At the club, tensions ran high. Usually, everyone enjoyed Valentine's Day, not just because of the themed cocktails and playlists or the novelty of a special day but also because Logan whisked Cole away to a restaurant somewhere and was not around to hover and micromanage. Today, however, he was not only hovering, he was pissed.

Thankfully, he barely gave Cole a second glance when he came into the changing room to bark orders at everyone. Giving reminders that they were supposed to push the special holiday cocktails. Telling one boy not to wear his garter so high up on his thigh. Telling another to tie his goddamn shoelaces before he caused a lawsuit. Everyone glared out of the corners of their eyes, following Logan's back as he stormed back out, then exchanged looks of shared grievance.

Cole was not sure when Gideon planned to show up – Logan had only told him to come to work, not a specific time – so he got here when he normally did, even though he had no intention of dancing. The other dancers flowed and moved around him, putting each other in headlocks and fixing their makeup while he sat in his spot at the mirror and picked at a spare thread on his trench coat.

It was an old piece from his mother, beige and long enough to reach his mid-calf. He not only got his pale skin and the Slavic spelling of his name – Nikolai – from his mother; he also got his stature. The last time he saw his father, he said that Cole and his mother would have stood shoulder to shoulder. The belt of the coat cinched as perfectly around his waist as it would have on his mom, albeit a little less tightly.

"Let me see you." Juan appeared before him, hands on his hips. He had little red hearts glued beneath his eyes and a pair of bright red sneakers on his feet. Cole peered up and allowed him to prop a finger beneath his chin and turn his face this way and that, assessing how well he covered up the bruise.

"You look fine," he said. "Nervous?"

Juan went out of the club with clients sometimes, too, so he understood that knowing beforehand gave Cole much more time to think about what he was doing than he usually had. Cole shrugged, and Juan tapped the underside of his chin. Head up. Then he wandered off to go find the schedule.

The back door was propped open, airing out the sweaty, muggy changing room. It let in cold night air and spread the scent of cigarette smoke. Cole adjusted the belt of his coat and went outside. Alexis stood with her back to the door, one hand propped on her hip, staring up at the sky. The sun sunk below the roofline quietly tonight, with no brilliant colors to herald its descent. A slow smile crept over Alexis's lips when she turned to face him.

"Big night," she said, digging in her jacket to retrieve a cigarette for him. "Logan is pissed."

"He's the one who took the money." Cole stuck the cigarette in his mouth and let her light him up.

"Elijah says it's the same guy as yesterday." She watched like a hawk for his reaction. "Prince Charming, maybe?"

Cole blew smoke at her. "There is no such thing as Prince Charming."

She arched one brow as if she disagreed. Then looked him up and down, spotting the stockings beneath the hem of his coat and strappy black stilettos wrapped around his feet. "Let me see your outfit."

Cole glanced around, then turned toward the building and untied the belt, holding the sides of the coat open. It was all skin, really. The stockings covered his legs up to his thighs, but the garter and thong did very little to cover anything else. His bare nipples tightened in the cool air.

"Quite the ballgown." Alexis whistled, and he rolled his eyes and started to wrap himself back up, but she stopped him. She stooped down to press her lips above the garter, where his belly dipped softly to hint at the shape of abs. Not that he worked out. He happened to be thin enough that working his body around the pole made him look fit. He gasped and gave her shoulder a shove. She straightened up to stick her cigarette in her mouth and admire her handiwork – a bright red kiss mark from her lipstick.

A couple of dancers materialized out of the gloom of the darkening dusk to go into the dressing room, so Cole quickly re-wrapped the coat around himself. "What was that for?"

"It looks hot," she shrugged, "and it will make him jealous."

"He's not going to get jealous," Cole scoffed. "I'm a hooker that he's met one time."

"And paid – as rumor has it – upwards of ten thousand to see a second time. Believe me, even if he doesn't get jealous, his dick will."

Cole muttered under his breath but kind of got what she meant.

"There you are." Elijah stuck his head out the door. "The client just sent us the hotel info. Let's head out."

Cole stubbed his cigarette out on the mildewy siding of the building. As Elijah guided him away, Alexis blew him a kiss, which he caught, dropped to the ground, and stepped on. He could hear her cackling all the way until he slid into the passenger seat of Elijah's 90s beamer. As they pulled out, he glanced at the fuzzy pink handcuffs hanging from the rearview mirror and smirked.

"You and Alexis getting up to anything for Valentine's Day?"

"Hell, no." Elijah turned on the blinker and looked over his shoulder. "Not after all this kitsch. Besides, it's always Valentine's Day between us."

