by Nicky James
“Aren’t you coming to bed?”
I shook my head vigorously and hopped back over to the closet, picking through the belts I’d left behind a moment ago. “I’m not tired. Maybe when I’m done.”
There were plain brown belts and black leather belts, a few with studs, and one that was made to emulate a seatbelt in a car with the same type of buckle. It was longer than the other ones and I held onto it and chose one of the black ones as well. They would work nicely.
When I spun and flew back into the room, I collided with Ash who had moved behind me.
“How about you have a shower and come cuddle with me?”
I darted my gaze over his shoulder and around the room, taking inventory while considering his request. I really wanted to work on my idea, except I knew how Ash had been feeling lately.
He’d been pushing the sex card a lot. His need for comfort escaladed more and more each day. Only, it wasn’t that way between us. I’d made it clear many times and he’d agreed. How he explained it was, ‘when I’m with you, at least for a short while, I don’t feel like just a piece of meat.’
I could do it. I could have sex with him and it probably wouldn’t bother me. In fact, I knew it wouldn’t. Nothing could break through my self-induced shell of contentment. Everything was good, everything was okay. A.J was right.
… But, I really wanted to work on my idea.
My frantic gaze-roaming-analysis of the room found Ash again. His face contorted into question and concern.
“Come to bed, Sor. I don’t know what happened tonight, but you’re acting weird.”
My eyes widened and I shook my head fiercely, driving home my point. “No. No, I’m not tired. I’ll come to bed when I’m done. Do you want me to sleep in your bed with you? Or you can sleep in mine, and when I’m tired I’ll crawl in beside you. We can snuggle then. You can wrap all up around me like you like to do. I have to do this right now.”
My nose tickled and I scrunched it up, rubbing it with the back of my hand.
“Okay,” Ash said hesitantly. He backed away, almost as though afraid to take his eyes off me. When he reached my bed, he pulled back the covers and wormed his way underneath.
I bounced on my feet as he got comfortable and eventually, eventually, he stopped staring and closed his eyes, drawing the blankets over his head. Only a tuft of his curly brown hair stuck out the top and I watched it for as long as I had patience, waiting for him to fall asleep.
Ashton could sleep through anything, and I knew if I waited long enough, I wouldn’t disturb him.
As I delayed, I bounced on my toes and devised the order of what I wanted to do in my head. When a soft mumbling sounded under the blankets, I knew Ash had fallen asleep. He didn’t quite talk in his sleep, but he made whimpering, almost sad noises for awhile that made it sound as though he did. I’d spent many nights listening to them and wondered if they were words. I’d decided, they weren’t. They were just his noises.
Hearing them was the green light I’d been waiting for. I docked my iPod and set it to a random playlist, adjusting the volume so it would mask any noises I made. Then, I swayed my hips and worked along with the music.
I loved dancing. It was freeing.
For hours, I threw myself into my new project, making the idea come to life. I took down the shelving on our walls so I could use the planks of wood. I tied and created pulleys using belts, neckties, and various kitchen utensils. Upending the garbage pail in the bathroom gave me an extra bucket. With a roll of duck tape, I gave my new bucket a shoelace handle. Stacks of video games became pillars which held up the bridge.
Hours ticked by as it slowly came together. A trickle of sweat beaded down my forehead, and I wiped it away, as I puzzled how to connect my contraption to the ceiling where the whole thing should start. My body weighed me down as the energy I’d had such an abundance of earlier slipped away and my processing skills slugged-out.
I needed a hook.
If I could attach a hook to the ceiling, I could hang my pulley system easily.
My gaze darted to the front door and the two coat hooks which currently held an overabundant stack of mine and Ashton’s coats. I skipped over to my accumulated pile of tools and found the multi-head screwdriver.
I tossed the coats aside and worked to remove each screw holding it up so I could move it where I needed.
“What… What the hell are you doing?”
Startling at his voice, I pivoted until I was face to face with Ashton who stood in the middle of the apartment, squinting and rubbing his sleep-filled eyes as he looked around.
