by Daya Daniels
“Okay then.” She smiles and rushes away.
“Thanks, guy.” I tap the edge of my glass. “You really don’t have to do that.”
“No.” Pierce tips his head forward. “We do. I don’t know what it’s like to be in your situation, but I can imagine it’s hard.”
Ryker’s blues hit me. “It isn’t as hard as it used to be.” His hand finds my thigh beneath the table.
“Yeah, he’s right.” I nudge my head in Ryker’s direction. “They say there is a cause and effect for every user even if they don’t realize it. For some it can be friends. It can be their spouse or a bad day at work that leads them to use. Every user has their trigger.”
“And what is yours?” Baby asks.
“Me?” I laugh. “Maybe loneliness.”
Ryker’s mouth is open, not gaped, but any slacker and it will be.
I smile, feeling super self-conscious so it probably doesn’t look genuine.
“You?” Baby’s face is pained. “You are lonely?”
I shrug. “Yeah, I suppose a little.” Okay, a lot…
Ryker’s hand squeezes my thigh.
“I’ve had company lately—the right kind and everything just feels different, I don’t know.”
I ignore the bustle going on at the tables around us, feeling a bit lost in this moment, revealing my true self to semi-strangers, talking and shit.
“It’s felt good. My house before Ryker came along has just been a sad shithole for two very lonely men who lost a woman a long time ago who meant the world to us.” I look away from the three sets of eyes. “It’s been full of life lately despite that.” I swallow. “I like being there now.”
Ryker’s eyes water over. “Fuck.” Laughing uncomfortably, he turns away from me.
I lower my head then guzzle back the water like it’s vodka.
“That’s, um, pretty deep.” Pierce shifts his position then leans on his hands.
Baby nods. “Well, considering these circumstances, I guess I should let you know that we’ve looked over the terms of your trust, Ryker.”
A dent forms between my brows.
Ryker leans in, listening, as if Baby is about to tell him the secret of the century.
Baby’s voice becomes all lawyerly-like. “And it’s quite tight and complex. Francis’ lawyers knew what they were doing when they drafted it. I certainly don’t think they ever expected you to discover it.” He smiles and leans in even closer.
Pierce spreads his napkin across his lap, his expression unreadable.
“It entitles you to everything that belongs to him, Ryker. Everything.” Baby’s expression is deadly serious. “The companies. The homes. The investments—domestic and foreign. Even the cash.”
Ryker exhales loudly. “Why?”
Baby shakes his head. “I’ll have to do a bit more digging about that, but I have a feeling Francis might be doing something shady, evading people he owes money to or possibly to avoid paying his taxes. I’m not sure.” He scratches his head. “But whatever it is, it can’t be good. I’ll need more time to find out why.”
I glance at Ryker and I’m so fucking confused.
The waitress is back but when she doesn’t get an iota of attention from us she scampers away again.
“What do I do?” Ryker’s voice is anxious.
Pierce sits forward and gestures with his palm. “Nothing. Don’t do anything.”
Ryker shakes his head. “I don’t understand? I can do something about this now. I can be free of him. I—I—I can move out. I can get Bella in re—”
Baby shakes his head vigorously. “No, no, no, no. We need you to wait. You don’t turn twenty-one officially just yet, Ryker.”
Ryker’s shoulders slump.
“If Francis gets a whiff of this he could change everything,” Baby hisses.
Pierce nods firmly.
“Not all the water in the rough rude sea can wash the balm from an anointed king.” The words leave Baby’s mouth slow and deliberate as if he’s savoring every single one of them on his tongue.
Ryker nods once, twice, three times.
“We wait, Ryker. And then we pounce.” Assurance laces Baby’s voice.
Ryker’s eyes mist over and then they’re dry again so fast I wonder just what in the fuck had happened right in front of me. “Okay.”
“We wait…like the pawns who he thinks we are,” Baby says firmly.
Ryker sighs.
“Francis’ finances are tied up with Xavier’s. It’s all one big shit show.” Baby laughs. “I want to see them lose everything for how they’ve treated us, Ryker. Everyfuckingthing.”
I take Ryker’s shaky, sweaty palm beneath the table in mine eyeballing him with a curiosity I don’t think I ever have before.
I want to know who this Francis Barnaby Benedict is.
I want to see him up close.
I want to know the man who sent me the boy with wet palms.
RYKER
DINNER HAD ENDED HOURS ago.
I’m full of couscous and water and I still can’t sleep.
The ripest fruit first falls—Richard II.
They’re words uttered by Richard himself…
It’s around this time in the story when Richard’s uncle feels things have gone too far. There have been too many deaths. Too much treachery and reprehensible behavior. He acknowledges that he’s overlooked so many troubles and even his own disgrace, but he refuses to anymore. He chooses to deal with it all head-on.
I twist on my side and flinch when I find Griffon sitting at the opposite side of the bed, perched against the wall, drawing beneath the moonlight.
His grays land on me right away. “Can’t sleep?”
I sit up a little, pulling the sheets up to my chest. “No, not really.” I prop my head on my hand.
Ben Howard’s “To Be Alone” echoes from the iPod at low volume.
