon didn’t care what Dix thought he knew about him and Leah. ‘Nothing like that.’
‘Well, which is it?’
‘I want to marry her, and she’s not sure.’
‘Ouch,’ Tiffani said with what sounded like genuine sympathy. She turned to Dix and nudged him with the incredibly high heel of her shoe. ‘What about you, Trouble?’
‘Why am I trouble?’
It was Brandon’s turn to laugh. ‘You’ve got the same problem, man. Sort of.’
Tiffani raised an eyebrow that looked drawn on. ‘What the fuck is wrong with them? Are they mental? What? I mean, a girl like me can’t find a nice guy, and here you two sit telling me your women won’t marry you?’
‘Crazy as hell, huh?’ Dix said.
Tiffani polished off her beer and stood. ‘Crazy as fuck, Trouble. Crazy as F.U.C.K. Well, unless you gentlemen have changed your minds, I’ve got to get back to work. Though I gotta tell you, maybe if you came home smelling like pussy you might get somewhere with your women.’
‘Oh, I’d get somewhere. A wooden box and a hole in the ground,’ Dix said.
Tiffani gave Brandon a sly glance. ‘How about you?’
He almost said yes, wondering if he came home smelling like body spray and sex if Leah would change her mind or if she’d instead be so angry she wouldn’t forgive him. And while the idea of getting a rub-off from a stranger was just filthy enough to make for a great one-handed fantasy, he was pretty sure it wouldn’t be so great in reality.
‘He’s thinking about it. Be a good friend and convince him,’ Tiffani said.
Dix shrugged. ‘Far be it from me to stand between a man’s lap and a stripper’s ass.’
Brandon shook his head. ‘The offer’s really tempting, Tiffani, but no, thanks.’
‘Fine. But if you want me, the offer stands until midnight. Then I gotta go one on one, house rules. And don’t take Brandi over me, either. You will go home with something on your pants, and it won’t be hand cream.’
Gross.
‘It’s not like that with us, you know,’ Brandon said when they left the club and waited outside for a group of leather-clad fetish-con folks to pass and leave room on the sidewalk.
‘Like what?’ Dix was giving them all an eyeful, particularly the woman in the full-coverage vinyl cat suit, her face covered by a mask with a zippered mouth.
‘Like what just passed us by.’
Dix looked like he meant to say something, thought better of it, then nodded. ‘Look, kid. Whatever works for the two of you isn’t my business. You know?’
‘I know.’ Brandon grinned. ‘Just like it’s not my business that you and Kate like to fuck almost in public.’
Dix choked a little. ‘Damn it.’
Head swimming, Brandon thought the four beers had been fine, but the final shot of Jack had probably been sort of stupid. He was big enough to hold a lot of alcohol, but not on the almost-empty stomach he’d been sporting since this crap with Leah had stolen his appetite. Hell, he and Dix had only had a basket of bread, a fourteen-ounce steak, potatoes, salad and a helluva-good shrimp appetiser …
The belch lurched out of him long and hard, and he had to thump his chest when it was done.
‘Don’t worry. Leah didn’t tell me. You know about the exhibitionism thing. I overheard the two of them talking. Pretty hot, getting it on in public.’
‘Yes, very hot.’ Dix grinned, probably at the memory. ‘You’re slurring your words and weaving. Christ, kid, you’re sloshed.’
‘Not,’ Brandon said. ‘Let’s go to that bar in New York New York. Something Irishmen. Or something.’
Dix looked around as another crowd of extravagantly clothed conventioneers passed by. ‘Shit. It beats the fucking Penny Pincher. Which I am not going back to, by the way, you can have that vermin-ridden bed all to yourself if you’re gonna be proud.’
They moved through the crowd, which parted pretty easily for them since they weren’t dressed like everyone else. They got their share of stares, though. At the bar, they found a booth in the back, Dix checking his cell phone while Brandon ordered a round of shots.
‘Slainte,’ he said, raising his glass.
‘May your life never be hard and your dick never soft.’
The liquor burnt Brandon’s throat and belly. A couple, not wearing fetish gear but obviously in town for the convention, slid into the booth beside them. The woman, a tall brunette, wore a black fitted dress. The man with her wore a simple white long-sleeved T-shirt under a black one and a pair of jeans. But what caught Brandon’s eye was not the way the couple looked so adoring at each other, or how their fingers linked across the table.
It was the collar.
Braided leather, plain, it could be nothing else. It fit tight to the man’s throat. As Brandon watched, the woman reached to adjust it against the man’s skin.
‘Fuck,’ he muttered, and looked away.
‘What?’ Dix looked over. ‘Oh. Well.’
Brandon ran a hand through his hair, then rubbed his eyes. ‘It’s not like that, either.’
‘Hey. I already told you …’
‘I know. But it’s like … shit.’ Brandon looked around, noticing other couples in various levels of costume. ‘Everyone thinks a guy who likes to let the woman lead is a pussy. I’m not a pussy.’
He said it a little too loud. Turned heads. Dix looked uncomfortable for a moment.
‘Nobody said you were.’
Brandon pointed at the couple next to them. Shit, that last drink had been a little too much. ‘Leah doesn’t like any of that stuff. Those games, she calls ’em. The pomp and circumstance, is what she says. She’d never put a collar on me, because I’m not a dog.’
Dix looked amused. ‘No more shots for you.’
Brandon lifted