I grinned and followed his gaze. “I’m not finished yet, but it will be, The Ultimate Dirty Laundry Dispenser, once I hang the hook up and test it. See, mostly we always get undressed in the bathroom. So, I’m going to hang this bucket,” I lifted the garbage pail with its newly affixed handle to show him, “up there by the door. And, if my pulley works, when the bucket is full of dirty laundry, it will lower until it hits this stack of games, dumping the contents onto this sloping bridge, where it will slide down and fall into the laundry basket here.” I kicked the basket in question. “Isn’t it cool?”
I cocked a hip and waited for Ash to say something. His gaze jumped from one item to the next, a frown deeply imprinted on his face. I yawned and ran a hand through my hair. Standing still, my inner gears seized up, and I couldn’t believe how heavy my limbs felt all of a sudden.
There was still an abundance of work left to do, plus the testing phase to see if it functioned the way I wanted. Exhaustion hurdled into me with such force, I looked around for somewhere to sit down. I yawned again. It was beginning to sound like too much for one day.
“You’ve lost your mind. Soren, it’s eight in the morning and you haven’t even gone to bed. We work tonight. Come on.” He removed the screwdriver from my hand and pulled me to the bed. It looked so inviting. “Finish it another day.”
Glancing back over my shoulder to the hook I’d been removing, I almost changed my mind. I was drawn to take them down first, but my body decided Ash’s idea was much more appealing, and I joined him as he laid back down. My eyelids drooped, refusing to stay open, yet my head swam with everything I had yet to do. First thing when I woke up, I would hang the hook, attach the pulley and bucket, and then Ash and I could play dirty-clothes basketball.
“Soren, stop moving around so much!”
“I’m not,” I said, popping my eyes open again. Ash glared at me as he adjusted my second pillow.
“Yes, you are. You’re twitching and moving your hands.”
“Oh, sorry.” I opened my arms, inviting him to come closer, and Ashton wrapped himself around me as he always did. He buried his face deep into my neck, and his arms squeezed me tight like a constrictor. You’d think I was trying to escape.
I did my best to focus on staying still, but my brain could only remain in one place for so long before it jumped to other things.
Ashton sighed, clearly annoyed.
I wasn’t sure when my body finally calmed enough to sleep, but at some point, it must have given in.
It was after six in the evening before I rolled out of bed. Even though I’d slept almost ten hours, I was groggy and the fog was taking its time clearing. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I glanced around the apartment at the disaster covering every square inch of floor space.
In the corner by the bathroom door lay the makeshift bucket and strung together belts and ties I’d made into a pulley system. Why did the whole fucking project just feel utterly stupid since I’d slept? The previous night, it was the bane of my existence and it was going to change mine and Ashton’s life. That morning, it was a dirty bathroom garbage pail with a florescent green shoelace duck taped to its sides and a poorly assembled pulley with neckties and… was that our electric can opener?
“I’m glad I’m not the only one who thinks this whole contraption is ridiculous.”
I swung my head to Ashton. He was shoveling macaroni and c
heese into his mouth at the little table we owned and glaring with a look of death.
I had no defense. He was right, not only did it look ridiculous, but remembering how adamant I’d been about making it made the tips of my ears hot.
“I’m gonna shower.”
“You better hurry up. It’s already six and you haven’t eaten. We need to leave in just over an hour.”
I showered as quickly as I could, scrubbing the dried sweat off my skin from the previous night. Once clean, I wandered naked to my dresser and found a clean pair of underwear—neon blue with a navy elastic band. As I pulled them on, Ash withdrew his dirty dance shorts from the previous night from his backpack and scanned the room before just tossing them in the corner with the rest of the dirty clothes. He pulled a clean pair from his dresser and stuffed them in his bag.
I dug out a pair of black jeans and a black t-shirt and started dressing. “I’ll clean this up tonight. I’m sorry.”
