Chapter Text
September 1940, The Golden Nightingale
The place was packed. The new management had gone all out for opening night, and it was a veritable who’s who in the social circle of Thai’s elite. Rumors had been rife for weeks that the owner was new money and new money in new Siam meant he was associated with both the military and the monarchy, a connection even the highest-ranking politician had not been able to boast about.
Fairy lights curtained the swanky entrance, the silver drop of its rays bathing the marbled entrance in a shimmering glow making everyone and everything look glamorous. The live band was already playing an uplifting jazz tune, filling the venue with good vibes as the patrons dressed in their finest suits and designer gowns, began ordering drinks at the bar or from the bevy of waiters dressed in silver suits, standing by, always at their beck and call. The chatter from both native and foreign speakers and the arid smoke from imported cigars, began to fill the place, broken only by the occasional shouts of cheers from revelers and the never-ending clinks of delicate champagne flutes, as the club slowly came to effervescent life.
In the dressing room, Pete stared into the mirror, going over his reflection, trying to subdue the butterflies fluttering about in the conservatory that is his stomach. This was not the first opportunity he had been given to prove himself as a performer. He had been in the circuit long enough to know that having a fixed engagement with a club would secure him financially for the next few years. His future, once a bleak winter, finally had the promise of breaking into a spring filled with hope. The club’s success tonight was riding on his performance, and he intended for it to be unforgettable.
He glanced down at the open-chested white gown which had been tailored nicely to hug his lithe body, fascinated by how the ornate gold sequins sewn into the V slit along the open chest of the flowy fabric, glittered up and glowed across his face. The silver choker with inlaid pearls only accentuated his graceful neck and highlighted the delta of his pectorals, already slathered with petroleum jelly to give his skin that stage sheen. The feather shrug he had commissioned specifically to match the outfit, lay snug upon his shoulders like puffy white snow, adding pomp and glamor to an already show-stopping outfit. Pete daubed a finishing touch of powder across his nose, plumping his lips already smeared with a peach pink tint and a smidgeon of rouge against his cheeks. The beaded headgear was last to go over his head.
He wished Tankhun was here to dress him properly for this night. His best friend had turned his vision into a reality, after all, but he himself was halfway across town making his debut as the costumer for a musical. Pete pinned the headgear to his hair securely, so it would not slip. The beaded tassels glinted like a carpet of silver to match the sequins on his gown, the ends flowing over his shoulder and framing his angular face. He slipped his feet into the silver heels that matched his dress perfectly.
Pete took one last look in the mirror as the stagehand called out that he was on in five minutes. He inhaled and whispered with stoic determination,
“It’s showtime.”
“ LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THE GOLDEN NIGHTINGALE IS PROUD TO PRESENT ITS LATEST ACQUISITION, ONE OF THAILAND’S NEWEST CABARET SENSATION, THE ONE, THE ONLY, LADY SCARLET DIVINE! ”
Applause, catcalls and cheers began to reverberate throughout the venue, sweeping across the floor all the way to the ceiling.
From the VIP balcony above, a pair of eyes, dark and intense as midnight, swept across the anticipating audience. The gaze was mirrored with a sense of pleasure at the rousing welcome for the club’s premiere. The plans he had for the business venture had finally come to fruition and he could already see that the many guests present tonight were already impressed by the ambience and top-notch service the club offers. He realized that he had worried for nothing, his investments were in safe hands, with people who knew exactly what the business needed.
The lights began to dim slowly, and the crowd settled into a hushed, anticipated silence as a circular spotlight began to roam across the darkened stage, before settling on the lone shapely silhouette already posed before the standing mic placed at the center of the stage.
Those eyes found itself transfixed upon the figure poised onstage. Big had informed him that the performer is Thailand’s latest darling in the cabaret circuit and procuring him had been an extremely difficult but worthy endeavor.
The music began to swell into a symphony set with the rhythmic accompaniment of drums, violins and harmonica.
