Electric Sunshine (Brooklyn Boys Book 1)

by E. Davies

  “Adam!” I grabbed his spoon and chucked it after him as he raced for his room. “You asshole!”

  He brought back a sheet of paper and waved it in my face. “Yeah, but I got you this.”

  “And now I have to do laundry!”

  Adam shrugged. “Oops. So, I’ll help you fill this out.” He didn’t let me grab the sheet, which was just as well, because I was pissed off enough that I would have torn up the job application and need to get another.

  “Jesus. I don’t even know that I want the damn job,” I grumbled, picking soggy cereal off the bed and flipping the bowl over. “Grab me a towel.”

  When I glared at him, Adam relented and brought a dry towel to sop up some of the milk, at least. “Sorry.”

  That was rare enough to stop my anger in its tracks. I sighed instead and shook my head at him. “Someday you’ll learn to move with more grace than a charging buffalo.”

  “I doubt it,” he told me. “Not at this rate. I think I’ve reached peak grace. I dropped a case of cans the other day at work, you know. Burst two open.” He sounded almost proud of his own clumsiness.

  “Well, I can’t suck worse than you do at working there, then,” I told him.

  It was far from my dream job, but if I took part-time hours, maybe I could supplement my income. Might be a crappy fourteen bucks an hour or something, but diversifying income streams was just a smart maneuver.

  “And while you work, you can study—” Adam started.

  I held up my hands. “Whoa, whoa. Ain’t nobody talking about studying here.”

  Adam huffed a sigh of frustration. “You’re the one with all the money, Kev. Spend it on your future instead of your wardrobe. Pay your way through, like, law school or med school. Isn’t that what hookers are supposed to do?”

  My jaw dropped. He knew damn well that I didn’t like that word.

  God, I wished he’d grow up a little. He could stand to actually show some feelings once in a while without throwing jabs into his sentences. I knew he came from a shitty family background, but so did I, and I managed not to piss off everyone I talked to within three sentences.

  “Sorry,” he muttered, holding up his hands. “You get the point.”

  “That you think I’m a cheap whore,” I threw back at him. “Who’s supposed to be working my way toward, what, a free future?”

  He shrugged and pressed his lips together tightly, clearly holding back what he really wanted to say. That was a change.

  “Well, newsflash. I’ll apply for your shitty job, for now, until I get a better balance of regular clients,” I told him, unable to keep the fury out of my voice. “But I’m not gonna follow anyone else’s life path. Do you think I wear this stuff because I like it?”

  This time, Adam did answer. “Yeah.”

  I glowered. The fact that he was half-right made it worse. “Yeah, I like to look good. But I can do that in thrift store clothes. I don’t give a shit what brand names I have on. I do it for my job, like you get those dumb haircuts for your job.”

  “Hey!” Adam frowned at me and patted his hair. It looked lousy short. Back in Tennessee, it had been grown out and he hadn’t looked like a dozen other frat boys in our block.

  “Oh, no. Did I insult your hair after you insulted my whole damn life?” I grumbled. I grabbed the job application from him and shoved the bowl of soggy cereal bits into his hands instead. “Go on, let me finish cleaning up this mess you made, as usual.”

  He huffed and stormed out of my room, which was a bit silly since he couldn’t slam the door. He flourished the blanket in the doorway instead, and I had to bite back my laughter at his attempt to dramatically exit.

  God, Adam pissed me off sometimes, but despite my natural impulse to dig my heels in, he had a point about getting an education. I didn’t want to go get some useless degree that I didn’t need, but practical training in another career could pay off.

  Look at Charlie. It took five years in school to become an architect, he said, but it was a practical set of skills that made him employable anywhere, however old he was and however he dressed.

  What could I do in a year or two? I’d dabbled in so many different things at the dude ranch that I barely knew what I was interested in anymore. I liked a bit of everything.

  That was one perk to escorting: lots of free time and exposure to a hundred different types of lives. They skewed to the middle-class or rich guy jobs like lawyers, politicians, and bankers, but there were plenty of boring accountants and middle managers who needed to get laid, too.

