Belonging: Book Two in The Everett Gaming Series

by Drew Sera

  In the elevator Anthony keyed in his code and then a female’s automated voice announced “destination penthouse.”

  Colin and I have only been to Anthony’s place a handful times. He never played with subs outside of Irons and he and Colin rarely ever entertained their clients at Anthony’s place. Anthony secluded himself from the world here and I knew this place cost him an arm and leg. Anthony made a pretty penny working with Colin, but Colin and I knew that Anthony already had money before he started working with Everett Gaming. He didn’t afford this place on the salary Colin is paying him. He made a lot of money with Colin, but not this kind of money. A large condo in the sky at one of the nicest high-rises on the Strip could cost an unfathomable amount of money. Anthony paid cash for this place and didn’t have to finance it; in fact he didn’t have anything financed.

  The three of us were best friends but there was a large part of Anthony’s past that neither Colin or I knew much about. He wanted it hidden. He wasn’t a closed off person, but there was something bad in his past that he never brought out. Colin and I were pretty sure it was his upbringing.

  Anthony has always been very calm and controlled but Sydney has turned him inside out. He’s confused and struggling but Colin and I will help him. Anthony has been there for us one hundred and ten percent and now we can support him. Night or day, he was there for me.

  “What?” He suddenly asked me. I just shook my head. I wasn’t going to dare try to pry into his past now. But even intoxicated, he knew what I was thinking.

  “You passed out. Did you hit your head?” I asked him and reached to feel the back of his head. I knew he had been rubbing his head and thought it might just be a headache from the alcohol, but maybe he actually hit it. Without him resisting, I was able to feel his head and didn’t feel a knot or bump that had formed yet. His shoulders and neck felt tight though which I attributed to being stressed.

  “I’m fine. And just so you know, I wouldn’t have gone with those women even if you weren’t right next to me.” He looked over at me. “It would hurt Sydney. I don’t want to hurt her anymore.”

  Anthony was back to sounding depressed and looking lost and unsure of everything. My mom calls Anthony her “lost boy.” She loves him like her own and my dad says all the pieces fit for him to have endured some type of violence. Anthony doesn’t talk about it and while Colin and I try to get info from time to time we’re never successful.

  Finally, the fiftieth floor.

  “Arriving on the fiftieth floor. Good evening, Mr. Graves,” the automated voice said as the door opened.

  “Do you pay extra for that?”

  He didn’t respond to my joke and pulled his wallet out. He dropped it on the floor and stumbled while trying to pick it up.

  “Jesus, Anth. Give it here.” I held my hand out for him to give me the key card and I held him by the arm until I got the door opened. It was like getting into Fort Knox.

  I didn’t touch anything but lights started coming on. Anthony and his technology. I remember him setting his place up on home automation a few months back. I will admit that it was convenient that the lights just started popping on. I took him by the arm over to the couch and made sure he sat down while I went in search of ibuprofen.

  The place was just as stark as I remember. The floors were of gray hardwood and his kitchen was decked out in the finest Viking appliances and cobalt blue sleek lacquered cabinets. His great room had a dark gray leather modern couch and two matching leather chairs to the side. He had a dark solid wood kitchen table, matching chairs and had two blue barstools that matched his cabinets. All I saw in here were dollar signs.

  Once I figured out how to open the cabinets, I found some ibuprofen and took them and a bottle of water over to him. He was quiet now and had his hand on his chest and head leaned back on the cushions with his eyes closed. I nudged him on the leg and he opened his eyes.

  “Take this.”

  I sat down on the chair and noticed he was sitting on something yellow. It caught my eye because it was some of the only color in here. It was a stuffed animal or something. I sat forward trying to figure out what it was and grew more curious.

  “What’s with the stuffed animal, Anth?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  I pulled it out from under him and dropped it on his chest. He looked down, laughed and held it to his chest.

  “I got it for her.” He tilted his head back on the cushion and shut his eyes. “She hurt. She was recovering and you gave her that blanket in the emergency room so she’d have something to hold. You and Colin talked about how important it would be for her to have something to hold. When I went shopping I saw this and thought of her. It’s yellow and bright. I thought it’d make her smile and would help her.”

