Taking Seth’s outstretched hand, Frank got up with a groan, his body aching. Layers of white glitter drifted to the floor, and he glared down at his once pitch-black Armani suit.
“I fucking hate glitter,” Frank growled as he attempted to brush the glitter off his suit. All that did was add an extra layer of white to his palms. “¡Me cago en diez, hijo de puta!”
Seth’s eyes went huge. “Shit. We’ve reached the Spanish cursing stage. Kit—”
“I’ll grab the Beluga Gold.” Kit hurried off to grab Frank’s favorite bottle of vodka. It was going to be one of those nights.
First things first. “Get that… thing out of here. The glitter too. I’m going to change.” The club opened in a little over an hour.
“On it.”
Seth darted off, and Frank shook as much glitter off as he could before heading into the back of house. He opened the double doors and froze. Fuck. My. Life. He’d completely forgotten about his pre-opening meeting with the staff, which he shouldn’t have, seeing as how he’d been conducting these meetings every night since he’d opened the damn club.
Two rows of wide eyes stared at him, though no one dared so much as blink, much less crack a smile. Stepping through the doors, he laced his fingers in front of him and addressed his staff like he always did, ignoring the waves of glitter that flowed from his person every time he moved his arms. A speck of glitter fell onto his eyelash, the light hitting it just right and almost blinding him.
“Motherf—” He quickly composed himself. Maybe if he squinted a few times, the little fucker would fall off. Nope. It hung in there.
“Let me, um…” Ruby, one of his go-go boys, slowly inched closer. “I’ll just, uh, get that for you.” He reached up and carefully plucked the blinding speck off Frank’s eyelash.
“Thanks. As I was saying, I should hear back from the event company soon. Once I have the details ironed out, I’ll get the schedule up. Have a good night and stay safe.”
They all murmured their thanks before hurrying off like someone had lit their asses on fire. He considered undressing in the hall, but his office had already been invaded by all manner of sparkly, fluffy things. Inside, he closed the door behind him and got undressed, remaining in his black boxer-briefs in the hopes of keeping the spread of glitter as far from his private bathroom as possible.
Grabbing a roll of paper towels and a bottle of baby oil from the closet, he started the painstaking process of removing the glitter from his person. By the time he was done and dressed in one of the three black suits and shirts he kept in his office wardrobe, Kit had knocked on his door. He smiled brightly as he held up Frank’s favorite vodka.
It took the staff almost an hour to get rid of the glitter on the dance floor—though they all knew it would never truly be gone—and deflate the obscene snowman with permanent orgasm face.
“I see what happened,” Seth said an hour later from the sofa, tablet in hand. “When Alejandro entered the SKU number for the Giant Snow Confetti-Filled Bauble reversed the last two numbers, which is how we ended up with, um… Frosty Surprise.”
“We were definitely surprised,” Kit said with a snort. “In more ways than one.”
Frank took a seat behind his desk. “I’m glad to hear my unfortunate experience brings you amusement.”
“And will continue to do so for years to come. Pun intended.” Kit waggled his dark eyebrows, and Frank groaned. He looked to Seth, who blinked at his boyfriend before letting out a loud laugh.
When had he started to lose his touch? At one time Kit and Seth had jumped at his approaching footsteps. Now they made themselves comfortable in his office and tortured him with terrible puns.
“There must have been a malfunction,” Seth said, studying his tablet. “Frosty Surprise was supposed to release a soft puff of…” He snorted. “Snowman essence.”
“It does not say that.” Kit jumped to his feet from where he’d been sitting on the floor working on another giant snowflake. He darted over to his boyfriend and dropped onto the couch beside him. “Oh my God, it does say that!” He keeled over onto his side in a fit of laughter. “Snowman essence!”
“Anyway, it’s supposed to release a soft puff, not a jet stream capable of taking out a two-hundred-pound man.”
“I had an ex-boyfriend with that problem,” Kit mused. “My boss sent me home from work the next day because he thought I had pink eye.”
“Wait a minute.” Frank remembered that day. “That was me.”
Seth eyed Frank. “You shot in his eye?”
“What? No!” Frank glared at Kit, who was absolutely no help at all. Why he found this whole thing hilarious was anyone’s guess. “I’m the one who sent him home.”
Before Kit had been hired as the club’s dance instructor and choreographer, he’d been one of Frank’s go-go boys. The club dancers were off-limits to everyone, both client and staff, but there’d been no way to stop Kit from falling for Seth. Quite literally. The guy fell off his plinth during a routine because he’d been distracted by the handsome bartender. Thankfully Seth had seen Kit dancing too close to the edge and broke Kit’s fall.
Despite them insisting nothing was going on, Frank knew better. The two were ridiculous in their attempts to avoid each other, and soon it became obvious Frank had to intervene. So he’d fired Kit.
Frank never did anything without a good deal of thought. Kit was an exceptionally talented dancer, working his way to opening his own dance studio. Suddenly, a better opportunity presented itself. Frank rehired Kit as the club’s dance instructor and choreographer. With all the events and parties the club hosted, it made more financial sense for him to just hire his own. Seth often teased Frank, insisting he was a romantic at heart, and Frank would promptly tell him to fuck off.
“Right. Time for me to make the rounds,” Seth said. He popped a kiss on his boyfriend’s mouth before standing. “Frosty Surprise is packed up and in the loading bay awaiting pickup tomorrow morning.”
“Perfect.” Frank stood and buttoned his suit jacket, frowning when Seth stopped beside him, his lips twitching at the corners. “What?”
“You, um, have a little something on your nose.”
Frank ran a finger over his nose. “I fucking hate glitter.”
With a chuckle, Seth left the office, and Frank followed, leaving Kit to his decorating. The club had just opened for the night, and although not packed yet, it was still busy, with plenty of clients enjoying after-dinner drinks, many still in their business suits. Frank greeted each one personally, shook their hands, told them to have a good night. The go-go boys would be out in the next hour to join guests and keep them company before they hit the plinths for their routines.
By ten o’clock, the club was packed. Frank helped out behind the bar and delivered drinks to his clients. Thursday nights were the start of the weekend, so things would just get busier from here on out. He’d never been one of those absentee club owners who left everything to his manager or staff. Not because he didn’t trust Seth to run things for him, but because Frank had built this club from the ground up. His steady presence, imposing to some, also offered a sense of security.