The Devil's Lover

Chapter 10: Friends, Flirting, Food

Nihad was Jayce's first customer of the night, and the customer offered to pay for a Champagne Room.

Jayce found out the broker's full name: Nihad Bourn. He's soft-spoken, and every time Jayce would step away from the pole inside the Champagne Room to come near him, Nihad still got a bit jumpy.

Jayce would pretend not to notice though, and while talking was not usually done during those moments, he conversed with Nihad because it seemed to soothe the man.

Every time Jayce would ask him a simple question, the broker looked grateful. Nihad was very polite, and whenever he answered, Jayce would gently run his hands down his chest, his arms, his legs.

Before their time ended, Nihad was feeling much more comfortable; simply enjoying the company he paid for.

Because Jayce hadn't been too exhausted by the Champagne Room, he offered to accompany Nihad out. Politely, Nihad even waited for Jayce to put all the pieces of his outfit back on: a top made of lace, the tight sleeves reaching down to his wrist, soft leather shorts that flared a little, flattering his waist and ass, and cheap leather straps that hooked onto his thigh-high boots.

"I'm fascinated by your stages, J," Nihad said as they walked towards the main floor. "The first night I came here, I was skeptical when other clients told me you could do those sorts of dances. I'm happy to say I was proven wrong." He hadn't sounded malicious, or like he was just trying to get into Jayce's good graces. Nihad seemed truly amazed.

Jayce gave one of his genuine smiles at Nihad. "Thank you, that's really nice to hear."

Nihad grinned back.

They returned to the mezzanine, Jayce winking at the guard—Ted—who granted them access back. Nihad came alone again tonight, but he didn't seem to mind it. Once he was sitting in the booth reserved for him, he handed Jayce another twenty, on top of all the bills he'd already tipped, plus the fee for the Champagne Room.

Jayce smirked, leaning over the table with his ass sticking out behind him. He tilted his head almost bashfully in front of his customer. "I think you might be my new favorite," Jayce whispered to Nihad like it was a secret.

"I like being someone's favorite," Nihad whispered back.

Jayce turned around towards the stairs, swaying his ass purposefully.

Instead of keeping the last tip given by Nihad, Jayce discreetly slipped it into the small pocket on Ted's shirt. The security guard blinked in surprise but beamed at Jayce in return.

Back on the main floor, Jayce took a second to wince at the feeling of his feet—or lack, thereof.

Years of doing this job, and the worst part was breaking in new dancing shoes.

He was ready to head back into the throng of customers when someone bumped into him quite roughly.

Jayce barely got himself steady, turning to his right and frowning at the person.

Damien was in a silk shirt, booty shorts, and suspenders. He's got black stockings and dance heels, long legs on display. His make-up was similar to Jayce's in that they both chose smokey-eyed looks.

Jayce's co-worker plastered on a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I can see that Nihad Bourn has taken an interest in you," Damien said. The dancer naturally spoke in a higher register, and his normal gestures were more flamboyant too. "I tried to entice him to a Champagne Room, but you know what he said? He said he was looking for J."

Jayce wasn't allowed a word before Damien took a step closer, their heights matching. It must be weird seeing them in their stripper outfits while in a heated discussion, but Jayce couldn't even begin to think of the other people when Damien said, "You know who else refused any other stripper ever since you got your hands on them? Mr. Choi Seuljin."

Jayce felt his jaw setting.

He had no idea Seuljin had been refusing offers from other dancers in Glorious G.

Still, Jayce played it cool. "So?"

Damien huffed, smirking like he thought he intimidated Jayce—he didn't. Not even the slightest.

"You must have a knack for grabbing the wealthiest men in the room, don't you?"

Jayce didn't see the point in replying.

Damien huffed one last time before brushing past him, bumping their shoulders forcefully.

"He really does not like you, does he?"

One of the dancers—the newest recruit—Curtis, had seemingly heard the whole thing and had waited for Damien to leave before he approached Jayce near the bottom of the staircase.