Though we’ve got to say goodbye / For the summer
Darling, I promise you this / I’ll send you all my love
Every day in a letter / Sealed with a kiss
Yes, it’s gonna be a cold, lonely summer / But I’ll fill the emptiness
I’ll send you all my dreams / Every day in a letter
Sealed with a kiss
The figure at the center of the stage began to sway his shoulders as he sang, a bejeweled, gloved hand clasping the mic slowly. There was something mesmerizing in his movements, the crowd began to tap their feet and some even swayed to the jazz-like groove from the marriage of the live music and that lilting voice.
Something akin to shock, however, began to seep into those eyes which moments ago had been surveying the club with a pleased look. As the soft, melodic voice began to pipe from the stage and filled the upper levels where the VIP guests had been seated, the shock quickly became replaced with a sense of rage which now seemed to burn the orbs in that obsidian gaze.
“ This voice .” A thick, almost guttural growl could finally be heard from the man who had been looking forward to the club’s opening night the most. “ This man . I know him.”
“Lady Scarlet Divine?” Big could be heard from the side, questioning and utterly clueless from the fact that the man sitting next to him was slowly building up a fury from which there seemed to be no respite from. “Everybody knows him! I told you; we would be extremely lucky to engage him as a fixture for the club for the next five years. His name alone would draw big crowds here!” Big was going on and on, unaware that the man beside him was slowly turning red with every move and every line that the singer made.
“ Pete .” The man growled through gritted teeth. “ Fuck, Pete . Is that really you?”
“Khun? Khun Vegas?” Pol’s voice cut through the semi-darkness. He had been Vegas’s bodyguard long enough to know when his employer was about to launch into one of his legendary tempers. Vegas stood up abruptly, chest heaving underneath the silk suit he was wearing, his eyes now blazing with acrimony at the figure now singing in his club, on his stage .
“Excuse me.” Vegas intoned, brushing past Pol, his anger coming off him in waves of silence only noticeable to those who knew him well enough. Pol was taller and definitely more muscular than him, that had been part of the reason why he had been chosen to protect Vegas, but he had also worked long enough with Vegas to know that when angry, Vegas was also reckless, unreasonable and had no qualms at all pushing and fighting men bigger than him. It was not an exaggeration to say that Vegas’s reputation often precedes him.
“Shit.” Pol exhaled under his breath as he began to walk out briskly in pursuit of his boss. “Khun!” He called out but Vegas was already charging down the stairs, fused to an anger he had no control of whatsoever.
I don’t wanna say goodbye for the summer / Knowing the love we’ll miss
Oh, let us make a pledge to meet in September / Sealed with a kiss
Yes, it’s gonna be a cold, lonely summer / But I’ll fill the emptiness
I’ll send you all my love / Every day in a letter
Sealed with a kiss / Sealed with a kiss / Sealed with a kiss
Pete shut his eyes, trembling slightly from the lyrics of the song. It was this very attribute that made him a popular fixture in the cabaret circuit. He was more than just a performer in drag. His performances had depth and in his slower numbers, often emotionally rousing. He smiled against the mic, basking in the adoration of a crowd still enthralled by his stellar performance. He was about to bow and thank the audience when from the corner of his eyes, he could discern the crowd parting quickly. Someone was walking urgently towards the stage. Towards him.
Pete turned, his face under the headdress turning pale at the sight of the man with the scowl on his face, trudging in his direction, hauling the fury of a thousand suns upon his shoulders.
Vegas. Vegas Theerapanyakul.
Pete had banished the name, the face, the very essence of this man from his heart six years ago when he left the apartment they had shared hurriedly, with all the belongings he had left in the world, his heart shattered, his eyes filled with tears so hot, they seemed to scald his cheeks. Pete remembers taking the train back to the countryside, trying so hard to keep his composure as he left Vegas behind, knowing theirs was a love meant to crash, burn and never to be spoken of ever again.
