by Maris Black
“Heyyy,” Z said from the sofa, his drawl lazy and unaffected. “Enough of that, Jack. Gio is already gonna be pissed off that I let you come in here. You said your piece, and the boy said his. Now it’s time to go.”
My dad jerked his head in Z’s direction, clearly shocked at the lack of support. “But—”
Z cut him off by grabbing his upper arm, in much the same way my dad had just grabbed mine, and ushering him out the door. I took a moment to be almost impressed. Z may have been a world-class asshole, but he sure knew how to put my father in his place.
After he slammed the door shut behind him and turned back to me, I sank down onto the couch, relieved. That is until I realized I was now alone in the apartment with Z, who was nearly as unwelcome as my father.
“You’re not going to go with him?” I asked hesitantly.
Z shrugged. “Why would I? It ain’t like he and I are drinking buddies. I just told him I’d let him come up here and ask you nicely to come home. He did, you said fuck no, end of story. Right?”
I nodded, wondering if maybe Z was a little cooler than I gave him credit for. He could have let my dad come up without supervision, which would have been a nightmare. Somebody might have ended up hurt or dead. But he had supervised the entire exchange and then made my dad leave when he started to get unhinged. I figured I should at least offer the guy something to drink to show my gratitude.
“Would you like some lemonade?” I asked.
Z took his spot on the sofa again, pulling a knee up onto the seat and turning halfway around to smile up at me over the back of the sofa. “You got anything harder?”
He pulled a small cylinder from his pocket and unscrewed the cap. The top had a tiny long-handled spoon attached to it, the bowl filled with white powder. He snorted the powder up his nostril, stuck the spoon back into the cylinder to refill it, and snorted again. Three times he did this while I watched in disbelief.
I had seen cocaine a time or two before, but never in my living room. It freaked me out, but then what did I expect? Gio might not have done drugs himself, but I knew his business was connected to drugs in some way.
Ignoring my horrified stare, Z said, “I’ll take beer, wine, bourbon… Something with some fucking alcohol in it.”
He refilled the spoon and held it out to me, but I refused with a fierce shake of my head. He shrugged and snorted it himself before screwing the cap back onto the cylinder and sliding it back into his pocket.
“Thought you were gonna get me a drink,” he said.
My brain rebooted. “Ummm…I think we have some beer.”
“We,” Z repeated quietly. As I walked to the kitchen, he called out, “Hey, dude, I like your outfit.”
I looked down and realized I was actually wearing very little. Lately, my lounging clothes consisted of tight t-shirts and loose jogging shorts that showed my ass if I bent over.
Gio liked me that way, and I was more than willing to please. I loved the way his eyes lit up when I pranced around in front of him in skimpy clothes, so I did it as often as possible.
My current outfit was a tight black Misfits T-shirt that cut off just above my belly button, and a pair of black shorts with hot pink piping. And no shoes, of course. I never wore shoes in the apartment.
“Thanks,” I said self-consciously.
He was still turned around in his seat. Now he had his chin resting on the cushion and his arm draped casually over the back of the sofa. He watched me with a level of concentration I found unsettling, especially when I returned to the living room and handed his beer over the back of the sofa.
He wrapped his thin fingers slowly around the bottle, brushing mine as we made the exchange. Then, without missing a beat, he slid his free hand all the way up my shorts and palmed my ass.
Time seemed to stand still as he stared up at me with hooded eyes, his bottom lip caught between his teeth and his hand lightly gripping my ass cheek.
Finally, I found my bearings and staggered back and out of his reach. “You should go now. I—I’m tired, and I need to go to bed.”
I felt like an idiot making excuses, but something about Z had always given me the creeps, and at that moment my creep-o-meter was registering off the charts. I was afraid to be blunt with him because he was unpredictable.
He had touched my ass. He wanted me. And I was alone with him.
“Hey, don’t run me off before I’ve finished my beer.” He turned the bottle up and took a swallow.
“And then you’ll go?” I prayed he didn’t hear the desperate ring of fear in my voice.
“Jesus, just relax and come sit down. I ain’t gonna bite you.”
“Relax?” I asked stupidly.
In a surreal turn of events, he started singing Frankie Goes to Hollywood and drumming along with his fingers on the back of the sofa. “Relax, don’t do it. When you want to go to it. Relax, don’t do it. When you want to come.”
I ignored the impromptu concert as if it hadn’t happened. “Uhhh… You can finish your beer, but I need to go change. I wasn’t expecting company, so I’m just wearing my lounging clothes.”
I started walking toward the bedroom to change, but about halfway there it occurred to me that Z knew which bedroom belonged to Gio. Everyone did. I couldn’t go in there for clothes, and I had none in the guest room.
Fuck.
I swung back around and laughed nervously. “Never mind. I think I forgot to do laundry.”
With little else to do short of trying to physically remove Z, I sat down and counted the seconds. I’d never been so uncomfortable in all my life.
Z didn’t stop looking at me like I was his next meal. “So this is the kind of thing you lounge around in every day? Damn. Gio’s dick must stay hard.” He blatantly adjusted his own dick in his jeans.
I stared down at my lap, afraid of what else he might do if I kept looking at him. I wanted to play dumb and tell him I didn’t know what he meant, but that would keep the conversation going, and I just wanted him to leave.
For God’s sake, why did I have to be wearing such short shorts? They rode up my legs almost to my crotch, exposing way too much thigh. I pulled at the hems of both legs, trying to work them down, and slouched my posture in a vain effort to minimize the strip of bare abs visible beneath my cut-off shirt.
“Heyyy. Kid.” Z slid closer. “If it makes you that uncomfortable, go change your clothes. You can go in Gio’s room to get ‘em. I already know you guys are fucking.”