Curtis was dressed as a police officer, the buttons of his incredibly tight top undone to reveal washboard abs. The look was completed with a police hat and a baton at his hip.

It made Jayce say, "No he does not, officer."

Curtis was not as conventionally handsome as some of the other dancers, but he had bright eyes when he smiled and a nice voice when he talked. He introduced himself, because he thought Jayce didn't know who he was, "I'm Curtis."

They had to lean in to hear each other. "Real name or stage name?"

"Both. You?"

"I'm J."

"Like the letter?"

"Easy to remember even for drunk clients." Jayce shrugged.

Curtis chuckled. "Well, J. I'm new to town and don't know any good spots to eat after our shift. Mind showing me around?"

Jayce reeled back slightly. "You mean... take you out?"

His tone must've told Curtis the real question Jayce wanted to ask.

"I'm straight, if that helps make you feel more comfortable?" Curtis raised an eyebrow.

Straight dancers in Glorious G weren't unheard of, but it's not like a lot of straight men liked having their bodies touched by male customers. Curtis was one of the rare ones.

"I don't think it does." Jayce was grinning. "There's a shawarma place that's walking distance from here. They're open until six a.m."

"Sounds great! I'll be done by three." Curtis tipped his hat, making Jayce shake his head. "I'll see you in the dressing room?"

"Sure. Good luck out there."

"I'd say you too, but it doesn't seem like you need it." Curtis winked at Jayce before striding towards awaiting clients.

Jayce wasn't sure what Curtis meant by his parting statement until a hand held onto Jayce's shoulder.

Mentally, Jayce shook off the encounter with Damien. He put on a more pleasant expression before spinning around.

The man was shorter than Jayce by nearly a foot, with graying hair and thick glasses. Jayce tried not to visibly react to what the man was wearing; Jayce had never seen a customer in Glorious G wear a tweed jacket.

Staring closer, Jayce realized that he recognized this man. The man frequented Glorious G, and if Jayce casted his memory further back, he's certainly given the man a couple lap dances before.

In fact, Jayce recalled the man saying he was a professor. "Hi. Thomas, right?" Jayce hoped he got the name right.

Thomas looked surprised. "Oh. Yes, and you're J. I was wondering if you're up for doing a room?" It was the first time the man had asked Jayce for one.

Jayce opened his mouth to respond, but stopped when his sight landed on a very familiar pair of brown eyes gazing intently at him from across the floor.

It made Jayce blink in surprise.

He quickly recovered, laying a hand on Thomas' arm and squeezing. "Sure thing, babe. Why don't I meet you by the front of the rooms? I need a quick word with my boss."

Thomas looked ecstatic, eyes twinkling behind his large frames. "Don't take too long, yeah?"

Jayce gave Thomas a sultry grin, feeling proud when he saw Thomas' eyes widen immediately at the subtle change of his expression. "Wouldn't dream of it."

He watched Thomas head towards the staff in charge of payments for the Champagne Rooms before walking over to Choi Seuljin.

The investor sat comfortably at a booth meant for two. Unlike during their date, Seuljin was back in a tailored suit, holding a whiskey on the rocks—a familiar drink choice. His hair was slicked away from his face, and Jayce couldn't decide whether he liked the longer or shorter version of Seuljin's hairstyle better, since the man looked great in both.

Seuljin's eyes didn't leave Jayce's body the whole time Jayce was making his way over.

With a hand on his hip, Jayce tilted his head. "Still no friends to accompany you, Mr. Choi?"

"I'm afraid none of them wants to put in the effort."

Jayce hummed. "I don't think that's true."

Seuljin didn't deny it, instead taking a second to admire Jayce up close. "You look good."

"Thank you," Jayce looked down at the fabric of his scant outfit. "It's handmade."

"The top?"

"No, me."

Seuljin's eyes shimmered with humor, barely able to restrain a grin as he took another sip of his drink. Without looking at Jayce, he said, "I saw you walk out from a Champagne Room not even half an hour ago, and it looks like you secured another one."

"Mm. To be fair, I didn't actually try for this one. He approached me."