“Pete.” He growled menacingly as he jumped onto the stage, suit and all.
Just like that, after six years, five months, eleven days and seven hours, Vegas reappeared into his life like the veritable nightmare that he had always been.
The crowd had grown steadily quiet at the sight of the club’s new owner suddenly jumping onto the stage and now everywhere in the room, there was the sort of hushed anticipation from everyone, as if waiting for the scene that was about to unfold.
Vegas gripped Pete by the wrist, very much aware that all eyes were now on him. He could feel Pete trying to wriggle his hand out of the grip and that instinctively made him hold on even tighter; tight enough knowing he would leave his prints like a bracelet around Pete’s wrist. He gave one last glare at Pete before turning, smiling to the crowd, raising both their arms up to the applause and cheers of the audience.
“There you go, ladies and gentlemen, The Golden Nightingale’s owner himself has given his approval to our main event, Lady Scarlet Divine!” The announcer declared. Pete’s eyes widened slightly when he heard this. Oh, he would absolutely murder Big for this, but Pete had barely time to collect himself before Vegas began dragging him towards the side of the stage.
“Vegas! Let go!” Pete muttered angrily under his breath, but Vegas was beyond comprehension. He was as volatile as he was six years ago. “ Vegas. Vegas. ” He kept repeating but Vegas continued walking backstage, past stagehands who were flashing them puzzled gazes, because Pete was supposed to perform another number after his first. Big was already standing outside Pete’s dressing room, looking harried after Vegas had stormed out from the VIP seating without a word but looking like a hurricane about to hit portside. Pol was there as well, just to make sure his boss was alright.
Pete was struggling and Vegas turned, long enough to spin and collect Pete into his arms tightly before literally draping him over one shoulder. He continued walking, effortlessly carrying Pete back to the dressing room as if he was nothing more than a sack of flour. Pol took one amused look at his employer, glancing with trepidation at his wriggling package and immediately rushed to open the door wordlessly. Before he entered, Vegas regarded Big with a stony gaze.
“Tell the band to play a few pieces and let the guests have the dance floor.” He then smoothly switched his gaze at Pol. “No one comes in. No one goes out.” Vegas warned and Pol nodded quickly, as Big rushed towards the stage after fixing a concerned glance in Pete’s direction.
“Vegas! Fucking put me down!” Pete yelled, legs kicking in the air as the door closed behind them.
Vegas did, slowly, reverently, as if he wanted to savor this closeness, holding Pete by the waist, gliding him down, against the silk of his suit. Pete exhaled sharply as he was smoothed over Vegas muscular body, the smooth fabric of his gown sliding against the stalwart chest, burning with a warmth that evoked languid familiarity. “Vegas.” He whispered, resting his arms on top of Vegas' shoulders, trying hard to catch his breath.
Oh, the hold this man had over him was definitely mind blowing.
“Do you know how long I looked for you?” Vegas intoned, his voice, that low, intimidating hum Pete had heard many times before. A tone he often used when he was issuing one of his many warnings.
“I guess you didn’t look long enough.” Pete muttered, suddenly pushing Vegas back, glaring at him, unable to believe just how much more attractive he could have possibly gotten after six long years. He looked as if he had been uncorked and poured into that suit. Pete had to practically tear his eyes away, kicking off first, his heels, unsheathing his gloves and then slowly unpinning the headdress.
“ Pete . Don’t walk away. Talk to me.” Vegas stood where he was, trying to rid himself of the anger, trying so hard not to trudge over and just tear into Pete, trying to believe it was really Pete standing here before him, singing in his nightclub, because of all the pent-up emotions he had held back since waking up to a cold and empty bed six years ago. Pete walking out on him without a note, without any reasons, had devastated him and he had never recovered, had never since been the same.
