Wonderland by Rob Browatzke Page B

love is, Alex! Go dance and have sex. That’s all you’re really good for.”
    â€œI will! I promise I will! Just let him go.”
    â€œAnd don’t think you can just say you’re going to. I’ll know.”
    How could he know? Cameras? I scanned around my room. I couldn’t see anything. “Let him go, I’ll dance, I promise.”
    â€œI will call you in two hours.” The phone went dead. I started to dial 911, but paused. What if he could see? What if he did know? This wasn’t a joke and he wasn’t playing around. What the hell was I supposed to do?

Chapter 15
    L eaving my phone on the bed, I wandered back out into the hall. It was louder now, and busier, and instead of just trolls in towels, there was a bigger mix of people, posses of twinks and muscle boys in designer undies talking and laughing as they walked about, dancing in corners to the Hatter’s sick beats. Mirrorballs had exploded into action, and fog was being pumped in from somewhere. In minutes, the hallways of the baths had become a dance club.
    I wasn’t in the mood to dance or cruise. What kind of psychopath had Steven? Was he watching me even now? I couldn’t see cameras in the hall. The faces all around me were happy, some made eye contact. Did they know something? Was one of them watching my every move? I thought about the choices I had.
    If he knew what I was doing, and he did seem to know, then how could I not do what he’d said? Dance, hook up? No, how could I even think about having a good time, much less getting a hard-on, when Steven was being held, even tortured, by some loony? All I wanted was to know he was okay. All I wanted was to have him here with me. The only way for that to happen was to hook up at a bathhouse? How was this my life? It was surreal. It was wrong. I couldn’t do it. I wouldn’t do it.
    What choice did I have? The man on the phone had made it crystal clear. This wasn’t my choice. This wasn’t cheating. This is what I had to do to rescue the man I loved. And the part of my brain that kept telling me to keep telling myself that, well, that part needed to shut up.
    Suddenly, I felt like I was about to throw up and ran to the bathroom. I bent over the sink, spitting up, my stomach heaving. This was crazy! How was I supposed to have fun?
    â€œYou all right there, friend?”
    I looked into the mirror and saw the Caterpillar behind me. Of course he’d be here. He followed the club kids, so even though he was straight, a big dance party at a gay bathhouse would have too many business opportunities for him to pass up. He was wearing his jacket, even in the heat. I let out a disgusted grunt. He was the last person I wanted to see . . . or was he? There was no way I could have fun sober . . . and maybe with a little help, I could forget.
    â€œNeed a party favor?”
    No, it was stupid, I thought. What if the guy called back and I was too fucked up to respond? On the other hand, at least I wouldn’t be freaking out with worry.
    â€œWhat do you recommend?”
    He pulled out a little pink pill. “Take this,” he said, pushing it between my lips like communion. I washed it down with a handful of water.
    It didn’t take long to feel the heat radiating through me, from the steam, from the pill. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d taken Ecstasy. I didn’t know people even still did. Wonderland was all K and G and coke. The lights were brighter now, and I found my way downstairs, where the Hatter had set up a temporary DJ booth. He nodded at me as I passed through the doorway into a cloud of steam.
    It was the wet area. Showers lined one wall. In some, guys rinsed off. In others, guys got off, stroking themselves, or getting head. They watched me as I walked by, and I watched them watching me. I was hard under the towel, and the steam filled my lungs. Lasers bounced off the tiles, green and red, and I followed their