"That dancer in the police costume approached you too." Seuljin gazed up with a heavy look in his dark eyes. "People seem to take to you."

Jayce considered Seuljin's words, then quickly shook his head. "It's not hard to know that the people who come to Glorious G want to be flirted with."

"Gaining their attention and having them fawn over you again and again requires more than just skills at flirting," Seuljin countered, setting his glass down carefully. He pursed his lips in a thoughtful expression. "Do all those people flirt voraciously with you?"

The question made Jayce repress a snort. "If I couldn't handle the flirting, I wouldn't be very good at my job, sir."

"Again with the sir," Seuljin groaned, but he's smiling at Jayce's response. Underneath the table, Jayce spotted the man crossing his legs. "Please don't take this in any other way than what it sounds exactly like, but can I offer you a ride home?"

It was a kind gesture, one that was highly unnecessary for two people who had gone out only once.

But Jayce felt a fluttering sensation in his stomach at the way Seuljin felt the need to make sure Jayce knew he didn't expect anything if Jayce accepted his offer. "Thanks, but I'm grabbing shawarma with Curtis after my shift."

Seuljin raised a bow in question.

"The man in a police officer's outfit," Jayce clarified. The investor made a sound of realization.

Jayce was suddenly reminded of what Damien had said about Choi Seuljin.

He took a step closer to the table, the angle a bit awkward since he was in heels and had to bend his torso closer towards Seuljin so nobody could have the chance to overhear (even though the music was essentially taking care of that). "One of my co-workers told me you haven't been accepting offers from the other dancers ever since you did a Champagne Room with me?"

It took a few beats for Seuljin to realize what it was Jayce was implying. "Are you worried about me showing favoritism? I would apologize, but I haven't been accepting many dance offers from your co-workers because I've been busy with the Gallants and our future plans for this place. This past week, I've barely spent more than an hour here after my meetings with them."

Jayce didn't know whether or not he should be relieved that Seuljin wasn't outright declaring Jayce as the only stripper he would accept dances from and do Champagne Rooms with.

"Okay. I just thought I'd bring it up. I didn't want you to feel like you had to... restrain yourself, because we went on a date."

Seuljin appeared genuinely confused. It was not a usual expression he made. "What do you mean?"

"You know... Don't feel any pressure to show that you're committed to dating me." Jayce shrugged. "It's called dating for a reason."

"Ah." Seuljin licked his lips. There's a myriad of emotions that passed over his face, as if he wasn't sure how to respond to Jayce's words. What Seuljin answered was not what he expected. "Are you telling me this because grabbing shawarma with Curtis constitutes a date?"

Jayce tried not to assume, but with Seuljin it was hard not to notice the man's change of mood. Jayce supposed it was a bit hypocritical to try and defend himself, but he didn't think too much about it before explaining to Seuljin, "Curtis is straight. He's new to town and is probably just looking for a friend."

A charged pause suspended in the air between them.

"Oh." Choi Seuljin sounded ashamed. The man cleared his throat, straightening his tie which hadn't been askew at all. "Right. Um... It was not my intention, to make you feel smothered. Sorry."

Cute was not a word people would normally use to describe Choi Seuljin, but Jayce thought it was a fitting description of how the man was acting now.

Jayce felt his eyes crinkling at the sides. "It's weird seeing you like this, but I'm going to take it as a compliment on my part."

He turned around before Seuljin could answer.

-----

Miles Gallant didn't like being in his parents' office at Glorious G. Usually, it meant that he was in trouble and they had no other time to chastise him besides a small window of free time during their unconventional work hours.

His father was the only one seated in the office. Aren Gallant had been trying to make small talk with Miles for the past half-hour, acting like there was no specific reason why he had Miles come to his office an hour before midnight, when Miles had just finished his shift at the Yellow Brick Bistro.

"Dad," Miles sighed after his father tried to get his opinion on redecorating their patio. "We're both wasting time here. I should be home, halfway asleep, and you should be out on the floor entertaining customers and keeping mom away from the new wine stock. Why not just cut to the chase?"

