by Abigail Roux
on the end of the lounger. Addison pulled his legs up to give him room and blew an impressive smoke ring into the night
as he rested his head on the cushion.
“Talk to me, brother,” Brayden pleaded softly.
“Our king is dead, Brayden,” Addison murmured grimly
as he closed his eyes and rested his head back, squirming in that languid way that only someone trying to sustain their
buzz could manage. “Long live the fucking king.”
“Jesus, Sonny,” Brayden spat angrily as he looked away
at the white tips of the waves in the distance. “Are you trying to destroy everything we’ve worked for?” he asked.
“Worked for?” Addison spat. “Brayden, we’ve never
worked a day in our lives. I don’t think we’d even know how,”
he claimed as he closed his eyes.
“You know how closely we’re being watched right now?”
Brayden shot back at him as he reached into his neatly
tailored suit jacket and pulled out the manila envelope he
had been carrying with him since the night before. He tossed it at Addison angrily.
Addison jerked in surprise and flailed as the envelope
hit him in the face. Brayden felt a mixture of regret and
satisfaction when he saw that the edge of the heavy paper
had sliced a thin cut along Addison’s tanned cheekbone.
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“What the hell, man?” Addison muttered, apparently too
stoned or drunk to have felt it. He reached into the envelope and extracted a handful of glossy eight-by-ten photographs, squinting at them in the low light.
Even in the moonlight, though, it was obvious what the
pictures showed. Addison inhaled sharply and looked up at
Brayden in outraged confusion.
“Where did you get these?” he demanded in a hurt voice.
“A friend took them,” Brayden muttered in answer.
“You’re having me followed?” Addison cried as he held
up the fuzzy black-and-white prints and waved them
through the air. Brayden looked away from the photos and
shook his head. He didn’t need to see his brother like that, especially not with someone like Micah Parrish.
“You were always about the sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll,
Sonny,” he said softly, “but does it have to be so fucking
blatant? What if that had been the cops taking those
pictures and not someone I trusted?”
“You’re having me followed?!” Addison repeated in
outrage as he tossed the photos at Brayden. They scattered
as they hit him, fluttering to the sand around them in a
collage of illicit activities.
“I’m trying to protect you!” Brayden shouted at him as
he picked up the photo that had landed in his lap and
crumpled it up in his hand. “I’m trying to protect both of us!”
“I don’t need your protection!” Addison shouted as he
struggled off the lounger and to his feet. He wobbled slightly 47
My Brother’s Keeper | Abigail Roux
in the soft sand, going to his knees and hanging his head as he tried to stop his world from spinning.
Brayden slid off the lounger and knelt beside him in the
sand, resting his hand on Addison’s back and bending over
him to peer at his face.
“Addison,” he murmured worriedly. “Please….”
Addison stared at the picture on the ground beneath his
hand. “I’m framing that one,” he stated suddenly, calm and
nonchalant once more.
The change in moods was jarring, and Brayden found
himself staring at his younger brother with his mouth
hanging open. It wasn’t any effect of the drugs or alcohol.
Addison had always switched gears with a rapidity that
made Brayden dizzy, even when they had been little.
Addison looked back at him and pointed down at the
photo. “That position is hard to get into,” he told Brayden defensively.
Brayden couldn’t help himself. He snorted in
amusement and flopped onto his ass beside his brother, all
his anger inexplicably draining away. Addison shifted and
rolled onto his back, spread-eagle in the sand and looking up at the stars as he rested his head on Brayden’s shin.
Brayden was hit with an array of memories. His chest
tightened, and he cocked his head to watch Addison sadly.
How many nights had they done this as children? How many
nights had they stared at the stars together and wondered
where this life would lead them? How had it gone so horribly wrong for them both? His brother a junkie, and Brayden was
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stuck in this fucking place, miserable and mean just like his father had been.
Addison swallowed heavily and closed his eyes as
Brayden watched him. When he opened them again, a tear
tracked down his tanned face and disappeared into his
hairline. He didn’t seem to notice it.
“Don’t leave me, okay?” Brayden asked him in a hoarse
voice. “Stick with it just a little longer,” he pleaded.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Addison murmured. He
reached up and swiped the sleeve of his white linen shirt
over his eyes. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Sonny?” a distant voice called from the direction of the
club.
Addison sat up slowly and hung his head, not looking in
the direction of the voice.
“We have to stick together, Sonny,” Brayden whispered
to him urgently. “We have to button it up and stop doing
stupid shit,” he hissed.
