Served With a Twist

by Jet Lupin

  “I get why you took this deal. It looks like you need it. I’ll never get how people can live in places like this for as long as you have. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to change your situation.” His long legs carried him across the flat and over to the bed in seconds. He planted his ass right in the middle of the bed and smoothed his hand over the sheets. Cut had just changed those...

  He moved to the living area and leaned against the wall beside the couch. There was no getting comfortable while Rami was here, so he wouldn’t even try.

  “What I don’t get is why you’d waste your time with my brother? You’re a decent looking person. Why stay in this arrangement you’re hardly get anything out of, when there are people much more generous and can show you a better time.” He smiled, and for once it felt like he wasn’t trying to make Cut ill. It had the same effect, but there was an attempt made, at least.

  “Yeah, like who?”

  “Like me.”

  Cut smelled that cheesy response coming, but that Rami actually followed through was a shock.

  Rami sucked his teeth. “Don’t play dumb. You two are fucking. That much was clear from the visit a couple of weeks back. There was some major tension in the air. Samson wanted me gone, bad. As you can imagine, he doesn’t talk back much, let alone make demands.” He crossed his legs, leaning back into a more comfortable position. “I can see why he likes you. With those lips, and eyes, I bet you give killer head. If you’re with him for the money, I can give you more.”

  Cut rolled his eyes. “From Daddy’s funds?”

  Rami’s eyes narrowed. “Money is money. Does it matter where it comes from? It’ll be more than he gives you. You can keep reporting to dear old Dad if you like. Hell, you can keep screwing Samson. All I ask is that you spread the love around a little.”

  “I never said how much he gives me, if he gives me anything at all. How do you know it’s more?”

  “There’s benefits to having access to ‘Daddy’s funds’ as you put it. It doesn’t matter how much. I know I can beat it.”

  Cut was tired of this. Not just this visit, but getting pushed around by people who thought he’d jump every time they dangled cash in front of his face. There was no way they’d keep offering the carrot without threatening the stick.

  “Why the fuck would I do that?”

  “Well, for one, I mean, look at me.” He stretched out and gestured to the long line of his body, the flat firm belly, the peek of pec over the low neckline of his top. “If you’re into a thicker body type, I get it, but, I mean, you’ve seen me right? Bigger isn’t always better.” He let his hand drift down his lean belly. Cut looked away before it went any lower. “For another, my father doesn’t know about the two of you. He suspects, but if he had any proof that you were together, he’d have you excised like a tumor. Right now, you’re only useful because he isn’t sure how important you are to my brother. He only knows that you’re close. If he thought you were in a position to influence Samson, that might make you a problem. But he doesn’t have to know.” Cut looked back, and Rami’s hand was just where he feared, gripping his crotch. “I’ll keep your secret if you do a little something for me.”

  “You’re pretty cocky. I haven’t confirmed anything you’ve said. You think you’ve got me over a barrel, but you’ve got no evidence of anything.”

  “My word against yours, or my brother’s—whose do you think my father will go along with? How much proof do you think I’d really need to call pain down on your heads?”

  None, if Cut were truthful. He saw no point in answering. What Rami proposed was pretty clear. Cut’s options were not.

  “I need to think about it.”

  “Really? Rami laughed, got up from the bed. He advanced on Cut until the smaller man’s back was against the wall. Rami used his height to box him in, an arm blocking one escape route, a wall the other. Cut could smell what he had for dinner—a couple of cocktails with lots of rose syrup. “You aren’t even curious, not even a little, about where me and Samson are similar and how we differ?”

  Cut bit off a snarky response. “I’d never thought about it, to be honest.”

  “Then maybe you should start. We don’t favor each other in most cases but,” he leaned down, whispering in Cut’s ear. “I won’t leave you wanting where it counts.”

  In that moment, Cut realized that Rami saw him the same way his father did. He was a means to an end, a conduit to lash out at Samson. What he couldn’t puzzle out was what sin Samson had committed to deserve to be beaten down and derided so. He doubted Ramzan or Rami had the answers. This was how things had always been. It’s how things would continue if they had their way.

