Though he held parties a lot, Brendon rarely showed up at any of them- or got involved anyway; sometimes he could be found just sort of lingering beyond the boundary of where his distinguished (and not so distinguished) guests were allowed to roam, which was a considerably large area, even compared to the size of his estate. It was strange, because he was such a showman, a performer, born to be in the spotlight, born to be known and loved by many. Yet sometimes he preferred just to observe, and the parties he held were mostly just some kind of social experiment he was conducting anyway, studying how the highest and lowest of society mixed together and the aftermath of such a mix. That said, he was no scientist. In fact he was barely educated, or more technically didn’t thrive in a learning environment, and he didn’t pretend to be some kind of intellectual. All of this holding parties and not taking part made him seem kind of desirable and enigmatic, public property due to his fame and yet unreachable. The true fact of the matter was that he was a party animal- in the right situation. If he could be coaxed into drinking enough liquor (which wasn’t hard) he’d be in the throes of the music and chaos.

But, something in the psychology of the press and the public made Brendon’s lack of availability something desirable- therefore, when he made it public that he was holding a smaller, more intimate party, where he would be performing on stage, the press lapped it up and requested invites and Brendon did let a few in, and gave them the guest list in advance. Sure, it was a smaller affair, mainly to make sure it was classier than his usual events, but Brendon still loved the attention and felt his first performance in a while was worthy of a good audience and a lot of coverage from the press. It didn’t take much effort to distract the eyes of the nation- after all, they were all currently morbidly curious about Brendon’s relationship to the bootlegger, Ryan Rowe, who had just been released from lock-up as Brendon had paid his bail.

That was another thing; that he was gay, openly- although some people were still clueless and he was propositioned by women a lot of the time, advances he had to awkwardly reject because he didn’t have the time to deal with the reactions of disgusted homophobes when he revealed the real reason that he didn’t want to escape the party and go somewhere more private with them. It wasn’t the act of slipping away itself he was against. He’d snuck out of gatherings many times for a scandalous rendezvous somewhere more private- such as with his current lover, Ryan. He recalled their very classy encounter in the toilets at Dallon’s speakeasy often, and reminded Ryan just as much, which always made him roll his eyes as Ryan apparently prided himself with being much less easy. Brendon, his actual boyfriend, could disprove that any day.

His relationship with Ryan was a recent discovery and was the subject of heated debate amongst many, some who admired Brendon’s bravery and individualism, some who thought it was just a career move (any press is good press), and some who used it an example of the depravity of the youth today- ‘a faggot sodomizing a criminal.’ little did they know that it was not that way around, but Brendon was beyond caring enough to point that out to the people shouting slurs at him when he was just trying to perform a goddamn song. A lot of people say the 20’s are progressive, but there are always some idiots trying to put the fear of god into you, Brendon sometimes said in interviews. I don’t fear god, he’d say, but I’d sure like to ask him a few questions. Beyond the surface, Brendon didn’t talk about his relationship with Ryan at all. They didn’t deserve to know, and besides, all they thought of him as anyway was some lustful sinner. Nothing would change that. So he stuck to more open and liberal scenes, though he wasn’t afraid to perform somewhere... Less accepting of ‘new’ society. Much to Ryan’s distress, who was terrified Brendon was gonna he jumped by some brutes after a show. The possibility was there, sure, but.

Brendon felt more bad for Ryan- who would take him seriously now that he had been outed? He wasn’t too worried, though, being a little fruity didn’t affect Ryan’s ability to break kneecaps. All of this went through Brendon’s head as he prepared in the hours before stepping on stage. It was the final countdown beforehand, Brendon was fixing his hair in the dressing room mirror, dressed in a black velvet, floral patterned tuxedo and a white dress shirt, no tie. He turned, downed the remaining half a glass of what was meant to be a sipping whiskey that Ryan had given him earlier as a good luck present, and handed the glass to a stagehand, before, when given the signal, heading on stage. He was greeted by immediate applause as his name was announced over a speaker- For your pleasure and entertainment, Brendon Blake. He was sporting his naturally bright, charming smile, and immediately wrapped his hands around the mic stand, leaning forward to speak into and greet the audience- though as he did, his eyes searched for one man; Ryan, who said that he might be able to make it, he just had some business to attend to that couldn’t be left. That was Ryan, though. Fresh out of jail and back to business.

