Myths and Gargoyles by Jamie Hawke (interesting books to read in english txt) 📕

But there was no way I was going to subject myself to the status of guinea pig for the chance at it.

“Thanks,” I said, nodding at her and not missing for a second the way her cleavage showed or her breasts threatened to pop out of that black top as she leaned over the table and gave me a polite nod, but glared.

“Some people can’t accept ‘no,’” Chris whispered in my ear as he guided me away. “Chick’s goth as fuck. Better to avoid her, man. So many options here.”

He was right, and already we were passing a trio dressed as Poison Ivy, Harley Quinn, and—my attention was pulled from the third as a chick walked past in only body paint, and I bit my lip to stop from yelping or quoting a billion movies by saying, “Dammmnnn.”

I was pretty sure security would escort her out any minute now, so I relished the sight… only to see Goth Chick back there giving me a raised eyebrow. Who was she to judge me?

“Okay, give me a show like that, and I’ll be here every year,” Chris said, and this time he was the one adjusting his pants. I was too distracted by the other woman’s accusing look to get carried away by my imagination, which was maybe a good thing. Keep her around to glare at me, so I wouldn’t need that stupid tote bag so much.

Excuse me for being horny, but it had been a while.

That’s why, when the day was coming to a close and Chris told me he’d scored an invite to one of the hot costume parties in a suite at the very hotel we were staying in, I was all for it. More eye candy and a chance of meeting someone? Count me in. No question.

I left the press badge in our hotel room, put on a very simple Man in Black mask to match the black clothes I changed into—yeah, I was a bit lazy, but you can’t get much better than the Man in Black—and headed down to meet Chris at the hotel bar for a quick pre-party shot. That was always our strategy. We’d get loosened up to avoid standing in the corner and not talking to anyone the whole night, as was our default nature. I was still in college and got reminded every day how much of an introvert I was when the frat boys would walk by, sharing stories about some great play or lay. Fuck them.

But here at LegendFest, we were in our zone. These were our peeps. Only, I was horrified at the sight of Chris. This was not how I’d imagined us arriving.

“I wanted to match the ladies in sexiness this year,” Chris said. He already had two shots waiting, one additional down. He was going to need it, wearing that getup.

“Dude, 300 went out of style a couple years back.” I tried not to look but couldn’t ignore the huge package going on. He was otherwise not impressive—same old slightly chubby Chris with a six-pack painted on his hairless body, but this… this monstrosity didn’t fit.

He handed me a shot and took the other for himself, then winked and said, “Wonder bread,” before toasting, “cheers.”

We both took our shots and I cleared my throat. He knew I liked tequila, but always went for the cheap stuff.

“Wonder bread?” I asked.

He pointed to his crotch. “It’s what all the models use. Plus, if I get hungry later….”

“Agh.” I put the glass on the counter and shook my head, not missing the way two ladies at a table nearby glanced over and smiled. If they were smiling at anything other than the prospect of me saying, “As you wish,” I was going to puke. “Next time, warn me.”

“So you can dress to match?” He motioned for more shots. “Don’t worry, I thought of that—I have an extra upstairs, if you want… but no Wonder bread left.”

“First, no to more shots and no to the outfit. Second, what the fuck? You clearly had to buy a loaf, right? So, where’d it go?”

“Pregame,” he said. “Had to eat something to absorb all the alcohol I was about to drink. And saved two slices for tomorrow night.”

“You’re not wearing that abomination again tomorrow, not if I’m around.”

“Jealousy,” he grinned as he shook his head, then started swinging his hips back and forth so that the package of Wonder bread followed suit. “Is this because I’m packing?”

The two ladies who’d been looking giggled, and I said, “Let’s get to this party already, dammit.”

He shrugged and started following me, but then made a beeline for the ladies. Fuck him. I knew where the suite was and honestly, I would rather be seen entering by myself than with him right now.

I made it to the elevator and was standing right next to a nice old lady when he ran up shouting, “I got their digits, boyyy,” and stuck his hand in the doors to keep them open.

With a nod to the lady, he stood facing us as the doors closed.

“Young man, your bread is showing,” she said, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Sure enough, a bit of bread was sticking out of the side of his outfit.

“Ooh, sorry,” he replied, at least turning as he stuffed it back in—right as the doors opened to a family of four. They stood there frowning while the old lady got off, and then the dad said they’d take the next one.

The doors closed and Chris burst into laughter, turning back to me.

“It’s not that funny,” I said.

He breathed out with a last laugh, clapped me on the shoulder and said, “Jacky boy, lighten up. This is going to be a weekend of fun. We’re getting drunk, and I’m going to get you laid.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Aw, that’s sad.”

I glared, realizing I’d walked into that one. “Shut up. I meant I’m perfectly capable of meeting