TopGuns (2 page)

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Simple. It was meatball night and you got a case of the
runs ’cause Mira always makes them extra spicy like she knows I like them. You
went to bed instead of taking that shit you normally suck down like a
milkshake.” Tyler shuddered. “Shit, we hadn’t even finished
Jeopardy
.”

“Crazy fucker, we have a rule, remember? We don’t talk about
certain shit.”

“Whatever.”

“What does that have to do with you getting lucky?” Jason
asked.

“Easy. I’ve been trying to ease Mira into something but you
know how those Catholic girls are sometimes. If you’d been there you could’ve
kept Sheila busy and let me work my magic.” He shook his head. “Instead I got
stuck playing bridge all night. You know how boring that shit is? Sheila got
all pissy when I suggested making it strip bridge.”

“You’re crazy.”

“Think we’ve established that, my friend. You remember when
we were like gods?”

It was hard to forget. The rush of adrenaline, the surge of
lust. The women.

“Careful—you might be seeing him soon, so don’t go comparing
yourself to The Almighty,” Jason commented as he took a sip of his drink.

Truth told, they’d seen better days lately. Sure, they’d
held up better than the other geezers rolling around the corridors of Shady
Oaks. But they’d moved well out of the phase where all it took to get laid was
a smile.

There was more salt than pepper in what was left of their
hair these days. The mounting memory problems and increasing ailments rapidly
minimized the requisites for what could be deemed a good day.

“I really miss those days.”

“Yeah. We had it all. Easy money, easy job and easy women.”
Not necessarily in that order either. The latter had been dished out in spades.

“It sure as hell didn’t start off easy though.” Tyler leaned
forward in the rocker and looked across the porch to where the ladies were
knitting. “It’d sure be easy to go over there and chat with her for a bit.
Beats sitting here yapping with you.”

Discomfort lumbered in Jason. He didn’t like that look of
curiosity on his friend’s face. Or the gauntlet he’d just thrown down. There’d
always been a code between them—hands off the other one’s women. But this was
different and they both knew it. Jeanie was fair game and they’d both known her
for longer than either could remember.

“How long have we known her?”

“I can’t remember.” Tyler shrugged and yelled across the
porch, “Hey, Jean, how long have we known you for?”

Shock kept Jason silent for a moment as the woman he’d spent
most of the morning thinking about in one capacity or another set her knitting
down and headed their direction with a sexy swing in her hips.

Son of a bitch. He’d been crazy not to pursue something with
her when he’d had the chance. Somehow fate had always intervened—tossed a shitty
boyfriend or a clinging girlfriend into the mix to separate them. Then she’d
gotten married to a hell of a guy and had the life Jason hadn’t realized he
wanted until it was too late.

That’d been years ago and now all the two of them had left
between them was a hell of a friendship and a lot of what-ifs. She had the same
sassy, but sexy, smile she’d had the day he met her. Blonde hair once worn long
and sultry was now in a short bob. Sky-blue eyes regarded him with warmth he
felt clear to his nuts.

Man he had it bad.

“Hi, Jase.”

Jase. No one else had ever called him that. Then again, he’d
sort of started that little name war years ago. “Hey, Jeans.” Had he ever told
her why he’d called her that?

Probably not. Huh. Maybe he should.

“How long have you known us?”

She smirked as she sat in the chair on the other side of
Jason. “Long enough to know you aren’t up to any good, Goose.”

“Hah. She’s got you pegged, man.”

Tyler’s gaze softened with amusement. “Seriously. We can’t
remember.”

The look she cast Jason was like a punch to the nuts. “You
don’t remember the night we met?”

“Of course I do.” He glared to his right. “I’ve just never
told him about that night.”

“Oh.” Her eyes widened and a grin appeared on her face.
“Oh.”

“Oh?” Tyler leaned forward. “That sounds promising.”

“It was my amateur competition—the first night I danced and
got the job.”

“And?”

Jason remained silent for a moment. “And what? That’s it.”

