by Wasp, A. E.
Christ, I missed him.
But right now, I could only be glad that Ridge had made himself scarce since I’d enrolled at George Washington, because he would kick my ass into next year if he knew what I’d gotten myself into, and what I’d done with the tuition money he’d given me.
The kid who’d spent our entire childhood protecting me from schoolyard bullies, the guy who’d taken the blame when we got caught lifting jars of peanut butter at King Soopers after our mom took off and left us without food again, the man who’d forced me to take all the money he'd saved from his first big score and go to college since, ‘One of us should make headlines for something besides stealing shit, Breck, and it ain’t gonna be me,’ would sure as hell have something to say about the choices I’d made recently.
Prostitution hadn’t exactly been on my five-year plan. Neither had been giving the money to our alcoholic bitch of a mother.
“Rocky, are you even listening to me?” Emilio demanded.
Rocky. Dumbest alias ever. Do me a favor and never ask a drunk, scared, homesick hooker from Colorado his name, okay? Because he might come up with one on the fly, thinking of the mountains back home, and get stuck hearing people yell, “Yo, Adrian!” for months.
“Not really. It’s way too early to call if you expect me to listen,” I yawned.
“It’s nearly ten.”
“And I didn’t get to sleep till three,” I snapped back without thinking.
“Ohhh-ho-hohhhhh!” Emilio managed to make the word teasing, admiring, and threatening all at once. “Does Cisco know you were partying last night?”
I swallowed hard.
Cisco was our employer, our procurer, our… okay, fine. He was our pimp, and he would not have taken kindly to me partying off the books. But that was fine since I hadn’t been foolhardy enough to try. Unfortunately, Cisco probably wouldn’t take kindly to what I actually had been doing, either.
“A person can be up late without partying. And anyway,” I unwisely added, “I was home.”
“Hmm. So, if I asked around, or Cisco asked, nobody would have seen you at the clubs or hotels, right?”
Shit. If anyone checked, they’d see me on the security feed of a good half-dozen hotels Cisco’s boys used. I hadn’t been partying, I’d been trying to find my friend Danny. But I wouldn’t share that with Emilio, let alone Cisco, so I had no choice but to double-down on the lie.
“Uh, yeah. It’s a tricky concept, but that’s what being at home means, honey,” I drawled.
Emilio chuckled. “And where is home? You never invite us over, Rock.”
Where was home? That was a damn good question.
I rolled to my side in the big double bed and pulled the duvet up to my chin, luxuriating in the fake winter I’d created thanks to the window a/c and my complete lack of regard for the electric bill. Then again, it was easy to disregard the bill when I wouldn’t be the one paying it.
I took a moment to wonder if Chad, the asshole from my Modern Ethics and Culture workgroup was enjoying the Scandinavian backpacking trip he’d bragged about relentlessly all last semester. I’d certainly been enjoying squatting rent-free in his unoccupied apartment for the last few weeks. He probably would have birthed kittens from his asshole if he’d known I was living here, but I was watering his plants for him, so I figured it was an even trade.
“You know I like my privacy, Emilio. Gotta keep the air of mystery,” I said smoothly.
Lots of Cisco’s guys were buddy-buddy, hanging out in little packs during their off time, but not me. Danny was the only friend I’d made in all these months, and even he didn’t know my real name or where I crashed.
I’d been telling myself I didn’t need to make friends, since this was a temporary situation until I got my finances sorted. Unfortunately, the faster I raked cash in, the faster my mother bled me dry again, so it was taking a lot longer than I’d expected.
“Sure, Rock,” Emilio said. “That’s why you haven’t been around the last couple weeks, too, right?”
The curiosity in Emilio’s voice was a living thing, and normally I might have given in to it just to encourage him to keep his mouth shut about my whereabouts. Emilio might have been a decent person once, but this business was cutthroat, and that boy would sell me out to Cisco faster than my dad had left town after hearing the pregnancy test results if I pissed him off.