“There’s nothing to talk about. It was over before it even began. “Pete’s voice was slightly shaky as he said this, and it was obvious that it was not just because he was wiping his makeup. His gaze at the mirror was fixed on Vegas though, eyes filled with endearment as if he had unearthed memories that were impossible to bury. He tore his gaze away from the mirror, walking slowly to the makeshift screen just beside the dressing table, unrobing the gown from his body and allowing it to slide onto the floor. “Do you need an apology? Would that suffice?” He added with unintended sarcasm. He had barely slipped into his other dress when Vegas consumed the space the very same way, he had reappeared into Pete’s life, ruthlessly and without remorse. The screen clattered noisily to the floor. “ Vegas! ” Pete yelled, struggling to cover his chest with the dress he was already half slipping into. Vegas grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around. “Vegas, I need to get ready for the show.” He cried, trying to wriggle out of the grip.
“Do you really think an apology would do it?” Vegas’s voice was tainted with rage and disbelief, yet he could not help but let his eyes wander down at this half-dressed Pete.
The smoothness of his shoulders, the delineation of his gamine chest and that shapely waist. Vegas had almost forgotten how obsessed he had been with that body once, and now that same fixation has easily returned full-blown with just this single glance. Pete had filled out nicely in places he had never even thought possible and everything his eyes caught on seemed to beg a longer appraisal. He pushed Pete back, hard enough to knock that pretty body against the wall.
“Let me go.” Pete demanded, wincing slightly when he felt the wall hit against the back of his head.
“Make me.” Vegas countered, letting his gaze linger down that trembling body, remembering every inch he had once touched, prodded, pinched and kissed. The white pantyhose only accentuated those legs that had once gripped Vegas’s hips in feverish desire. Oh, to have those hanging over his shoulders once again.
Pete had not realized how much he missed the way Vegas always appreciated him whenever they were in the throes of lovemaking. The man had such a lasting effect over him that he had only Vegas to blame for his self-imposed celibacy for the past six years, despite the fact that many of his admirers would have given up anything just to take Vegas’s place as his lover.
“Vegas. It’s your club, isn’t it? I’m the star attraction. What do you think people are going to say if I don’t appear to sing, especially on its important premiere night?” Pete was speaking slowly, the way he did whenever Vegas was angry, and Pete needed to get through that fog of rage to calm him.
It was crazy how easily they fell back into the habits they both thought they had long forgotten. It was as if those six years apart never even happened.
Vegas finally released him. His eyes, though, were still pinning Pete against the wall as the other man slowly finished sleeving the red shimmery clapper dress over and up his remaining shoulder. Pete slowly rounded away from him, walking back to the dressing table, but Vegas only followed closely behind.
Pete gasped when Vegas drew him closer, only to tug at the zipper behind the dress, gently zipping it up, even though he was still gazing intensely at Pete’s face in the mirror. Pete remained still as Vegas knelt, hands going under the dress and pulling the white pantyhose down, slowly, so slowly that Pete could feel the fingers purposefully grazing down the sides of his legs. Pete did not even dare to draw a breath or make a single move, for fear it would trigger them both.
Vegas grabbed the red hosiery that had been hung over the chair and commanded,
“ Turn .”
“I can dress myself.” Pete said petulantly, refusing to move. Vegas grabbed Pete’s hips with both hands and turned him around, taking a step closer so that Pete would have no choice but to back himself up into the dresser. Vegas bent slightly, slapping the undersides of Pete’s knees, hard enough to force himself to sit against the edge of the drawer but not hard enough to hurt. Pete bit his lower lip, eyes peering as Vegas angled his knee slightly, grabbing one of Pete’s feet and resting it against the top of his thigh. He rolled the hose until he could first, glove Pete’s foot into one half of the hose and then proceeded to do the same with the other foot.
