by Brina Brady
“Look, Darius, I gave him to you so you’d take him off my hands. He’s nothing but trouble. Take him and keep him this time, but he has to work a shift before you take him home with you. He owes me tonight.”
“I’ll be back for him.” Darius left the office and slammed the door on his way out. His stomach was in knots. How had he reached this point with Abel? Everything was going great, and then the next moment, everything turned to shit. He’d thought they’d formed a strong bond in such a short period. Perhaps they had allowed themselves to be too open and vulnerable with each other. Noah always said that Sammy was so damn honest.
He drove to the Economy Motel and searched for Abel’s car in the parking lot but didn’t see it. He parked the car and walked into the office.
“Is an Abel Gardner registered here?” Darius asked the manager behind the desk.
“We don’t give personal information out.” The older man crossed his arms over his chest.
“Excuse me, I’m a relative, and he told me he was staying here. I need to give him some money.”
The man eyed Darius suspiciously. “Do you think that information is free? Do I look like Google Search?”
Darius pulled out a twenty-dollar bill and handed it to the man.
“He’s in room 121.”
“Thanks.” Darius left the office and walked around the motel until he found room 121. He leaned his head against the door to see if he could hear anything, but there wasn’t a peep inside the room. Maybe Abel was in the shower, or maybe he was sleeping. Two men wearing blue bandanas stood two doors down from Abel’s room, smoking.
“Hey, the kid ain’t home. He left about an hour ago,” one of the men said.
Darius walked up to them, not knowing if they were gang members or bikers. “Do you know where he went?”
“Nope, but he was wearing those short shorts he usually wears to work. He’s a dancer at Boka Boys.”
“How do you know that?” Darius asked. Abel shouldn’t be living here, or the Merit Motel, under any circumstances. He must stay at the cabin, even if he didn’t want Darius there. What a fucking mess.
“He told us. He’s been around here and at the Merit Motel for a year. We watch out for him. He’s a good kid with a past that would mess anyone up.”
“I see. Thanks. If you see him, tell him Darius was looking for him.”
“Why is that?” the other one asked, frowning with his arms crossed against his wide chest. “He doesn’t owe you money, does he?”
“He works a side job for me painting. I need to pay him.”
“He could use some cash. The kid spends a lot of money on his massages, makeup, and his nails. He works until three in the morning to get enough money.”
“Three in the morning?”
“Yep. We meet him at the back door and walk him home when he works so no one messes with him. Some old dude over there wants to fuck him.”
“What old dude?”
“Grandpa Benson, the owner. He broke Abel’s heart. We told him not to mess with Grandpa Benson. Abel is just messed up. We do the best we can for him.”
“I’m Darius Eriksen.”
“I’m Miguel Flores, and this is my brother Arturo.”
Darius shook both their hands. “Nice meeting you guys. Thanks for keeping an eye on Abel.”
“We’ll be picking him up tonight,” Miguel said.
“Don’t bother. I’m going to pick him up.”
“Are you sure you’re not interested in Abel?” Miguel asked.
“Does it matter? I’m his employer, and I need to pay him.”
“Eriksen? Are you the same Eriksen who owns the Blue Diamond Diner?” Arturo asked.
“That’s me.”
The two brothers looked at each other and laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“Abel told us all about this hot man he’d been watching for a week at your diner. I bet it was you, but he told us you were a lumberjack,” Miguel said.
“Yes, he was talking about me, but I’m not a real lumberjack. I chop wood when I need it, not for a living.” Darius found these two men fascinating. They were nothing like he’d imagined by their appearances. Although they didn’t seem like men he would’ve thought to be Abel’s friends, Abel had chosen well. They protected him, and that was good. Abel was a survivor. Darius hadn’t given Abel enough credit. He hardly knew him, and that was the main problem.
“We told him to look only,” Arturo said.
“Do either of you need a job?”
“We’ve been looking for better-paying jobs.”
“I recently inherited the lodge by North Shore. I’m looking for security guards. If you’re interested, fill out an application, and I’ll see what I can do for you.” He handed each one a lodge card.