He didn’t say anything and continued to organize his backpack.
Once dressed, I scraped the last of the mac n’ cheese into a bowl and shoved the dirty pot into the overflowing sink before finding a spoon.
Not bothering to sit, I leaned against the small amount of counter space we had and shovelled the noodles into my mouth as quickly as I could. The bus only came by every half-hour and if we missed the seven-twenty, we’d be late for work.
Ash was ready to go by the time I pushed the last of my dinner into my mouth. He sat on the edge of his unslept in bed and stared at the ground, his backpack sitting beside him.
I rolled my eyes, knowing I would need to address whatever ailed him soon. The longer I left him to stew, the worse he’d get.
I swallowed my last mouthful and balanced my bowl in the sink on top of the pot.
“Spit it out. I can’t take this anymore. Just say whatever it is you need to say.”
Ash glared through downcast eyes as I crossed to my own backpack and repacked it for work.
“It’s just.” He paused. “I know it’s not your choice or anything and what Donny says goes, but… I’m the one who thought he was hot, not you. It’s just not fair.”
“Ashton, knock it off.” I shoved a silver pair of shorts into my bag. They were my favorite and matched the buckles on my boots. “It’s a job, like all the rest. Even if it had been you, what difference would it have made? He’s no different than all the rest of the ticks. Give your head a shake.”
Only Remy was different. He’d adamantly refused to allow anything to happen between us. No matter how hard I’d insisted. If I’d had any idea, I’d have never gotten high.
Forgetting to pack my bag, I stood frozen as I recalled all that had gone on the previous night.
Not only had he given me a shit load of money, but before he left, he ensured I was someplace safe where no one else would bother me for the remainder of the night.
No one had ever turned down backroom offers before, yet, Remy had wanted no part of it.
It was too much to think about. I zipped my bag and swung it over my shoulder. On a last-minute thought, I yanked open my top drawer and retrieved some extra cash from an envelope in back and shoved it into a side pocket of my bag. The last thing I wanted was to develop habits, but I couldn’t deny how much A.J’s solution helped.
I spun back around. Ash’s face had changed. His gaze no longer seared the skin off my bones, but hung sadly.
“Do you ever just wish you had a boyfriend for once. Someone who cared, who thought you were special or important and not just a piece of ass to fuck?”
I sighed and resisted rolling my eyes, knowing he watched me. “Dating doesn’t work, Ash, remember? Other guys just don’t get it.”
He let out an extended breath and rose. “I know. I just wish it was different.”
Just two years into the job and Ashton couldn’t let go of those notions and adapt. Guys like us weren’t dating material. We had each other and it would have to be good enough.
As we walked out the door and headed to the bus stop, I pulled my phone from my pocket and shot a quick text off to A.J.
I M bringing cash. SOS.
The night was long and far more exhausting than usual. After every set, I scanned for familiar faces, the tension building in my muscles as each hour ticked by. Just after twelve thirty, a group of Donny’s regulars came waltzing in and my hopes deflated, landing somewhere on the sticky floor, mashed under the crush of feet.
Never more did I realize the loathing for my job was reaching such a peak than when that group of men showed up.
I shifted my tray of drinks to my right hand and lowered it, placing the orders I’d just collected down in front of a group of men. As I unloaded their drinks, I scanned for Donny.
He was near the bar and caught my eye immediately, nodding to the ticks and indicating whose table I should serve next, despite the rotation I’d been working all evening. Acknowledging his request, I finished emptying my tray and begrudgingly took my time crossing the room to their table nearer the stage.
One last scan confirmed that Remy hadn’t showed up. I wasn’t sure why I was looking for him, or even cared, but the previous night—despite getting royally fucked up—had been an unexpected night off from the bullshit that encompassed my usual weekends.
However, with everything Remy had learned, I wouldn’t be surprised if I never saw his face again. People like him, ones who didn’t take full advantage of a situation when offered, were few and far between in my world.
