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  “Why didn’t you text me?” Elijah put hands on his arms, ran his gaze up and down Baz. “Are you doing better? Are the lights bugging you? Do you want to go upstairs? I’ll go with you.”

  No, Baz didn’t want to go upstairs. He wanted to dance in the middle of the man-mosh pit with Elijah. But the lights were killing him even from here. “You were having fun.”

  Elijah punched him, not exactly lightly, in the center of his chest. “They were distracting me from being worried about you.”

  Randy appeared, Chenco beside him, the other guy they’d been dancing with under his arm. “And there he is. How are we feeling, Mr. Acker? Whew.” He wiped his forehead with his hand. “Hey, how about we take this party to the booth? These pretty young things wore me out.”

  They shuffled out of the dancing area and to the main part of the bar, where Baz was tucked neatly between Randy and Elijah in the booth. It didn’t quite fit all of them—Steve and the guy he’d been talking to drew up chairs and sat at the edge.

  Randy gestured around the table. “Let’s see, who hasn’t met? Baz, this is Sam, and the guy beside Steve is his husband, Mitch. Elijah, this is Mitch, and the guy beside him is Chenco’s husband, Steve. Chenco is the guy we were dancing with. He’s also known as the fabulous Caramela, Herod’s very own resident drag queen.”

  There were a few minutes of polite chitchat, Elijah and Baz explaining where they were from, why they were in Vegas, how long they were staying. The others gave a little more about their background—Mitch was an independent semi driver, Sam was a nurse. Once the get-to-know-you intros had degenerated into smaller conversations, Elijah leaned into Baz.

  “Are you okay? Really?” He touched the side of Baz’s face, worried. “Those are the glasses you hate, the ones you only wear when you have to. Why are we down here? Why aren’t we in the room?”

  “Because I wanted to see you. I didn’t come all the way here to sit in a strange bed by myself.”

  Elijah’s lips pursed. “I told you, I would have sat there with you.”

  Baz knew he would have. Which made him happy and horribly depressed at once. “I know. But I don’t want that for you. Or for me.” Elijah opened his mouth to argue, and Baz segued. “You looked like you were having a good time, dancing with Randy and those guys. Were you?”

  Elijah’s blush said it all. “Yeah, I guess. They’re good dancers.”

  They were a pretty picture, for sure. “Did you do anything else with Randy?” He realized how this sounded and added, “I mean, did you gamble?”

  “He showed me how to play poker. I wasn’t great, but he said it took practice. He’s incredible, though. I didn’t get how people could play professionally until I watched him work a table.” Elijah settled into him. “We toured the hotel too. And casino. Everything. I met the owner, Randy’s husband Ethan. You wouldn’t believe how different the two of them are. But they work.”

  There was a weird tone in his voice, as if he were trying to tell Baz something without telling him, but Baz was going to need a map for that one.

  Standing at the edge of the dance floor had been too much for Baz, even for only a few minutes, but the darkened, private booth with little more than an electric tea light in a glass bowl as illumination was perfectly fine, and Baz relaxed, glad to not be the pathetic guy in the suite for a few minutes at least. He liked the way Elijah leaned into him as they got to know the men around the table. Mitch and Randy had been friends the longest, though had been estranged for some time until Sam had brought them back together. Ethan and Randy had met by accident, the same one that left Ethan running Herod’s. Steve and Chenco were transplants from McAllen, Texas, but Chenco was Mitch’s half-brother, one he hadn’t known he had. They were family, though, in the only way that mattered.

  It made Baz think of everyone at the White House, made him wish their own posse had come along.

  “Tell us more about you.” Sam said this as he leaned into his husband. “Randy says your family is in politics, Baz?”

  The happy bubble sagged inside Baz. Funny, he didn’t usually mind talking about the Barnett-Ackers, but the subject felt cheap in this group.

  Randy waved this aside before Baz could say anything. “Politics is boring. Tell us about your friends off catching a show. You guys close?”

  So instead of telling the story of senators and psychopathic parents, Baz and Elijah told about Walter and Kelly, about Giles and Aaron, and Lejla, about Mina and Brian and Jilly and Damien and Marcus and Sid. About the White House, the choir, Salvo, the Ambassadors. About Laurie and Ed, and about Baz’s volunteer work with Halcyon. About the book Elijah was writing.