Pete remained quiet, unaware that he was already licking his lips at the sight of Vegas’s profile, the way his lashes curled over his eyes that were fixed on Pete’s feet which fit easily within his palm. Vegas took a step towards Pete, fingers on hips once more and effortlessly carried Pete so he could put the other man to stand before him. He pulled the hose up, hard enough that the lining in between was pulled snug against Pete’s slightly hardened cock. Pete closed his eyes, mouth tightened, trying hard not to moan at the sudden sensation of having the fabric riding against his impending arousal.
Vegas turned him once again to face the mirror. There was no finesse this time as he aligned the front of his body along Pete’s back, the ridge of his cock, all heat and weight, planted firmly between the curve of that ass. Vegas’s fingers locked Pete’s elbows at each side of his waist, pulling him even closer. He flicked his tongue out, letting it wash the back of one ear and this time, Pete did moan.
“I’m not letting you go now, Pete. You will pay for what you did to me. When you are done with today’s performance, you better be here. We have so much to catch up on.” Vegas’s voice was full of silk, but there was no softness in his gaze, it was hard and burned like a fire that could turn anyone into ashes with no remorse. Pete shook himself out of the grip and Vegas retreated towards the door, his gaze on Pete from the mirror was like a brand.
“Just get out.” Pete whispered, face pale and breath tremulous.
With shaking hands, Pete began to grab his compact, ignoring that his body was trembling with a gamut of emotions, all wired and balled into an unsettling mixture he could not name. Vegas opened the door, but before he closed it, with that fiery gaze still burning onto Pete’s back, he warned,
“And Pete, if you try to run this time, I will catch you and kill you myself.”
So, if you really love me, say yes / But if you don’t dear, confess
And please don’t tell me / Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps
Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps / Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps
The club roared into a litany of cheers. With his second number, Pete had walked down the stage, captured the crowd’s imagination with the way he shimmied and cosied up to the revelers sitting at the front row. His lengthy legs wrapped around laps to approving whoops and cheers.
Up in the balcony, Vegas gripped the ledge hard enough for his knuckles to turn white. No one had even dared to breathe since his return to his box. Big had been completely silenced by the knowledge that his latest acquisition had a past that had somewhat been inexplicably tangled with his largest and most valuable investor and now things had become disquieting and complicated.
“Has he signed the contract?” Vegas asked when Pete was done with his final number for the night. Big cleared his throat in discomfort.
“We have not quite yet got around to that. Tonight’s reaction would have been indicative of what we can offer him as a long term performer for The Golden Nightingale.” Big explained.
“Then draw it up quickly. I want you to add that he is obligated to entertain customers privately if they are willing to pay a sum.” Vegas added, a sneer materializing to curl upon his lips.
“Privately?” Big’s eyes widened at the addition of this new clause. The Golden Nightingale was definitely a pioneer in terms of its featured male-only clientele. Great efforts, time and a lot of money had been made to acquire the license to run a gay bar under the new rule but what Vegas was saying now made it seem…
“Are we going to have a problem with that?” Vegas inquired, his dark gaze finding the manager in the semi-darkness of the spacious lounge.
“By privately, you mean for Lady Scarlet to sing for the customers, of course.” Big needed this to be made clear. The laugh that emanated from Vegas’s lips sent a chill down Big’s spine as was the way Vegas’s boxy teeth seem to peel back from the thickness of his lips, as if he had found something that was amusing him to no end. There was something feral and dangerous in that smile that Big was not sure if he wanted to openly ask.
“By privately, I mean I want him to make as much money as he possibly can for the club even if it means he has to do more than sing. He’s obviously capable of doing more than that.” Vegas countered. The smile had disappeared and those slanted eyes found the stage once more, taking in the adoration the crowd was now giving Pete, throwing flowers and bills onto the stage as he blew flying kisses to everyone with an incandescent smile plastered across his ruby red lips.
“Khun Vegas, with all due respect…” Big began but Vegas had already stirred to stand, effectively cutting him off before he could continue.