“Thanks,” they said in unison.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Abel
Before he danced in the evening, Abel loved to get a massage. It cost a bundle, but it made him feel relaxed, just what he needed before he stepped onstage. He drove into town, with his stereo blaring, sat in the parking lot, and finished listening to the song. People passed by his car, covering their ears. When the song was over, he walked down the street and into the massage parlor. Abel spotted Jamal, a young guy with pink hair that stood out against his dark skin, behind the appointment desk.
“Hey, Abel, haven’t seen you in a while,” Jamal said. He had a mad crush on Abel, but he was a bottom, so they’d never work out. Besides, he had a muscular six-foot-four black wrestler boyfriend who would crush anyone hitting on Jamal. However, that didn’t deter Jamal from flirting while he was at work. Abel always worried his boyfriend would show up and catch Jamal flirting with the customers.
“I’ve been painting a huge porch, and I’m sore all over. Need a massage desperately.”
“For money or blow job?” Jamal asked and licked his lips.
“I have money this time.” Abel had traded a blow job for a massage a couple of times when he was low on cash. He dropped fifty dollars for the massage on the counter. Thanks to Mr. Benson, who had paid him for the blow job today, he had enough money. He wasn’t about to give another blow job if he didn’t have to. He wasn’t proud of himself for using sex to earn money, but he was getting by, and he had his job back without working the back room. He’d negotiated it back on his terms and didn’t mind servicing Mr. Benson because he paid well and made him feel special. He had forgiven Mr. Benson for firing him, only because he’d rehired him. What would the other dancers say when he showed up this evening? Nerves jittered inside him. He might get the cold shoulder.
Jamal led him to the light pink room in the back. Abel stripped down and jumped onto the table. Jamal lit five pink candles and turned on some soft music. Abel already felt himself losing some tension. He wanted to forget Daddy Darius. How wrong he was about that man. He was perfect for Abel until he’d stabbed him in the back. Betrayal 101.
“Still working at Boka Boys?”
“Yes.”
“I heard you were fired.” Jamal’s dark eyes widened.
“Who told you that?” Abel asked.
“Keon.”
“I was for a minute, but Mr. Benson rehired me. Keon ought to mind his own business.”
“Keon said Grandpa Benson wanted you gone because he kicked you out of his bed.”
“So much for Keon keeping my business private. He puts my shit on blast everywhere. I shouldn’t tell him anything anymore.”
“No. No. He was worried about you. He didn’t say it in a mean way, sweetie.”
“Really?”
“He thought you might want to crash at his apartment until you got a job.”
“Keon knows my number. I didn’t get any call.”
“Are you working tonight?”
“At nine. Why?”
“I thought I’d check you out over there.”
“That’s great. Bring your friends.”
“I will. I told them all about you. S
o damn sexy, you pretty boy. Now, get on your stomach.”
Abel flipped over and closed his eyes. Jamal lubricated Abel’s skin with lavender-scented lotion and took his time around Abel’s ass. His intense movements warmed up Abel’s muscle tissue, releasing the tension, and gradually the muscle knots broke up. He was way too tight from all the stress.
“Damn, your ass is tight. You need to get fucked soon.”
“Tell me about it. I’m working on it.”
“After work, do you want to go to a party?”
“What kind of party?”
“Pot party for gay boys.”
“I don’t smoke.” Abel never smoked for fear that he’d lose his eternal life at the end, but now that he was living the gay life, he might have already lost it. Still, he didn’t see any benefit, since it smelled bad.
“Pot is different. It relaxes your entire body and intensifies your orgasms. You might find someone to fuck you over there.”
“No. I can’t smoke pot either.”
“Why the hell not?” Jamal slipped his hand between Abel’s legs and touched his sack. His cock started to swell under the pink sheet.
“Don’t touch me there. My dick is hard now, and I’m trying to relax here.”
“You want me to jerk you off? Your body is begging for it. How long has it been since you were fucked?” Jamal asked.
