by Mary Calmes
I had to go out for food, but since nothing looked particularly appetizing, I ended up at the liquor store myself, buying water, Red Bull, and lots of PowerBars and pretzels. I had lived through an entire summer once on ramen noodles and pretzels. Both had the same makeup as dog kibble—it expanded with water in your stomach. After three days, though, I remembered why I didn't eat either anymore.
My phone rang constantly, and after I put it on silent I forgot about it. I checked the numbers though, just to keep tabs. Dane called thirty times, Aja nineteen, Aaron called—
which was strange since Sam had told him not to—twelve times, Aubrey called fifteen times, Dylan the same, and Chris called seven times from work. Evan called a lot, too many to even count, and I got assorted calls from Sam's family. All that came from the hospital I picked up, as various nurses told me how well Sam was progressing. Doctor Kohara said that they expected him up at any time. Any number I didn't know, I didn't bother picking up.
Saturday night I called Aubrey and told her that I would not be in on Monday but that I had all my files ready to go in my e-mail at work. I had done all my projects from home the week before without Sam knowing. I had e-mailed them all from my laptop at home to the office before I had left. She was thrilled that she was covered, appreciated me pulling my weight, but then fell into begging me to come home.
"Jory, baby—you're scaring the crap out of all of us. Every policeman in the city is on the lookout for you, and Sam...
Sam's gonna be awake soon and when you're not there he's gonna—"
"Sam needs me to find this guy, Abe, and I finally realize that it's up to me. Nobody else cares as much as I do so....
But I know you didn't sign on to be the sole proprietor of Harvest Design, so if you wanna just close the office until I—"
"No, honey, I quit Barrington—I want to work with you and Dy full time, if you think that—"
"I would love that. What'd Dy say?"
"Jory, don't you think, considering the circumstances, that we should maybe talk about this in—"
"She was stoked, right?"
"God, your words—what is this, the fifth grade?"
"Yes," I teased her.
"Jory, she thought it was a great idea, so I think that—"
"Thanks, Abe, you're making a good decision. I swear."
"Jory Harcourt, I just found you! I love and adore you and if anything happens to you I just don't—"
"It's gonna be okay, partner. Now look out for Dy and take care of the office. I'll be home soon."
"Jor—"
But I cut her off when I hung up. I didn't answer when she called back.
Around ten that night I was finally rewarded for my vigilance. I saw one of the carjackers stroll into the liquor store while his friend waited outside and smoked a cigarette.
I left my phone in the room and took the five flights of stairs down and out the back door to the street. Being a weekend night, the store was crawling with people; the dealers were on every corner, hustlers were clustered in doorways, and a little further down were hookers in various stages of spandex and varying heights of heels. Hard to strut on wet sidewalks in four-inch stilettos. And even though I loved to prowl around at night, it was different in the part of town I was in, and all alone. I realized that between my man, my friends, my family, I was never alone anymore. I had gotten used to being a part of a network of people. It was weird to think it was just me.
"Hey," I greeted the guy standing outside, leaning against the window of the liquor store.
He looked up at me warily. "Hey."
I shoved my hands down into the pockets of my peacoat.
"Do you remember me?"
He squinted at me. "No, man."
"I—"
"Oh," he nodded. "Were you at Jerry's?"
"No," I shook my head. "I was the guy in the trunk of the car that you and your buddy stole."
His brows rose, almost disappearing into his hairline. "Oh shit! Billy and me were wondering what the hell happened to you." He looked me over. "What the fuck were you on, man?"
"I was on a lot of shit. But I need to find out where I was before I got put in the trunk of the car. There's a hundred in it for you and your buddy to split if you can show me the place."
He nodded. "Sure, man. But me and Billy gotta hit a club first. You come with us and as soon as we do our trick we'll go, all right?"
"Perfect," I agreed.
"Come on," he said, grabbing hold of the lapel of my peacoat and leading me inside the liquor store. "What's your name?"
"Jory."
"I'm Steph."
I followed him to his friend Bill, who was coming out from the back room of the store when we found him. He seemed just as amazed to be meeting me.
"What club is it?" I asked Steph.
"The Dirty Blonde," he told me. "Do you know it?"
I didn't, but neither had I spent much time in the part of town where I currently was.
"We're meeting our boss there. His name's Rego... it's his club."
I nodded, pointing at Bill's hand. "And those are what—poppers?"
He shrugged. "Sure. We got other stuff too. Tell me what you want and I'll hook you up."
"No thanks." I smiled at him. "Let's go."
There is in me the desire to know things about people. All people—everyone I meet. I have to dissect them and find out what makes them tick. So slowly, gently, as we walked, I asked questions. Steph, short for Stephan, was from Wisconsin. He had moved to the city three years ago to go to college after he graduated from high school. He had, as of yet, not started. He didn't really like the idea of studying.
What he did like however was to party with his friends.
Because keeping a job with an addiction to crystal meth had proven problematic, he had ended up living with his friend Bill.