  The guys appeared interested in their stories well beyond being polite to the cute kids from the Midwest Randy had brought home. Chenco seemed particularly intrigued by their musical performances, wanting to know who did their choreography. Sam was wistful at hearing about their communal living situation and their tales of college antics. It was a great back and forth. Not what Baz had come to Vegas for, but it wasn’t bad.

  Elijah settled more deeply into Baz’s shoulder, listening to a story from Mitch and Randy. No. This wasn’t a bad turn of events at all.

  As the story wound down, Walter and Kelly appeared. Randy greeted them and made space for them at the end of the booth.

  Kelly sat, glancing inquisitively at Baz and Elijah. “We were trying to text you, but you didn’t answer.”

  Elijah flipped over his phone, which indeed was full of texts. “Sorry. We were caught up. I thought you were going to a show?”

  Walter shrugged. “Nothing quite grabbed our attention. Plus we wanted to hang out with you guys. Though it looks as if we’re interrupting.”

  Everyone at the table ensured them otherwise, and Randy orchestrated another round of introductions. They were impressed to learn Walter was on the cusp of being a lawyer, and they were in the middle of asking him what his specialty would be when the tenor of the bar changed, not quite a hush but a quiet susurrus. Baz leaned back, squinting as a light from the main floor of the casino pierced him too brightly.

  A man approached, tall, in a bespoke suit so perfect Baz wanted to ask for his tailor. He was middle-aged, but he wore his years well. Sandy-blond hair with streaks of silver gave him a distinguished look. Clean jaw, broad shoulders. He smiled as he made his way through the bar, sometimes lingering a moment to speak with a guest. He could have been in a boardroom. Baz wondered if he was some sort of locally famous high roller. The man came leisurely to their table, and though the others called to him in greeting, Randy didn’t turn around. When the high roller came up behind him, however, Randy’s face split in a sly grin, and he reached over his shoulder and gently touched the side of the man’s face, as if he knew exactly where it would be.

  The newcomer caught Randy’s hand and kissed it elegantly but with a lingering promise.

  Oh. This was the casino owner. Randy’s husband. Wow. They sure looked crazy together. Night and day. Sleek and rough. Chalk and cheese.

  Content as hell.

  Ethan Ellison—that was the guy’s name. His cool persona dialed down as he greeted people in the booth, but the man had natural reserves. He shook Baz’s hand, welcomed him to Herod’s, thanked him for his patronage, inquired after his health and comfort. Made sure he had everything he needed.

  Once Baz had ensured Ethan he was fine, Randy took his husband’s hand and swung it idly, a child eager to play. “Hey. How about you call up a limo and we take them for a ride? Show them the town.”

  Ethan raised an eyebrow at him. “I don’t suppose this ride would take us past a certain hotel and casino with your favorite view of the city?”

  Randy put a hand to his chest. “Why, I hadn’t even thought of such a thing, but now that you mention it, what a wonderful idea. What do you say, boys? Shall we give our Midwestern friends a limo tour of Sin City ending at the Stratosphere?”

  Everyone seemed eager, but Elijah cast a worried glance at Baz. “Are yo
u up to it?”

  Before Baz could so much as grit his teeth, Randy answered for him. “Tinted windows. We want to cut the interior lights anyway, so you can see out. I can get us in and out of the Stratosphere as quick as you need to. If you’re not up to it, Ray-Ban, you say the word and we nip back to the hotel.”

  It took a second for it to permeate, what Randy had just blithely called him. “Ray-Ban?”

  Randy shrugged. “Stevie Wonder was too obvious, and no offense, but I don’t know you well enough yet to decide if you’re worthy of it.”

  Baz laughed. He’d never had someone be so cavalier about his disability before. He kind of loved it. “Sounds like a plan to me. Let’s go take a ride.”

  As they shuffled out of the booth, Baz heard Ethan speak quietly into Randy’s ear. “Behave, Ace.”

  Randy kissed him on the cheek and goosed his ass. “Oh, baby. Where’s the fun in that?”

