Alex (Striking Back #4)

by S. M. Shade

  “Let’s go.”

  The rain has stopped, but it’s cool outside, and I pull her little body against mine while we wait for the cab. I may be making a monumental mistake, but I’m not stupid enough to drive when the ground won’t stay still under my feet. It occurs to me I don’t know her name. Fair enough since she hasn’t asked mine either. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

  “Brylee,” she sighs, before pressing her lips to mine. She tastes sweet, like whatever girly drink she’s been drinking.

  “I’m Ian,” I reply, then take her mouth with mine. A little moan sounds in her throat when my tongue tangles with hers, and it goes right to my cock. Our cab pulls up and we hop in the back, making out all the way to her house. Which turns out to be way too close to mine, only a few blocks away.

  She leads me straight to the bedroom and we waste no time getting naked. The room wavers for a second, reminding me how drunk I am. Luckily, my dick isn’t affected. I take her in every position I can think of, until she can’t handle anymore. Watching her come, screaming and shaking pushes my confidence back where it belongs. She doesn’t notice the fake testicle, doesn’t know what I was doing the night before. I’m just the man who can make her scream and beg.

  It’s after three when I finally pull on my clothes and get ready to leave. She isn’t happy I won’t stay, and I’m really glad she doesn’t know how close I live. “Cab’s here, babe. I got to go,” I lie, dropping a kiss on her lips.

  “I want an encore soon,” she says, and I wink at her on my way out the door. My head is too messed up to promise her anything.

  It’s cool outside, but the chilly air does nothing to sober me up on my walk home. I probably should’ve passed on the glass of whiskey she offered me between rounds of fucking. Now, I just want to get home without getting picked up for public intox. The Indiana laws are bullshit. Everyone knows drinking and driving can be deadly, but if you walk home instead, they can still arrest you. Apparently, if you go to a bar, you can never leave.

  I hesitate when my house comes into view. Surely, Alex is asleep. Maybe I should’ve stayed at the woman’s house. Bryann? Was that her name? It doesn’t matter. I just want to go home and pass out without any bullshit from the man who has flipped my world on its head.

  All hope of that dies when the door swings open as I’m climbing the steps to the porch. Alex stands there with the disapproving look of a disgruntled housewife, and a snort of laughter bursts out of me. “What the fuck, Ian? You think this shit’s funny? You couldn’t text me and let me know you’re alive?”

  Anger takes over my mouth. Irrational, I know, but all I can think is that the chaos in my brain is his fault. His fault I’m confused and fucked up in the head. “I don’t have a fucking curfew,” I snap. “I don’t need your fucking permission to do shit.”

  Pushing past him, I stalk into my bedroom, ignoring him when he follows. “This isn’t the way to deal with things when you’re pissed. Getting drunk isn’t going to help.”

  He stands in my bedroom doorway, watching while I strip off my shirt. His face falls and his look of betrayal pulls at something deep inside me. “Hickies on your chest and lipstick on your neck. That’s what you were doing? You fucked someone else?”

  When I don’t answer, he stalks into the room and shoves me. “Did you fucking cheat on me?”

  “I remembered who the fuck I am.”

  He takes a step back, like he can’t bear to be near me. “This is who you are? Who you want to be? The guy who cheats?”

  “I’m the guy who can make a woman scream.”

  He throws his arms in the air and paces the room. “Oh, excuse the hell out of me. I didn’t realize this was about your giant ego. You can make a girl scream, what does that prove?”

  “I’m not gay!”

  His eyes burn into mine as he shouts, “Well, you suck a lot of cock for a straight man!”

  I can feel my cheeks heat up, which just pisses me off more. “Just get the fuck out, Alex. This shit is on you, not me. I told you I couldn’t do it.”

  “Yeah, all on me. I’m the one who kissed you—no wait—that was you. You kissing me, sucking me, fucking me, even pretending like you gave a shit. I guess that wasn’t you standing up on a plane and announcing you love me, wasn’t your hand wrapped around my cock in the ocean. All. Fucking. Me.” The look of scorn he gives me cuts to the bone. “I’ve been good to you. Loved you. I don’t deserve this shit and you know it.”