“Get it drawn and have it sent immediately to our starlet’s dressing room. I will have him sign it before I leave.“ Vegas declared with an impunity which brooked no further protests. Big nodded, face slightly pale, making his exit in a flash. Vegas inhaled heavily buttoning his suit at the waist and smoothing his hair. “Pol, have Arm find out Big’s connection to Pete.” Pol glanced at his boss, blinking in puzzlement. “The Lady Scarlet. Find out if they are friends or lovers.” Vegas repeated, realizing that he was the only one who knew Pete, as Pete.
“Of course, Khun. I’ll relay it to him.” Pol quickly bowed.
“Now, Pol. Now. Meet me outside the dressing room.” Vegas persisted and Pol bowed again before leaving to act on his boss’ request. Vegas began to make his way towards the dressing room once again, this time vexed by the sight of a crowd of admirers already standing outside the door, some with flowers and boxes of gifts in their hands.
It took awhile for Vegas to actually make his way to the front. He tried opening the door but it was locked. He rapped his knuckles on it, feeling the first stirrings of alarm very much like the one he did that morning when he woke up to Pete just disappearing from his life.
“Who is it?” Pete’s voice could be heard ringing from inside.
“Open up, baby. I’m here!” Vegas announced loud enough for the crowd to hear. He could feel the daggers in their eyes find his back and felt a satisfied curl of smile across his own lips. The door unlocked after a few moments and Vegas walked in, closing the door, feeling smug as he entered. Pete had already undressed himself, a cotton kimono in a flushing shade of pastel pink with trimmed sleeves in olive green already covering him. He had matching flared pants with it, feet encased in white socks. He still had his flapper girl’s wig on, a bright red Cleopatra cut paired with a pearly headband which framed his face just like a doll. He had a cigarette dangling from his lips and a glass of whisky in his hand.
“You’re going to be a menace, aren’t you?” Pete exhaled, puffing a cloud of smoke from between his lips as he settled onto the settee which had been placed at the other end of the room, opposite his dresser. Pete always had that air of effeminate grace about him even back when they were together and Vegas could see that he knew how to utilize it fully into his alter ego. “Do you want a drink?” Pete asked, crossing his legs and gazing at Vegas calmly. Vegas shook his head. Pete gestured at the mini bar just beside the settee with different crystal decanters denoting the different liquors at his disposal. “Help yourself, it’s your place, after all.”
“Are you drunk?” Vegas inquired curiously. Pete seemed so relaxed that he could not help asking.
“Downers. I took one. It helps me sleep.” Pete said matter of factly, sipping on his whiskey.
“Did you have trouble sleeping?” Vegas asked, a part of him concerned that Pete was drinking on top of taking medication.
“I sure as hell do now.” Pete griped, gazing at Vegas pointedly. Vegas stiffened at this and Pete laughed softly. “Oh honey, don’t sweat it, my life hasn’t been a walk in the park. The past six years have not been as easy on me as you might think it is. But I see it’s been good for you. Did you finally decide to help your father with his business?” Pete asked, taking a drag of the cigarette.
Vegas found that he could not sit down. He wanted to but just watching Pete from where he stood, this time so relaxed as if he had come into his own after six long years, is such a fascinating sight that he could not tame his restless heart to settle itself. He just wanted to continue looking, listening and just absorb this Pete.
“Yes, I did.” Vegas admitted. “Seems to be the only option after you left me hanging without an explanation or even a proper farewell.” He intoned, gritting his jaw as he said this. Pete exhaled softly, taking another swig of his drink, waving his cigarette dismissively.
“I owe you an apology, I know. But your father. Surely he’s happy about this? I remember you were not even keen to join the family business back then.” Pete stated. Vegas nodded, his fingers running over the red pantyhose Pete had left hanging over the armrest of another settee. Vegas crumpled the item into his hand, liking the silken feel of it and Pete only swallowed the constriction in his throat as he watched Vegas stuff this into the inner lapels of his suit. “Vegas, you know this is all water under the bridge, right?” He said after a moment’s notice. The smile Vegas flashed was not quite the genuine one Pete remembered from all those years ago.
