I kissed him on the lips. It was just a gentle kiss. The type of kiss that real lovers do. It wasn’t about sex. It was just a natural, soft kiss, and it felt right.
Chapter 5
“Maybe we should go to a casino, Damien. We can cool off.”
Scott wasn’t planning on going to the casino, but it was a good idea. I could play some cards, Scott would hang around and amuse himself. Finding a casino in Vegas wasn’t tough, but I wanted to go to a good one. After that shitty strip club, I needed to go somewhere I wouldn’t feel like an idiot. So I took him to this place I used to go with my boys. I was a little hesitant to do that but I felt like I had truly fallen into the role of a gay guy. No one would ever recognize me if they saw me.
The casino was red and gold and black on the outside. Not the most high-end place but definitely up there. It was four levels, a perfect place to get lost, and have some fun for me.
I played blackjack for a while, and I was up a couple hundred bucks. Not much in blackjack terms but I couldn’t play the way I used to. I couldn’t draw too much attention to myself by going for broke. Plus, I wasn’t craving it the way I used to, and I didn’t feel like getting an adrenaline high off playing cards. I didn’t need anything but Scott to do that for me now.
I was playing with two other guys and a girl. One guy was your typical Vegas type. The type of guy who liked to look and act like a big shot, even if he wasn’t. Chunky gold rings, chest hair sticking out of a partly buttoned shirt. He probably owned a condo in Miami too, that type. The next guy was younger, a thin guy, probably a card counter from out of state. He had glasses and a buzz cut. He was neat and tidy-looking and seemed innocent, but card counting wasn’t a good idea in any casino. The dealers catch on and you get watched.
The girl was obviously an escort. She was sitting beside the thin guy, but she was either with Mr. Miami or planning on her next paycheck with him. Two fake round tits were resting on the black jack table and two thick lips were puckering while she glanced at her cards. She was the Vegas type.
The card counter wasn’t a professional, but he was doing all right. It was weird that he was alone. They usually ran with a partner. Then, I thought I caught someone watching him but I wasn’t sure. I did quickly figure out the escort wasn’t with him. She was with Mr. Miami. They were sitting on opposite sides of the table for their own reasons. It wasn’t about winning the game for them. They were just trying to beat each other and Miami wanted a good view of her tits while he played.
It kept things pretty light because they were bad players. It might as well have just been me, the dealer, and the card counter. I was getting pretty into it when Scott tapped me on the shoulder. “Can I talk to you for a minute after you finish this game?”
I said nothing and he left, focusing on this next hand. I lost, partly because my opponent was counting and partly because I was thinking about Scott. It wasn’t too bad of a loss, though. Nothing to get mad about.
I got up from the table a minute later. Scott was lounging against the wall beside a fake potted plant, waiting. I crossed the gold carpeting and reached out for his hand with a smile. He didn’t smile back.
“I was watching you play, but I think someone else is too.” He said it calmly, almost like he was confused. This was one of Scott’s weird habits. When he had to deliver bad news, he acted confused, as if he was struggling to believe the news himself.
“Who?” I tensed up. “He’s in a black jacket and a white shirt. I can’t tell if he’s an employee or someone else.”
I didn’t look over. “Does he have tattoos? There’s a card counter at my table. It might just be a casino employee keeping an eye on him.” “I didn’t see tattoos. I guess he could be security. He’s looking at his shoes right now.” Scott said, slightly relieved.
“Cool. It was nice meeting you.” I said loudly, taking my hand away from him and switching tactics. It was the best I could come up with. In case someone was watching me, I didn’t want people to know that we were connected. If someone did recognize me it was too late. Boyfriend or no boyfriend they would know who I was. “I’m going back to the hotel,” Scott whispered and then said loudly, “Nice meeting you too. I hope we run into each other again.”
I had to switch tables. If the guy worked at the casino and was watching the card counter, he would stay in the spot where Scott found him. I didn’t look at him, but Scott hinted at where he was with a nod that was barely noticeable as he walked away.
