Page 34 of Built To Perform

For some reason, hearing that made it harder to hold his eye.

Because the truth of it was that yes, dancing - and stripping, and jerking off like that - had absolutely been beyond anything I thought I could ever do. So much so, it was hard not to look back on that version of myself, that Eoin, and conclude he was someone completely different. A bolder, more confident, more sexually-assured version of the guy I could see reflected now, in the mirrored walls of the weights room. And there was a part of me frustrated that I’d only just got to meet that version, just started to get to know what he was capable of, before being forced to let him go.

“I promised,” I repeated, softly.

Brayden grabbed his crutch, and hopped - with unexpected grace - over to the door. Coach couldn’t shout at him for being improperly dressed, some part of my brain noted, even if the shirt he was wearing exposed more skin than it covered.

“It’s okay, lil bro. Don’t worry about me.” He ruffled my hair. “I’ll figure something out.”

But I did worry, and I wasn’t sure what that ‘something’ could be. My heart in my throat, it felt like, as Harvey answered the phone.

“Unfortunately, I... well, I don’t think I can... dance, any more.”

Silence for a moment, on the line. Distant static crackles.

“That’s a pity,” Harvey said, finally. “Had some of the regulars asking about you. When you’d next be on.”

I’d counted the wad of bills he’d pressed to me, and the tips. The latter almost matched what Harvey paid.

“It’s just... not feasible,” I hedged. “Too... public.”

He chuckled. It wasn’t an especially pleasant sound.

“You didn’t seem too concerned with that the other night.”

I’d known he was watching, but there was still something disconcerting about him mentioning it like that. I wasn’t even sure Harvey was into guys; his interest, there in the wings, could just as easily be in rating each performance for its return on his investment. In fact, that explanation seemed far more likely than anything to do with titillation.

“I just can’t,” I said. Hoping I sounded more confident than I felt.

“Guess I’ll have to find someone to take your spot,” he mused, pointedly. The threat was clear.

“Couldn’t you just, y’know, wait until Brayden is better? It won’t be long.”

That dry laugh again. “Look, this is business. And when a kid lets people down, the adults in the room have to make the necessary decisions.”

I bristled at the snub; could feel my hackles rising. Knew, too, that one rude comment would automatically mean disaster for Brayden.

“I wish there was some other way,” I said, hoping it didn’t sound too much like pleading.

Harvey made a thoughtful noise; it instilled no greater confidence than his chuckle had.

“I guess you could do the private shows,” he suggested, finally. “In one of the side rooms. Not so many eyes on you; a little less... public.”

I hadn’t even known there were side rooms.

“And it would just be...”

“Exactly what you’ve been doing, but for a smaller audience. Solo guys, little groups. Tips might not flow so freely, but that’s all down to you, kid.”

Brayden had told me to stop. Coach had told me I had to make a choice: wrestling, or dancing. I couldn’t, in good faith, claim that either man had failed to make himself clear.

Just like, in good faith, I couldn’t pretend that I was okay with Brayden getting left high and dry. Not if there was a way to help him, a way in which nobody got hurt.

“I’ll do it,” I told Harvey.

Chapter Seventeen

Lying made my teeth ache, but it was a necessary evil. The alternative being trying to explain it to my friends, to lay out why ignoring Coach and Brayden was the only real option. And that would suck me into a long, desperate debate about the decisions I’d made - one I knew neither Clay nor Adam would let me win easily - and there was no time for that. Not with everything else taking up room in my brain.