Speaking candidly was not a foreign concept in their household, so Aren Gallant barely batted an eye at Miles' abrupt halt to their (mostly one-sided) conversation. His father took a deep breath, leaning back on his office chair. "I want to talk about you going back to college."

Miles sunk deeper into his cushioned seat. "Dad, I told you–"

"Miles, you are not a child anymore. You haven't been for a while now. Your mother and I have been very patient with you, but you've been abusing your freedom. We want you to take over this place someday, and we want you to be ready for it by then."

There were many, many things Miles wanted to reply to that little speech.

But he didn't want to make this conversation any longer than it needed to be—and baiting his father to a fight that centered around pressure and high expectations was a sure-fire way to do that.

"I can't go back to school. I have a full-time job now," Miles said simply.

Aren's eyebrow twitched, disapprove oozing out of his mouth with his next words, "I hardly constitute performing at some dingy resto-bar as a full-time job."

Miles tamed the temptation to roll his eyes. "I work in a bistro, father. And why shouldn't you consider it a full-time job? I put hours into practicing the songs I sing. I earn tips during my performances too. Besides getting paid every week instead of every night, how is my job any less of a job than the dancers or the DJ's you've hired to work for you?"

His father was not impressed by the counterargument. "That's what you want to strive for? To be compared to a... a stripper?"

The tone irked Miles, especially how the word stripper was said like an insult. It made Miles narrow his eyes, his posture straightening in sudden defense. "Watch your tone, dad. If anyone else heard that, they'd think you were looking down on your employees."

And maybe his father did.

Maybe Miles had noticed this for quite a while now. Aren Gallant was a great businessman and people's person, and maybe that's how he fooled everyone into thinking he did not regard the strippers in Glorious G as any less of a man than him.

Miles' father sighed, but did not apologize—not even with the knowledge that one of Miles' closest friends happened to work as a stripper in this very establishment.

"Son, I only want what's best for you," His father took a different approach. "You live in comfort, you have so many options for great colleges, your family owns a thriving business that allows you to have hundreds of connections to successful people in all sorts of industries. What don't you like about this?"

It was reasonable, his parents' worries. Miles understood their fear of his failed future; of leaving a successful establishment in the hands of their only child who was highly disinterested—not to mention severely incapable—of keeping the place running.

Miles didn't have it in him tonight to tell his father that their definitions of success were different.

Miles stood, turning around and grabbing his guitar case from where he'd placed it on the small couch his parents added to their office recently and strapping it over his shoulder.

"Dad, I think I'm going to crash at Jayce's tonight."

His father's tone hardened, "Miles, you can't keep running away from this. This is your future!"

Miles ignored him, heading for the door.

Miles stopped upon hearing his father's hands slam on the desk, rattling the objects placed on top of it.

"The only reason I allowed you to sneak your phone out of this office and to get that hobby you insist is a job was so that you could stop this childish tantrum you've been exhibiting and let it sink into your thick head that you have a responsibility to the family that raised you!"

There's a flare of anger, then guilt, then an even more intense rage inside Miles' chest, all while he had his back turned to his father.

He felt the urge to scream back, felt the familiar want to turn this into another screaming contest.

In the end, Miles chose to just leave.

He slammed the office door on his way out.

-----

Three hours on the main floor, with few breaks in between. Caffeine had been Jayce's friend tonight, but he's dreading the hour he'd be trying to fall asleep.

The money garter on his thigh pressed a stack of dollar bills held together by a band to his left thigh. Jayce was sticky with sweat, his make-up cakey and heavy on his face after hours of dancing. His feet suffered the worse tonight, his toes were practically dead.

The sight of the hallway leading to the employee's dressing room was like taking a deep breath after being underwater for a long time.

Another one of his co-workers, who went by the name Cinnamon, was leaning against the wall outside the dressing room, already freshly showered and out of his dance clothes.

Once Jayce got close enough, Cinnamon gestured behind him. "I believe this one's yours?"

