Maybe the whole thing with King sucking vitality out of his beloved was about to be over on Beast’s birthday, and that was the point of keeping Beast here. So that the devil could make good on his promise. Laurent couldn’t wait to come clean about it all.
To think that back in 1805, his dreams had been so modest. To find a man who he could be with somehow, to have a means of supporting himself despite his failing eyesight, to be free of his servitude to Mr. Barnave. And now? He had so much more. He lived in a world where his affection for a man was acceptable. Where the man he chose cared for him deeply, where his eyes had been healed, and where he was making a modest income.
He kissed Beast’s bicep discreetly, and it got him a sweet smile in return. But with Beast pulling Laurent toward the newly-freed sitting space in the corner, Laurent didn’t object. If they weren’t dancing in tune with the music anyway, they might as well give up for now and delight in the intimacy of a dance to decent music, which was still attainable on special plastic disks. Later. Another time.
But as they walked off the dance floor and past Nao, who was now deeply involved with her redhead’s mouth despite still being King’s girlfriend, Laurent inevitably looked for her man, worried he might not like this very much. True, Nao seemed to have many partners and didn’t try to hide it, but King was the kind of man who’d smile at you in one minute and punch your nose in in the next.
Fortunately, King was busy talking about something to Martina by the set of steps leading to the stage, but with the way he grabbed her arm, the conversation looked more like an argument. Laurent stopped Beast, pointing with his head to the beginnings of violence.
Martina’s face was visibly red even under the usual thick layer of makeup, and she shoved at King with an unhappy expression.
Beast’s chest sagged, and he slid his hand to Laurent’s, leading him closer while the four girls thrashed on stage, jumping around and screaming into microphones, because their performance could hardly be called singing. Laurent really did his best not to judge, but it was close to impossible sometimes.
Laurent’s stomach sank when King twisted his hand in Martina’s red mane and tugged on it so brutally the pain expressed on her face couldn’t be for show. Beast sped up, pushing apart people as he walked up to the stage, just in time for the act to end. Lizzy said a few words to conclude the performance, but he couldn’t mute other voices, which resonated loud and clear in the void left behind by music.
“What the hell are you doing? Let go of her,” hissed Beast, grabbing his father’s wrist.
“I’m doing whatever I think is appropriate when my fucking girlfriend is pissing me off on purpose!” King stood his ground, but even he was shorter than Beast.
“I just wanted to sing a song with Lizzy’s band,” Martina whined, already in tears.
Laurent’s heart sank at the sight.
Beast looked between the two, a big frown marring his forehead. “Is that it? You’re yanking at her because she wants to sing a song with Lizzy? What’s your problem?”
King snarled but let go of Martina, who pulled back her hair and rubbed the wetness off her cheeks, smudging the black tint all over.
“I don’t want her to perform. Should have actually asked me. She wouldn’t have been embarrassed then,” he said, as if that was the answer to the actual problem.
“I wanted to surprise you!” Martina looked to her toes with her lips trembling.
“Should’ve fuckin’ given me a surprise blowjob then. You looking for a new boyfriend or something, that you have to advertize yourself like a cow?”
Laurent wished to get closer and give King a piece of his mind, which with Beast for backup wasn’t even that risky, but he knew better. King was a tyrant, and would find a way to get back at Laurent sooner or later. It was better if he stayed out of it.
Martina pulled out of King’s grip and shoved at his chest. “You’re such an asshole!”
“What’s wrong with singing? You’re fine with them having sex with other people, so why not that?” hissed Beast, spreading his big arms.
King snorted. “Because if she gets too much into it, it will distract her. And I want here here, not on tour, or trying her luck in fucking Portland!”
He scowled when Martina poured a whole glass of water into his face, tossed the container to the floor, and ran off, leaving the two of them with King, who rolled his eyes, as if he were the reasonable one here.
“See? A property of the club but can’t even show respect when it’s needed.”