The Art of Breathing (The Seafare Chronicles 3) - Page 143

Paul points toward a balcony that overlooks the dance floor and the DJ. “There’s a separate changing room for them. But Sandy’s the best, so she gets the best.”

“Wait until you see her perform,” Kori says, coming up behind me. “It’s a sight to behold.”

“I’m going to take Dom and buy him a beer,” Vince says from the stairwell. “I want to know if he’s ever been shot at. I’ll bring you your vodka cranberry, Paul.”

“You’ve been shot at?” Darren says, eyebrows rising. “Dude, I want to hear. And I want beer.”

“I want something fruity,” Kori says. “And I want to hear too.”

“You want anything?” Dom asks me.

I shake my head, and as they leave, I hear Vince ask Dom if he’s ever gotten into a gunfight with drug lords at a crack den, to which Dom replies, “Well, there was this one time….”

“Men,” Paul mutters. “And Kori. Come, twinkie.”

I don’t even protest it anymore.

There’s an older man, at least in his seventies, sitting on a stool on the balcony, positioning a video camera and spotlight down toward the floor below. He’s a big man, built like a tree trunk. He may be old, but he looks like he can still kick ass.

“Hi, Daddy,” Paul says, sitting next to him on another stool.

Huh. I didn’t know Paul’s dad worked here. That’s weird. And he calls him Daddy? Creepy.

“Boy, what was all the ruckus?” the old man asks. “You know Sandy doesn’t like people up here.”

“Sandy’s opening up the Queen’s Lair membership for the weekend,” Paul says. “This is Tyson.”

The old man turns to look at me, squinting his eyes. “Jesus, boy. Where’d you get this one? Elementary school? I didn’t think Sandy was a chicken hawk.”

Paul snorted. “This is Tyson. Kori’s friend. From Oregon. He’s staying the weekend. He’s the one Sandy told you about.”

“The genius?”

“One and the same.”

“Come over here, boy!” he barks at me. “Let me see you good and proper. Double step, before I change my mind and put you over my knee.”

That’s not threatening at all. But I’m standing in front of him before I even know I’m moving.

“Well, if you’re not just a little thing,” he says, his kind smile belying the gruff exterior. “And smarter than all of us combined, or so I hear.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” I say. “But it’s nice to meet you. Paul didn’t tell me his dad worked here.”

They both laugh long and loud, and I have no idea what I’ve said to get such a reaction.

“He’s not my dad,” Paul says, wiping his eyes. “He’s an old leather queen. I call him Daddy because he likes it. His name is Charlie.”

“Old leather queen,” Charlie says with a scowl. “It’s still not too difficult for me to take a strap to your bare bottom. I believe your feller wouldn’t mind that one bit.”

“Oh, Daddy,” Paul says. “Let’s not scare Tyson.”

“It’s just him and Kori?” Charlie asks.

Paul shakes his head. “No. Tyson’s boyfriend is here too. You should see him, Charlie. He’s bigger than Darren. I think he was injected with some kind of radioactive material when he was a kid and now he’s all Hulked out. His veins have veins. I work out for six months and the only thing I have to show for it is rash on my butt crack from where I sweat too much.”

“Which one is he?” Charlie asks, leaning over the railing. “I see Vince… and Darren… and Kori… and a brick wall with legs….” He waves and smiles. I

follow his line of sight and see everyone from our group waving back up at us.

Tags: T.J. Klune The Seafare Chronicles Romance
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