  Chapter Five

  ELIJAH HADN’T EVER been in a limo before.

  The fancy car when he’d gone suit shopping with Baz last summer was close, but this was the real deal. This car was a stretched SUV, and the inside was a black, sleek ring of seats facing a bay of windows and a glittering bar. It had a moonroof, which was open, revealing the naked glitter of the Vegas night sky. This was clearly a Randy-friendly limo, because it was stocked with Baileys and Jameson, and a Dirty Whiskey was already poured and waiting.

  He passed it to Elijah with a wink and settled in across from where Elijah and Baz sat, easing back as the driver shut the door and returned to the front of the car to lead them into the city.

  The city was amazing at night. Like someone had lit up the world, making it glitter and shine. Some of it was tacky, yes, but it was almost so garish it was perfect. Plus Randy and Ethan knew the history of everything—what casino was original to the gangster days, who owned what new hotel now, where the good poker rooms were, what buffet was worth it and which one wasn’t worth mentioning, what show was at which theater. They went past Bellagio, the limo slowing to let them look at the fountains and watch them sway in the lights in time to the music. They drove the whole Strip, past the Mirage and Paris, all the way to the sign they’d already visited on their way into town. It looked different at night. Right at night.

  Elijah wasn’t sure he’d feel safe in Vegas on his own, but with Randy and his friends, it felt okay.

  The Stratosphere was way at the other end of the Strip, and it took them forever to get there with traffic practically at a crawl. Elijah was pretty sure it would have been faster to walk. But there were plenty of people to watch and Dirty Whiskeys to drink. Except when he finished his first one, Randy only handed him a bottle of water. He didn’t offer Baz any alcohol and checked in frequently with him to make sure he was doing okay.

  Baz seemed to be fine. He and Elijah were in the back, the windows around them heavily tinted. The limo was plush and hushed, even with ten men filling every inch of available space. Elijah noticed the Vegas natives were completely at ease, as if Randy declared they should take a limo drive around the city every other night. Who knew? Maybe they did.

  The difference between Bellagio and the Stratosphere was about as stark as the difference between polished Ethan and unkempt Randy. Elijah had felt uncomfortable just sitting in front of Bellagio, it had seemed so ritzy, but the Stratosphere was so skanky it made him move his wallet to the front pocket of his jeans as he exited the limo. It reeked of smoke and desperation. The décor was late nineties, and at best someone occasionally ran a vacuum over the floor, never so much as dreaming of giving the place an upgrade in furnishings or atmosphere.

  That said, the doormen at the Stratosphere were friendly, smiling at Randy and Ethan like they were old friends, and so did pretty much everyone they passed on the way, through the casino shops to the elevators leading to the observation tower. Elijah’s heart sank as he saw the line full of loud, drunk tourists, but a staff member met them in the lobby and escorted their entire party to a separate, quieter elevator where they went immediately up to the top of the tower, no tickets or waiting required. Once they were up the tower, though they opened into the main lobby, Randy led them through a door marked Authorized Personnel Only and onto a small, private observation deck.

  The view was incredible. The whole city lay at their feet, a crazy quilt of light and life. Elijah wondered how many people were down there. He saw cars, but not even dark figures moving as people. Everything was so far away.

  Randy sidled up beside him, pointing into the sea of lights. “See the building off to the left with the blinking red on top? That’s Herod’s. I had Ethan put the light up so we could see it when we came up here.”

  The hotel was so small at this distance. Little more than a feeble beacon in a sea. Elijah felt dizzy, trying to imagine how far he could see right now. “Wow.”

  Baz slipped an arm around him. He tipped his sunglasses up, and he smiled. “It’s so bright, but it’s weak enough it’s not hurting my eyes. Crazy.”

  Randy sighed, a deep exhale of contentment. “I will never get tired of this view. Heaven had better look a lot like this, or I’m skipping out.”

  It was peaceful, Elijah had to give him that. It was difficult to be too upset with the world when it was so far away. He noticed, though, Sam was well away from the edge—and so was Walter. Kelly, however, stood by Ethan at the rail, looking mesmerized.

