Robby (Cooper Construction Book 3)

by Jen Davis

  His skin itched beneath Parker’s touch. He pulled his arm away. “I don’t need a Daddy. And I’m never going back to where I came from. You know better.”

  Not many people knew the whole of his story, but Parker had been one of the only friends he’d been able to talk to during his early years in Atlanta. When Robby had been with John, Parker’s boyfriend had been older as well, though markedly different from John in other ways. They’d gone to all the same parties, the same clubs. They had the same hardships, the same…restraints, though in many ways, Parker’d had it worse. At times, it seemed like no one could understand what his life had become more than the man sitting with him now.

  It had felt natural to share secrets back then. Dreams. Hurts, both past and present, of the body and the heart.

  Parker knocked back a shot, not bothering with the sugar. They’d left it in the main part of the bar anyway. He stared at the glass as he set it back on the table. “Never say never, my friend. Sometimes, new problems can make the old ones seem a lot simpler by comparison. Your old man might’ve thought you were property, but he never tied you to the—”

  “Don’t.” He barely recognized the low timbre of his own voice. It brooked no room for argument. He ground his teeth against the vicious words rising in his throat.

  His old friend held up his hands in surrender. “Okay,” he agreed as he poured them both another shot. “You didn’t stick around here. You didn’t go home. Where did you go?”

  Robby downed his drink, then sucked a lemon wedge. Going through the motions gave him the chance to calm his pounding pulse. He dropped the rind on top of the small pile growing in front of him. “I didn’t go anywhere.”

  Parker raised a skeptical eyebrow.

  “I didn’t,” he repeated. “When I left John, I didn’t have any money. I didn’t have much more than when I left my parents’ house.” But there was one major difference.

  He turned to face Parker fully. “Only it was my choice to leave John. I didn’t even recognize myself anymore. I couldn’t live that way for another second.”

  “I get it. You weren’t happy, but when you left, John was really hurt.”

  Robby laughed darkly. “John was hurt.” He shook his head. “Do you have amnesia or something? They treated us like toys. To be played with and traded off.”

  Parker rolled his eyes. “Maybe it got worse in the end, but you’ve got to admit, it was a sweet ride in the beginning.”

  Heh. Not sweet. Livable, but not sweet. “The first time I walked into his apartment, I thought I had it made. It was the nicest place I’d ever been in. Big TV mounted on the wall and everything cream colored and perfect. But he let me know from the very beginning, I was there to cater to him. His hands were gentle, but don’t fool yourself. The first night, he had me naked and crawling just for the honor to suck him off. And the worst part—I was so grateful, I thought it was a gift. Because I could have a hot shower and a soft bed. I didn’t think I deserved anything better.”

  A shudder went down his spine. “John cared more about his knock-off Rolex than he did about me. God knows, he took better care of it.”

  Another shot slid down his throat before Parker clutched his fingers around the bottle.

  “Please.” Parker sneered. “You don’t even know how good you had it.” His hand shook as he tipped more vodka into his glass, and a few drops spilled. “John has a reputation for taking care of his own. You always had food to eat, new clothes to wear.”

  Heat climbed the back of Robby’s neck. “But at what cost?”

  Parker slammed a fist against the table. “Not the kind of cost I had to pay with Harry, that’s for damn sure!”

  “Then, it’s a good thing Harry’s dead.” His own time with Parker’s ex had changed him in ways no one knew about to this day. They never would.

  Parker sighed in agreement. “Yeah. Best thing that ever happened to me. But John never got off on hurting you. Even when you started acting out. He loved you.”

  “He owned me!” Robby roared, jumping to his feet. The abrupt motion paired with the lemon drops made his head spin, but he forced himself to stay upright. “Maybe nobody has ever loved me. Maybe nobody ever will. But I will not be desperate enough again to accept some sick, selfish imitation. Not again.”

  Pulling the vodka bottle from Parker’s hand, Robby gulped back the booze. The bottle thunked against the wood when he released it on the table. “Stop selling yourself short. You deserve better too. Why are you defending him anyway?”