But Cisco had told me to keep my mouth shut, threatening Danny if I didn’t, and the last thing Danny needed was more danger. Hell, I didn’t know if he was alive or dead after the last dangerous scenario we’d been in. And so I would keep my lips firmly pinned.
“Exactly,” I said nonchalantly.
“Uh huh. I bet you’re dying to get back into the game after all that time off,” he said. “Time to get dirty again. Which is perfect, because I have a job and I need you.”
“Who’s the client?” I asked, like the thought of taking any john right now wasn’t literally making me nauseous.
“Snow White.”
Oh, fuck.
I didn’t know if other guys did this or if it was just Cisco’s boys, but we made up dumb names for the regulars. It was safer that way. Because here in D.C., there was a real likelihood that the “John Q. Smith” you’d sucked off last night was gonna be on your TV the next day shouting about some bill to defund public education, and if you so much as whispered his real name, you’d be slapped with a lawsuit and an eviction notice on the same day.
It was a truth you learned early in this business: the most powerful guys were the kinkiest, and the guys who had the most to lose were the most vicious. And no one was more vicious than Snow White.
After all, he was the reason Cisco had told me not to show my face for two weeks, he was the reason Danny had disappeared, and he was the reason I’d changed my plans from leaving town as soon as I can pay Ridge back to leaving town as soon as I find Danny.
I didn’t give a shit about college anymore, and I’d find a way to make the money up to my brother. Getting knocked unconscious while your friend was beaten to a pulp tended to make a man reassess his life.
“Yeah, I don’t think I’m up for that,” I told Emilio. “Thanks anyway.”
“I say you are,” Emilio insisted. And I understood that this was the price of his silence. Agree to do the job or have him start asking Cisco where I was last night. And if Cisco started checking things out, he’d realize I’d been looking for Danny, who hadn’t been seen since the night Snow White beat us up. Cisco might use me to find Danny, and I was sure that if Danny was still alive, he didn’t want to be found.
I pushed my head into the pillow case and slammed my free hand into the mattress over and over. Outside, I could hear the rattle and squeal of a trash truck making its rounds. Upstairs, the neighbor started playing their tuba. More than half a million people in this city, living half a million lives. And I wasn’t stupid enough to think their lives were easy, okay? But I would have traded with any of them in that moment.
“Did you ask Cisco about this?” I demanded. I couldn’t imagine Cisco sending me to Snow White again. Not after the way the man had snapped two weeks ago, attacking both of us in a drug-fueled rage that had only ended when he passed out.
Then again, maybe that’s exactly what Cisco would do. He wasn’t the warm, fuzzy kind of pimp… if such a thing existed.
“Yeah. Cisco’s the one who told me to call you,” Emilio continued. “It’s gonna be a big-ass party. Some kind of fundraiser he has every year. Like, old white folks in designer gowns drinking Dom and chatting about… horses? Stocks? Whatever shit rich folks talk about. But our john’s a fucking perv, so you just know he’s got this whole other party going on at the same damn time, right?” He chuckled admiringly. “Like, the wives think their husbands are all going off to the back room to talk business, but it’s the kinda business that involves getting their dicks sucked or their brains fucked out. Last year was awesome. Tips were fucking incredible. Besides, you and I have fun togeth
er, right? We could put on a hell of a show.”
Fun. Yeah. There was a time when Emilio would have been just my type — I’d fucking loved ‘em dark-haired, dark-eyed, tanned, and fit. But I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been honestly attracted to anyone. Sometime before I’d started seeing clients six months ago, though.
“Light and dark? Guys get off on that contrast,” Emilio continued.
Guys got off on the fact that my blond curls and blue eyes made me look like some kind of cherub. Some of them wanted to defile me. Some of them wanted to worship me. All of them thought they were the best fuck ever, because they made it worth my while to let them think so.
Jaded? Me? Maybe a little.
“I don’t know, boo,” I hedged. “Let me think about it.”