Jayce peeked over Cinnamon's tall body, eyes widening when he saw that Cinnamon was referring to Miles.

Miles Gallant was hunched in on himself, leaning against the wall a few feet away from the dressing room door, with a black guitar case laid next to him on the floor.

He looked up at Jayce's stare, and sent a sad smile.

Jayce frowned, turning towards his co-worker. "Thanks, Cinnamon. Take care."

"You too, J." Cinnamon headed for the back exit.

As soon as it was only the two of them, Miles got onto his feet. He didn't look (or smell) wasted, but his movements were slow, heavy.

"Miles?"

Without warning, Miles wrapped his arms around Jayce and even had Jayce support some of his weight as the Gallants' son buried his face into Jayce's neck—zero regard for the fact that Jayce was sweaty, still in his stripper outfit, and wearing heels.

On autopilot, Jayce settled his hands on Miles' muscular arms, the fabric of one of Miles' favorite hoodies soft underneath Jayce's fingers.

"Miles, what's wrong?"

Miles' lips moved against Jayce's skin, words muffled, "I don't know if you're still upset with me, but can I sleep over at your place tonight?"

There were only about three things that would make Miles this upset: one of them was college—which he dropped out of—and the remaining two were Mr. and Mrs. Gallant.

"Does this have something to do with your parents?" Jayce asked in a whisper, running his hand over Miles' broad back.

Miles didn't respond for a few seconds before Jayce felt him nod into his neck.

"You can sleep over," Jayce said. "Curtis and I are having shawarma before I head home. Do you want to join us?"

Miles slowly let go. His eyes weren't red-rimmed, and Jayce felt relieved that Miles hadn't been crying. "You guys heading to the Corner Shawarma?"

Jayce nodded.

Miles shrugged. "Sure. I'll pay, since I'm the one tagging along."

From his peripheral vision, Jayce spotted the guitar case again. "Miles, how long have you been sitting here waiting for me?"

Miles pulled out his phone to check the current time. "It's nearly three now, and I've been sulking since eleven."

"You sat here for four hours?!"

"Not the whole time! I spent about fifteen minutes smoking outside."

Jayce frowned, and it made Miles roll his eyes. "I know you didn't have your phone on you, and I didn't want to risk pissing you off even more by disturbing you during work hours."

"That's not what I'm angry about."

Jayce didn't like that Miles smoked, even though Miles was actively cutting back on it. At least, that's what he told Jayce.

But Jayce didn't want to bring it up now, because there was something else he had to say first. "Hey, look. I'm sorry for snapping at you in the parking lot before. I got frustrated by something so stupid."

Jayce hadn't had the chance to properly apologize before, and it was embarrassing for Jayce to remember how he'd acted.

He saw Miles' expression soften. "It wasn't stupid. You're allowed to feel your feelings."

"I still took it out on you."

"Yeah, and I dumped my work on you without forewarning before." Miles gripped Jayce's forearm but released his hold just as quickly. "Friends do stupid s**t to each other, then they apologize and move on."

Curtis came out of the dressing room with damp, curling hair, wearing jeans and a really loose shirt.

He smiled at Jayce, then he spotted Miles. "Oh. Wait, you're Mr. and Mrs. Gallant's son, right?"

"Unfortunately." Miles sighed at the mention of his parents, but he's quick to extend a hand out. "I'm Miles."

Curtis accepted the handshake. "I'm Curtis, both stage name and real name."

Jayce gestured to his friend. "Sorry if it's last minute, but is it alright if Miles joins us? He says it's his treat."

Curtis didn't mind. "No problem at all! I'd be an i***t to turn down free food." The dancer grinned.

Jayce smiled back before meeting Miles' gaze. "I should probably clean up now. It won't take too long."

"If you go out like this, our food will probably be free," Miles said with gravity, causing Curtis to release a huff of amusement from behind them.

Jayce rolled his eyes and pushed the door to the dressing room open. "It's not probably."

"My mistake then." Miles smirked, and Jayce sent him the middle finger in return.