A Dangerous Game Read Free Page A

“the one” still existed out there for everyone.
    Wren grinned and wondered what it would be like to have such love and devotion in one’s life. Wren had certainly never been fortunate enough to have it happen to him. He had had a series of boyfriends, more like hookups really, but no one ever stuck. He had never felt that magic the books, movies, and songs liked to play up as Love with a capital L .
    Wren didn’t really know what romantic love was, and he wasn’t sure he’d recognize it if it came up and kissed him on the cheek and pinched his butt. He hoped one day he would find out. He was still very young, after all.
    “You like him, the dancer?”
    Dave’s voice yanked Wren out of his reverie, returning him with a jolt to the tacky confines of Tricks and an older, clean-cut man staring down his nose at him.
    “Oh yeah,” Wren said, wistful. “Arliss. He’s gorgeous.” He met Dave’s stare. “And taken.” He nodded across the bar. “That’s his boyfriend, Sean, over there.” Wren shook his head. “True love. You know?”
    “I do indeed know. True love is a rare and wondrous thing. For most of us, it comes along but once in a lifetime, and then only if we are very, very lucky.”
    “Yeah.” Wren took a sip of his drink and wondered how he had ended up here talking love philosophy with a guy who looked like a televangelist. It just went to show, you never knew how your day would wind up. Like he didn’t expect to lose his shitty customer service job today when he woke up this morning, but he had.
    “A good-looking young man like you must have to fend off the offers from knights in shining armor.”
    Wren resisted the impulse to roll his eyes. “Not so much.” He shrugged. “I haven’t met Mr. Right yet. Lots of Mr. Right Nows, if you know what I’m sayin’, but no Mr. Right.” He looked pointedly at Dave. “And certainly no knight in shining armor.”
    Dave laughed. “Well, perhaps I exaggerate.” He leaned in close and spoke softly to Wren, almost paternally. “But what if I told you, dear Wren, that I could help you meet your Mr. Right? What if I told you I could help open the door to that wondrous and rare opportunity?”
    “I’d say you were full of shit.”
    Dave made a tsk sound. “Cursing does not become you, dear boy. Nor does skepticism. Haven’t I at least piqued your curiosity?”
    Not really , Wren wanted to say, but he reminded himself that the guy had bought him a drink and rescued him from being tossed out of the bar. Shouldn’t he at least be polite? “Well, yeah. But I don’t see how. I mean, no offense, you seem like a really nice guy and all, but I don’t know if we’re a match.”
    Dave chuckled. “I didn’t mean me, dear fellow. Heavens! I daresay that biting off a love match with me would be a bit more than you could chew.”
    Dave’s pale eyes went dark for just a moment—it was the most amazing thing.
    “But I own a business which—how shall I put it?—facilitates young men meeting other men who may or may not possess the requisites for a match made in heaven. Those choices are ultimately up to the individuals involved.”
    Okay, so Wren had no idea what this dude was talking about—and it was starting to creep him out. “I don’t get you.”
    Before Dave could answer, Chip reapproached them. “Are you boys doing okay? Need anything?”
    Dave considered Wren’s half-empty—or was that half-full?—glass and said hurriedly, “Two more of the same.”
    Chip hurried away. Quick sticks. Wren doubted the guy moved as fast for anyone else in the bar.
    While Chip got their drinks, Dave pulled a black leather wallet from his pants pocket. The leather was rich, finely grained, and bore the discreet Prada logo in pewter. From it he extracted a business card and handed it to Wren.
    Wren glanced down at the ivory card with its raised, shiny black lettering. The card bore only the words “ À Louer ” and a phone number with a North Side city prefix: