William comes into work the next day hungover and wearing the same clothes he had on at the show, and Frank has a bad feeling even before Gabe blocks the door to backstage and asks, silk-smooth and sharp at the edges, “Late night?”
“Fuck off,” William says, neat and precise, and goes to sidestep Gabe but finds himself blocked again. Gabe leans in to sniff and William jerks back, and whatever the two of them communicate during their little silent standoff is enough to make Gabe sneer and fold his arms across his chest.
“I knew it,” he says, and Frank thinks fuck, he hooked up with Conrad, half-wishing he’d stayed at the bar last night even if it probably wouldn’t have made any difference. William can be as stubborn as a stone sometimes, and he’d been well on his way to smashed when Frank had left.
“We already broke up, it’s none of your business,” William shoots back. “I can do whatever the fuck I want.”
“And did, obviously,” Gabe replies, and Frank gets a heavy, sick feeling in his gut, because he remembers what it was like with Mike, at the end, and this is that same thing happening all over again.
Travis is nearby, silent but watching, and Frank thinks he’ll step in if it gets ugly, but he can’t take sides, not over this.
“Was he good?” Gabe asks, voice low and crooning, sweet except for the flint beneath the velvet. “Did he touch you just right like he used to?”
William straightens like there’s a ramrod holding him upright and says clearly, “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
Gabe starts to reply, but Frank shoulders in between them, seeing the tense set of William’s back and not wanting to wait around for an actual fight. “Back off,” he says, giving Gabe’s chest a shove, trying to move him out of the doorway so they can both head to separate rooms and cool off. “Come on, not now, we have to open.”
He’s mostly worried William will snap. As hot-tempered as Gabe is, he seems to be simmering now, deceptively calm, but all it would take is one comment to set William off and they’re all fucked. If it comes down to it, and Travis has to choose between a dancer he can replace and his business partner who owns half of the club, it’s not like there’s really all that much of a choice.
Gabe backs down, though, hands up and lazy, hard smile in place, letting Frank push him away until he finally turns and heads back to Travis’ office. Frank breathes a sigh of relief and turns around just in time to catch William heading to his own corner, taking temporary cover in the dressing room.
“Fuck,” he says. Ryland catches his eye from behind the bar and shares a sympathetic grimace.
“They need to straighten out or Gabe’s going to get Bill’s ass fired,” Ryland says as Frank nears him, low and covert.
“Both of them are going to get his ass fired,” Frank corrects, heaving himself up onto one of the barstools and kicking his feet against the legs. “Bill’s not helping.”
Travis comes over before they can say anything more and they fall silent at his approach, but he just shakes his head and jabs a finger at Ryland and Pete, who’s now loitering against the far end of the bar. “You two better stay together fucking forever,” he warns, adjusting the knot of his tie and looking decidedly unhappy.
Pete’s eyes widen innocently. “How can we break up? We’re not even together.”
“Right,” Frank begins, but he doesn’t have time to give Pete any more shit, because Bob’s opening up the doors and Frank has money to make.
Because the universe has it out for him, of course, halfway through the night he turns around and runs into Mikey fucking Way. He’s just had to deal with a handsy asshole, two drunk fat dudes and a dick who didn’t want to pay for anything but the cover charge. He’s really not in the mood. He also never wanted Mikey to see him here, but obviously that hope is down the drain.