  “Maybe I wanted him for myself. After you left, he wouldn’t even look at me, said I reminded him too much of you. Do you know how much better my life could’ve been with him?”

  Disgusted, Robby stumbled away from his old comrade, intent on escaping the demons of his past. He made it two steps before he realized just how deep he’d fallen down the rabbit hole. This back room hadn’t existed five years ago, but he’d been in plenty of places just like it.

  Older men on leather chairs or sofas, their pretty young pets at their feet. Teenagers, he’d bet, in barely there briefs or tiny shorts and nothing else. Nothing but the occasional collar and leash.

  He spied at least one guy crouched beneath a table, his head buried in some other man’s crotch. Another sat on his partner’s lap, their table doing nothing to hide the swivel in his hips or the glazed look in his eyes.

  The boy could’ve been him—was him at his lowest point—same curly brown longish hair. Same pale skin and long lashes.

  He froze as the dead-eyed boy’s gaze trained on his face. They locked stares for a minute before the teenager looked submissively to the floor. How many times had submission saved him? Saved any of them? Hell, he still defaulted to the compliant, wide-eyed innocence most men had left long behind by his age. Because the strong protected the weak.

  Unless they preyed on them. A lesson from a stranger in the shelter he never forgot.

  If he asked any one of these young guys if they wanted to be here, he doubted he’d find a single one who said no. After all, they’d all have a place to sleep tonight. And even without seeing them, he knew the drugs would be plentiful.

  Hell, some actually did like it. Or let themselves believe they did.

  John had loved to show him off at parties like this. Made him—

  Covering his mouth with his hand, he stumbled toward the door. He’d almost reached it when he heard Parker call out.

  “You think you’re out, Lamp Chop. But you just don’t get it. You might leave this place…but it never leaves you.”

  Chapter ELEVEN

  Matt

  Matt rolled his head from side to side, stretching the tight muscles in his neck. The clock ticked at a maddeningly slow pace as the end of his shift drew closer. The nightshift guys were due to relieve him any minute, which would be a blessing because he could barely think straight after his encounter with Patty.

  The way they’d hung out and just talked reminded him of the years they’d spent as best friends. They could tell each other anything. With her, he could just be himself.

  If only he understood who the hell he was.

  Patty acted like she found the answer obvious. Like he could just rip off some cosmic Band-Aid and proclaim himself gay once and for all. It wasn’t as simple as speaking it into reality, though.

  True, he didn’t sit around at night fantasizing about women, but he didn’t sit around fantasizing about guys either. One particular guy, maybe, but it was more about the man himself than whatever hung between his legs.

  His breath caught at the direction of his thoughts, and an unfamiliar stirring forced him to subtly adjust himself in his khakis.

  Wouldn’t Patty just love that?

  He’d been downright positive she was going to kiss him earlier, and the relief he’d felt when she winked and pulled away damn near overwhelmed him. He could still hear the low chuckle she made as she sauntered out the door.

  Nothing like he’d felt with the anticipation of R
obby’s kiss. With her, he’d wanted the world to swallow him whole. With Robby, his body sang with the rightness of it all. Remembering it now, he practically vibrated with pleasure.

  And confusion.

  Why Robby? Why now?

  And, most importantly, would it last?

  So far, the attraction seemed to grow stronger the closer they became.

  He almost jumped out of his skin when a finger tapped him on the shoulder. His tight muscles relaxed as Jessica’s tinkling laughter sounded behind him.

  “Sorry I startled you.”

  When he glanced over, she’d tied a short, white apron around her waist.

  “Why don’t you hit the road? Tom’s a good guy, but he won’t pay for extra time on the clock unless he approves it first.” She flashed him a grin and pulled her straight brown hair into a ponytail.

  Thank goodness.

  Matt returned her smile and gave her a small salute before he stepped out from behind the bar.