Brendon couldn’t see him but tried not to be disheartened. ”Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” He began, eyes now surveying the audience just to make eye contact with guests instead, who were all sat around on tables, unfortunately not drinking alcohol, because this was a very publicised event. Nobody wanted to be caught on camera drinking champagne. His eyes zeroed in on a man who looked like he wouldn’t mine being brought to attention for a joke. ”I hope you all enjoyed the refreshments- you look like you’ve enjoyed them too much, sir, did you slip a little something extra in your drink? Don’t worry, sport, it’s our secret.” The audience all laughed, and Brendon laughed along like it was a personal inside joke, like these were his friends. Once again he looked around for Ryan- but if he was here, he would have seen him by now. ”Anyhow, thank you for coming. I’ll be performing very soon, but for now, please enjoy the pleasure of each other’s company rather than mine.” And so, with applause punctuating the end of his brief welcome, he walked off stage and back around to his dressing room, a little bummed that Ryan wasn’t around, but very excited to sing in public again since taking a little hiatus to spend more time with his boyfriend, who even took some time off work himself. They were- an odd couple.

Jail was interesting. Technically, Ryan was hardly even there, and he was lucky for that; he’d been in lockup before, but his partners in crime weren’t his boyfriend - they only bailed him out after they were done being amused by his misfortune. Review the process: Ryan gets booked, he’s processed and questioned, makes a phone call, sits in a jail cell ‘til bail is posted. Then, outside those jail walls, his friends are sitting at home talking shit for a whole 72 hours until they finally fork over the $10k, or whatever - the price always raises, since Ryan’s clearly a risky case to the judge. Brendon, though, sweet, loving, and filthy rich, was in court as soon as that gavel landed. Crazy fucker had the cash on him already. Ryan was pretty sure he was in love with him before that, but this kind of just set things in stone. Anyway, jail was a holding cell. All he had to do was sleep there, two other guys chilling at the other end, drunk off their asses on hooch he definitely didn’t sell to them. Not directly, anyway.

Usually, Ryan just didn’t show up, and instead pissed away his friends’ money and lived with a warrant for his arrest out. Dirty cops were all over the place, stationed outside of regular dealing spots as if they were waiting to catch him or someone like him, but the fact of the matter was that all they needed was a small cut of his supply in order to stay out of his way. Most of the force was corrupt like that, made life easy; that is, until enough of a bonus was dangled for them to actually catch someone. Then they jumped into action. Anyway, this time around, Ryan wasn’t going to dodge the court date. He’d show up on time like a good boy, get Brendon’s money back to him, inevitably come home ‘not guilty’ because he was his own attorney and he could sweet talk the house down when he wanted to. Evidence was hard to find, because he wasn’t messy, and witnesses came even more rarely. There was no one in town who wanted him to go down, and if they did, they were guilty of something themselves. Ryan was, ultimately, untouchable.

For now, he was a free man. And he had a boyfriend to catch up with.

After thirteen hours of cuffs, getting them off was beyond just a relief; Ryan had a second to stand and massage his wrists before everything confiscated from his pockets was returned to him. He flashed a suspicious glance at his money clip, considering... but they probably wouldn’t dare. You’d think he’d have some catchy tagline to leave everyone at the station with as he went through the double-doors a semi-free man, but he had places to be, a ridiculously beautiful man to shower with attention. And said man would be considerably offended by his currently outworn costuming if he showed up like he was now, in a regular Joe suit, nothing elegant or outstanding about it, so Ryan had very little time to get home before he was unfashionably late.

See, this stuff didn’t used to matter, but Ryan was now ‘classically’ fruity ever since being outed officially. No, it didn’t bother him. In fact, he thought it gave him an edge. He’d been daring more competitors to challenge him for months, things were getting too easy, and now they all had something to say. So, naturally, Ryan was conducting hits on assholes a lot more often these days, whether it be carried out by his own hands or by his crew. It seemed like the new trend made Brendon seem just as beyond danger as he was, invicible by relation, so the ‘out’ situation was objectively good.

At home, Ryan cleaned himself up and pulled on a red velvet suit, still laying out over his mattress since Brendon had gifted it to him. Seemed only appropriate. For good measure, he slipped a small, semi-automatic pistol into his vest pocket, ‘cause today was evidently a casual one. No big deal. ‘Out on bail’ wasn’t the safest way to be.

He’d left Brendon with the vague promise that he might be there, just after some other business dealings. He was running out of time but he’d already sent Spencer on a goose chase to find the fucker who ratted him out; Ryan met him at his apartment with a bat in hand. What are you gonna do, kill ‘im? Ryan almost laughed. ”I’m no murderer, and this isn’t the Mafia, Spence.” Spencer led them to his dining room, nearly twisted the door handle to reveal his hostage, but Ryan stopped him. ”I don’t got time for this, neither, so you’re gonna clean this mess up for me.” Spencer immediately looked affronted. Are you kiddin’ me? I already got the guy... ”Yea, and now you’re gonna break somethin’, send him off with a warning. I’m a nice guy that way.” Ryan smiled pleasantly, tossed the bat up and caught it by the end, offering the handle to a forlorn Spencer. Spencer took it regardless, his eyes rolled to the ceiling. Fuck off outta my place. ”When you’re done, toss ‘im. Second offense, he’s dead. See ya.” Ryan clapped him on the shoulder on his way out.