“Oh no.” She laughed, the sound echoing into his ears and
making his pulse race. She squeezed his biceps and rested her other hand on top
of his. “You’ve got to tell him, Jase, or I will.”

Jason stared at the building before him and took a deep
breath. This was it. LaBare. He’d finished the last of his finals for the
semester a few hours ago. Exhaustion plagued him, but bursts of adrenaline
surged within him the moment he stepped into the building.

A stocky guy stood in the entryway. He looked Jason up and
down with a smug smirk on his face. “You here for amateur night?”

“Yeah.”

The guy eyed the university shirt Jason had shrugged on that
morning. “You a student?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re a talkative one.” The man folded his arms across his
chest. “Why do you want to be a dancer?”

He couldn’t help but grin in response. Was there any other
reason besides the ladies? Nah, he had a couple others. Boosting his confidence
was at the top of that list but he wasn’t about to tell the guy staring him
down about that. “What can I say? I love the ladies.”

“Guess we’ll figure out real quick if they love you back.
I’m Mike, the manager.” The guy motioned toward a side door. “Head to the back.
We’ll call you when it’s time.”

Jason nodded and wondered how they’d do that since the guy
didn’t bother getting his name. “Head to the back” had seemed like a simple
enough instruction but the moment he stepped through the double doors his gut
settled in his ankles like a set of immovable weights.

His gaze swept across the large club and the assorted doors
against the back wall. Great. He followed the walkway to the bar and halted in
awe as a petite blonde leaned over the bar. Jeans hugged her curves,
accentuating the delectable bubble of her ass. Her red top rode up just enough
for him to glimpse ivory skin his tongue wanted to lick almost more than he
wanted to grip her hips and pull her against him.

“Eyes off the help, kid.”

The manager’s voice exploded in Jason’s brain as heat rose
in his cheeks. The blonde stood and turned. She propped one delicate hand on
her hip and slid her blue-eyed gaze down him. His muscles flexed under the
intensity of her perusal and blood surged southward of its own accord.

Her eyebrows rose and a knowing grin lit up her face as his
pants got snugger. “I see you finally got a decent one.”

“Maybe.” The manager moved to stand beside Jason. “We’ll
have to see if he can handle it.”

“Oh I bet he can handle a lot of things.”

Damn.

The manager sighed. “Ease off, Jeanie. He looks like he’s
about to run and I could use a decent show tonight.”

“Fair enough.” She grinned as she grabbed a rag from the bar
and tossed it on her shoulder. “I’ll be on the lookout for those killer moves.”

“She’s out of your league, kid. Trust me.” The manager
slapped him on the back and laughed. “Dressing area’s behind the first door on
the left.”

“Thanks.” On both counts. Jason tried to pry his mind from
the sexy bartender but he couldn’t help but imagine her gaze on his body as he
made his way to the back.

The backroom was filled with testosterone-filled
Magnum
P.I.
rejects in various stages of dress. The wannabes huddled in a corner
as the dancers watched one of their own pound out the last few reps on the
bench press. He watched for a few moments and noted the labored breathing.

Huh. Two hundred wouldn’t faze a guy that ripped.

Jason sat on a bench in the corner and checked out the
competition. Eight other contestants—most of them in seemingly decent shape.
Whether they could cut it on stage remained to be seen.

Like Mike had said, it was all about the ladies loving what
they saw. Jason might not be a lady but even he could tell a couple of the
dudes were pretty ugly. But they had the confidence thing down if their body
language was any indication. One of them leaned back with a smug grin on his
face as he watched the dancers across the room.

He guffawed when the dancer finished his set and Jason
couldn’t help but grimace. The dancer glared over at him. “What the fuck are
you looking at?”

“Nothing, man,” the guy replied.

Shit. Jason shifted on the bench. Talk about awkward. A deaf
man could hear the sarcasm in that response and a blind one could see more was
going on here than the obvious.

“I fucking bet you can’t press eight.” He looked at the
other guys around him. “Twenty bucks but you have to touch your chest each time
with no bounce.”

“Easy money.” The guy swaggered over to the other side of
the room. The dancers chuckled and moved away enough for the guy to get into
position.