Cole gagged and pulled down the sun visor so he could inspect himself in the mirror. Juan said it looked fine, but he could not help but feel anxious like the makeup might have rubbed off between then and now. He did not want to look battered when he showed up tonight, not when he was feeling a little sexy and a little excited, despite knowing that was a very precarious spot atop a very slippery slope.

"Can you see the bruise?" He asked. Elijah glanced over and inspected him under the red glow of a stoplight.

"Not really," he said. "Your cheek is swollen, but there isn't much you can do about that."

Cole cursed. He should have iced it before putting the makeup on instead of running around town all day.

"I see you wore the stilettos and trench coat for this guy like you said you would." Elijah tapped his fingers on the steering wheel and peered up at the light innocently.

Cole glared at him. "Don't."

"He's fucking hot." Elijah waggled his eyebrows. "You like him."

"He's a client."

"So what?" Elijah asked as the light turned green. "You think you'll ever find a regular guy to play Prince Charming? Or are you okay being stuck with Logan smacking you around forever? No, you need to find a guy who knows what you are all about and doesn't mind. Like me and Alexis..."

"What is it with you two?" Cole rolled his eyes.

"She was stripping when I first met her before I got her the job behind the bar." Elijah paused, then shook his head. "And knowing her, she was turning tricks too. But I get it, you know?"

"Sure, but a client?"

"He obviously likes you," Elijah pointed out. Cole flipped the sun visor back up and crossed his arms. He found it funny that Elijah was still so romantic, even after years of working at the club. Maybe that was why he was so romantic. The place was run on fantasy and dreams and had infected his brain. He forgot what the real world was like.

They pulled up to the same hotel again, a little earlier in the evening this time, which meant there were more people around. As Elijah handed his keys off to the valet, Cole pulled out a massive pair of sunglasses and nestled them onto the bridge of his nose because, honestly, they completed the look. And they made him feel like there was an extra layer between the bruise and the world - his whole self and the world.

Elijah's hand hovered at the small of his back to guide him through the sliding glass doors, across the lobby, and to the elevator. Cole's heel clicked against the floor, drawing everyone's eyes, from the concierge to the couples to the little Pomeranian sniffing around by the fountain. They looked him over from head to toe, probably drawing different conclusions about everything from his purpose here to his gender. With the heels, the coat cut in a feminine design, and the sunglasses covering a large portion of his face, he looked rather androgynous. As he waited for the elevator, he reveled in the mystery of being seen yet still being unknown, valiantly pretending that he was not quaking in his heels.

Elijah led him down a long hallway with softly glowing contemporary sconces and asymmetrical carpeting. Then they were at the door, and Cole smoothed the collar of the jacket and took a deep breath. Elijah caught his hand when he reached to knock.

"I'll be out here the whole time."

"What if you have to pee?" Cole joked.

Elijah leveled him with a look. "I'm serious. Don't hesitate to yell if you need me."

"I never do." He weaseled his hand out of Elijah's grip and then rapped his knuckles against the door. It swung open to reveal pressed slacks, a neatly tucked white button-down shirt, and a golden clip over a jet-black tie hanging down Gideon's torso. His hair was mussed like there was product in it that once slicked it into something formal but now kept his hair teased into casual waves that hung softly around his eyes.

While Cole gave Gideon a once-over, he received one in return. And by the slow smile lifting the corners of Gideon's lips, his choice of outfit did not go unappreciated. "You wore the trench coat and stilettos."

"I did."

"And nothing underneath?"

"I guess you'll just have to find out."

Elijah cleared his throat. Gideon gave him a little salute, then stepped out of the way to allow Cole through the door. It clicked shut while Cole looked around the room. It was exactly the same as yesterday: rose petals scattered over the duvet and long expanses of carpet between the armchairs and tables. The only difference was a bottle of champagne on ice sitting on the table, accompanied by two crystal flutes.

Gideon walked around Cole so that they were facing one another. He tucked one hand under the opposite arm and used the other to cover his smile, cheekbones framed by his pointer finger and thumb. His delight shone through his eyes anyway, a total contrast to the neutrality he maintained throughout their time together yesterday. His reaction made Cole feel a little light-headed in his heels, but he maintained his cool façade.

"And you?" He gestured to Gideon. "Did you just come from work?"

"I did, as a matter of fact." Gideon looked from Cole's ankles to his eyes. "Dull stuff. Numbers, you know."

Cole did not, but he did know that being good with numbers could make you a lot of money. Gideon was shelling out for tonight, so he must be good, no matter how dull he found it.

Cole bit his lip and looked at Gideon through his lashes. "No, I don't know."