“By stupid shit, do you mean Micah?” Addison asked in
a low voice.
“Sonny, man, if you’re out here drunk again, I’m going
to bury you and make you up like a fucking mermaid in the
sand!” Micah Parrish’s voice threatened softly. He was
obviously searching Addison’s usual haunts as he moved,
and Brayden was surprised to find that the man sounded
genuinely concerned.
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“You think I have to buy real friends?” Addison asked
him bitterly. “Just because that’s how it’s always been,” he murmured as he looked out into the sea.
Brayden opened his mouth to protest, but Addison was
right. The only true friends either of them had ever had
growing up had been each other. Too much money could
isolate a kid just like having nothing could. “He’s different, isn’t he?” he whispered to Addison suddenly.
“He’s different,” Addison nodded, his voice hoarse and
strained.
Brayden squeezed his eyes closed and shook his head.
“He could hurt us, kiddo,” he reminded. “Badly.”
“He can’t hurt us any more than losing him would,”
Addison argued softly as Micah called out to him once more.
“Where have you gone, Sonny?” Brayden asked
pleadingly. “What have you done to yourself?”
Addison turned his head to look at him, and even in the
moonlight Brayden could see that tears were still flowing.
Brayden couldn’t decide if he was crying or if he was just too stoned to realize his eyes were watering.
“I’ve done a lot of things I’m not proud of, Brayden,”
Addi
son murmured as Brayden studied him. “Micah’s not
one of them,” he said softly as he pushed himself to his feet with difficulty and looked down at Brayden
“And that’s that?” Brayden asked him in defeat.
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“That’s that,” Addison confirmed. He nodded his head
suddenly and then turned and made his way with difficulty
through the sand, toward the sound of Micah’s voice.
MICAH had tried unsuccessfully to veer Addison off his
current path, but when Addison wanted something, he got it.
End of story. Micah merely stuck to him like glue as they
weaved through the sweltering nightclub, hoping to prevent
any catastrophes.
After a half-hour of searching through the throng of
party-goers, Addison finally found the man he was looking
for. Micah turned away, not wanting to look at the dealer too closely, and he kept an eye on the writhing crowd as Addison made the deal amidst the pounding music and the smoke
wafting through the air. Then Addison’s hand was on the
small of Micah’s back, and they were making their way
through the crowd once more to the door. They didn’t plan
on staying and enjoying the throbbing dance club, and
Micah was glad for it.
Micah usually enjoyed the occasional foray into the club
scene, but tonight the comparably cool air of the outside on his face was a welcome relief. He and Addison walked side-by-side back to Micah’s beat up old ’71 Camaro. They were
silent as Micah drove home, Addison distantly watching the
scenery pass by and Micah giving him worried glances as he
drove.
He had already expressed his misgivings regarding
Addison’s plans for the night. They’d had a long discussion 51
My Brother’s Keeper | Abigail Roux
while sitting in his car at the club, and Micah was still trying to get his mind around what Addison had told him and what
he wanted Micah to do. Micah was by no means averse to
illegalities; he thought he had already proved that beyond a shadow of a doubt in some of their previous adventures. But he was averse to stupidity. And what they had just done was damn stupid if Addison’s brother was right and they were
being observed closely by the cops.
Micah found himself looking for a tail, but he didn’t
know enough to be able to spot one and still concentrate on actually driving.
He’d tried to talk Addison out of it on the way there.
Addison was hearing none of it, though, and Micah wisely
kept his mouth shut after his initial objections. Micah feared Addison would find someone else to go with him, and Micah
didn’t trust anyone else to do the job. He didn’t want to think of Addison out with someone else anyway.
Addison reached out and slid his fingers over Micah’s on
the gear shift, but he remained quiet. The silence stretched on as Micah parked his car on the street, and they made
their way to his studio apartment off the Miracle Mile.
The night offered a welcome breeze that kicked up as
they walked across the street, but by the time they had
climbed the metal stairs and Micah had all the locks
unlocked, they were both sweating lightly once more. It was par for a Florida course.
Micah’s apartment had no air conditioner, just a ceiling
fan that he clicked on as soon as he stepped into the place.
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It began to move the hot air around as Micah closed the
door.
Addison walked over and pulled the chain on the fan,
turning off the light almost before the bulbs had a chance to warm up. Micah went to the balcony doors and pulled them
open, closing his eyes and sighing deeply as the distant
scent of the ocean hit his face. He turned to find Addison
watching him in the yellow light that streamed in through
the windows that faced the street. The only sound was the
rhythmic clink of the fan as it revved to life and the hum of the refrigerator as it worked hard to keep its contents cold.