  “Why is it here and not with her?”

  He opened his eyes and rolled his head to the side to look at me.

  “Because, that night in the hospital she held onto me for comfort and then again the next few nights. I was selfish and liked it. No bottom or submissive has ever held onto me like that. I didn’t want the monkey to take my place.”

  Wow, I really wasn’t expecting that. Just like me with Gina, Sydney has been under his skin from the beginning. I remember back to the night Anthony brought her to Colin’s party. He kept his eye on her the whole night and made her feel better.

  I thought he was asleep but then he mumbled, “I want her.”

  “Come on. Lets get you to bed, man.”

  I pulled him up and walked him down the hall to his immaculate room. There was a large king size bed with a gray headboard and matching gray nightstands. In the corner there was a trendy, modern chair and a gray dresser. The only color in the bedroom was the blue blanket that was on top of the white sheets.

  Before I drifted off to sleep, I first wanted to make certain that he was clear of anything that might point towards a concussion. After all, he passed out tonight and no one was sure if he had or hadn’t hit his head. His eyes looked clear and though he was a little wobbly, I was pretty sure that was from being drunk.

  He flopped down on the bed and made a feeble attempt to unbutton his shirt. Out of frustration he just started pulling at the shirt. He was a mess. I moved his hands out of the way and finished unbuttoning his shirt and watched him maneuver out of it and his jeans. He dropped back down sideways on the bed. I wasn’t going to bug him anymore. He needed sleep. I looked down and saw that scar he’s carried on his side for as long as I’ve known him. I was tempted to ask him about it now, but that wouldn’t be right and I’d be taking advantage of him and the situation.

  I picked up his jeans and shirt from the floor and set them on the chair. His wallet, phone and a few napkins fell out of the pocket. I picked everything up and when I set it on his dresser, the napkins caught my eye. While he was in the bar tonight, we was doodling about Sydney. The napkins said Balcony Pub in the corners and he had drawn his name in block letters and then doodled Sydney’s name inside of his. On another napkin he started a note to her about being sorry and that he didn’t want to hurt her. And on a third he drew a cartoon sun with the word “mine” under it. Jesus, Anthony can be a deep, intense guy.

  I went back out to his great room, got the yellow monkey and took it back to him. I set it on his side over his scar and he dropped his hand to hold it against him. I went to lie down on the couch and I sent Colin a text.

  MR: I got Anth and he’s asleep now in his bed.

  CE: Is he ok?

  MR: Yeah, bruised pride and has been beating himself up. He’s kind of a funny drunk. I’m going to sleep on the couch.

  CE: I will be over in the morning with coffee and breakfast.

  Chapter 9

  Saturday, November 23rd

  Colin

  I woke up around 5:00 a.m. to Sydney trashing around. I put my hand calmly on her tummy and then tried to pull her onto my lap. She opened her eyes after some coaxing and just like with Anthony, her scarred hands pushe
d against my chest.

  “It’s okay, baby. Just a dream. You’re safe.”

  Sydney leaned her head against my chest and pulled Anthony’s pillow closer to her. I leaned against the headboard and held her quietly until she had fallen back to sleep. I was able to get both of us lying down mostly and pulled a blanket up over her while hugging her body to mine. I couldn’t sleep but found myself resting my eyes for a while.

  I got up around 7:00 a.m. and was still tired. I had to pack for Macau and to be honest, I was contemplating not going. I would make the final determination after I saw Anthony this morning. Sydney and I got up and Gina was already in the kitchen and had coffee started.

  “I need to go over to Anthony’s so you two are to stay here. Understand?”

  “Yes, Sir,” Sydney said as Gina nodded.

  I went into my office to print something for Anthony. While it printed I quickly got dressed and made sure the girls had breakfast. I slipped the printed stuff into an envelope and headed out.