  I liked to keep things running, but I had the feeling being in an office would just crush my spirits. I wasn’t going to put myself through that hell just to make someone like Adam feel better about his own existence.

  “Fuck,” I mumbled under my breath and flopped onto my back on the bed. My legs touched the wet, milky patch and I moaned to myself with the awfulness of it all. It was too late to get wash-and-press back in time for tonight without some exorbitant fee.

  First stop: laundromat. Maybe a few hours of staring at the machines would give me a flash of inspiration about what I was supposed to do next.

  As it turned out, watching the shapes of my clothing blur into circles in the aggressive coin washer didn’t give me the answers to the mystery of life. The laundromat did, however, give me free wi-fi. That was a perk of spending the extra couple bucks and going to an upmarket laundromat, as much as Brooklyn contained such a thing. Another was not having my clothes ruined by a shitty machine, of course.

  The wi-fi let me log into Scruff, where my profile had flown under the radar for now. It was a little easier to bury my job description in the text description, even though they said explicitly at the top of the description box that paid solicitation wasn’t allowed.

  And I had a new message.

  Hey handsome, looking for company this weekend. Yes, I read your profile. Extra gifts for discretion.

  That perked my interest, and I thumbed to his profile. It was blank.

  I typed back a quick message to tell him to WhatsApp me, and sent another message with my phone number. That was the first sign of trustworthiness—when they didn’t hesitate to give me their number. WhatsApp was encrypted, too, so neither of us had to worry about the cops.

  It took a few minutes, but I got a WhatsApp message not long afterward from him.

  I work in Washington so I don’t want this getting out. Do you understand?

  Oh. That answered too many of my questions at once. I bit back my first few responses, and instead settled on a simple question.

  Does your wife know?

  I was completely unsurprised when I glanced down to see a one-word answer.

  No.

  I gritted my teeth. May as well go the whole way.

  How did you vote on FOSTA/SESTA?

  His response was quick.

  How about I give you a fat gift, you shut up and do what you do best?

  I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t stop the laugh that burst out of me.

  What’s that?

  Suck my dick and look pretty. Does that turn you on? Or is it the money?

  If he thought the alpha-male politician thing was gonna turn me on, he had another think coming. Guys like him didn’t even want to admit that guys like me were human, much less worthy of protection. Why the hell would I trust them in bed?

  I actually felt kind of sad for him. He really didn’t understand how human beings functioned, yet he was trying to govern them. And I might agree with his policies otherwise, but who knew? He wasn’t going to sit down and talk with me, or try to listen.

  It didn’t feel like there was any safe place for me anymore in politics, or in life.

  I blocked him and chewed my nails. He’d probably get pissy and report me in retaliation. Wasn’t the first time, wouldn’t be the last.

  Maybe, as much as I hated to admit it, Adam was right. And he did give a shit about me, even if he had a backhanded way of showing it.

  The
dryer’s soothing white noise stopped, and I was finally free to head back to the apartment and make amends. Clients were great, but I wasn’t going to lose a friendship for a few careless words. Fine, I’d pick up a bottle of wine on the way back.

  I bundled all my sheets into my hamper, turned off my work phone, and headed for home.

  9

  Charlie

  Walking into the bar, I spotted Ben immediately. He’d barely changed throughout the years since senior year of college, when we’d spent half our time in places like this.

  Well, we’d hung out in “student-friendly” (cheap) dive bars, and we went to cocktail places now. He was just as comfortable in a sports bar or an upmarket lounge, but the sudden raucous cheering that tended to break out in sports bars at seemingly random moments unnerved me.

  “Over here, Charlie!” Ben called, oblivious to the attention he drew to himself from other people here who looked like they’d like to be over there with him.

  I bit back my grin. It wasn’t his fault he was unreasonably attractive. It was always hard to compete against that boyish smile and the size of his biceps, but we catered to very different tastes when we went out on the town together, so it had worked.

  Maybe being hot made it hard to settle in a relationship, though. From what Ben had hinted through texts, his relationship status was back up in the air. Again.

