All Note Long Read Free Page B

bidding.
    â€œI dare you.”
    â€œCome on, just do a shot.”
    â€œShot or tip.”
    Three of them held out money this time. No way was Michelin doing a shot. Wasn’t even remotely tempted. But then again, bar drinking had never been Michelin’s thing. Give him a long, empty night, though . . . He shook his head slightly, clearing out that thought. He had three years of sobriety saying that even that temptation was surmountable.
    But fuck, three more trips over to the dancer? He’d already done four. Other than Lucas, who didn’t really drink, and Trevor, who had health reasons not to get smashed, the guys were well past toasted. Part of why Michelin hadn’t left was he wanted to make sure everyone got home safe. Or so he told himself. He should have left a long time ago. Made the rounds and got the hell out of there.
    But fucking dares.
    He collected all three bills, folded them carefully. The dancer was pretty incredible—he was doing the upside-down twerking thing again, each ass cheek moving independently in a way that didn’t seem anatomically possible. He caught Michelin watching, gave him a wink that went straight to Michelin’s groin, and flipped with effortless grace, using the railing to go low.
    Hell. Michelin needed to bend to reach his underwear. And yes, that’s what the guy’s current costume was. The most obscene pair of underwear Michelin had ever seen, with a tube-like part to display the guy’s junk. And to top it off, the fabric was covered with a celestial pattern that was hypnotizing.
    â€œWhat?” the guy asked as Michelin tucked the first of the bills in.
    â€œNothing. Just trying to figure out if that’s Leonid’s belt on your ass.”
    â€œTrying to label my constellations. Man, you are too cute.” It was hard to hear with the music, but Michelin had decades of experience talking around concert music.
    Michelin had figured out that the guy’s sides were the safest area to tuck money into, but the smooth planes of his back called to his fingers and he reached around to tuck the second bill in.
    The guy motioned him closer, and to his complete chagrin, Michelin went without protest.
    â€œI’m almost done torturing you.” The dancer laughed.
    â€œOh?” Michelin knew his relief was probably evident on his face. He shoved the third bill in, right over the guy’s defined hip bone.
    â€œYeah. My break’s coming up. If you need to escape your posse for a bit, come find me. I’ll hook you up with a water or a soda.” His smile was warm as butter on toast, and it melted some vital logic circuit in Michelin’s brain.
    Before Michelin could answer, a skinny dude in a jockstrap and flip-flops hopped up behind the dancer. The dancer rose back to his full height and the two guys danced together for a minute in an obviously carefully choreographed move before the skinny guy slapped the other on the ass and shoved him off the stage.
    He patted Michelin’s shoulder on his way down. Fuck. Michelin had seriously been standing there gaping the whole time they did their changeover. The guy leaned in, saying, “Find me?”
    The dancer didn’t wait for an answer before he glided away. Michelin stumbled back to his seat. Some of his friends had gone to dance, giving him room to stretch out a bit. Unfortunately, no amount of legroom could unkink the knots in his brain.
    â€œHey, M. ” Carter slid into the open seat next to Michelin. Fuck. Michelin liked all the guys in the groups he was mentoring from the two different reality music competition shows he’d been on, but Carter was one whom he had already pegged as the most likely to ask him for a favor. At least Lucas had spread the message not to use Michelin’s name tonight.
    â€œHey,” Michelin said cautiously.
    â€œThat dancer seemed to like you.”
    â€œHe likes cash.” Michelin knew it to be true. He was