Hell, Look at Me

Chapter 1-2

Someone had.

Jace Parish was seated at the bar too, as far away as he could get from Ricky Moore and his entourage of pretty women. He was also in the perfect spot to watch Charlie.

Why, CC? That was the crew’s name for Charlie, because his last name was Cox. What the hell do you see in him? Yeah, he’s a decent actor, but he’s also a total ass. You’re worth ten times him.

Of course Jace knew he’d never say that to Charlie. He valued his working relationship with the designer and wasn’t about to jeopardize it by bringing his personal feelings to the forefront.

“Hey, Jace, you’re supposed to be having fun and celebrating.”

Jace turned to see Merianne, one of the actresses, standing there, a grin on her face, a drink in her hand.

“I am, I am,” he said, plastering a smile on his face.

“Then come dance with me.” She put down her glass and held out her hand.

Reluctantly he took it, letting her lead the way to the dance floor. At least this will take my mind off Charlie.

The music was fast and loud, Merianne was a good dancer, and soon enough Jace was smiling for real.

“So what had you in such a funk?” Merianne asked when a slow song came over the speakers and they could talk without shouting.

He shrugged. “Not really a funk. Just…”

“I saw you watching Ricky. Don’t tell me you’re jealous.”

Jace snorted. “Of that ass? Not in this lifetime. I feel sorry for all those girls. Each one hoping he’ll pick one of them for the night.”

“My bet’s on Belinda.”

“Yeah, I saw him whispering something to her that made her blush. No guarantee he won’t change his mind in ten minutes when another one catches his fancy.”

“Or some guy,” she whispered, glancing around.

“True that. He’s an equal opportunity fucker.” Jace chuckled dryly. “Maybe he’ll take one of each home to his super king-sized bed.”

“Now how do you know that’s what he has?” she asked, c*****g an eyebrow.

“Don’t worry, I have no clue one way or the other. But he’s the type who would have one, and it’s probably round to boot. That way when he decides to have an orgy people can sprawl out like spokes on a wheel with him as the hub.”

Merianne giggled. “Jace, you’re evil.”

“Bet I’m right though.”

“Like you, I have no clue. I wouldn’t accept if he did offer, which he won’t. I’m not his style.”

Jace looked at what she was wearing and figured she was right. From what he’d seen, Ricky liked his conquests wearing clothes that left little to the imagination. Merianne always dressed conservatively, even when she went to one of the parties thrown for the cast and crew of whatever show was running at the moment. Just as Jace did. He wasn’t into tight pants and shirts open to the navel. For one thing he didn’t have the body for it. He wasn’t really muscular, despite the fact that he spent his days, as head of the scene shop, building and painting the scenery Charlie designed for the shows. ‘Wiry’ was how he thought of himself. Definitely not a macho man by any stretch of the imagination.

“There you go again, looking serious,” Merianne said, tapping his nose. “I know I’m not your style either, but that has nothing to do with me as a woman. Or more—” she chuckled, “—everything to do with the fact that I am.”

“You’re a nice person and a good friend. What more could a guy ask for in a woman?”

Merianne grinned, giving him a peck on the cheek. “A p***s?”

He snorted in amusement. “You do call them as you see them.”

“Of course I do. I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t. Your secret is safe with me though. I promise.”

“Thank you,” Jace said fervently.

The music stopped and they went back to the bar. As they did, Jace looked over to where Charlie was sitting. Or, he discovered, where he had been sitting because there were now three people there and none of them was Charlie. Quickly he glanced over to the group around Ricky and sighed with relief. At least he didn’t decide to join the entourage.

“What now?” Merianne asked as she sat on the only vacant stool.

“Nothing. Just tired I think.”

“But the night is still young.”

“And I’m not,” he replied with a grin.

“Come on, Jace, thirty is not old by a long shot.”

“Middle-aged?”

“If we were living in medieval times, maybe.”

“Sometimes I wish we were. Can you imagine riding off to the Crusades, tournaments, jousting…”

“Famine, plague, no indoor plumbing.”