  “Hey,” I greeted and hugged him tightly. It was always good to see one of the few guys who’d stuck with me through thick and thin. “Oof!”

  He squeezed the life out of me, as he always did, and I always complained it was unfair. “Hey, pipsqueak,” he greeted affectionately. “I got you a drink. Guess what kind?”

  I had to stare at it for a few moments before I identified it. “Sex on the Beach? Funny.”

  “Hey. Better to enjoy some free Sex on the Beach than paying for a Blowjob.”

  I flipped him off, but the ungraceful snort of laughter I gave betrayed me. “Thanks for thinking of me,” I told him and sipped the sweet drink through its pink paper straw. Brooklyn was such a hipster place now, but little details like the straw made me appreciate it.

  “Anytime.” Ben smirked and winked at me, then scooted his chair closer to the tiny round table. “So! Spill. More juicy details, please.” He tapped his wrist and the table.

  It did nothing to raise my stress levels. I’d long since gotten over feeling pressured by anything Ben said or did. I worked at my own efficient pace—no slower or faster. And I’d already carefully planned what to say.

  “I want to see him again.”

  Ben stared at me for a few moments and then nudged my drink closer to me, like a good stiff drink would make me come to my senses.

  I sighed and sipped it again as I gathered my courage. “I know he’s just doing a job, and I’m okay with that.”

  “Are you really? Will you stay okay with that?” Ben asked. As usual, he cut right to the chase. He knew better than to try to lead me through a tangled emotional conversation. It was a waste of time.

  “Dunno yet,” I shrugged. “I’ll find out, won’t I?”

  Ben frowned and drained the rest of his cocktail, staying silent for a good minute while watching me. He didn’t say anything yet.

  The silence was unnerving enough to prompt me to speak a little more. “I like him. He’s fun to hang out with. He’s been patient with me. If I jump on Tinder or whatever, I could just find some guy who’s willing to date me, sure. But it’s not like I’m the average twenty-something young professional in the city. I’ve got baggage.”

  “So does everyone,” Ben pointed out.

  I stuck my lip out for a moment and gazed into the distance as I considered this. He had a point. “Okay. But some guys don’t want to date people like me. They’ll always feel like they’re competing for affection with someone who they can’t beat.”

  “Are they?”

  I knew the answer to this one, at least. “No. If I’d been dating a few years ago, maybe. But not now. He’s like any other ex. We were separated by… death, rather than choice, but it’s still a past relationship.”

  “He isn’t, though, is he? If you’re worried about telling Hugh’s family that you’re meeting another guy?”

  Ben had me there. I realized that he was at least partly right. “I’ll have to think about that,” I admitted. “But I’m not stopping seeing him.”

  “You’re putting an imaginary guy’s needs above your own,” Ben told me. “Let him decide if you’re dateable. Don’t stop yourself dating someone, just in case you find out you’re not up for it and hurt him.”

  Still, it sat wrong with me. Going into something not knowing if I wanted it was a waste of everyone’s time. I shook my head. “It’s better this way. Besides… I want to see him again. It’s not just the safety, or whatever.”

  Ben looked doubtful, but he nodded. “If that’s what it takes to get you back on the market.” He toasted me. “To your rekindled love life.”

  I clinked glasses and drained mine, then got up to get the next round. By the time I made it back to the table, Ben was looking around the room in a very prowling way.

  “Someone’s looking,” I teased, clapping his shoulder once I set down the drinks. I slid into the chair again and raised my eyebrows. “So?”

  “Ivan dumped me,” Ben put it succinctly.

  I winced. I’d figured it was a bad idea for him to date his boss, but I’d kept my opinion to myself, and… there it was. “Sorry, man.”

  Ben snorted. “Nah. It was long overdue. He was just bored, and I was there, all starry-eyed and fuckable…”

  “As long as he’s not being a dick on the job,” I told him.

  “Nah. And you know what? I’m free to go to parties. I’ll be at the Cock every weekend. You should join me and get some,” Ben told me with a wink.