Emilio sighed. “Here’s the thing, Rock. I’m trying to be nice, but there’s really not a choice to be made here. Your buddy Danny ran off to who-the-fuck-knows-where,” Emilio sniffed. “Called and told Cisco he’s out. Like Danny can just do that, when you know he owes Cisco big time for the blow.”
My stomach flipped. “Cisco heard from him?”
“Two nights ago,” Emilio confirmed, and I closed my eyes in relief. He was alive, or at least he had been two days ago. “Cisco was already making plans to punish him. But then Snow White asked for him by name, so Cisco sent his guys out to look for him. He ghosted. Nobody’s seen him in weeks,” he said, confirming exactly what I’d found after hours rambling around D.C. last night. “So Cisco decided you’re going Saturday. I’ll text you the details. And if you don’t show up, you better get lost for good, because Cisco’s gonna take the bonus out on your ass.”
“Fuck,” I winced. I knew he meant that very literally. But if Snow White was looking for Danny, I had way bigger problems than Cisco to consider. I was pretty sure Snow White wasn’t interested in Danny for his dick-sucking skills, but to try to keep him quiet about what had happened.
I threw the covers off and jumped out of the bed, pacing the small space between the bed and the window. I was totally naked, and the a/c was practically pumping out ice pellets, but I was still sweating.
“You know, I don’t get you, man. All this drama about doing your job,” Emilio said, and I almost laughed. The guy had no clue what was really happening here. “You used to be one of the best boys in Cisco’s stable. You were into it! You had potential.”
He wasn’t entirely wrong. My high school guidance counselor used to have an inspirational poster in his office – a picture of a rainbow-striped hot air balloon with the completely unrelated caption, “Whatever you are, be a good one!” I’m pretty sure Mr. Cheever didn’t expect me to apply the motto to prostitution, but that was because the educators of Alamosa, Colorado were singularly unimaginative fuckers.
I had no illusions about sex being some sacred, magical experience – it was fun as hell, end of story. So when I’d realized I was short about five zeros for my yearly tuition thanks to dear old Mom, and Cisco found me drowning my sorrows at a club one night and offered me a job, I didn’t get all Les Mis about it. I said, Why the hell not? and decided to embrace it.
I mean, nobody ever dreams of being a rentboy, and there’s zero career advancement, but I don’t know how to do shit half-assed. And not to brag, but once I applied myself I was fucking spectacular at it. I was a professional, choreographing every encounter with detached precision. Men and women alike loved me. I was toned, I was groomed, and I’d perfected my skills.
What no one ever tells you, when they warn you about the dangers of the world’s oldest profession, is that there’s a weird kind of power in hooking… er, paid companionship. At least, there was for me. Honest to God, the first time I knelt at a man’s feet and heard him beg, it had been life-changing.
I couldn’t tell you who my first trick had been -- not the fake name he used, not the bullshit background he gave me, not a single detail about his physical appearance. But he’d had a watch on his left wrist, and that I would never forget. A Patek Philippe triple complication with a black alligator band and white gold face could have bought the trailer Ridge and I had grown up in… hell, the whole trailer park and a Bugatti, too. But when I was down on my knees with his dick in my mouth, it didn’t fucking matter that he could literally buy and sell me. It was me he’d pleaded with, me who’d held all the cards. Two seconds away from climax, I could have told him to do anything — bark like a dog, sign over his watch, tell me he loved me — and he would have done it, no question.
I’d been in control. I’d felt strong. I’d felt safe.
Until I’d gotten incontrovertible proof that I really, really wasn’t.
“Whatever your deal is, Rock, get over it,” Emilio continued. “Remember Cisco decides when he’s done with us.” He paused. “And he’s not done with you yet.”
The phone beeped three times as he disconnected the call.
Awesome. Just fucking awesome.
I pulled on a pair of basketball shorts and a T-shirt and tried to steady myself by making a cup of the lemon tea that was literally the only thing in Chad’s cabinet.
While it steeped, I called Danny again. And got his voicemail. Again.
“Danny, for God’s sake call me. Emilio said Cisco’s looking for you and Snow White is looking for you, too. I won’t make you do anything you don’t wanna do, okay? I just need to know you’re alright.”