Donny’s men ordered an abundance of drinks right off the bat. As one after another disappeared down their gullets, the atmosphere surrounding them became charged with electricity. They were ramped up that evening and as their volume increased, their hands freely wandered.
By one-thirty, I’d been given the sign to take business elsewhere. I let my fingers graze the raised area of my shorts to ensure the sniffer I’d got from A.J was still there and ready. Fuck if I was going to get through that night any other way.
The man with a full beard, whose dick I was more familiar with than his name, kept in step behind me as we made our way through the dense crowd toward the secured doors in back.
Above the music, something caught my ear. I paused and turned, certain I’d heard my name being called. When I scanned the people around me, my gaze fell to a familiar face.
Remy.
My heart announced its existence by slamming against the inside of my chest with enough force it hurt. My throat stuck to itself as I tried to swallow and find my voice to answer him, or at least ask nameless dick-man beside me to hang on a minute.
Remy weaved through the crowd cautiously, making every attempt to avoid direct contact with anyone. I wanted to smile. He was so neurotic.
Stopping a few feet away, he shifted his gaze to the stranger, towering at my side, before returning to my face.
“Do you have a minute?” he asked.
My awaiting customer wore a look of irritation and impatience. He crossed his arms over his broad chest and scanned Remy.
I didn’t know what to do. Those decisions weren’t mine to make and I knew it. I rarely got a say. In a moment of indecision, I scanned the people around us and caught Donny glaring from the bar. Our gazes connected. His only movement was a slight shake of his head before he nodded to the door I’d been about to go through.
I swallowed the hard lump from my throat and turned back to Remy.
“Sorry, kinda busy tonight. Should have come earlier.” Why didn’t you come earlier? I shrugged my shoulders, trying not to look distraught, and reluctantly turned back to the guy beside me.
My every step toward the secured door was weighted and heavy. My chest hurt from the assault of my poor heart, and under my skin, a hornet’s nest came alive, prickling and stinging my skin.
He came back. Remy came back.
I didn’t know why I cared, but I did and the fact that I couldn’t even stick around to find out why left me with a sick sense of loss. What
if I never saw him again?
Chapter Ten
REMY
I clicked the end of my ballpoint pen repeatedly while staring at the dark laptop screen. It had gone to sleep over twenty minutes earlier, but I’d made no move to wake it up and resume working. My mind was elsewhere and there was no hope in keeping it focused or bringing it back to what I needed to do.
I’d been playing catch-up with myself all week and stayed late at the office most nights to ensure I met deadlines. It wasn’t like me at all. Ordinarily, I’d be the one doing the hounding, not the other way around. That week I’d avoided being barked at by my boss just barely when I’d handed in articles just under the wire.
Every time I sat down at my computer, my thoughts strayed. They would replay every tiny detail of my excursion to The Escape on Friday night and then the short exchange I’d had with Soren on Saturday, just before he’d disappeared behind that security-locked door with the stern-faced man whose aura emanated hostility. The memories left a bad taste in my mouth.
I knew where Soren had been going, and I knew what would take place when he got there. My imagination was vivid. Too vivid. And the overwhelming sense of protectiveness I’d developed toward Soren only made it worse.
All week I’d debated what to do. Alessio’s nonchalant attitude toward what I’d told him and his insistence that it was normal and not a big deal made me sick. Soren wasn’t covering his own ass, that much I knew. No one could fake the fear I’d seen in his eyes. Donny wasn’t ignorant to what went on, Donny was responsible. I should have made Alessio listen to me.
I’d been in constant confliction over whether I should go back to him and try again or instead, talk to another cop at the station and explain what I’d seen. However, mistrust had sunken into my bones and I feared if Alessio was involved, I would get nowhere. As much as I hated to admit it, my brother had just been demoted to one of my least favorite people. All my respect for him was gone.
Forgetting what had happened, and moving forward with life had already proven fruitless. So, it seemed my options came down to one thing. Return to the club and see if I could get more information from Soren.