The Circus Crown

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

A mission in California proved a total bust. Just unsubstantiated rumors. No real proof of anything. A complete waste of time. But as the pair took an evening stroll through a particularly vibrant section of Los Angeles, Ken thought of a way to get some use out of the trip.

The night was young, and the elderly woman who owned their safe house encouraged them to visit and explore the city. Dakota, more than anything, needed a little relaxation, so Kenna took him to West Hollywood and stopped at the first decent-looking building where she could hear music and happy voices. A club. Industrial style. The boom-boom-boom of deep bass could be felt through the cinderblock walls and sidewalk out front.

All the people waiting to get in, though there weren’t too many, had dressed up nicely. They were definitely club-goers, with tight pants, extra jewelry, and perfect hair. But nothing too crazy. By the advertisements of similar clubs online, Ken half expected to see people wearing dog collars and fish nets. At worst, a few of the guys had eyeliner on. But to be honest? She thought it was kinda cool.

At least it would be interesting. This place wasn’t meant for her. But she’d never been inside a gay club before. She wanted Dakota to have a good time if nothing else, and supposedly, this place had halfway decent live music.

She would have no problem getting in, what with an almost corporate attire, heavy eye makeup, and a really, really good fake ID. Dakota would never let her drink, of course, but she didn’t need to. It wasn’t about that. And maybe Ken could sneak one if he found someone else to socialize with. Something fruity and pink in a crazy glass. It could be fun. And if she had to take a cab back to the house? Well, fine. At least Dakota wouldn’t feel so alone for a night.

Whatever happened, it was worth a try.

Kenna got in line without saying anything. She just smiled up at him and waited for the backlash.

“What? No. Absolutely not.” He said when he realized what she was up to. “We are not going in there, Ken. No way in hell. Come on, let’s go.”

She shook her head emphatically. “You need a vacation. This place is perfect! And if you hate it, we can leave, but I wanna go in. Don’t say no. You need this, okay? And it doesn’t look sleazy at all. It looks fun. All the guys are really cute!”

Dakota blushed and covered his mouth with one hand. But his eyes drifted over the waiting partiers, and even though he didn’t say it, she knew he liked at least some of them. Ken wasn’t sure if her dad had a type—and she didn’t particularly want to think about it too much—but everybody here was so different, and most of them were probably looking for someone nice to talk to, among other things. If Dakota couldn’t find someone here, he had his eyes closed.

God, even she thought a lot of the men here were nice to stare at. Some of them could’ve been models or actors. Sure, she wasn’t their type, and they all seemed much older than her, but still!

“I don’t think this is a good idea, hon. At all.”

But he didn’t move from the line, and, when it progressed, the two walked forward like everyone else.

Proud of herself, Kenna kept quiet until they got inside, where the music was loud, they were barely noticed, and colored lights flashed from every angle. The place looked kind of like a crowded warehouse, with metal and concrete everywhere. But the furniture, tables, and artwork were all very expensive. And really nice. Though it was a little off to one side, Ken selected an empty booth with soft black cushions and motioned for Dakota to take a seat with a good view of the crowd.

Her line of sight was on the small stage at the far end of the room, where a group of people were already inching toward the edge. The place had to be between acts, or a big one was about to begin. Someone turned down the house music in preparation, and stable yellow lights illuminated the stage.

Dakota let out a sigh and motioned for a server to bring them some drink menus.

The gentleman, a cute Latino guy in his twenties with slicked back hair and an eyebrow piercing, paced over to their small table and smiled at them both. “Welcome to Raw Goods. I’m Johnny. What can I get you two lovelies?”

“Hi, Johnny!” Ken greeted him, with maybe a little too much enthusiasm.

With a tentative smile of acknowledgment—but not interest—Dakota eyed the menu before answering. “I’ll have a, uh, a ‘Mezzanine Mojito.’” He looked up for confirmation that he’d pronounced it correctly. When the waiter nodded, “And she’ll have a soda.”

“Mm-hmm. What kind, sweetie?” he glanced over at her. “We have a great one with mango syrup and chunks of fresh pineapple. We call it the ‘Palate Cleanser.’ It’s really super good. You don’t even care that there’s no booze in it.” He winked. “People order it all the time to pace themselves. No one wants to pass out on the dance floor, after all!”

Damn. Maybe the door guy didn’t notice or care that she was underage, but their server could obviously tell. He didn’t, however, alert the authorities. Probably because she wasn’t ordering alcohol.

Relieved, Ken agreed to the fruity drink. “That sounds great.”