  Kelly and Walter sat near them on the way back. They told Elijah and Baz about the restaurant where they’d eaten dinner on the Strip, the different shows they were considering seeing. Walter had apparently lost twenty dollars in a slot machine, but Kelly hadn’t been willing to gamble just yet.

  At Herod’s, they all went to the craps table, where Baz and then Ethan rolled the dice and led the crowd in a rush of bids. Elijah placed a few bets, letting Randy explain the bids, but mostly he enjoyed watching everyone play. He wished the rest of their Scooby gang were along, even though it would be a crazy number of people. But watching Randy’s made family caused Elijah to miss his version of that kind of family.

  He opened the Facebook app on his phone as they rode down the elevator, and stared at Penny’s friend request again, but he took no other action on it.

  They ended up, the whole lot of them, in Baz and Elijah’s suite. Ethan turned into the hotel owner as Randy explained his idea for rigging a curtain screen over the door and outlined the peculiarities and needs of Baz’s disability.

  “You don’t need to go through all that,” Baz said.

  Ethan waved this objection away. “It’s no trouble. And it’s our pleasure.”

  Elijah listened to the small talk a bit—Baz and Ethan got along like houses on fire, and Walter was right in there with them—but eventually he wandered to the window to check out the view. He wasn’t surprised when Randy appeared beside him.

  Randy passed him a piece of paper. It was a generic hotel business card with a phone number in pen scrawled in the margin. “My number. Call me if you need anything, okay? Recommendations, a ride, someone to get you up the Stratosphere tower on the quick.”

  Elijah took the card, the desire to press Randy on why he was being so nice burning on his tongue. Then it hit him. “You Googled us. You know about Baz’s attack. About my parents.”

  Randy shrugged, keeping his gaze on the city. He didn’t say anything for several minutes, but when he spoke, his voice was quiet. “My family kicked me out when I was in high school. I lived on the streets. I hustled. Did shit that’s only sexy in porn, never in real life. Yeah, I Googled you. But it was redundant. I know the look in your eye. I’ve seen it in the mirror. What can I say? I’m a soft touch. I’ve got your back while you’re here, and anytime after, should you want me.” He winked at Elijah. “Someday you pass it on, okay?”

  Elijah didn’t mean to say it. The words came tumbling out on their own. “I helped someone this summer. She’s trans and needed a safe space. I tried to give her one.”

  Oh, God, but
the smile Randy gave him—Elijah’s belly turned over, as if he were a puppy wanting to be rubbed. “There, see? I knew we were the same person.” He nudged Elijah’s elbow. “Use that number, okay? I don’t give it out to just anybody.”

  Elijah had known Randy less than a day, but he already knew he’d remember this guy as long as he lived. He clutched the card tight in his hand. “I will.”

  THE EVENING HAD turned out okay, Baz decided.

  He’d enjoyed how the guys from Randy’s herd had swooped around them and made them part of the tribe on his say-so, but he loved Randy’s husband best. Baz didn’t think he wanted to run a casino, but…well, Ethan Ellison was who he wanted to be when he grew up. And maybe it was simply flattering the guest, but he thought Ethan liked him too. He gave Baz his card with his personal cell number written on it. Told him to call if he needed anything, either at the hotel or in Vegas, or at any time he felt Ethan would be of help.

  He showed the card to Elijah when everyone left, and Elijah whipped out a matching one from Randy. They laughed, leaning into one another on the sofa. They nuzzled their foreheads together, still chuckling softly. It was a sweet, perfect moment, everything Baz had wanted when he’d spirited them away to Vegas. Just the two of them, quiet and safe and happy.

  Elijah ran his nose down Baz’s cheek. “I love being with you like this. It was fun, seeing the city and hanging out with everyone, but I’ll always like this best. Being with you. Only with you.”

  Baz’s heart turned over. He pressed his hand against Elijah’s and threaded their fingers together. “It’s my favorite thing in the world, to be alone with you.”

  Elijah kissed him, a soft, gentle meeting of lips. He tried to draw away, but as if they’d been magnetized, their lips came back together for another sweet, lingering joining. Two kisses became three, and sweet gave way to sensuality. The air sparked with erotic charge, a delicious kindling.