Griffon keeps his eyes on me and sketches away.
He looks beautiful with messy hair. His chest is bare, and the white boxer briefs I’d bought him a few days ago look hella hot on him.
The clock on the nightstand tells me it’s just getting up to 4 a.m. and beyond the closed door, Babbo knocks around in the apartment as he gets ready to leave for work.
I was certain Griffon had shared the money I’d given him with his father but clearly that wasn’t going to stop the old man from going to work and earning his own keep.
Griffon’s distant.
I nudge his thigh with my toe. “What’s the matter?”
“I guess I’m worried I don’t know what’s going on, Ryker.” He smirks. “I feel a little out of the loop with all the things that were discussed over dinner last night with Baby and Pierce. I guess I was hoping you’d just explain without me having to pry it out of you.”
I rest my head back against the pillow and huff, using the peeling stucco on the ceiling above as a focal point just so I don’t have to look into Griffon’s eyes. “I need something to change in my life, Griffon. Francis has such a hold on the majority of money Bella and I have and that needs to change.”
“And this trust that Baby was referring to?”
Finally, I meet his eyes. “The trust is in my name. It’s something Francis had drafted four years ago when I think he was going through difficultly with one of his larger companies. He had everything put in my name. I don’t know why. And of course, he didn’t tell me. I’m quite sure he thought I’d never find out or that he’d just go and have his lawyers redraft the trust when the circumstances with his businesses had changed before I knew anything about it all.
“But one day, a few months ago actually, drunk and high, I was snooping through his office. I punched in a few codes and had picked a few locks still leaving them intact. I don’t know what I was looking for really, but money was really it.
“Anyways, I came across this document with my name on it decorated with all this legal jargon I just didn’t understand.” I breathe. “Instead of taking it, of course, I c
opied it and left the original right where Francis knew he’d put it. Worried out of my wits, I gave the document to Baby and Pierce who told me it was the best thing that could ever have happened to me. Because now, instead of waiting for Francis to die to be out of his clutches, I only had to wait until my twenty-first birthday.” I shake my head in disbelief. “And not just to inherit a measly million but to take everything he owns down to the custom shoes on his fucking feet.”
Griffon’s expression hasn’t changed.
“So, that is what I’m going to do.”
He frowns. “I’m worried about your plan.”
I blink rapidly.
“Do you really think your father is going to let you get away with that, Ryker?”
“He has no choice.” My words are an insecure whisper.
“If your father is as ruthless as you say he is, Ryker, he’s not just going to let you take everything he’s worked to build all these years whether he gave it to you willingly by default or not.”
I run a hand through my hair and keep my gaze on Robin who stands right by Batman’s side, grinning and shit. “He is ruthless, Griffon. And he is smart, but I’m doing this, and no one can stop me. It’s the only way I have a chance at any sort of freedom.”
Freedom from him.
Freedom from Bella.
Freedom from being a fucking user…because Francis-is-my-goddamn-trigger.
Griffon tosses his book down and crawls over to me, putting his face in mine, searching it for what I don’t know. “You seek to dethrone the king?”
“Yesssss.”
His lips brush over mine, teasing. “Kings own armies, Ryker. Kings own people. Kings rule the fucking world.”
“It belongs to me, Griffon, all of it. And I’m taking what I’m owed.”
Griffon’s hand slides into my boxer briefs and my breath hitches in my throat when his hand wraps around my dick. He peers into my eyes with his gray ones, not saying much of anything.
“I’m going to end his reign,” I rasp.
He works the length of me slow and deliberate getting me nice and ready.
He licks his lips and I almost come right there and then.
Peering at my cock, I wince when he massages my balls, but it does nothing to make the ache go away. My mouth falls open when he nudges his nose into my cheek. The bed creaks with our weight as he shifts over me using his other hand to violently yank my boxer briefs down to my knees.
I relax against the cool wall behind me, mouth open, breaths labored as he jerks me off. After less than five seconds and his hand is already slicked with what drips from the tip of my cock and is ready to leave me in full force and make a complete mess of these sheets.
Griffon kisses my moan away.
Cupping the back of his head, I pull him closer, diving into his mouth with my tongue over and over savoring his sweetness, tasting love.
He kisses my lips hard when he pulls away, I’m practically delirious. “I am going to end this bullshit finally, Griffon. It’s been a lot of years of just taking it and taking it and taking it with no Vaseline.”
His eyes are wild.
I nod lazily when he slides down the length of my chest, tickling my skin with his soft hair. His ash-colored marbles land on me and I just feel so fucking adored. His lips pucker and his ass cheeks perk up as he stretches out on the bed on his stomach staring at my cock because I know he’s about to worship it like it’s the last one he’ll ever see in this life.
He smiles. “And I’ll be right by your side all the way, babe.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
GRIFFON
WE GOT A PUPPY.
Her name is Elsa.
She’s a nine-month-old Yorkshire terrier with the biggest, sweetest brown eyes I’ve ever seen.
She licks me all over the face as she hops in my arms. I cuddle her to my chest.
“Awww,” Ryker teases, flipping through his thick economics text book where he’s slumped against a huge oak tree.
We’re chilling in Central Park on a cool Saturday morning.