“Okay, I’ll get those for you right away.” He gave a long look at Dakota before scurrying off toward the bar and disappearing in the crowd.

As a scantily dressed man in suspenders and a hard hat approached the mic to introduce the first of three musical acts, Ken turned to Dakota. “He was adorable,” she pointed out, nudging him with her elbow. “I bet if you ask real nicely, he’ll give you his number.”

Visibly embarrassed, “What are you, my wingman? Cut it out. You’re my kid, not a matchmaker. And anyhow, I’m not looking for a date. That’s the last thing I need.”

“You sure about that?” she shot him a knowing glance. “All you do is work. Why not let yourself have some fun? Even if it’s just talking to somebody new. I’m not saying you gotta marry the guy, but that waiter clearly likes you, and he seems nice. I’m not gonna pressure you or anything. It’s okay if you don’t want to talk to him or anyone else. I just think that you could use some down time if you let yourself, you know?”

Dakota didn’t reply. The attractive server in question—Johnny, right?—brought their drinks, gave another long smile at him, and wandered back over to the bar, which he leaned against. He struck up a conversation with the bartender. Ken absently noted that the first band, made up predominantly of men in semi-revealing mechanic uniforms, began to play something electronic-sounding.

After a few songs, “Is that why we’re here? So you could hook me up with someone?” Dakota spoke loudly over the music.

She shrugged, even though it was an accurate assessment. “It seemed like a place you might like, and I’ve never been to a club before.” It was technically the truth. As the band wrapped up, Ken pushed a little more. “He doesn’t look busy. You should go talk to him.”

Dakota glared at her from across the table. “We’re just gonna leave in a day or so. What’s the point?”

“Fun!”

“No way. I’m not leaving you alone in a club.”

Kenna rolled her eyes. “It’s a gay club, remember? What exactly is gonna happen? I’ll be right here—not drinking. I won’t even watch you and make you nervous. Promise.” When he continued to hesitate, she gently kicked him in the leg. “Go!”

To her surprise, Dakota got up from his comfy seat and slowly walked toward the bar. He tapped Johnny on the shoulder and began a discussion, which Ken couldn’t hear. But she didn’t need to. Their body language said it all. Close. Friendly. Smiling and laughing. She quickly turned her attention away to give them some privacy. It may have been a public place, but no one else noticed their little exchange. A hundred other interactions at different stages were happening throughout the venue. To the complete strangers, what occurred between Dakota and that server was nothing special.

But to Ken? It was hope. It was a chance to see her dad happy—in a deep, organic way—for the first time since before Gage died. She had to force herself not to watch, just to know. Just to see it happen.

Thankfully, for everyone involved, the second music act sounded good enough to provide a distraction.

Some kind of rock group. Loud but not violent. A little out of place here, but the crowd seemed to like it. They gathered in droves near the stage, trying to reach the lead singer and guitarist, who were dressed in ripped overalls with tight shirts beneath. There were loads of extra straps, bits of cloth, and chains hanging from the frontman’s pants. As he jumped up and down without missing a note, the additions jingled and flowed.

While everyone in the band was a sight to see, with multi-colored hair, muscles, and a seemingly endless supply of enthusiasm, Kenna soon focused entirely on the lead. He made their waiter look unattractive by comparison. Dark eyes. Flawless, glistening skin. East Asian. A short-cropped hair cut, longer on one side, that just barely got in his right eye. Skinny but not weak. Deep voice. And the way he gripped the microphone stand, like it was a person—or a pole—

Flustered, Ken looked away from him. In a place like this, what were the chances she could even flirt with the guy with any success? This wasn’t the venue to develop a crush or anything like that. This visit wasn’t even about her! It was about making sure Dakota got some much-needed relaxation. A pretty boy singer shouldn’t even be on her radar. If she wanted romance or anything like that, she could get it a lot easier elsewhere. Maybe back in Colorado. If anything, Ken would just be setting herself up for disaster and rejection. No way this creature, with his subtle blue eyeliner and copious jewelry, would have any interest in her.

Unless he was bisexual, like Terrell. It seemed unlikely, but Ken couldn’t help but think it. Maybe the guy liked women, too. Maybe she could get in a little fun of her own while Dakota was preoccupied with Johnny the waiter. Nothing serious, obviously. But he was cute. Beyond cute. And if Dakota could let himself have fun, then why couldn’t she? Nobody here knew she was only fifteen.

Even if she got rejected, it would still be better than sitting alone at this table, drinking weird fruit soda, and pretending like she belonged here. And the only way she could know would be to ask.