I moved to a new table. There were two Californians and two Canadians this time, guessing by their accents. I kept to myself. I didn’t pay attention to the other four players. I snapped my eyes to the exact spot Scott hinted at, ready to look the loser in the black jacket straight in the eyes if he was watching me. He wasn’t there. I scanned across the tables to my old table. Mr. Miami, the escort and the card counter were still there. They were a weird combination. Someone was watching me, not the card counter. Scott was right, and that also meant I was in danger.
If I stayed in the casino nobody could do anything. I could get shot, sure, but the guys would get arrested in seconds. Even if they escaped, these casinos are filled with cameras. It wasn’t a good idea to do anything in a casino. Their damage control was tight because they had reputations to maintain. That meant I had two options, I could stay at the casino for as long as possible until I wore the guy out, or I could leave soon before it was dark out.
Again, it was a lot harder to do something in broad daylight than it was at midnight. I decided to do a trick I learned when I worked at the clubs. If you were watching a guy, the best thing to do was to follow him into the bathroom. There aren’t cameras in the bathrooms and it’s easy to go in at the same time as someone else, so even if the camera catches you going in, no one really knows what’s happening.
I knew I could take on someone in a bathroom easily. I didn’t have a gun or a knife on me, but I didn’t need one either. When you know one trick, you know another. Black jacket would follow me in after another guy who looked more normal. It’s called the norm. Follow some “norm” into the washroom. The guy you’re following gets nervous when he sees someone coming in, then he sees it’s a norm and lets down his guard. Then you come in right behind him ready to pounce. I waited in the bathroom for the confrontation. I waited a minute. The minute turned into two minutes. A norm walked into the washroom. Nobody was behind him. These guys were either amateurs or professionals. They either were too dumb to take advantage of my vulnerable position, or they knew enough about my past to figure I would outsmart them if they tried a tactic like that. I was afraid of the second option, but maybe Scott was wrong all together.
Scott was a more nervous, tense type than the average guy. He was more afraid of my past than I was.
I decided to go back to the hotel while it was still light out. On the way out I saw a couple guys in a black jackets and white shirts. They were all stupid; they had that glazed-out, drunk goldfish look. Scott must have been freaking out for no reason when he saw one of them just standing around. In fact, if any of these guys were watching me, they were probably watching Mr. Miami’s little friend if anyone, not me or the card counter.
I walked back to our hotel without any problems, as expected. If they were going to follow me they were going to follow me into the hotel where I would be trapped. The sun was shining on the back of my neck. I was taking in the heat. I could sense that nothing was going to go wrong. I would meet Scott back in the hotel and we would go for dinner or something.
Just to play it safe, I waited in the lobby for ten minutes before I went up to my room. If someone really was following me they would have to come through the lobby to find out which room I was staying at. I was safe for now; nobody suspicious was in the lobby. Anyone watching must have been outside the hotel still. If the guy was working alone he would need some back up, too. That would take a while. Even if he knew where I was staying, it would be stupid for him to attack on his own. I went to the elevator.
A w
oman rushed in just before the door closed. She looked at me funny. I looked at her funny. She had a lanyard with a name tag on it. “Sharon Schmidt, Media. The Aesthetic Meeting.” There was a plastic surgery convention in the conference room of our hotel. I forgot.
She kept her brows knitted and pressed her floor number. Right, it was weird to enter an elevator with a person going nowhere, especially a big guy with a couple scars giving you a dirty look. I pressed my floor after the doors closed. She was uncomfortable, but I couldn’t risk someone rushing in and seeing which floor I went to. I had to wait until the doors were closed.
I got up to my floor, and I left the elevator and Sharon to their own business. Hopefully she got to where she needed to go.
I walked down the hallway and clutched my card, getting it ready Justin case. When I got in the room I had to warn Scott that we would have to leave the hotel at different times for his safety. If someone was watching us the whole time, they might just think Scott approached me at the casino to say he recognized me from staying at same the hotel, but not necessarily the same room.
It would make sense. I put my card in the door and pushed it open. “Scott.” The room was quiet. “Scott?”