Burnt orange and brown leaves say goodbye to the trees then scatter across the concrete pathways and onto the grass with the light breeze.
The sky is clear, and the air is crisp.
We’re in the company of dog walkers, bike rider, runners and a few couples who brave the slight chill to make out beneath the morning sky with their Starbucks in hand.
I lie on my back while Elsa hops around. The jangle of her heart-shaped collar with her name engraved on it stops her from wandering too far. She’s happy and curious and every now and again she takes a bite of the grass, makes a face then spits it out.
She’s like a baby.
Fresh.
And new to this big scary world.
I ruffle her soft fur when she props her head up on my chest and graces me with those big eyes that make me want to protect her from everything awful in the universe.
I pull the blanket over to keep her warm.
This dog-owner thing was Ryker’s idea.
I was opposed to it completely at the beginning but now this ball of fur is starting to grow on me.
Elsa shoves her face in the crook of my neck.
Ryker laughs.
Then, she’s snoring, out instantly, like a narcoleptic.
I hold her close to me.
Holding her close to me, I shut my eyes to the rustling of the leaves coming from the trees above us.
Ryker sighs as he flips through the pages, snapping me out of my own almost-slumber. He snaps the book shut.
“What is it?” I crane my neck to look over at him.
“Nothing.”
I laugh, skeptical. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah.” He shoves his fingers into his hair then gazes at me, dusting me with the most intense blue. His eyes are clear and big and thick brows above are knotted tightly. He drops his hand down to his side. “Actually, no. I guess I just can’t concentrate. I’ve been fidgety lately and anxious.”
I think of the date, realizing it’s getting close to our birthdays.
“When I felt like this, Griffon, it was always the precursor to using again.”
I fix my eyes on my usually jumpy knee, realizing it doesn’t jump anymore because the anxiety I used to have has died a thousand deaths since I’ve been in recovery mode and spending every waking second with Ryker.
I scoot closer to him, taking Elsa with me. She whimpers a little but stays asleep as I move to lean against the tree next to Ryker getting more comfortable.
I swipe his dark hair away from his eyes and find more worry than I’ve ever seen there. “You won’t use, I promise you.” My voice holds so much assurance I know he believes me. But I know too that he must believe in himself.
He grimaces. “Yeah, I won’t.”
“You won’t.”
“I won’t.” He tips his head forward and smiles.
“And I won’t,” I promise him.
Because we have each other…and now Elsa.
“Fuck, I don’t know, Griffon. This is the longest I’ve ever been clean.” He inhales sharply. “I worry that sometimes I’ll never be able to shake the habit permanently and I’ll always be an addict. It’ll always be my personal demon. And even though it’s asleep, it’ll always be there just waiting to show itself again.”
I breathe deeply.
Relapse—usually defined as suffering deterioration after experiencing improvement.
I know the word all too well. It should be second in my vocabulary next to the word “fuck” since I had experienced it that many times.
The rate of relapse for cocaine users is sixty percent and even higher for other substances like heroin and alcohol.
Often, people don’t realize that addiction is a disease like asthma and diabetes and that horrible-as-fuck killer, cancer. And that is what can make it chronic and recurring which is why the treatment for addiction is a “continuous process”—Doctor Azad’s words.
“Hav
en’t you ever been afraid of yourself?” His forehead wrinkles.
I remain expressionless and don’t answer.
He huffs. “I guess I’m asking, are you afraid of yourself, Griffon?”
I cup his cheek. “Admittedly, I am.” I chuckle.
“You are?”
I pull my hand away and sigh. “Yeah, sometimes.”
Ryker’s face takes on a calm as he waits for me to say more.
“I guess I always worry about what I might be capable of.” I laugh.
I fix my eyes on the couple who sit a few feet away—two men with their toddler in hand—a little girl and a little boy of the same age who appear to be twins. They laugh and play and chase the leaves that go skittering across the grass.
I get lost in watching them for a moment.
“Well, it’s like this, Ryker…How well do you really know yourself?”
He offers me up a tiny shrug.
I smirk. “Most people don’t know themselves at all.” I exhale. “When we accomplish things we never imagined we could, did we already know we could do it? Not likely.” I tilt my head to the side. “When we do something awful, usually do we ever know beforehand that we would be capable of our heinous actions? Usually not.”
Ryker lets out a breath.
“Most of us don’t truly know ourselves.” I laugh. “I am not afraid to acknowledge I’m a little crazy. Most people won’t admit that, but I do.” I scratch at the stubble on my jaw.
“I guess we’re all a little crazy,” Ryker says blithely.
“I think you’ll surprise yourself, Ryker,” I whisper, leaning into him, staring up at his face. “I think you can fight these demons harder than any man I’ve ever known. I believe you will never use again.” I pause and look him right in his beautiful blues. “Because you’re a powerful motherfucker.”
He laughs.
I repeat my five last words.
He laughs more.
When the laughter eases, he rests his head on my shoulder.
I suck in a breath and glance at Elsa. Her little chest rises and falls and her warm breaths puff against my neck. I nudge my chin in the direction of the family as they play.
The two men a few feet away toss us a wave. We wave back.