“Tulane,” James said quietly as a vision in light blue, blinged with enough crystal to blind half the audience, turned and smiled.
“Oh, honey. Are you ready?” Lala’s drag mother, Tulane Highway, was appearing as a special guest for the week, and James had enlisted her help as well. “I’d kiss you both, but it would ruin the makeup. Don’t worry about a thing. It’s all set.” She squeezed his hand, made air kisses, then did the same with Gran. “Go take your seats.”
James offered his elbow, Gran accepted it, and they made their way out into the packed cabaret theater to their seats at one of the side tables in the front.
“Ladies, gentlemen, and everyone in between, Cabaret Candide is proud to present our bevy of talented ladies here to tickle your fancy—and anything else within finger distance,” the announcer said as the curtain rose to reveal the company, on the stage in an ice palace setting, where they did a fabulous choreographed dance number that ended with all of them facing stage right. “Our star of the evening is our very own Ice Queen, the amazing, the operatic, Miss Lala Traviata.” James stood along with Gran and half the audience as Daniel appeared, mesmerizing in ice blue that took James’s breath away. She twirled onstage, gliding to front and center and singing a rather bawdy version of “Sleigh Ride” as the other ladies acted out the best parts. It brought tears to his eyes and left his belly sore from laughing.
“Darlings,” Lala purred once the song was over. “I have a special guest tonight. She’s my drag mother, which tells you just how old she is.”
“Bitch...” a deep voice intoned from the wings.
“I love her to death, and she knows it. So please welcome, direct from New York, Brooklyn, the Bronx, and Newark, the one, the only, the well-traveled Miss Tulane Highway.”
* * *
The music for Lala’s signature number began, and James snapped out of his reverie. He had barely taken in the rest of the show, his attention on Lala the entire time. She sang her BDSM tribute to Doris Day and then thanked the audience. As expected, Tulane took the microphone.
“Sweetheart, we have one last bit of business this evening,” she said. “There’s a very special guest in the audience who has something he wants to say. He’s making his cabaret stage debut tonight, so please give him a warm welcome.” That was his cue, and James stood, walking to the side and up onto the stage.
The lights were nearly blinding, so he kept his eyes on Daniel as he accepted the microphone. Tulane moved downstage, as did all the other girls, leaving him and Lala at center. “I’m not as eloquent as our Ice Queen here, but for those of you who don’t know, I’m James, Lala’s boyfriend. At least for the next few seconds. Who knows, after this she might kill me.” A titter went through the audience while Daniel blinked at him, the smallest signs of nerves visible around the eyes James knew so well. “But I think it’s time that our own Miss Traviata become Mrs. Traviata.” James reached into his pocket and then went down on one knee. Daniel gasped, hands fluttering. “Sweetheart, light of my life.” He opened the box, displaying a white gold ring set with diamonds and sapphires. “Will you fill my life with excitement, joy, and a dose of unpredictability, and become my forever partner, taking my family as your own with all the insanity that entails?”
Lala choked out a yes, and the audience applauded as James slipped the ring onto Daniel’s finger, then stood, taking the center of his life into his arms.
“I love you,” Daniel breathed, his arms sliding around James’s neck.
“I love you too, more than I can say,” James said, kissing Daniel right there onstage. The audience applause grew deafening. Daniel’s lips moved, but James couldn’t hear him over the roar of the crowd. He kissed Daniel once again, holding his hand as the curtain lowered to the stage.
“Sweetheart, that was beautiful,” Tulane said as she dabbed her eyes. “One question, though.” She turned to Daniel. “Honey, what was that about later and commandment number three?”
They both smiled wickedly.
* * *
A sexy Navy chief is looking for a rebound fling, and his best friend’s adorkable little brother might just fit the bill...
Keep reading for an excerpt from Sailor Proof by Annabeth Albert.
Sailor Proof
by Annabeth Albert
Chapter One
Derrick
It was going to happen. Today was finally the day I was going to deck an officer and thus end any hope I had of ever making chief of the boat, and probably earn myself a court-martial to boot. But Fernsby had it coming, and he knew it, the way he met my eyes as he gave a cocky laugh. He might be a junior-grade lieutenant who had to answer to the other officers, but he wasn’t stupid. It didn’t matter how much he had it coming, a chief fighting with an officer of any rank over a personal matter was going to be harshly punished.
But it might be worth it.
Fernsby had been goading me the entire long deployment, every chance he got, which considering the close quarters on a submarine was pretty damn often. And now here he was, joking with another officer about winning the first-kiss raffle for our homecoming, knowing full well that I was standing right there. And that he’d be kissing my ex.
Personal matter indeed.
And totally worth punching that smug smile away.
“I hope we go viral. Social media loves two hot dudes kissing.” Fernsby smirked as he waggled his eyebrows at the big-eyed ensign who’d been hero-worshipping him all damn tour. And of course he was smirking. First kiss was a storied tradition for most navy deployments, and sailors loved vying for the honor of being first to disembark and greet their loved ones. Usually I was happy for whoever won, and over the years I’d seen more than one proposal as a result of that first kiss.
God, I hoped Fernsby wasn’t planning that. Bad enough that he couldn’t stop ribbing me that Steve chose him over me and that I’d been the last to know Steve was cheating. Watching them be all happy was going to suck.
“I’m gonna get so lucky.” Fernsby’s knowing gaze met mine over the ensign’s head.
An angry noise escaped my throat. “And I hope—”
“Fox. A word. Now.” My friend Calder appeared seemingly out of nowhere in the narrow corridor and hauled me backward, effectively cutting off my tirade along with a good deal of my circulation.
“Yeah, Fox. Go on with you.” Fernsby made a dismissive gesture as I growled, but Calder kept moving, giving me little choice but to follow. He dragged me past various compartments through the mess, where two of our fellow chiefs were playing cards. He didn’t stop until we were in the chief’s section of the bunking with its rows of triple beds, steering me into the far corner by our bunks and about as close to privacy as we were going to get.