“And what do you want in exchange for that?” Abel asked, moving his hand to his erection. Damn, his dick never behaved in public places.
“Nothing. I wanted to see your pearly cum.” Jamal kissed Abel behind his ear.
“Jamal, just do your job. I can jerk off at home.” Abel didn’t trust Jamal to do anything for anyone for free. He was the type of guy who wanted compensation for smiling. No, thank you. He didn’t need to owe him anything.
Jamal asked Abel to turn over and started massaging him while Abel’s cock stuck straight up, practically in Jamal’s face. He continued massaging without going near his cock.
“Look, pretty boy, if you don’t want me to jerk you off, why don’t you do it. I don’t mind watching.”
Abel nodded. Jamal poured some lotion into Abel’s cupped hand. He wrapped his lubricated fingers around the shaft of his cock, rubbing it lengthwise at a consistent rate and closing his eyes while imagining Darius was watching him instead of Jamal. As he began to lose control, he covered his mouth with his other hand so Jamal wouldn’t hear him moaning in ecstasy at delight from getting himself off. He couldn’t stop his balls from shooting his cum onto his stomach. With a bit of luck, this would keep his dick down for a while. When he opened his eyes, Jamal was standing next to the table, his shorts pulled down, stroking his own hard brown erection, breathing deeply.
“Can I come on you? I’ll clean it up,” Jamal asked.
“No. No way, Jamal.”
Jamal lost it and shot his load onto Abel’s stomach. “Fuck. Fuck. Sorry. Not sorry.” He got a warm washcloth and cleaned Abel up.
“I told you not to come on me,” Abel shouted.
“Hey, sorry. I owe you a free massage.”
“How about two since you sexually abused me?” Abel asked. “And I’m a paying customer.”
“Okay. Just don’t get pissed, sweetie.”
“I want those tickets, not just your word.”
“Yes, yes. I’ll get them for you.”
“Now.” Abel sat up and started to dress.
“You’re a little bitchy today. You need to get that cute ass fucked soon.”
“Shut up, Jamal. I bet you’d love to do the honors.”
“Nope. I don’t top, sweetie.” He left Abel to finish dressing. Then Able blew out the candles before Jamal set the place on fire.
Abel went to the front desk to collect his two free massage tickets and stuffed them into his wallet.
“You’re not mad at me, honey, are you?”
“No, not anymore, but you better not do that again. I’ve got to get ready for work.”
“Never, sweetie.” Jamal blew him a kiss.
Abel stopped at the nail salon and had a pedicure, then had his fingernails and toenails painted blue. When he finished at the salon, he purchased some instant blue dye to streak his hair. He wanted to make a big comeback at the club, even though he was still nervous about it.
Abel returned to his room and took a shower, then added the blue streaks, using the hairdryer to dry his hair. After drinking a bottle of water, he put on his stripper cutoff shorts and a T-shirt. He was still nervous about tonight. He applied black eyeliner and studied himself in the bathroom mirror. It hit him then that he’d never be Daddy Darius’s Baby Bear. Tears trickled down his face and messed up his eye makeup. He gave himself some time to cry, then washed his face and reapplied his eye makeup. Once he was calm, he put on all his colorful bracelets. With all the compliments he’d gotten when he wore them, he made sure he always had them. Mr. Benson was fond of them too. Then he checked his phone for messages.
Sammy: Call me. Daddy Darius is upset you left, and Daddy Noah whipped me for telling you. Please give Daddy Darius another chance. I’m sorry. I just wanted you to like me.
Abel didn’t know what to say to Sammy, so he didn’t reply to the text. He didn’t blame Sammy, he’d get back to him tomorrow. He needed time to detox from the ball of shit that had hit him. There were two other messages.
Mr. Benson: Heads-up! Darius was in here, looking for you. Call him before he drives me crazy. See you tonight!
Abel: I’m done with Darius. I don’t want anything to do with him. See you tonight. Do you want me to stop in your office with some sugar?