“Killjoy.”

From there they went on to discuss the pro and cons of various past ages. But all the time Jace couldn’t help but wonder why Charlie had left the party.

* * * *

Ricky grinned as he looked at what he thought of as his harem. Every one of them—sexy, pretty ladies with the hots for him—was going to be disappointed tonight. He had other plans. Plans he’d set in motion fifteen minutes ago when he’d sent one of the waitresses over to Charlie with a note saying they would meet at Charlie’s place later. He didn’t specify exactly when. That way Charlie would be hot and bothered by the time he got there.

He liked Charlie—as an occasional bed partner. He was good in bed but real needy otherwise in his opinion.

Of course if I were him, with that arm, I’d probably be needy too. Hell, who’d want to live with that day after day? Not me for damned sure.

He sometimes wondered what had happened to Charlie. Not that he was going to ask. He kept things impersonal. That way there were no complications. Ricky hated anything getting in the way of his ambitions. Having an albatross around his neck, be it male or female, would do just that.

Nope, keep it simple. Good time in the sack and then move on.

But he hadn’t moved on when it came to Charlie. Somehow the man had gotten under his skin. Undoubtedly, he figured, because Charlie was so eager to please. All Ricky had to do was c**k his finger—figuratively—and the guy came running.

Of course any woman he knew would do the same. Not the men though. They were in it for the short term just as he was. f**k and move on. Name of the game.

“Ricky, are we going to get out of here?” Belinda asked.

“Sure, you can leave any time you want.”

“I said ‘we,’” she replied, pouting. “You promised we’d go back to your place for a nightcap.” She winked.

“Sorry, but plans changed.” Ricky stood, tossed some money on the bar to pay for a round of drinks, after telling the bartender that’s what it was for. The last voice he heard before striding quickly out of the bar was Belinda whining, “But Ricky…”

* * * *

“Yes, yes, yes,” Ricky growled as he pounded Charlie’s ass. He ignored the low groans of pain, smiling triumphantly when they turned to moans of pleasure. Tightening his grip on Charlie’s c**k to keep him from coming, Ricky thrust in and out as hard and fast as possible until he exploded. Still he refused to let Charlie come until he begged frantically for release. Only then did he loosen his fingers, savoring the tightening of Charlie’s channel around his still half-erect c**k, draining it of the last drops of c*m.

“So good,” Ricky whispered, dropping down on Charlie’s back, lifting Charlie’s dark auburn hair to kiss the nape of his still panting lover’s neck.

“Was it? I mean, yeah, it was.”

Pulling out and sliding off Charlie, Ricky looked at him with a frown. “You don’t sound exactly enthusiastic.”

“Sorry. I guess I’m tired. Opening night, the party…” Charlie shook his head. “I should get out of here and…”

“You are tired,” Ricky said with a laugh, kissing his temple. “We’re at your place. But if you want me to leave I will.”

“I wish…Never mind. Yes, go.” He smiled weakly. “I’ll probably fall asleep before you finish dressing.”

“Okay, CC.” Ricky swatted Charlie’s ass lightly before beginning the search for where he’d left his clothes this time. The jeans were half under the bed, his shirt on the floor near the door. He remembered kicking off his shoes seconds after Charlie let him into the apartment. Depositing the condom in the wastebasket, he put on his jeans and shirt. Then he turned to look at himself in the mirror, running a hand through his hair to tame it and frowning when it didn’t behave.

“You look fine,” Charlie muttered.

“As do you, CC. Or you will once you get some sleep.” Going back to the bed, he sat, stroking Charlie’s cheek. “I’ll call you later. Okay?”

Charlie just shrugged. That bothered Ricky, although he wouldn’t say as much. Instead he leaned over, cupped Charlie’s jaw in his hands, and kissed him lightly, after which he got up and left the bedroom. When he turned to close the door he thought Charlie was already asleep. “Happy dreams of me,” he whispered. He shut the door and moments later—now wearing his shoes—left the apartment, stopping just long enough to make certain the front door locked behind him.