My eyes adjusted and I saw that Scott was in the room.
Black jacket was in the room, too. Fuck. He had his arm tight around Scott’s neck. Nobody was speaking. Why was it just the two of them? This guy didn’t have backup, and I didn’t recognize his face. We never met before. He probably recognized me from a picture, but he was definitely with the mob. I must have caught him by surprise. I wanted to kill black jacket, and I could have, but that would make shit even worse.
He looked right at me and said, “Your friend is an idiot.” He was talking about Scott. My blood started to boil. Scott was not stupid!
Scott’s mouth wasn’t taped up, but he couldn’t talk anyway. He was too shocked to even say a word. I wished he was in my arms instead, even if he just fucked us both over. This wasn’t the time to be thinking about that shit, though.
“What did he tell you?”
“He didn’t tell me anything. He didn’t have to. You’re both stupid. I saw you come in the casino together. I knew following him would take us to where you were staying eventually. We have the hotel surrounded. You’re fucked, boy.”
“What do you want?” This guy was annoying me with his sleazy, villain talk. Why did people have to do that? Short talk or no talk, don’t ramble and waste my fucking time.
“Actually, it’s my turn to ask the questions. Tell me a story about your friend here.” He had an even sleazier attitude. This guy thought he was a big shot for finding me, whoever he was.
“He does nothing. He doesn’t know about anything.”
“Well, if he’s useless we can just off him too, then. You’re fucked either way.”
I bit my tongue. If this guy could play it cool, so could I. I couldn’t let him see how scared I was. “Scott, has he called anyone since he got here?”
Scott blinked, half rolling his eyes the way he does when he is unimpressed. Why wasn’t Scott freaking out when my chest was pounding? There he was, in some weird guy’s arms, practically turning red from not being able to breath, rolling his eyes at all of this. Well, now that I thought about it, that was exactly like him. I took the eye roll as a, “No, this guy is kind of a mess.”
If he didn’t call anyone, nobody else would know which room we were in. They could know our hotel, but there were hundreds of hotel rooms here. We would have to leave the hotel, or he would have to tell someone where he was for the other guys to get us, but he couldn’t call anyone while he was holding onto Scott. “I didn’t have to call anyone, idiot. The building is surrounded. The Don will be happy to talk to you, but first tell me, is your little friend here with the FBI?”
I didn’t feel like answering. Of course Scott wasn’t in the FBI. He was a fucking pretty boy! I hired him to be my fake boyfriend, “No, he isn’t here for any reason you could think of. He’s my boyfriend.”
Black jacket didn’t believe me. He put his knife to Scott’s temple. A knife to the temple? Weird, where was the gun? We really did surprise this guy at the casino.
“He’s useless. Just take me. It’s his birthday and we’re celebrating. We aren’t working, and we weren’t trying to hunt you guys down.” Fuck. That sounded like a lie. Scott squinted at me for calling him useless.
“Scott, there are bigger things to be worrying about right now.”
Black jacket didn’t see Scott’s expression and looked confused. Scott chuckled. I couldn’t fucking believe this. Black jacket was getting mad now. For a second, I didn’t give a shit. Then, black jacket pressed the knife harder into Scott’s temple. The knife was an odd choice. He couldn’t easily kill Scott with a knife to the head. There might be a scar, but this guy was planning to keep Scott alive. He thought he has information. Fuck it. This guy was an idiot. I decided I was going to go for the easiest trick in the book: a cool slap in the face. Slaps stun people; they catch your attacker off guard. You might even drop your knife from the shock. Nobody expects a big burly thug to walk up to you and give you a good slap in the face.
So, I slapped him. The knife cut Scott’s skin from the recoil. Black jacket let go of Scott, but held tight onto the knife. Scott squirmed past me. What the fuck was he doing? “Did you just fucking slap me?” Black Jacket lunged at me with the knife. I dove onto the bed and kicked him. Scott threw an empty ice bucket at him. A strange choice, but we made a good team. My adrenaline was pumping. I kept kicking. I wasn’t paying attention. I couldn’t even see what I was doing. He sliced my right leg, but I kicked him in the face, and he went down. Scott was kicking him in the ribs. I jumped on him with both feet onto his chest. He coughed up blood and he could barely move. It happened in seconds. This wasn’t a Jackie Chan movie. There was no choreographing, nothing fancy. Just once and done.