I threw the phone on the counter with a clatter and pushed the heels of my hands into my eyes. I needed a plan. A list. Step one was admitting I had a problem.
That’s when you’re dealing with addiction, dumbass.
The snarky words wrapped around me like a blanket, and for the first time, I considered calling Ridge. But last time we’d spoken, my brother was up to his neck in his own shit down in Florida.
And besides, I’d made a deal with myself when I let Ridge give me the tuition money. That it would be the last time I took his help. I’d be damned if I’d end up like our mother, using people until there was nothing left.
3 Steele
My morning beach run took me past mansion after mansion, each one bigger than the last, rising out of the purest white sand I’d ever laid eyes on. Must be nice to be rich. Technically, I was probably trespassing, but this early in the morning, I didn’t think anyone would mind.
I nodded a hello at an old man fishing the surf from the shore. “Any luck?”
“Yeah. For the fish.”
I laughed and kept going, my feet beating out a steady rhythm on the hard-packed sand below the high-water line. Sweat dripped down my face, stinging my eyes, but since every inch of my body was covered with sweat, there was nothing to do but endure it. Fucking southern humidity. Still, the slight breeze from the Gulf cooled me a little, and the gentle rolling of the waves was hypnotic.
I didn’t listen to music when I ran; I liked the quiet. Running was my meditation, my time to get my thoughts in order as much as to stay physically healthy, and Lord knew I had plenty to consider after yesterday’s cluster-fuck of a funeral and the aftermath. Cadences from my time in the service ran through my head, keeping time with my steady stride, and reminding me how much more fun it was to run without seventy-five pounds of gear strapped to me and with a view like this one to appreciate.
I’d been pleasantly surprised to find a fully-equipped gym in one of the outbuildings of Charlie’s house, too, for those days when I just couldn’t be bothered dragging myself the extra few feet to the water. This damn house had everything: sauna, hot tub, steam room, lap pool, wine cellar. Yeah, it really must be nice to be rich. I could definitely get used to the feeling.
For as long as I was here, anyway.
I slowed down when I saw the row of bushes that separated Charlie’s property from his neighbors, gradually reducing my speed until I walked the final few feet to the back of the house. As I passed the stone fire pit in the sand under one of the many balconies, Agent Shook stepped out from the gym.
Excuse me, Special A
gent Shook. God forbid I forget that he was special. Though, seeing him like this, it wasn’t hard to remember.
Shook’s chest was soaked with sweat, he was breathing heavy, and his body was hard with wiry muscles: the corded arms of a boxer, and six-pack abs that were only possible through a combination of genetic lottery, exercise, and strict diet.
Yeah, I’d do him. I didn’t have one particular type, and big guys like him were good for the kind of nice hard fuck I liked every now and then.
“Alvarez,” he said as I came closer.
“Agent Shook.” My eyebrows lifted as he handed me a towel.
“I saw you jogging up the beach, and you looked a little sweaty.”
His gaze followed the towel as I wiped it across my chest and down my torso. He seemed to be enjoying the show, so I took my time, making sure to hit every spot. Since the only thing I had on were my tiny pair of running shorts, there were a lot of spots to cover.
“You must tan easily,” he remarked.
“Nah.” I hooked my thumb under the waistband of my shorts, inching them down on one side to show him the lack of a tan line. “Same color all over.”
“Yes. Well.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “You obviously take good care of yourself.”
Was that almost a smile? “Occupational necessity, but thanks for noticing. And call me Steele, only my mama calls me Alvarez.”
He frowned, the lines between his eyes deepening. I had a feeling they never went completely away. “She does?”
I smiled. “No. But if she was still talking to me, she’d call me Cassie.”
“Cassie?” he smirked.
“She was the only one who got to call me that.”
“Why isn’t she talking to you?”
I heard the clink of plates and cutlery and what sounded like metal chairs being dragged across cement. A dog barked from somewhere nearby. “Let’s just say she’s not a big fan of my lifestyle choices.”