They didn’t say a word to each other as Addison pulled
the little bag from his pocket and walked slowly over to
Micah. Micah watched him almost regretfully. The really
shitty part about what Micah knew was coming was that he
knew he’d enjoy it; that he’d give Addison exactly what he
was seeking and never really even regret doing it.
Even now, his forebodings were lessening and being
replaced by a dull sense of anticipation.
Addison stepped up to him and slid one hand around
the back of his neck slowly, bringing their bodies closer in the stifling heat of the little apartment. It was the sort of humid night that made you want nothing more than a cool
shower and a clean set of sheets to sweat on. But Micah had always been of the opinion that if you were going to sweat
anyway, you may as well be enjoying it. Luckily, Addison
shared the opinion. In fact, Micah was pretty certain that
being marginally uncomfortable and hot turned Addison on
even more.
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Micah tugged him closer and kissed him hungrily. The
sweat on their bare skin stuck them together as they
touched, but neither man seemed to care. They had still not spoken a word to each other, not since Addison had
instructed Micah to drive to the nightclub. They had reached a point where they knew what they wanted. Neither man
needed to speak.
Micah suddenly pushed him roughly away and looked at
him intently as his hand moved to unbuckle his own belt.
Addison watched him, expressionless, for a long moment
before smirking crookedly and backing away.
He walked over to open the windows, pulling up the
blinds and pushing the windows as wide as they would go as
he worked on removing his own shirt. He dropped it on the
floor carelessly as he moved. Micah watched it flutter to the white tile and then looked back up at Addison as the man
continued undressing and walking to each window to open
them. With the last window, Addison turned and met his
eyes, and he kept them on him as he moved.
Micah followed him toward the bed slowly, like a lion
stalking a human, knowing he could devour him but
somehow sensing that he could be hurt in the ensuing fight
as well. Addison was just unpredictable enough to keep
Micah on his toes.
When Micah reached him, Addison took hold of his shirt
and pushed it up, giving Micah one last open-mouthed,
messy kiss before lowering slowly to his knees. On his way
down, he kissed at Micah’s chest and stomach, licking at the sweat along his defined muscles.
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Micah closed his eyes and tilted his head back, letting
Addison sink in front of him without touching him or trying to stop him. Addison’s hands pulled at Micah’s undone
khakis and tugged them down, followed soon after by his
boxers.
Micah looked down and watched as Addison licked
slowly at the head of his cock, as if testing to make certain Micah was ready. He looked up at him, met Micah’s eyes,
and then gave another of his crooked, mischievous grins.
Micah
swallowed hard and placed a hand on the top of
Addison’s head.
Addison licked him up and down before pulling out the
bag he’d been holding and tipping out some of the white
powder onto the head of Micah’s cock. Micah held his breath as he watched, trying to remain motionless where he stood.
Addison used his free hand to pump Micah slowly as he
tipped out more and then bent his head to spread it with his tongue.
Micah exhaled slowly, licking his lips and restraining
himself from thrusting into Addison’s mouth.
As soon as Addison was satisfied with his work, he set
the baggie on the floor beside him and took Micah between
his lips slowly. Micah grunted quietly as Addison’s warm
mouth enveloped him, and he watched raptly as Addison let
his cock slide in. He knew Addison was teasing him, and he
planned to enjoy it while he could. Soon the cocaine on his skin would numb him, and he would only be able to feel the
vague suggestion of what Addison’s tongue was doing to him.
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That vague suggestion and watching Addison on his
knees would keep Micah maddeningly hard, though. Hard
enough to fuck Addison for hours after the other man’s high set in.
Micah reached down and ran his hand along the side of
Addison’s face and through his hair to grip it tightly. Addison never stopped what he was doing. Micah could already feel
himself going numb where the cocaine had touched him, and
he groaned in welcome frustration.
The frustration was part of the appeal, after all.
As soon as he made a sound, Addison let him slide out
of his mouth, and he stood, licking at Micah’s stomach and
chest again as he gained his feet once more.
They stared at each other in the insidious yellow light,
hearing nothing but the sounds of the late-night traffic and the comforting clink-clink of the fan overhead. Micah
reached for the other man and slid his hands down the sides of his torso to his hips and back up again, just enjoying the way Addison felt in his arms.
Addison raised his hand wordlessly and showed Micah
the two fingers that were still laced with the white powder in an incongruous peace sign. Micah cocked his head at him
and parted his lips slightly, and Addison ran his fingers