  The walls rattle with the force of the door slamming behind him. “Is everything okay?” I hear Kyle ask from the hall. Damn, I didn’t even know he was here.

  “Everything’s fine. Ian’s just drunk. Go back to bed, kid.”

  Their voices fade as they walk away, and I fall into bed, dragging a pillow over my head to drown out the guilt already starting to set in.

  A tap on my bedroom door wakes me Sunday morning. “Ian?” Kyle calls. “You up?”

  “No, but come in.”

  His expression immediately tells me something’s wrong and I sit up too quickly, my head pounding. Shit, I drank too much last night. And that’s not all I did. The whiskey soaked memories rush back, dancing with that woman, then taking her home and fucking her. Yelling and blaming Alex when he didn’t do anything but call me on my bullshit.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Without a word, Kyle hands me a piece of paper. “This was on your game console. Alex left before I got up.”

  My dry eyes struggle to focus on the note, which is short, but far from sweet.

  Ian,

  I’m going to Alabama to help out with a client. I’ll be back in two weeks. Figure out what the fuck you want by then.

  “Can I ask what happened?” Kyle asks.

  “I got drunk and acted like an asshole.” I peer up at him.

  “Oh, well, can you run me back to school a little early? Kara wants to meet me at the movie theater.”

  I’m relieved he doesn’t question me further. “Sure, kid. Let me grab some coffee and we’ll go.”

  Chapter Seven

  Alex

  “What’s going on, Alex?” Mason asks, after I explain what I want. It’s barely six a.m. but it doesn’t sound like I woke him with my call.

  “I just need to get away for a while. Get out of the house. I’m sure I can be useful somewhere.”

  “Actually, you have good timing. I need someone in Alabama for a couple of weeks. I’ll email you the details.”

  “As soon as possible,” I plead. A few hours later I’m in my car on my way south.

  My phone hasn’t gone off once, but I find myself checking it anyway, hoping to hear from Ian. Ev said this day would come, that he would do something to push me away. I guess I didn’t deal with it like she hoped, but I won’t deal with him cheating. It’s not that I’m jealous, not of a woman, but we had a deal. If he had tried to apologize, I’d have let it go, but instead he tried to turn it around on me.

  Like I bullied him into a relationship he wasn’t ready for. I understand he’s struggling to accept this new part of himself, and I expected some bumps in the road, but I won’t be his punching bag when he’s upset. It took me years to control my temper, and I swear he can push me to the edge with a few words.

  He has two weeks. Two weeks until I return to decide what he wants. My chest aches at the thought of losing him, of moving out and living alone. I’ve been away from him for six hours and I already miss him. Stubborn bastard.

  Safe houses are all pretty much the same. Average house on an average street in an average neighborhood. I’m here to protect the client, set their mind at ease, and while I’m good at my job, it can sometimes be horribly dull. Mason emailed me the details while I was driving, and the reason he chose me is clear. I’m not going to meet a woman. I’m going to stay with a man who was abused by his male lover for years. It’s a unique situation, and I assume Mason thought the guy would be more comfortable with me.

  I can’t help but wonder what Ian
would think if he knew I was staying with another gay man for the next two weeks. I hope it would eat him up, but I have a depressing feeling he wouldn’t give a shit. He’s probably out fucking everything that moves.

  When I meet Sidney Todd, my first thought is that Ian has nothing to worry about. He’s about as far from my type as you can get. A bodyguard named Gary opens the door before I can knock. I’ve met him before when he came up north to help out. “Alex, good to see you.” Gary shakes my hand then steps back so I can go inside.

  A thin man with eyes that seem to take up half of his face slowly approaches us. “Sidney, this is Alex, he’ll be staying with you at night,” Gary says. “Alex, this is Mr. Sidney Todd.”

  “Good to meet you, Sidney.” I stick out my hand and he reluctantly reaches for it. It’s not a handshake really. He barely squeezes my fingers before stepping back again. Skittish, but with all he’s been through, it’s more than understandable. A large barely healed slash runs down the side of his face from his temple to the corner of his mouth, and he rubs it self-consciously.