Scott walked to the hotel phone. “What are you doing, Scott?”
“I’m calling 9-1-1.”
My eyes almost popped out of my head. “You can’t fucking call 9-1-1!”
“Yeah. We can call 9-1-1.” He was shaking his head at me. I forgot that Scott was never a bad guy. He wasn’t afraid of the police. For once, I wasn’t doing something illegal when someone was attacking me. The police were okay.
I wrapped my leg in a bed sheet. Scott had his hand on his cut. Blood was trickling between his fingers while he explained what had happened to the operator on the phone. I give black jacket one more good stomp in the ribs with my good leg to keep him in too much pain to move, and dragged myself across the bed to give Scott a little kiss.
What a strange trio we were. A thug coughing up blood, a pretty boy bleeding from the side of his head, and an ex-thug with a bloody bed sheet wrapped around his leg kissing his boyfriend.
The police, ambulance, and fire trucks came 10 minutes later, which meant black jacket’s mob friends were nowhere near our hotel anymore if they knew what was good for them. The cuts weren’t as bad as they seemed in the moment. Rapid heartbeats made the blood flow more than it would have otherwise. All three of us were taken to hospitals anyway. Black jacket, real name Joe, was arrested in the hospital. Scott and I filled out a bunch of forms, gave some explanations and we were free to go. We rode in a police car back to the hotel to get our things.
We had to book a same-day flight out of Vegas, and we were told not to go back home for our own safety.
We looked at the giant board of upcoming departures. There were flights to everywhere. “Where to next?” Scott asked.
I looked at him. His blue eyes were still sparkling, even after all this. “Anywhere you want is fine with me, my love.”
The End
The Mayfly
Description:
John didn’t know he was gay until he kissed Henry. He was everything he never knew he wanted. Henry was different from most people. He lived in a lavish apartment, owned a world-renowned restaurant and travelled the
world. John knew he had to make changes to keep Henry in his life, so he could be more than who he was. John mingles with the rich and famous, and he must do as they do, or risk exposure. This leads him into orgies, fueled by drugs, and Henry’s elaborate parties. Can John keep his place in Henry’s restless heart? And when he learns Henry’s secret, will he want to?
*****************************
This all happened a while back. You could smoke in bars in those days, so the air was thick with tobacco-scented smoke. I had a lit cigarette and was reclining in the booth, opposite the bar. I was there with my two best friends, Sandra and Jen. They worked on the same floor as me, in the Human Resources Department and we have come to this bar every evening, since we all started as interns. It was nowhere special, but drinks were cheap.
Beers costed a little bit more on a Monday, no one really knew why. However, every Friday, they did half price pints. It was a little odd. But we figured it’d work out better for us in the long run, and decided never to mention it to Barbara, the manager. The girls drank rum with ginger ale, as we chatted about office life.
We had come here to feed the constant rumor mill. Another reason we came to this particular bar was that no one from the office came here. We worked in a big important law firm and our co-workers were all about looking the part. This crusty old dump was not the part, but it worked out great. We could talk shit until our heart's content. Sandra and Jen always had better gossip than me. It was as if they had spy equipment on the undergarments of all our co-workers. We laughed at the expense of others for hours, as good healthy people do. Before the conversation moved to more serious matters, they asked me whom I was seeing.
“Come off it girls, I am far too busy to have anyone in my life right now.” They looked at each other nervously, and smiled a little.
“John, we have heard it all before. If you do not find someone soon you will be a sad, old man. We decided to take matters into our own hands.” She said this and chuckled nervously. Sandra stood up and waved behind me. I turned around and saw a man walking towards us.
Omega Wanted: Bad Boy Mpreg Romance Page 66