  On my way to Anthony’s I stopped at McDonald’s and picked up the breakfast sandwiches with the maple syrup in them that Anthony had a thing for. I picked up some other breakfast stuff and headed to the towers in the sky. Thankfully I remembered my key card to get in the elevators. Matt sent me a text this morning about the elevator excitement last night.

  I knocked and Matt let me in. I set the food down on the counter and saw Anthony coming inside from his balcony. Aside from looking a little tired, he didn’t look so bad. By Anthony’s standards, he was dressed down in jeans and a gray tee shirt that clung to his biceps.

  “I brought food. I know I’ve kept you away from home a lot lately and I didn’t think you had much food.”

  His eyebrows raised and he smiled when he saw the maple syrup sandwiches. The three of us took the food over to his great room and ate in there. I sat at the couch while Matt and Anthony each sat in the chairs opposite each other. Anthony was quiet but didn’t seem to be nursing a hangover. Just bruised pride. That’s fine. We’ll eat and then talk.

  “How is she?” Anthony asked suddenly. “I hate myself for last night.”

  I knew he’d feel like that. Matt and I tried telling him last night. I’ve been trying to tell him for a while now that he cares deeply for Sydney but he just hasn’t wanted to admit it.

  “She’s okay, Anth. She missed you last night of course. She had a nightmare. I gave her one of your shirts to hold onto.”

  He made a fist and pounded it quietly against the arm of the chair. “I should have been there for her.”

  I was quiet and let him work through what he needed to work through, and then a yellow sock monkey caught my eye sitting on the arm of the couch close to Matt. I frowned and nodded at it to Matt. His smile told me that he knew what was up with the monkey. I reached over and grabbed it by the legs and shook it at Anthony.

  “What’s with the little monkey?”

  “It’s for Sydney.”

  Oh. That was thoughtful. It was kind of cute and I can see Sydney eating up something like this. Anthony looked over at me as I made leg kick motions with it on the couch.

  “Tell Col why it’s here and not with Sydney,” Matt pushed. I set the monkey down because I had a feeling there was more to this story and I didn’t want to seem like an insensitive jerk. Anthony seemed calm but I wasn’t going to test him. We needed to talk and if he was agitated, talking would never happen.

  “I didn’t give it to her because I didn’t want her to stop holding onto me at night.”

  Anthony was looking out his massive windows and looked ashamed. The monkey turned out to be a great lead into our talk that the three of us were most definitely having.

  “Anthony, why can’t you allow yourself to at least entertain the possibility of you and Sydney? Please just tell me why. Matt and I are not going to let you throw this away until you can at least give us a reason why you can’t.” I was practically begging him.

  I sat on the edge of the couch and stared at him. He was leaning forward and his arms were resting over his knees. He looked deep in thought and when he brought his head up, he looked exhausted and defeated. He was nodding though.

  “Fine. I’ll be right back.” He headed down his hallway and disappeared into what I was pretty sure was his den.

  “Maybe we’ll get an honest answer,” Matt said to me.

  I hoped so. Anthony returned with two tattered file folders and sat back down. He opened the top one and narrowed his eyes as he flipped through a few pages. I was nervous now and I think Matt was also concerned. What the fuck did he have in those folders? Anthony had been holding his breath and exhaled loudly. He set the few pages he had organized back in the file folder and closed it. He sat quietly and stared out the window again. I glanced over at Matt. Whatever this was about was important and it obviously was something Anthony has kept well guarded. Anthony stood and dropped the two file folders on the coffee table in front of me. Neither Matt nor I made a move to open them.

  The top folder had a stamp on it that read “Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department” and it had some signatures on it and other scribbling. There was a label on the front that read, “Graves, Richard Davis” and under it was the date December 12, 1990. I quickly did the math and knew that Anthony would have been about seventeen years old and probably a senior in high school. I looked up and met his pained expression and noticed how pale he looked. He seemed to be concentrating on the files as they sat on the coffee table.

  “Anth?”

  He looked at me and rubbed his hands over his unshaven face and then folded his arms across his chest.