  Maybe he could swing by Robby’s place before he picked up Jimmy. No doubt, his mom would love the extra time with her grandson.

  Just an hour or so. It didn’t have to mean anything. After all, he’d promised to introduce Robby to The Expanse before the whole kissing thing went down. What better way to convince them both things were totally normal between them?

  Satisfied with his justifications, he walked out the front door and nearly tripped over the man sitting in front of him on the sidewalk.

  He recognized the unruly brown hair and Oxford shirt instantly. “Robby?”

  He looked up at his name and gave a wavering smile when he recognized Matt. “Fancy meeting you here.” Robby blinked twice before accepting the hand Matt offered to pull him up.

  Instantly, he knew Robby was wasted. Even without the telltale smell of alcohol, the soft focus of his eyes and his unsure footing gave him away.

  Matt felt a pang of worry. Had he pushed Robby into this drunken state? Was it their kiss? Their decision to stay friends? The questions barely had time to register before his awareness focused on something earthier and more consuming.

  Robby slung an arm around his neck and leaned against him, his body languid and loose. “I’m sorry to crash your party, but I’m in no shape to drive.”

  The man’s body clung so close, he could smell a hint of the CK cologne on his skin. The urge to bury his face into the crook of Robby’s neck nearly overwhelmed him.

  He locked his body into a rigid line to resist the compulsion, but Robby seemed oblivious, boneless against him.

  “Can you give me a ride?” Robby murmured.

  No way he meant the words as dirty as they sounded. He swallowed. “Sure,” he croaked. “Let’s get you home.”

  The drive back to the apartment seemed to last forever. Robby’s head lolled against the passenger seat and stared at him with slow-blinking eyes and an unreadable expression. The air weighed heavy in the confined space, prompting him to crack open a window to breathe.

  Something had changed, whether they would acknowledge it or not. He hadn’t felt this awareness last night before their kiss. Maybe not ever.

  He stuffed it down as he helped Robby to his front door and eased him down to the sofa where he’d slept the night before. “What’s going on, Rob? I thought you didn’t drink.”

  Robby didn’t look at him. “I didn’t plan on it. Just sort of happened. ‘Course, that wouldn’t fly with Thomas.”

  “Thomas?” Jealousy might be unfamiliar, but Matt recognized it right away.

  “The guy who leads my N.A. group. Apparently, booze is a gateway or whatever.” Robby shrugged. “I wasn’t looking to use, though. Just…to take my mind off things.”

  He bit the tip of his thumb gently and glanced at Matt from the corner of his eye. “I came to see you first.”

  Matt shook his head, trying to dislodge his immediate thoughts of Shawn. His addiction. His death. Robby had given him too much information—and not enough. He took the easiest route. “You came to my bar? I never saw you.” Closing Time had a steady stream of people all day, but it never got so crowded he could’ve missed his friend.

  Robby dropped his hands to his lap, lacing his fingers together. He scowled as he spoke. “You were probably too busy with your lady friend.” Blinking, he relaxed his features and smiled, but it didn’t look like it happened naturally. “But, hey, it’s cool. It’s not like you knew I was coming, and, uh, you’re trying to figure things out, right?” Even with the corners of his mouth turned up, his eyes were hard. It was very un-Robby-like.

  Obviously, his friend had caught part of his heart-to-heart with Patty. “I guess we must have looked pretty intense. I was talking with Jimmy’s mom. We have a…complicated relationship. I think I mentioned it last night.”

  “You said she hated you.” Robby’s eyes narrowed. “That was not hate I saw. The woman looked like she wanted to have you for dinner.”

  “Yeah.” He shifted in his seat. “Well, I’m not on the menu. At least not for her, which is the problem we keep coming back to.”

  “But you—” The lilt of a question lingered in the air. “Never mind.”

  “It’s cool. We’re friends, Rob. You can ask me anything.”

  Robby’s flinch at the word friends was almost imperceptible. Almost. He pasted on a smile neither one of them could even pretend was genuine. “Thanks for the ride home, man. I’m obviously not myself. I think I need to grab some sleep.”

