Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
“I’ll be sure to call and give you a full report tomorrow.”
“You better. Especially if you meet a sexy farmer in overalls and a John Deere ball cap. Oh, do you think guys out there drive their tractors to the clubs?”
“Oh my God,” he said, laughing. “Could you typecast the people who live here anymore?”
“If someone brings a chicken, I want you to text me a pic.”
“A chicken? In a club? You should be ashamed of yourself.” He shook his head but couldn’t keep from smiling.
“Remember, Li, it’s not the size of his farm that matters, but what he can grow on it.”
“I’m hanging up now.”
“Wait, wait! Don’t hang up.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “What?”
“I’ve got a great pickup line for you. Is that an ear of corn in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?” She rushed the words out, knowing he’d make good on his threat.
“Goodbye, Erin.” He hit ‘end call’ at the sound of her loud laughter. Shaking his head, he pocketed the phone in his jeans but had to admit she’d lifted his mood. She’d also made him nostalgic for the life he’d left behind.
Two weeks ago, he and Erin, along with the rest of their friend group, mostly dancers in their company, hit up a brand-new swanky club on the Lower Eastside. They’d danced the night away surrounded by other trendy twenty-somethings in the glitz and glamor of New York.
He lied when he told her he planned to go to a club in Tulsa tonight. He’d found one, that was true, but he planned on binge-watching something mindless while eating a tub of ice cream and contemplating how big of a mistake he had made with his life. If he’d admitted that, she might get on a plane and drag him back to New York.
Maybe he should go out. Perhaps he should start this new phase of life by being social and exploring instead of hiding away in his shoebox apartment.
He stared at his reflection in the mirror, seeing the fear he refused to acknowledge aloud. But eyes never lied, and his held a world of trepidation. How was he supposed to create a life in this town if he was too scared to venture to the one place where he’d be accepted for who he was?
“Damn you, Erin,” he muttered. “Something to prove, my ass.”
But he did have something to prove, didn’t he? It was the whole reason for uprooting his life and moving to Swan.
“No!” he snapped at his reflection. “I’m here to teach. To bring the New York Ballet to a rural town.”
He swore his reflection snickered and rolled its eyes.
“Fuck it.” Liam marched out of the studio and up the back stairs to the small apartment that came with the lease. The prior owner used it as storage, but he needed a place to live, so he decided to make it his home.
A few hours later, he stood beyond the club doorway, having received his admittance stamp and a serious once-over from the massive bouncer. The good news was Erin had been way off base.
Not a chicken or overalls in sight.
The bad news—the place was tacky as hell, cringeworthy, even. A rainbow disco ball hung over the center of the dance floor, spinning and bouncing dizzying rainbow lights throughout the room. Colorful streamers dangled from the ceiling as though someone had hit up Party City before coming to work at the club.
But the place was full of men and a few women drinking, dancing, and groping like any other club. He blew out a breath and a ton of tension with it. So far, Swan seemed to have a gay population of one courtesy of his moving to town. He’d been too stubborn to admit it, even to himself, but for the past three days, he’d felt like Alice falling down that damn rabbit hole. Going from New York to Swan was a culture shock he’d been less prepared for than he’d thought.
At least in the tacky Stardust Club, he could be himself. This place could become a refuge when he grew tired of being stoic. When the whispers and stares grew too much or the bigots too loud.
Tulsa wasn’t Manhattan, but it would do.
“What can I get you, hot stuff?” A bartender wearing a black fishnet tank top leaned across the bar. A silver nipple ring peeked through his netting, catching the disco lights. He was only an inch or two taller than Liam’s five-nine but had a platinum-blond fauxhawk that added two inches.
“Gin and tonic. Two limes, please.”
“Sure thing.” The bartender set about concocting his drink of choice. “Haven’t seen you around here before, cutie. You visiting?”
“Uh, no, I just moved here. Well, to Swan.”
The bartender grimaced and poured an extra splash of gin into the drink. “You’re gonna need that. Why the hell would you move there?” He deposited the drink in front of Liam, who snorted a laugh.