  “Go ahead. Open them. All the answers are in there.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and went over to the windows and leaned on the glass. Matt moved from the chair to sit next to me so we could both look at the contents. I exchanged glances with Matt and I opened the folder.

  Staring at me was a gruesome picture and I automatically winced. My heart started to pound as I flipped through the dozen or so photos. The pictures held a battered body filled with many cuts and bruises. The back of the photos had a label on it and they all read, “Graves, A.D.”

  I stared at the photos and then the labels on the back trying to make sense of what I was looking at, failing to believe the obvious. Anthony’s biological father, Richard Graves, filed the police report. I closed my eyes as I was putting the pieces together. The pictures were of Anthony when he was in high school. I read through the police report unable to comprehend anything in the first pass. I read it again and then again before it sunk in.

  On December 11, 1990 an altercation occurred at Anthony’s home between his mother, Pamela, and his step-father, Bruce, and a friend of Bruce’s. Apparently all of the adults were intoxicated with either illegal drugs or alcohol. Bruce and his friend, Connor, were getting rough with Pamela when Anthony intervened. Bruce and Connor retaliated on a seventeen year old Anthony and he was held down and cut. Fuck, that’s how he got his scar. There were some additional pictures of stashes of drugs that were found at his home. Living conditions looked far from decent.

  The next folder had a bunch of stamps on it that said Las Vegas Memorial Hospital and was stamped as December 11, 1990. There were a lot of signatures on the file and there was a worn out label that read:

  Graves, Anthony Davis

  D.O.B: 3/10/1973

  Age: 17

  I wasn’t sure that I wanted to see the inside of this file. Matt pulled it open and staring up at me were photos of a battered body. As I flipped through a couple, then I saw a picture of an abdomen with a huge bloody gash. Holy fucking shit. I looked over and saw that Anthony was leaning on the glass and was gazing out. My heart was pounding.

  “Jesus,” Matt whispered.

  There were X-ray films in the file and Matt reached for it and held it up to the light. I didn’t bother looking because I wouldn’t know what I was looking at anyhow. There were so many pictures of what a seventeen-year-old body should not lo
ok like. Behind the photos were notes from various doctors and reports. They all noted abuse. There were notes and photos of belt marks, burns, bruises and cuts. Fuck.

  I felt sick and couldn’t read anymore and looked up at Anthony. He had slid down the wall and was now sitting on the floor with his legs bent and arms resting over them. Enough reading, he needed to talk. I nudged Matt and nodded over towards Anthony. He took the file folder off my lap and I went over to Anthony. Matt continued to read the medical file and I knew he’d be storing it all to memory.

  Anthony was gazing out the windows at nothing in particular but looked up when he knew I was there. I reached my hand out for him to take to pull him off the floor. When he took it and I pulled him up, I took a risk by pulling him into a quick guy embrace. I thumped him on the back and kept my arm around his shoulders as we walked back over to sit down.

  I had read enough and seen enough and needed Anthony to talk to us. He needed to talk to us. He’s kept this to himself for decades.

  “Anth, what happened that night?” I asked him cautiously. I wasn’t sure if he would tell us or say that we knew enough now. He turned and gazed out the window again and I glanced at the photos on Matt’s lap. I brought my head up though when he began to speak.

  “I intervened. I was in my room doing homework while they were in the kitchen yelling and being assholes. Connor was Bruce’s best friend and was always around. Ever since I was little I remember Connor. They always fought, drank, did drugs, had sex and then repeated the cycle. When I was little, I’d cry when they were hurting my mom. I begged them to stop but I could never get them to. They’d just shove me out of the way. They’d get creative. When I was really little, they’d use heavy tape and tape me to the glass sliding door. They’d make me watch.” Anthony made a circular motion near his neck and then cleared his throat. “They’d wrap the tape around my neck a few times and then secured it to the glass door. Eventually as I got a little older, maybe kindergarten or first grade, my mom was telling Bruce to go find me to beat on instead of her. She didn’t even know that Bruce had already been knocking me around for years. She didn’t give a fuck.