So, Ken waited until the set ended. With Dakota still embroiled in a conversation, which had escalated to affectionate arm touching, she quietly slid away from the table, weaved through the mass of people, walked casually past the stage, and slipped through a back door. There, she found a corridor where the rest of the band was packing up, but not the gorgeous frontman.

“Can I help you with somethin’?” asked the drummer. A larger man with long, curly hair. His height and weight would’ve been intimidating if not for his kind eyes.

She froze. Thinking quickly, “Do you guys sell CDs? You were awesome!”

“Dude! f**k yeah, we do,” the bassist chimed in. He reached into a guitar case and pulled out three options. They were clearly homemade, but someone in the group had a decent handle on photo editing. After a moment to ponder the choice, she selected one that had the clearest picture of the group’s leader. “For you? That one’s only ten bucks, if you want it.”

She grinned widely. Though Ken really didn’t love their music enough to warrant buying a whole disc full of it, she happily handed over the money. It wasn’t hers, anyway, and Adelaide could afford it.

Stepping back, “Hey, do you think you could sign it for me? When you guys hit it big, I bet it’ll be worth a lot of money!”

They all laughed. But one by one, the group members signed their names next to their likenesses on the front cover. With one individual missing, Ken had the perfect opportunity to inquire about his location. “What about him?” she pointed. “Any chance I could meet him, too?”

“Who, Yuuki? He’s loading the van. Out in the alley.” The drummer pointed toward an exit door, which had been propped open with an instrument case. “Son of a b***h doesn’t have much equipment to deal with, so we put him to work!”

Ken thanked them and promptly departed.

Sure enough, she spotted the guy outside, lifting an amp into the back of an old, rusted-out van. The muscles in his arms flexed as he did so. Close up, he appeared somewhat smaller and more feminine. Full lips. Beautiful brown eyes. But Ken didn’t care about any of that. She was already sold. Painfully, gloriously interested.

“Umm, Yuuki?” She made sure to get the pronunciation right.

The man turned, took one look at her, and grinned. “Yeah?”

Slowly approaching, Ken held out the CD. “Could you sign this for me? I’m a big fan.”

He laughed. “Whoa, really? I didn’t think we even had fans.” Reaching into the vehicle, he produced a marker, took the CD, and quickly scribbled his name. He brushed back some of his longer hair, and Kenna could see that he was wearing black nail polish. “What’s your name?”

Trying not to seem nervous, “Ken. Everybody calls me ‘Ken.’”

The grin turned into a breathtaking smile. “Did you know that’s a name in both English and Japanese? I have a cousin named that.” He added “To Ken, with love,” on the top of the CD case before handing it back. “Nice to meet you, Ken.”

She carefully deposited the CD into her purse—a hand-woven pink and orange bag she’d picked up in Sioux Falls—and took a few steps closer. Yuuki’s mouth dropped open a little, and it seemed he easily discerned her intentions. But Kenna made it clear, anyway. “Are you busy?” She rested one hand on the van. Opening her eyes wide and doing her best to seem attractive, Kenna tried to stand as tall as possible. And pretend she knew what she was doing.

Yuuki pushed the amp into the vehicle and moved away from it. He leaned down a little to be closer to her height. While he was at least three inches taller, the two probably weighed the same, and Ken knew she could take him in a fight if she had to. With or without talismans and the knife in her bag.

“Oh, I’m never too busy for a fan.” He licked his lips, very much on purpose.

“I take it, umm—that you’re not—you’re not into guys. I mean, not only into them,” she stammered. She couldn’t help it. He was so close, and so clearly interested. Kenna didn’t have a game plan for this. She assumed she’d be rejected.

Yuuki took up her chin with one hand. “I’m into you, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“I had an idea already,” she breathed.

Somehow moving even closer without touching her body, Yuuki’s mouth drifted tantalizingly close to Ken’s. No doubt, an act designed to drive her crazy. It worked. She felt warm in all the right places, and simultaneously on edge. Her face flushed hot, and her skin tingled. It wasn’t like she’d never been aroused before, but this felt different. Utterly incredible. Exciting.

“Nice move with the CD, by the way. Very smooth. I’m impressed,” the musician continued, his breath brushing against Kenna’s cheek. “Usually, people don’t get that creative when they come onto me. Major props.” A dramatic pause. “But I have to say, I don’t often see beautiful women in places like this. You’re not stalking me, are you, Ken?”

She shook her head. “I came with a friend.”

“Hmm. I’m glad you did.”

Before she could return with a meek “Me, too,” Yuuki abandoned the game. He gripped her softly by the sides of her face, closed the miniscule distance, and kissed her.