Mr. Benson: Sugar, your sweet sugar is welcome anytime.
Abel sent him a red lips emoticon and read Daddy Darius’s message.
Darius: We need to talk. Call me.
Abel typed a text to Darius.
Oh, we need to talk all right, Mr. Eriksen. How dare you terrorize me like I’m under your control? You don’t know me. You don’t own me. You don’t get to make my decisions. You think because you have money that you can control my job choice and me. What is wrong with you? What kind of Daddy hurts his Baby Bear? No wonder Lucas cheated on you. You’re a bad Daddy, and I don’t want you anymore.
After Abel reread the message, he changed his mind and deleted it. Better to ignore him. That should hurt him more than words. He was so pissed at Daddy Darius. Why did he have to ruin them before they’d even begun?
Underneath all Abel’s anger and hurt, he still wanted Daddy Darius, but Daddy Darius had to pay for hurting him. His heart was broken, and once again, he had to get over another relationship that never was. Abel should’ve read the signs; they had all been there.
If Daddy Darius were really into me, he would’ve fucked me last night. But he hadn’t. That in itself says a lot. And at lunch, he treated me like an employee. That really stung.
There was a loud knock on the door. Abel’s heart tumbled to the floor. What if it was Darius? He tiptoed to the door and listened for any sounds. Nothing. Another loud knock made Abel jump.
“Who’s there?” Abel called out.
“Miguel.”
Abel unlocked the door and slid the latch open.
“Hi! I’m getting ready for work.”
“Can I come in?”
“Why?” Abel never allowed anyone in his room.
“I have a special message for you.”
“Come in, but I have to leave in ten minutes.” Abel stepped out of the way and allowed Miguel in. He reeked of pot.
“Your boyfriend showed up here about an hour ago.”
“What boyfriend?” Abel asked.
“The lumberjack. Mr. Darius Eriksen.”
“What did he want?”
“You. He seems like a nice guy. Did he hurt you?”
“He’s not a nice guy, even if my dick thinks so. He got me fired.”
“How did he do that?”
“Money talks. Mr. Benson took his money and fired me because Darius
wanted me for himself.”
“So, that’s a good thing. He offered Arturo and me a job today.”
“How nice. He’s giving jobs away left and right, but none for me.”
“Well, Abel, I can’t see you working as a security guard. I mean, you’re not security guard material. Do you want us to walk you home tonight?” Miguel asked.
“Please, if you two don’t mind, especially with Darius stalking me.”
“He’s not stalking you. He likes you and wants you. He’s much better than Grandpa Benson, who kicked you out in the middle of a rainy night.”
“Maybe he is. I don’t know. I just need some time, that’s all. Thanks for talking to me that night when I crashed. That meant a lot to me.”
“We’re always here for you. Be careful around Grandpa Benson. He’s not your friend.”
“Thanks. I need to leave.”
“Are you walking?”
Abel nodded.
“I’ll walk with you, so no one jumps you.”
“Why would someone jump me?”
“Look at what you’re wearing.”
Once Abel arrived at the club, he went straight to Mr. Benson’s office. He opened the door without knocking. Mr. Benson was sitting on top of his desk with his slacks down to his knees while one of the other dancers gave him a blow job. His heartbeat accelerated.
“Don’t you know how to knock?” Mr. Benson asked.
“Sorry. I’ll come back later.”
“Knock next time, boy.”
Abel quickly turned around and went to the large dressing room, where he sat in front of the mirror, trying to slow down his heart. Mr. Benson was such a damn pig. Why didn’t he tell Abel not to come to his office before work if he had some other dancer sucking his damn dick?
“Hey, Abel!” Keon called from across the room.
“Hey, Keon.”
Keon finished his eye makeup and made his way to him.
“Glad to see you’re back.”
“Thanks.”
“The dancers are all going to party after work on Mr. Benson’s yacht. Want to come?”
“No, thanks.” Mr. Benson hadn’t even invited him after he’d given him a blow job. Though he appreciated the money.
“Are you pissed at Mr. Benson?”