  “Right, well, I’ll be back in the morning then,” Gary says, and Sidney thanks him.

  After Gary leaves, we sit in the living room. “You don’t look like a bodyguard,” he says and quickly adds, “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be rude, but the other two are built like a house and kind of terrifying.”

  It’s not the first time I’ve heard this in regards to my slender frame and it makes me laugh. Mason is built like a bull and Parker isn’t far behind him, but I’ve always been the lean muscled type. “Don’t worry, I know what you mean. I’m not a hulk, but you’re safe with me. I have a black belt in Jiu-Jitsu and Karate. I’m also armed and I know how to use it. In all the years my brothers and I have done this, we’ve never lost a client. The worst part is trying not to die of boredom while you’re trapped inside.”

  A smile finally breaks out on his face and he relaxes a bit. “I’ve only been here a couple of days, but so far it’s been okay. Peaceful.”

  After reading his file, I don’t doubt he needs some peace. What started out as a relationship turned into a nightmare when his considerably larger boyfriend of two years decided Sidney was going to obey or pay the consequences. Sidney tried to leave a few months before and ended up with a broken arm and fractured eye socket. Feeling like he had no choice, he went back. When the boyfriend cut his face so no one else would look at him, he ran and ended up at one of our shelters in Tennessee. Since his psycho ex is still on the loose, we moved him here to Alabama.

  “I’m going to grab a shower,” I tell him. “Six hours in the car makes me feel grimy.”

  “Sure.”

  I can tell by his hesitant glance he wants to ask something, but isn’t sure. “Do you need something?”

  “Do you think we could run to a grocery store? I’d be happy to make dinner.”

  “Getting sick of pizza and Chinese?” I laugh, pulling my suitcase into my room. “Sure, just let me get cleaned up.”

  I will take Sidney to any grocery store he wants if he keeps cooking. I don’t know what he did to make a simple Chicken Parmesan taste so good, but I want to hire him to cook for me every night. After stuffing ourselves, Sidney heads off to bed and I flop into the recliner to read. Silence settles around me and I can’t concentrate on my book. I wonder what Ian is doing, if he misses me like I do him. It strikes me that this is how it will be every night if I move out and if that isn’t fucking depressing I don’t know what is.

  I’m dreading going to bed because he won’t be there, but I need to be up early. When Gary shows up to take over in the morning, I’ll be free for the day and I’ve already got permission to work out at a local MMA gym. My fight takes place a few days after I return and I have to be ready.

  The guest bed is soft, but heart breakingly empty. Ian’s face haunts me every time I close my eyes and I carry it into my dreams. A really twisted nightmare wakes me at dawn, and I sit up in bed trying to catch my breath, sweat pouring off me. It’s already fading and I try to remember, but it’s like grasping at fog. Ian was in it, of course, and Cooper too. I was chasing them, trying to find them, then…something horrible happened, but my brain has decided I don’t need to know what it was. I’m probably better off, but it’s frustrating.

  Cooper. Guilt washes over me when I realize I haven’t thought about him in a while, and sadness seeps in to join it as I struggle to remember his voice. I’m starting to forget. How he sounded, how he felt, his smile. I thought I’d never forget that smile that brought out his dimples, but now when I picture it, I just see a photo of him smiling that I keep on my phone. I can’t picture him. I can’t keep him.

  The smell of frying sausage lures me out of my bed, and I find Sidney and Gary sitting at the kitchen table around enough food to feed a small army. “Hungry?” Sidney asks, and I grab a plate and join them.

  “I am now. Where’d you learn to cook like this?” I ask, around a mouthful of eggs and peppers.

  “My mom. She was a chef. I could follow a recipe as soon as I could read.”

  “You could do this for a living. It’s fantastic.”

  His face lights up and I wonder how long it’s been since someone complimented him on anything. “Yeah, you think so?”

  “Absolutely.” I make short work of the eggs, sausage and hash browns, thank Sidney for breakfast, and head off to the gym.