The room fell silent as he proceeded to slowly press out
four, his sole focus on not bouncing the weight and touching his chest each
time. The dancers congregated around him and their voices rose as they cheered
for him to hit eight and snag the easy twenty bucks.

The other contestants cheered as well but Jason remained
silent as the contestant got to the final press. Before he could press the last
one out the dancers held the barbell down on his chest. Pinned to the bench, he
struggled. A few of the dancers whipped their dicks out and slapped his
forehead. After a few moments the guys moved away in a raucous collective.

Oh hell no. Jason laughed in awkward unison with the
dancers. The guy had deserved it, he supposed.

The contestant slammed the barbell down and stood. Jason
moved his leg when the man charged over and grabbed his bag from beneath the
bench. “Fuck this. I don’t need this place.”

A couple of the other contestants slapped the guy on the
back as he charged toward the door. Jason kept to himself and nodded at the
dancers across the way when he noticed them watching the other contestants as
if gauging their reactions.

Whatever.

He hadn’t expected it to be an easy road. Anytime you get
that many guys in a situation, shit’s gonna happen. The best solution was to
roll with it.

Silence loomed for a few seconds and then the door slammed
open as the manager stormed in. He crossed his arms and regarded the guys
across the room. “What the fuck happened this time?”

One of them laughed. “It’s bunk, dude. He couldn’t take a
joke.”

“Yeah, he wouldn’t have lasted long anyway. You gotta have a
sense of humor to do this shit,” another commented.

The manager shook his head and held out a stack of folded
papers. “All right, contestants, you’re up. Come draw your position.”

Justin hung back a moment as the other guys drew. An older
scraggly haired guy with a touch of gray in his facial hair limped up and took
a number. The manager gave out the remaining two sheets to Justin and a pale,
skinny guy.

Number four.

The manager mumbled a few instructions to the group but
Jason’s brain was feeding off a surge of adrenaline and didn’t hear much of
what he said. They were herded to an area just offstage that gave them a chance
to check out their competition and—more importantly—gauge the ladies.

Jason noted the sparse crowd. At least he wasn’t first. By
the time he got up maybe there’d be more out there but he doubted it. The first
guy made his way to center stage, looking like a fool caught in his speedo.

Uncomfortable watching what could happen to him when he got
out there, Jason focused on the club itself. The women began gathering around
the stage. Bursts of laughter echoed from the small crowd and he knew he didn’t
want to hear that when he went up.

Determination kept him mute and inattentive as the second
man replaced the first. The man was a walking skeleton who’d never seen the
sun. The ladies shifted on their feet and darted their glances around as though
unsure whether to pity the guy or ignore him altogether.

By the time the third guy limped onto stage, Jason’s
adrenaline was pumping full force. He was next. The guy sat in a chair
mid-stage and…

No way.

Jason blinked and heard the dancers behind him laughing in
disbelief.

“No fucking way,” one of them screamed. He turned around.
“Hey, dudes, you gotta check this guy out. He has no legs.”

Jason watched in disbelief as the scraggly dude with the
graying beard gyrated and danced on nubs with more confidence than his two
predecessors combined. The ladies went nuts. Their screams tunneled across the
stage and settled in Jason’s gut with a sense of dread.

A guy laughed behind him and slapped his back. “I’m really
glad I’m not going up after him and I’ve been doing this shit for ten years.
Good luck, dude.”

Luck and dancing skills only went so far. Jason made his way
to stage when signaled and forced back the nerves rattling his guts. He focused
on the music, thought about each move and tried to ignore his brain as it
judged he was too mechanical.

Too boring.

The ladies screamed as he made his way to them and he zoned
out—drunk on adrenaline and fueled by pleasure as the women took their
respective turns tipping him. Their hands touched and squeezed.

For a guy who’d always been shy around the ladies this was a
change of pace—one he was all too willing to enjoy permanently. As the song
continued he’d found a groove and embraced the sexiness of the situation.