William "Bill" Donavan and Stephan "Steph" Baer had met at a club and had been inseparable at once. They were both young and hot so it made sense. Steph was built like a swimmer with long, lean muscles, short curly brown hair and dark blue eyes. Bill was a little taller, built thicker with broad shoulders and heavier muscles. His hair was more of a golden brown and his eyes were greenish-brown, lighter than hazel but close. They fit together, and so when his other roommates had finally evicted Steph from his apartment, Bill had taken him in. The problem was that Bill didn't pay his rent with money; he paid it by working for Rego James.
Mr. James owned several clubs in the city and he also apparently had a lucrative escort service on the side. Rego had no problem with Steph sleeping on Bill's couch, which was basically his couch since he paid the rent there, as long as Steph turned the same tricks that Bill did. They basically did whatever they wanted whenever they wanted, but if Rego needed them to go somewhere or do somebody, they had better jump. It took a lot of money to keep the drugs coming and that was why they had stolen the car. What Rego had given them from the last party was gone and there was no money for food or anything else. The hundred that I was offering looked really good.
"So Bill, how did you meet this Rego guy?"
He had more of a wary look than Steph did, and for a second I wasn't sure if he was going to tell me when he suddenly smiled. "Call me Billy."
"Sure."
Bill had been in the city since he was sixteen, having left home in his junior year of high school. Fresh off the bus from Knoxville Tennessee, Rego had found him sleeping in the doorway of one of his clubs and had offered to take him for breakfast.
"He took me to his place and that was it—I didn't even know I was gay until then."
I squinted at him, holding back the real questions I wanted to ask. "How old are you?"
"I'm nineteen, Steph's eighteen—he just turned two weeks ago."
"You guys ever wanna go home?"
"No, man," he shook his head. "It's boring as shit at home."
Steph's eyes flicked to mine. "Nobody at home gives a crap."
"Won't you get some money to
night?" I cleared my throat, walking into the club behind Steph.
"No," he shook his head. "We actually owe Rego money, we both had him front us cash."
I nodded, realizing the kind of club I was in. Bar in front with the dance floor, rooms in back, and further back, bigger rooms down long, dark hallways. It was a half step up from a bathhouse. When I had first moved to the city I had been a regular in the meat-market-type places, but because I worked every day for Dane Harcourt, I had not been able to completely lose myself in the scene. For the millionth time I realized how lucky I was to have finished high school and college and have a good job the whole time. I could have easily been Stephan or William if things had gone different.
I followed silently behind them through the dark club to a table where a guy sat, with several other men on couches, close to the back rooms.
"Finally," the guy said, standing up, "Gimme your coat, he's waiting."
Bill shed his coat to reveal tight black jeans and a black spandex T-shirt that clung like a second skin to his chest and abdomen. Not that there was a lot of definition there, but he still had a nice body. He turned to look at me quickly.
"Hang tight, Jory."
I nodded.
"Dance or something," he said before he bolted toward the door and went through it.
"Steph!"
We both turned to look at the man who had yelled for him.
"Get your ass in the back too."
Steph squeezed my arm before he, too, darted away.
When I turned to walk back to the bar, the man stepped in front of me.
"Who're you?"
I looked up into the face of a very handsome man.
Immediately I was drawn to the thick brows, the big olive-green eyes, and his dark, full lips. The suit he was wearing fit like a glove and the dress shirt was open at the collar.
"Asked you a question."
"Who're you?" I asked instead of answering.
"I'm Rego—now you."
"Oh, you're him."
"Yeah, I'm him."
"I'm Jory."
He nodded, looked me up and down. "You a friend of Steph and Bill?"
"No."
"Rego."
He looked away from me at the man sitting on the couch beside him.
"Is he new?"
He shook his head and returned his eyes to mine. "You don't need a job, right?"
"No. I'm a graphic designer."
He nodded. "Sit with me."
"Sure."
I took off my peacoat and my beanie and sat down beside him, a few feet from everyone else.
"So you do what exactly?"
"Graphic design."
"Rego."
He looked over his shoulder.
"I thought you said you didn't have a blond."
"I don't."
The other man pointed at me. "You can't get any blonder than that."
He chuckled as the music got louder. "He's not mine."
There was a hand on my shoulder and I looked up at an older man standing beside me. "Hi."
"Hi? I love that." He smiled down at me before he looked at Rego. "He's perfect."
"No," Rego shook his head. "He's just here visiting me."
The guy nodded, walked slowly away.
"Hey."
I returned my eyes to him.
"I wanna talk to you."
"Sure."
He got up and took hold of the front of my short-sleeved button-down shirt and led me to the dance floor.
I started dancing, and instead of moving with me, he just watched me.
"Come on." I smiled lazily. "I can look at you and know you can dance."
"Is that right?"
"Yeah."
He nodded and then grabbed me fast. He was bigger than me, stronger, and when I struggled he got his arm around my neck and my arm twisted up behind me. He dragged me off the floor through a side door that I hadn't even seen when I came in. I was shoved hard and had just enough time to get my hands up so I didn't go face-first into the door and then the wall on the other side. My chest was slammed into it hard as he flattened himself against my back.
