Page 37 of Heart Over Heels

At least the rest of the outfit was cute.

In keeping with the game night theme, we’d be starting the evening dressed as the murder suspects from Clue. With his rich, red hair, Zephyr was a natural Miss Scarlett, and Oz made for a bold Colonel Mustard in a suit so yellow it turned his blond mop to gold.

Elliot looked sour as Mister Green, sulking with his arms folded in a booth on the wall. Despite the attitude, I counted it as a victory getting him out of his room. He never missed a shift,but he’d been more reclusive than usual these past few days. Processing, I figured.

Colt and Callum were standing in as Mister Peacock and Professor Plum respectively. My attempts to cajole Colt into drag were met with a hard no, so we did what Oz had informed me was a “gender bent” outfit. I was still mourning the smart blue pencil skirt I had picked out for him, and he was lamenting the loss of his trademark cowboy boots.

I, of course, would be Missus White. My closet already boasted half a dozen flavors of French maid chic, but I decided to add another, along with a plump feather duster. Stage prop tonight, sensory toy tomorrow. A few of my clients had a fondness for tickling.

A shadow fell over my notepad as Colt stepped in front of me, thumbs hooked in the waistband of his shiny blue tearaways. When I glanced up, he yanked his pants down to expose the sequined strap cutting across his hips.

“This G-string is creepin’ up my ass,” he whined. “Pretty sure you gave me Cal’s by mistake.”

“You wear the same size,” I muttered then leaned around him toward the stage, squinting at the way Oz’s heel landed offbeat on the down step. If he didn’t fix his footwork now, it would drive me insane later.

“Maybe your ass is getting fat, cowboy.”

The sound of Elliot’s voice caused my head to snap his way. The cherry of his cigarette was a tiny flare in the otherwise dim room.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Elliot, put that out, please.”

He made a low sound in his throat—half scoff, half sigh—then plucked the cigarette from his lips and ground it out against the tabletop.

Colt spun around to present his backside to the grumpy goth, then slapped it with a pop that echoed in the empty club. “It ain’tfat; it’s juicy like a Georgia peach. But I wouldn’t expect a skinny bitch like you to appreciate that.”

Elliot rolled his eyes while I scribbled “Heel placement” in my notes.

Colt swung back around to me, still fidgeting with his waistband. “I mean it, Darb. This thing is climbin’ higher than a Sunday choir note.”

I sighed and added another memo: “Recheck twins’ fittings.” At this rate, we’d need another round of adjustments or maybe a gag to keep Colt quiet until curtain call.

Better than a gag, a chore. If there was no dancing to wear him out, I could at least send him on a fetch quest.

“Colt, honey?” I gave my eyelashes a flutter. “I think I left my tape measure on my dressing table. Can you grab it for me?”

He frowned, clearly keen to my dismissal, then muttered, “Yeah, I got it.”

Off he trudged, tugging at his underwear and wriggling his hips. I shook my head, amused despite myself.

Colt was barely out of sight before Rush skirted into view, cutting along the side of the stage. Lean and wiry with his long black hair tied in a messy bun and his sleeves rolled up, he moved like every second mattered.

Down the row, Callum perked up. He ruffled one hand through the wavy brown hair at the base of his horns while the other clenched on his knee. The shy smile he aimed at Rush piqued my interest.

As if that weren’t obvious enough, Callum waited until the bartender was in earshot before freeing his hand to wave.

“Hey, Rush.”

The bartender slowed, and something fond slipped across his face. “Hi, Callum.”

My attention bounced between them, watching Callum’s cheeks darken until Rush finally dragged his eyes my way.

“Darby, have you seen Beck?”

I jerked a thumb toward the second-level office where the privacy blinds were drawn tight. “He’s feeding Zeph some lunch. Why?”

Rush’s jaw ticked. “We might need to loop him in on this. There’s a mess outside. A fucking massive one.”

“I’ll get him,” Callum offered.