  Luckily, my car has GPS or I’d be in trouble. I don’t know this area at all. The navigator leads me into a rundown neighborhood that has obviously just been slated for revitalization. For every two or three rotted, gutted out houses and buildings, a freshly renovated and painted one appears. Weed filled lawns choked with long brown grass rest side by side with green sod covered plots, drawing an instant line between poverty and luxury, indigence and affluence.

  In between a check cashing business and a discount tobacco store sits the place I’m looking for, simply named Mike’s Gym. The small lobby is bright and welcoming, a stark contrast to the building’s grim exterior. I’m greeted by a thin girl with green streaks in her hair.

  “Is Mike in?” I ask.

  “He’s in the back. Who should I say is asking for him?”

  “Alex Reed.”

  She disappears around a corner and is followed back by a man the size of Mt. Everest. No shit. Mason’s a big guy, but this dude could step on him. “Alex! Good to meet you. I’m Mike.” A hand the size of a bear’s paw juts out toward me.

  “Thanks for letting me train here while I’m in town.”

  “No problem! I met your brother, Mason, when he was still competing. That man was a force to be reckoned with. Damn shame he dropped out of the game.”

  I follow him back to the locker room. “Well, he got married, had a kid, you know how it goes.”

  “Sure do,” the bearded mountain agrees. “Make yourself at home. I have a couple of guys coming in to run drills in about an hour if you’d like a sparring partner.”

  “That’d be great.”

  “Workout room is to your right,” he says as I store my gear in a locker. “I’ll come find you when my guys are ready.”

  “Thanks again.”

  I get a few curious glances while I’m lifting weights, but it isn’t until I’m running on the treadmill that a guy approaches me. “Hi, there’s a rumor going around you’re Mason Reed’s brother.”

  “And you’ve been elected to find out if it’s true?” I smile, slowing down the machine into cool down mode.

  “Everyone’s curious…you know, with him being the former middleweight champ.”

  “Yeah, Mason’s my brother. I’m Alex.”

  He gazes doubtfully at my hand for a moment before shaking it. What the fuck was that? “Dave.”

  “Nice to meet you.”

  “You too. I’ll let you get back to it.”

  He walks away leaving me to try to figure out what made that so uncomfortable. The reason smacks me in the face when I go to grab my gear from the l
ocker room, hoping to find a sparring partner.

  “It’s him.”

  “No shit? What the hell is he doing here? I can’t believe Mike let him in.”

  I recognize the first voice as Dave’s. They’re talking about me. “He doesn’t look like a homo.”

  “You don’t know. He might have lacy panties on under those sweatpants,” a third voice joins in. Laughter fills the small space and I feel my face heat, not with shame or embarrassment, but anger. They’re on the other side of the row of lockers, clueless that I can hear them. I’d like to see them say that shit to my face.

  Before I can confront them, Mike joins them. “Dave, you want to fight a few rounds? Alex is looking for a sparring partner.”

  “Fuck no, Mike. Like I want him sweating AIDS all over me. Why the hell did you let him in here?”

  Any hope of Mike setting them straight dies with his response. “I know, I know, but his brother is Mason Reed. He has friends in high places we don’t want to piss off. So somebody is going to fight with him. You decide who.”

  “No way I’m fighting a fag,” the second voice counters.

  I’ve had enough. Stepping around the corner, I glare at the gathering of ignorant rednecks. Mike curses under his breath. “How about you, Dave? You scared to fight a fag? I promise to keep my AIDS to myself. Although, judging by that cold sore on your mouth it looks like I should be the one who’s worried.”

  “Fuck you, homo.” He takes a step toward me, but I stand my ground, and Mike grabs his arm.

  “Don’t worry about it, Mike. Herpes can affect your brain, make you say stupid shit. Maybe you all need to be tested. Now, I’ll ask again, is everyone too afraid to get their ass whipped by a panty wearing homo?”

  “He didn’t mean nothing by it, just guys bullshitting, you know,” Mike defends.

  “Say whatever you want. I’ve been called worse by better. Maybe you want to go a few rounds, Mike?”