"I smell hustler on you, Jory, I think you'd like gettin'
fucked regular."
I tried to move but he had me again, my arm feeling like it was going to pop out of the socket, his forearm against the back of my neck.
"You are the most beautiful thing I've seen in a long time.
You are so fuckin' clean."
"I promise I'm not a hustler."
"But you could be."
"No," I sighed. "I don't have the heart for it."
"Your heart has nothing to—"
"Lemme go," I asked him.
"I don't wanna hurt you, so don't fight me, all right?"
I nodded and he let my arm go but didn't move back, still holding my cheek to the wall.
"Blond hair and brown eyes, Jory, that's real nice."
"Can you let go?"
"I don't think so," he said, working my belt and the snap of my jeans open. "You ever bareback, Jory? I think you'll like it."
"Never happen," I promised him.
"No?"
"No."
"Okay, baby, don't worry, I've got a condom right here."
And I should have panicked, I really should have... but I didn't. Raped was not something I had ever even considered.
I figured I might be beat up, maybe even shot at, but never raped. It didn't figure into my plans.
"You don't wanna do that."
"Why not?"
I let my head fall back on his shoulder and just breathed.
"'Cause I'm better seduced and taken to bed."
"You—"
"The guys you got—touch my skin, touch my hair, you said I was beautiful and clean—why you wanna make me like all the other guys?"
I felt his breath on the side of my neck before his lips.
"I'm not here to give you trouble."
"Oh, I know... you're here for me to—"
"Kiss me first."
"I don't kiss anybody."
"Why not? You're gorgeous. I bet you could make me come just with a kiss."
His moan was pained as he pressed his groin against my ass and his hands went to my hips. "Jesus, the mouth on you... turn around."
I did as he asked.
"Look at me."
I lifted my head to meet his gaze and smiled. "You have beautiful eyes. I've never seen that color of green before."
He stared down at me and then slowly eased me into his arms. He hugged me tight, his hands smoothing up and down my back, his face buried in my hair. I let him put his hands up under the T-shirt I had on beneath my shirt, run over my bare skin, and then down over my ass. He leaned forward to kiss me but I eased back.
"You told me to kiss you."
"I just needed you to move," I said gently.
"You're not going to let me take you home."
"No."
"Because you belong to someone already."
I nodded.
"But you would if there was no other guy, wouldn't you?"
"I would."
He was stunned; there was no missing it. "You would, wouldn't you, no bullshit. You'd come on your own, I wouldn't have to force you."
"No."
He was having trouble digesting my honesty. "Come with me."
I smiled at him as he slowly let me go, straightened his suit, and led me back through the door to the dance floor.
Halfway there, he stopped me with a hand on the back of my shirt.
I looked over my shoulder at him.
"You've got a lot of balls. Other guys've pissed in their pants when I did that to them."
I scowled at him. "Why would you do that to anyone?"
"People don't know what they will do until they're tested.
Guys who say they'd never suck dick or take it up the ass change their minds fast sometimes."
"So you see a guy in your club, any guy, and if you thi
nk he could work for you, you drag him off somewhere and see what he will and won't do?"
"Something like that."
"So that's what you are? You're a pimp?"
"I'm a business man."
I nodded. "You just got boys?"
"Yep."
I stared at him. "You have a lot of boys working for you?"
He nodded slowly. "Jory what?"
"Keyes," I said, giving him my old name without a second thought.
He looked at me a long minute.
"And you're Rego James."
"Yes, I am."
I tipped my head toward the dance floor. "Are we gonna dance or not?"
"No." He shook his head, hand going to the back of my neck. "Come sit with me."
I let him steer me through the club back to the couch, and he tugged me down beside him.
"What do you want to drink?"
"Bottle of water." I grinned at him.
"Smart choice," he assured me, hand sliding up the back of my neck into my hair. "Natural blond, huh, even with the brown eyes."
"Yep."
"Even your eyebrows are gold," he said, sliding his fingers across my left one.
"I'm gold all over," I told him.
"I bet," he nodded, taking a deep breath. "Why're you looking at me like that?"
"Like what?"
"I dunno."
But it made sense that I would be staring. His profile, the long, straight nose, the dimples when he smiled, the way his hair fell across his forehead, and the absolutely gorgeous eyes.... The man was stunning on the outside, but inside he was a beast. It was mind-boggling. "Can I ask something?"
"'Course."
"Anybody ever brought you up on rape charges?"
"I've never been charged with anything."
"How come?"
"No one ever makes it to trial."
"That's convenient," I chuckled and the men around us looked at me like I was crazy. I was guessing laughter didn't go hand and hand with this group.
"You're a smart-ass." He smiled at me. "And a big goddamn tease."
But I knew how far to take it, since I was playing with fire.
I needed him to let Steph and Bill leave with me, and whatever promises had to be made I would make.
"And you smell really good."