  I’d half-expected this. “Me? In a foam pit? Or a darkroom?”

  “Come on. You’ve got the whole hot nerd thing going on.” Ben sat back and assessed me with a critical eye. “Your shoulders are definitely broad. That’s a great silhouette to cover in foam. Artfully dab foam on your cheeks.”

  “Oh, shut up,” I laughed to hide the blush. I would never fit in at that kind of place. Ben might be right at home in himself, but I was barely able to drag myself to a nice restaurant with a date. “I’ll do my thing, you do yours.”

  “Is this a race?” Ben smirked. “First to get a new boyfriend?”

  “I’ll lose that any day,” I shook my head.

  Ben gasped and clutched his chest. “Are you calling me easy?”

  “Um…” I smirked at him. “You used the word, I want it on the record.”

  It was Ben’s turn to flip me off.

  “Only compared to me?” I added.

  Ben eyed me. “You’re making it worse. Stop while you’re only a few steps behind.”

  “Okay, okay.” I nudged him. “So, catch me up on your life apart from Ivan not being good enough for you.”

  I did my best to keep up with the information dump he treated me to over the next hour or so, asking questions at the appropriate times, but my mind was still on Kev. I wanted to tell Ben all about him. I wanted to tell him about the way he smiled gently at me, or the way he’d held my hand with such confidence, or the way he’d asked the right questions to get me to open up about everything—even Hugh.

  Or the way he’d kissed me.

  A few drinks later, Ben called me out. “You’re daydreaming about him.”

  “No…” I blushed, averting my gaze. Suddenly, the mirrored backdrop of the bar was fascinating to me. “Just planning my weekend.”

  “So, daydreaming about being with him.”

  I opened my mouth and then shut it again.

  “Fine,” Ben smirked. “Since I can’t talk you out of this, you have to keep me up to date. It’s the law, you know. And I’m going to take every chance I can to tease you. I’ve been waiting long enough for my chance.”

  “Oh, G
od.” I rolled my eyes and pushed myself to my feet. “I can’t stop you. And I’m gonna call an Uber. I’m still not back in this time zone, you know.”

  “No kidding. You must be wiped.” Ben stood up too, and pulled me in for a hug. “I’m gonna hang out here. There’s a guy over in the corner, by himself…”

  I cast a quick sideways glance and caught him looking at Ben. “Yeah, you’re in. Have fun with that.”

  Ben smirked. “I plan to.”

  It didn’t take long for me to get home—or maybe that was the cocktails talking. By the time I got there, though, I’d made up my mind.

  I opened my WhatsApp conversation with Kev and tapped out a new message.

  Free tomorrow afternoon? Let’s do lunch? 2-3 hrs?

  I wanted to make it clear I still expected to pay, in case he thought I was trying to get a freebie. I knew some guys tried to pull that stunt and date women in the industry so they could get sex for free… but it usually ended when they realized the sex was just like any other relationship.

  Then, in the evening, I could go talk to Hugh’s family. They didn’t have to know I was dating anyone yet. I might bring up that I was interested in seeing guys again, or maybe not.

  I hummed to myself and grabbed my laptop to check my work emails. Only after I’d done that, responded to a few, and added to my Monday to-do list did I realize I was literally trying to soothe my dating anxiety with work.

  “God, Ben was right,” I mumbled, pushing my laptop to the other side of the bed. It wasn’t the worst addiction I could have, but it was still something I was using to numb my feelings. And it wouldn’t help me get my life balance back to some semblance of normal.

  But was it worth cutting back on work before I had anyone to cut back for?

  I flopped onto the bed. The bar had actually been surprisingly nice to spend time in with someone I knew, but being home alone suddenly emphasized how damn quiet it was here all the time.

  No wonder I spent as little time in my own bed as I could.

  All my thoughts nearly distracted me from the fact that I hadn’t yet heard back from Kev. Maybe he was with another client, I reasoned, but I still worried that that wasn’t it. Maybe he didn’t want to see me again. Maybe I was so undateable that I couldn’t even pay for it.