  He wanted to introduce his knee to Rami’s groin, shove his head in the toilet and watch him gurgle until he stopped moving, but that wasn’t an option. He forced a sharp grin.

  “I’ll have to take your word for it for now.” Cut ducked under Rami’s arm and headed to the front door. He opened it and stood beside it waiting for Rami to get the hint. “Let me sleep on it.”

  “Don’t leave me waiting long.” He nodded towards the bed. “My card’s in there too, so no excuse to not contact me. And if you take too long…”

  “You know where I live?”

  “More importantly, my father knows where you live. You’re lucky that I got to you before he did.” He stopped right in front of the door, leaning heavily on the frame. He stared at Cut a moment before he smiled again, laughed to himself. “Sweet dreams.”

  As if that were possible now.

  Cut peeled off the top sheet and stuffed it in the hamper. He replaced it with one of his old patchy ones he’d stopped using since Samson had come by.

  Sweet dreams? After that visit?

  That was a laugh.

  Chapter 18

  C

  ut stayed up for hours, weighing the pros and cons of keeping Rami’s visit from Samson and wound up deadlocked. On one hand, in telling the truth, he’d be keeping with their policy of open communication. But how would Samson take hearing that yet another family member had tried to weaponized Cut against him? Not well, Cut imagined, and he expected angry tears and frustration. Cut didn’t want to put him through that unnecessarily, but he wanted to be the person Samson could always trust.

  It’s not like he’d been able to come up with any ideas on how to get out of this on his own. Cut had to tell him. Just not right away. He had no control over his own participation in this mess, but he could ease Samson into this nest of thorns, and he knew exactly how to do it.

  He waited until that weekend when there was a break in their schedule and suggested they go for a ride. Everything they’d done thus far had been on Samson’s turf, in his comfort zone. They could slum it in the Burrow for an afternoon. He had Samson dress in the oldest, most casual clothes he owned which turned out to be a pair of dark brown pants, a dark green jacket and maroon t-shirt. Spread out on the bed, they didn’t look like they went together, but on Samson’s body, he looked as put together as ever, like someone out of one of those sci-fi desert punk movies. Cut was envious.

  They took Cut’s bike, which earned them a few glances. Cut didn’t have to see them to know why. His back was firmly against Samson’s chest, those arms holding onto him for dear life. Cut was very into it, no matter what onlookers thought.

  They parked in a bike lot tucked away in the offshoot of a Clary District alley a few blocks over from their final destination. Cut killed the engine and waited for Samson to dismount the bike so that he could too, but he didn’t. He took off his helmet and twisted in the seat. “You OK?”

  The helmet sitting atop Samson’s shoulders nodded furiously. But he didn’t let go.

  Cut had asked before they started if Samson was OK with taking the bike. The answer had been a resounding yes, but the way he was acting now…

  “Is this your first time?”

  Another nod.

  Cut was far from a reckless d
river, but he’d shown off a little. He’d cut corners a little closer than was necessary, taken them down a narrow alley meant only for maintenance, but was big enough for the bike to fit through at a speed that was less than recommended... Cut sighed. He should have known. But weren’t the rich supposed to be addicted to speed? Fast vehicles, fast ass, fast life. But Samson seemed to buck every other standard, why not this one too?

  Poor Samson.

  Cut patted one of the arms locked around his middle. “Whenever you’re ready. The market’s not going anywhere.”

  Slowly, Samson unwound his arms and swung a leg over the bike. He stood beside it, resting a hand on the seat while he waited for the tremors to subside. It took a minute, but he straightened to his full height quickly. He removed his helmet and raked a hand through his hair, standing there, looking majestic as fuck. Cut was convinced; he needed a bike of his own, even if it was only a scooter meant for a granny. He looked too good not to have one.

  “You’re a speed demon,” he croaked from his dry throat.