By the time his performance was over he knew this was what
he wanted to do. Even though nervousness still crawled along his skin, some
foreign sensation had taken root. Confidence.

He’d rocked the stage and left the ladies smiling.

A couple of the guys slapped his back when he made his way
offstage. He should’ve probably hung around to watch the other guys but he
didn’t much care about the competition anymore. Sure, he wanted to win but the
most important thing was that this was his fate. He
wanted
this more
than he wanted to win.

“Dude, you’re gonna get your ass kicked by a legless bum.”

“Whatever makes the ladies happy,” Jason replied.

One of the guys leaned against the lockers and laughed. “You
should’ve seen your face when he took his legs off, man.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t sure whether it was real or I was tripping
on something.”

“You know, dude, you’re cool. Mike’s used to us giving him
and all you guys shit about amateur night but I think you’d fit in.”

Jason felt the grin spread on his face as he looked up.
“Thanks, man.”

He gathered his stuff and made his way to the bar in the
back of the club. It’d be a while before Mike made the announcement for the
winner but there was little doubt who it’d be based on the crowd’s reaction. He
sat on a stool and smiled at the pretty blonde on the other side of the bar.
Jeanie. Now that he’d whipped the performance anxiety he couldn’t help but
think of those sexy jeans or the sultry grin on her face as she turned around
and saw him there.

“Not too bad.” She cocked her head toward the stage. “It’s a
shame Old Hank wandered in tonight.”

“Old Hank?”

“He wanders in every now and then. The regulars love his
enthusiasm and it primes their generous spirits.” She smirked. “A win-win,
except maybe for you.”

“Hah.”

She leaned forward. The angle dragged her shirt lower and
her tits higher. His mouth watered at the ample cleavage and gorgeous mounds
barely covered. Blood surged southward but he forced his gaze back to her face.

“What’ll you have?” she asked with a knowing smirk.

Yeah. They both knew what he wanted to have wasn’t on the
menu. Or maybe it was. He eyed her for a moment then remembered where the hell
he was. The dance manager’s warning was crystal clear—eyes off the help.

And he wanted this. He needed this. Self-confidence was
something he’d always grappled to maintain, especially when it came to the
ladies. He’d struggled for most of his life to carve out his place in the
world, not that many people seemed to give a shit one way or the other whether
he was here.

But he’d held his own decently enough and gotten by. He was
sick of getting by. Getting by sucked. Constant struggles to stay ahead of the
bill collectors, ahead of the burden of being dead-ass broke.

All the fucking time.

Somehow he’d made it. He’d stayed true to his promise and
gotten himself into college. Emotion clogged his throat when he thought about
her. She would’ve been proud that he’d gotten into his senior year.

Just a few more months, Mom.

But that’d been her dream—to see someone of her bloodline
with a college education. The thought of sitting behind a desk day in and day
out made Jason ill. His stomach cramped and his heart sank at the idea.

But the education he’d gotten because it meant so much to
his mom came with a hefty price tag—one Jason knew this job could pay off
quicker than the one down the street slinging burgers. More importantly, if he
was being totally honest with himself—which there was no fucking reason not to
be—the idea of this placed turned him on. Having women groping him, wanting to
be with him. He couldn’t think of a better way to pay off his debts.

Sexy Jeans snapped her fingers in his face. “You with me?”

“A beer.” He reached toward his bag to pull out his wallet.
The ink was still wet on his new ID since his nineteenth birthday was a couple
weeks ago.

“No worries.” She set the beer down. “You deserve it after
that show you put on. The ladies really liked you.”

“Thanks, Jeans.”

“The name’s Jeanie.” She slammed the beer down in front of
him with a perturbed look on her face. “Not Jeans.”

“That’s a shame.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because when I get this job, you’ll be seeing a lot of me
and you’ll always be Jeans to me.”

* * * * *

Pain rolled through his shoulder as his mind returned to the
present and noted the infamous shoulder punch Jeans had given him too many
times over the years. Tyler’s laughs filled his ears. Jeans glared at him with
that same feisty, defiant stare he’d just recalled.

“That’s why you call me Jeans?”