  Matt wanted to ask about the drugs. About whether Robby would be okay here alone. But in the end, he did neither. “Sure. My mom’s watching Jimmy for me, so I’d better get going. But call me if you need me, okay?”

  Robby turned to face the back of the sofa and curled his body around the pillow.

  He didn’t even say goodbye.

  ***

  Robby

  Robby kept his eyes squeezed shut until the quiet snick of the door announced Matt’s departure. What was wrong with him? Matt didn’t owe him any answers or explanations. They were friends, the kiss notwithstanding.

  Whatever. His awkward exchange with Matt wasn’t even the worst part of this crapfest of a night.

  He dragged himself off the couch and stumbled into the kitchen. A bottle of vodka lay on its side in the freezer. It was always there, just in case. He guzzled it without bothering to pour it in a glass first.

  Shards of ice shot through his brain, but he drank until he emptied the bottle. Oblivion was the goal, but he’d take pain over the thoughts crowding his head, a thousand times over.

  The scene at Nitro had thrown him into a tailspin even worse than the last time he went there. Why the hell had he gone back?

  Because when someone hurts you, you always hurt yourself more. Cancel out one pain by introducing another. And numb yourself as much as you can.

  He certainly wasn’t thinking about Matt and what’s-her-name while he was kicking back lemon drops. Then, in the back room—

  His heart kicked into high gear, fluttering like the frenzied wings of a hummingbird, as the image of the dead-eyed boy strong-armed into his brain. The memory of his own past drenched over it like hot tar.

  A hand at his throat, blocking his air.

  Pressure on his collarbone so heavy he thought it would crack.

  The sea of faces. The laughter. The cheering.

  Makeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstop.

  He stumbled into his bedroom, tearing open the nightstand drawer. The razorblade gleamed, a promise to release him from the grip of his memories, to replace the pain in his heart with the cold sting of a clean, swift swipe.

  But he’d promised himself—he’d sworn—he wouldn’t go back. He could lie to the world, but he’d be damned if he lied to himself.

  Clenching his teeth, he slammed the drawer closed. The past would stay in the past.

  He’d come too far in the five years since he’d left his old life behind to turn back now. Living through that nightmare didn’t break him then, and the memories would
not break him now.

  Chapter TWELVE

  Robby

  The next morning, Robby sipped his McDonald’s mocha, trying to ignore his nerves as he looked up at the Q-Center. He needed to get his mind off of what happened the night before, and he’d meant what he’d said to Sara about wanting to see inside the place. Maybe help some of the young people struggling with their identity or in need of acceptance.

  Hell.

  What was he thinking coming here? He was hardly someone who could hold himself up as an example to other people. Especially any younger than himself. Only a hypocrite of epic proportions could put himself out there with a past like his.

  Tightening his hand on the cup, he gritted his teeth and turned back toward the car. He made it three steps before a familiar voice called out his name.

  “Robby,” Sara called out, “you gonna come in, doll, or just stand there, prettying up the sidewalk?”

  Busted. Shrugging, with an aw-shucks grin, he followed her inside. A handful of sofas, a TV, and a large throw rug dominated the right side of the room, while three office-style cubicles lined the left. Two tower-style computers with monitors were set up in open stations beside them.

  A few steps further in, he stopped beside a scuffed and scarred wooden rectangular table, surrounded by about a dozen mismatched chairs. “Where is everyone?”

  “It’s early yet. Most kids don’t start trickling in until the late afternoon.” Sara gestured to the two closed doors along the furthest wall. “Those are the overnight rooms.”

  “This is a shelter?” A place like this could have transformed his life.

  “No. Not officially. And minors don’t stay here. As much as I wish we could take them in, it could shut us down.” An older man with white hair and a Santa Claus beard stepped out from one of the cubicles. “But from time to time, we do offer an alternative for someone who would otherwise have to sleep on the street.”