  “Pssh. That wasn’t even bad. You should see me trying to get home from yours before curfew.” Cut clipped his helmet to his belt and when he was done, he held out his hand for Samson’s. “Let’s get going.”

  Samson hesitated.

  This was the first time they were out in public as something more than strangers or coworkers. Herschel might still be observing them from somewhere, but he’d have a harder time in a second. Samson latched on to Cut’s hand and they walked the short way to the market. Cut was willing to bet this would be a first for Samson, too.

  They walked a few blocks before they turned into an alley lined with vendors for half a mile and packed with people trying to buy their wares. There were fried things wrapped in flash paper, plants to grow, produce to eat, all from home grow operations and the whole thing was legal, mostly.

  Cut seldom cooked, so before, when he needed food, was low on ICD, and wasn’t in the mood to singe his brows off trying to cook, he came here and stocked up whenever it was open.

  There was more than food here, but that had always been the part that most appealed to him. Art collectives sold zines filled with stories and drawings, there were clothes made of yarn in techniques that had been passed down from their grandma’s grandma. He had a hat or a scarf lost in his place somewhere that he’d brought off some cutie. He wouldn’t tell Samson that, not that he thought he’d be heard right now.

  All the food stands had his eye. Samson tried to stop at each one and ask the hawker about what they had on offer. He settled for exchanging contact info. His pants pockets were full of cards after only going down one side of the market. He should have brought a bag.

  “You gonna study everything or are you gonna try any of it?”

  “I’m not sure what half this stuff is, though it all smells amazing. You’re the expert. Show me something.”

  Cut had hoped he’d ask.

  There were so many things; it was easy to get distracted. Most everything here was good, but they had to start Samson off with the best.

  Cut picked a stall, and after he transferred the required ICD, he was handed a flash paper bowl filled with four crispy brown orbs of deliciousness. “Ever had buñuelos?” Samson shook his head. “You’re in for a treat then.” Cut was glad he got the savory ones instead of the sweet. He had Samson hold the bowl while he tore one of the balls in half. There was a soft but satisfying crunch as the halves parted, revealing tender, moist insides. Puffs of steam rose from both sides of the fissure.

  He held out half, expecting Samson to take it with his fingers like any other civilized human being, but while Samson hadn’t done that, Cut wasn’t disappointed.

  Carefully, using only lips and teeth, he took the treat from Cut’s fingers. It only took a second, and honestly, shouldn’t have been that big of a deal. When Cut hung out with Mikela more often, they used to feed each other things all the time. Granted, the majority of that had been from across the room as they tried to land pieces of popcorn or fruit into each other’s mouths. This was distinctly different from that.

  Samson’s lip grazed Cut’s finger and for a second, that’s all there was, that lip and memories of when it had been wrapped around Cut’s various body parts. But that was all him being a pervert. Nothing more.

  Samson polished off his half with an efficiency that was unburdened by such unwholesome memories. Cut crammed his half into his mouth trying to catch up. He barely tasted it, but he knew from experience that this place’s buñuelos were top notch. “What do you think?” he shielded his mouth with a hand to keep from spraying Samson with crumbs.

  “It’s great. The cheese is a nice touch, just enough to taste without being too much. What else is in it?”

  Cut shrugged. “I don’t know. I just eat it. You’ve got the hawker’s card, right? You can ask them later.”

  Or he could ask now.

  They hadn’t walked far from the stall yet. Samson doubled back and went over to the side of the stall, so he wasn’t blocking the line of people waiting. Cut stood by, watching as Samson bantered with the seller, an old woman, making her laugh. She brought up a tablet and started pointing things out to Samson who crouched to see it better. Cut was far enough away that he didn’t hear any of the conversation, but he didn’t need to. It was so easy to forget that Samson was the owner of a flourishing business. He might have been given the money to start it, but its continued success was all on him. This was so different from how he was in private, but Cut was willing to bet no one had truly seen both of them. That side of Samson belonged only to him.

  Samson trotted back after a few minutes, a grin on his face.