“If it is, then you should be able to make it up to me without any qualms, shouldn’t you?” Vegas countered, standing off to the side and Pete thought his silhouette cut a fine figure under the glow of his lampshade.
Did he even stop loving this man at any point during the past six years?
“What do you mean by that, Vegas?” Pete asked calmly, although that slightly unsettled feeling began to clamor within his heart like alarm bells. He chalked it down to Vegas being so serene as compared to just slightly more than an hour ago when he looked as if he could devour Pete whole.
The cryptic insinuation was interrupted by a knock on the door. Vegas slowly walked to the door to open it. Big stood there with a sheath of papers accompanied by Pol who seemed perturbed by the crowd inside the corridor. Vegas allowed Big access into the room.
“Pol, you can ask these gentlemen to leave their gifts by the door and offer them drinks on the club’s tabs. Just make sure this whole area is always clear. I don’t like that people have easy access to the dressing room like this.” Vegas interred between gritted, eyes sweeping over the area with concern.
“I was thinking the same, Khun.” Pol admitted. Vegas nodded in affirmation and closed the door. Big had already seated himself beside Pete, a hand on the other man’s knee, gazing at him in concern. How comfortable.
“Now, isn’t this nice? My manager and my main attraction getting along so well with each other.” Vegas commented dryly, dark glittery eyes fixed on Big’s puzzled face.
“He’s asking you to declare your connection to me.” Pete intoned, his own gaze never derailing from Vegas since he opened and closed the door to let Big enter. “If he hadn’t gotten around to ordering one of his goons to find out already.” Pete added without skipping a beat. Big flushed slightly at Pete’s directness. Vegas however, appeared unbothered.
“It’s purely business, Khun Vegas knows that, of course.” Big swiftly removed his hand, clearing his throat. He glanced hurriedly at Vegas before his gaze settled back upon Pete, who was lighting his second cigarette nonchalantly.
“That only tells me you don’t know him half as well as I do.” Pete declared puffing out a cloud of smoke which hovered hazily across his still made up face.
“The contract.” Vegas nodded pointedly at the papers.
“Is this the same one you showed me last week during practice?” Pete asked, turning his attention to Big. Big seemed to hesitate.
“It’s better actually.” Vegas answered quickly before Big could get a word in edgewise. “We’re actually paying you more.” And if Pete had been less tired and more attentive, he would have recognized the gleeful sneer on Vegas’s lips.
“Just as long as you know where to wire the money to, right Big?” Pete asked, gazing at Big tentatively as his fingers extracted the pen from the pocket of Big's suit.
“Of course, Lady Divine. We’ve already made the necessary arrangements. Don’t you want to go over it once again?” Big asked, gazing at Pete guiltily as he scrawled his name over the dotted line at the last page of the contract. He then dragged the last of his whiskey and then finished off his cigarette, shaking his head as he sighed.
“Nope. I’m fine. Now if you gentlemen will excuse me, I have to clean up and leave. I need my beauty sleep for tomorrow night.” Pete had stood up, untying the knot around his waist, meaning to change and Big nodded, leaving the room quietly. Vegas collected the papers, giving the whole stack a once through before folding it and tucking it into the inner pocket behind the lapel of his suit. He caught Pete’s silhouette behind the screen, still and shadowed, shoulders almost sloped dejectedly.
“Pete?” He called out.
“Hmm.” Pete replied softly.
“Will you be alright?” He asked, brows furrowed slightly in concern.
“I’m just tired.” He sighed. “Please, close the door behind you, Vegas. I had enough of you for one night.” Vegas took one lingering look at that profile, wondering if Pete needed a ride back to wherever he was living now and then remembered that he had to ask Arm where exactly Pete was currently staying.