Ryan was late, but only just. He stepped from his blackout-windowed taxi and into the venue just in time to catch Brendon’s final address: Anyhow, thank you for coming. I’ll be performing very soon, but for now, please enjoy the pleasure of each other’s company rather than mine. Hidden beside a side entryway, Ryan smiled and kept his hands clasped in front of him as a round of applause followed, enamoured. There was enough press here that the serving of drinks wasn’t entirely obvious, but Ryan approached a server and knew to ask discreetly for his own whiskey, two glasses. He went backstage with one in either hand, coming up behind Brendon as he stood before a dressing room mirror, arms encircling him and chin hooking over his shoulder. Ryan reached out to set the drinks down in front of them, replacing his hands over Brendon’s at his waist, swaying them slightly, watching their reflection. ”Miss me?” he murmured close to his ear, just catching his earlobe to punctuate. ”Sorry I’m late, darlin’, but now I think it’s my business to make you late for your performance.”

They’d seen eachother already since Ryan was let out of lockup- Brendon had been waiting outside, leaning against Ryan’s car, which had been held by the cops until now, when he was... semi-free to go. He still had a court date which Brendon knew would go smoothly because the rat bastard could talk him, personally, out of anything, even though Brendon was the most stubborn piece of work in the world. He had talent there- that was probably why he was so successful in his chosen field of work. Successful as he was, though, the government could always dangle tempting bonuses in front of cops who usually couldn’t care less about bootleggers (or even wanted a little cut of the good shit for themselves), so there was always risk involved. Ryan knew that, and Brendon knew that, even if he wasn’t happy about it; he wasn’t particularly fond of watching his lover being handcuffed/restrained by someone other than him.

Ryan had been in jail before this incident and no doubt would be again, and Brendon would bail him out, no matter the rising price, because apparently there is nothing he would not do to get his boyfriend back. He’d barely been gone for a day and Brendon had already been antsy, wishing the whole bail thing would go through faster and he’d get to make fun of Ryan until he decided they could make up for lost time in other ways, however brief the lost time was. They were just gross like that. And this time it was three whole days, but then they barely had any time together because Ryan was immediately dead set on getting ‘revenge’ on the guy who ratted him out this time. Brendon was all for teaching the guy a lesson, but honestly, he was a little offended that that took priority.

Brendon had a performance that evening anyway, and so they shared a few longing kisses goodbye, Brendon putting in a little extra effort in a vain attempt in convincing him to stay, before Ryan set out to Spencer’s. As always, he had been quick and resourceful and had set his partner in crime onto the guy who talked less than an hour after getting out of the cell- so all Ryan had to do was turn up and make sure he was taught a lesson. When his boyfriend made the grand, vengeful speech detailing all of this, Brendon had just nodded along, trying not to smile, trying to appear as though he was taking the tough guy version of Ryan seriously- of course he knew that Ryan was capable of being ruthless but he’d cuddled with him so much that it was amusing to even think about the other, less sweet and loving side of him.

So Ryan left him with a vague half-promise, and Brendon tried not to get his hopes up when he looked out across the crowd; of course, he did anyway, and was disappointed when he didn’t see Ryan standing there smiling up at him like he usually did. He went backstage and to his dressing room, standing in front of a mirror, trying to hype himself up for the performance- and suddenly he caught a pair of immediately recognisable honey eyes in the mirror, followed quickly by arms around his waist and a low voice by his ear. Miss me? Brendon exhaled, a rush of delighted breath, grinning at Ryan’s reflection. ”So much.” Sorry I’m late, darlin’, but now I think it’s my business to make you late for your performance. Oh, that little bastard. He wishes.

Brendon hesitated for barely a second, smirked and then broke out of Ryan’s embrace and turned around, quickly catching one of his wrists and walking them backwards until Ryan had his back against the closest wall. [b]”Oh, yeah? Did you miss me, Mr. Rowe?”[b] He murmured, straightened up as much as possible and yet still a good few inches shorter than Ryan. A little comical, ”That’s sweet. But you can wait, I think. Yeah, I’m gonna make you wait.” A pause, and then Brendon stole a kiss, sweet and a little desperate though he tried to remain in control, moving his hands down to hold onto Ryan’s hips. Brendon wasn’t used to playing this role, but it was fun. He opened his eyes and spoke right against his lips, eyebrows raised playfully. ”I paid a lot of cash to get your stupid ass back to me. Believe me when I say I’m going to get my money’s worth.”