  “You get your answer?” Cut asked.

  “I told her I wanted to add it to my menu, and that I intend to pay, but she just gave me the whole recipe. She said she just wanted it to continue, for more people to get to try it.”

  “That was nice of her.”

  “She said people didn’t typically ask the kinds of questions I did. She seemed happy with that. I’m still going to pay her, a typically licensing fee plus a little extra. I’ll run it by you first to make sure it’s fair.”

  Cut was certain it was more than fair and his oversight wasn’t needed, but if Samson felt better including him, Cut would let him.

  They bought items from three more stalls before they decided to head home. It was Samson’s turn to host. The bike was a ways off, so they took their time. There was nothing pressing; no one else was a round. Samson was happy and relaxed. Cut wasn’t going to get a better time to bring up the unpleasant business of Rami than now.

  He took no pleasure in filling Samson in, treating it like the unpleasant chore it was. Samson stopped before they reached the bike to give this his full attention. He folded his arms and leaned against the smooth alley wall, brow furrowed. But there was no upset, no frustration, only a calm analytical mind.

  “Rami didn’t come by just to give you money from my father. It was a warning, too, to let you know they know where to find you. But now that he’s… interested in you, you might need protection.”

  “There’s a Taser in my unit.”

  “That won’t do it.” Samson wasn’t really listening, wrapped up in his own thoughts. “If you attack him, even in self-defense, he’ll spin it to put you at fault. I don’t think I can afford an advocate good enough to defend against what my dad can buy him. It’ll be easier if you leave that apartment altogether.”

  “Where could I go?” Disappearing would be ideal, but even with this new job, Cut couldn’t afford to pick up and move at a moment’s notice.

  “You’d move in with me.”

  Samson was just talking through options to keep Cut safe and away from his family’s hands, Cut knew that, but just the mention of the words made his heart flip in his chest. Staying with Samson, sharing a home, getting to see him every morning and every night? Having it right in front of him made Cut want to latch on t
o it. But it wasn’t truly being offered, so he kept his mouth shut.

  Samson took a beat to cool off, and in that time, the severity of what he suggested seemed to dawn on him. His eyes went wide. “Temporarily. You could have your own space, your own bed. It doesn’t have to be like we’re living together, if you don’t want to label it.”

  There was no sense back pedaling now. The offer was out there. What was Cut going to do? Reject it and skip town? And leave Samson behind? Not a chance.

  He wanted to kiss Samson calm, but he knew what would work better. He stepped in and placed a firm hand on the back of his neck, fingers tangling in the delicate curls there.

  “If that’s the best course of action, we can try it.” Sleepovers were one thing, but cohabitating was something else… What if they couldn’t do it? Samson could hate the way he brushed his teeth, or he didn’t wash dishes well enough, or maybe his feet stunk! There were so many ways he could screw this up and for once, he wasn’t out to do that. He liked Samson more than anyone he’d ever been with. Even as a dry run, this was make or break. Cut wasn’t ready to lose this—whatever this was—yet.

  The hand had the desired effect. Samson took a shuddering breath, closing his eyes. “I’m going to start looking for a place for us. Until then, we have to act like everything’s normal, which means continuing to feed my father information and stalling Rami. We can move you to a hotel for the time being, but that’s a short term solution. Once they realize you aren’t going home, tracking you’d be easy. What if they’re tracking you already? We could get you a bodyguard, but that’s even more conspicuous.”

  “Stalling Rami?”

  “Stroking his ego, I guess? Anything to keep him from running to our father. Just until I figure out a plan.”

  That sounded like so much, more than Cut wanted to deal with, but there was no way around this. There was no way he could repay Samson for any of the expenses this was going to incur. Samson wouldn’t ask, but it was going to be on Cut’s mind all the same.

  Cut pressed up through his toes and kissed Samson now for no other reason than he wanted to. Samson gave into it, wrapping an arm around his waist and holding him close. The immediate future was uncertain, but they had right now.