My head came up at that. How did he know? Had Gio told him or was he just hazarding a guess? There was no doubt in his darkening eyes—just a disturbing mix of amusement, lust, and some unnamable something that made my skin crawl.
“I’ll change,” I said quietly. At least it would give me a reprieve from Z’s intense scrutiny. Plus, more clothing meant more work for his roaming eyes as he mentally undressed me. A three-piece suit and overcoat ought to do the trick.
I skittered off into the room like a frightened rodent, locking the door behind me. My eyes darted frantically around as I tried to work out a plan for getting Z out of the apartment. Maybe if I stayed put for a while, he’d get bored and leave. But I knew that was unlikely.
The balcony was always an option. Too bad I couldn’t scale the outside wall like Spiderman.
Then I spotted the phone on the bedside table, realizing my brain must have shorted out in Z’s presence, because duh… I could call Gio’s pager. Surely he wasn’t too far away yet. He’d said he had to go by the bank and then to pick Theo up.
I grabbed the handset and punched in his pager number. A tone sounded, and I keyed in our home number followed by the pound sign. There. Done. Now all I had to do was wait for the callback.
Z knocked on the bedroom door, and I nearly jumped out of my skin.
“What are you doing in there?” he asked.
“Uhhh… nothing. I’m just tired. I think I’m gonna take a nap. Go ahead and finish your beer before you leave, though. I don’t mind.
”
The doorknob jiggled. “Don’t be like that, kid. I was just messing with you. Open up.”
“Z, I’m really tired. Nothing personal.”
He laughed, and I thought I saw the knob twist just a little bit. “Nothing personal? Is that your way of saying I’m not good enough for you? Cause you sure don’t have any problem giving it up to Gio.”
He wasn’t making any sense. Why was he even trying to mess with me if he knew I was with Gio? Didn’t he know that was the quickest way to get fired? Or at least I guessed Gio would fire him for hitting on me. Maybe not.
Suddenly the lock clicked, and the door swung open. Z stood smiling in the doorway, an evil smile twisting his lips.
I gasped. “How did you—”
He held up a small pouch and slid a thin metal object into it. “Boy Scouts always come prepared.”
“I don’t even want to know why you carry a lock picking kit around in your pocket.” I gulped around a knot of fear. “But you need to leave. I’m serious. Gio will be back any minute, and he’s not going to like you being here. He’ll kick your ass when he finds you in his room.”
“Wrong,” he sang. “You don’t think I know Gio’s out of town?”
Z took a step toward me, and I lunged for the phone. All I could think to do was page Gio again, but there was no dial tone. The phone was silent.
Had I been transported into a horror movie? Maybe I was dreaming.
God, please tell me I’m dreaming.
“I took the phone off the hook in the living room,” Z said. “I don’t like to get interrupted when I’m trying to hang out.”
I was pretty sure in this case hang out was a euphemism for fuck.
He pulled his cocaine dispenser out of his pocket and snorted a few more tiny spoonfuls. “Sure you don’t want some of this? You need to chill.”
“Why are you doing this?” I asked. “You don’t even like me.”
“I like you,” he said, shoving the cocaine back into his pocket. “I definitely like that ass. Why don’t you let me get up in there?”
“Shut up. You’re freaking me out.”
He took another step toward me and laughed when I flinched. “What’s the matter? Why you wanna act like a little virgin?”
“I’m with Gio,” I yelled. “I’m not cheating on him.”
Z scoffed. “That man is twice your age, kitten. A few years down the road he won’t even be able to get it up. And besides, what makes you think he’s not cheating on you? I guarantee you he is. Our boss is not known for his monogamous inclinations.” He laughed, celebrating his own wit.
It made me want to puke. But it also made me really fucking angry, and that was a good thing. The anger started to eclipse the fear.
“Z, I’m not kidding. Get the hell out of my house. I’m not interested in hanging out with you.”
“No need to get all crazy,” he said. “I’m just trying to get to know you better. Shit. Gio left you here all alone, so what’s wrong with having a little fun? I know you have to get lonely.”
He was steadily moving toward me as he talked. Slowly, as if he didn’t want to spook me.
I stood taller, hoping I didn’t look intimidated. “I love Gio. I don’t need anyone else.”
Z laughed. “I hate to break it to you, but he doesn’t love you. I know it feels that way right now, but you’ll find out in a year or so when he trades you in on a new model. That’s what he does. Believe me, I know.”
Was that sadness in his eyes? Was it possible that Z was one of the men Gio had been with before me? I had to know.
“Were you and Gio… together?”
Z smirked, stepping closer. “What do you think, Einstein?”
“I—I don’t know.”
“Of course he wouldn’t tell you. He wants you to think you’re the only one. Wants you to feel special.”
I gulped, doubt tightening my throat to the point of pain. “How long ago were you together?”
A rueful grin twisted Z’s gaunt face. “It’s been a while. Guess I got too old for him.” He looked me over in disgust. “Apparently he likes ‘em young.”
Oh, my God. Could that be true? Was it possible that Gio would cast me aside when I got too old to keep his interest anymore? Z wasn’t even that old. He was still in his twenties.
My stomach twisted, and I wanted to hurl. Z was almost on me now, just a couple of steps away, and I didn’t like the way he was looking at me. The expression of interest he’d worn earlier had changed into something much darker.
Resentment? Anger? Hatred?
He dropped his voice and spoke to me softly now. “Come on. I won’t hurt you. It’ll be fun.”
“Gio—”
“Forget Gio. This will be our little secret.”
He closed the short distance between us, and my survival instincts kicked in. What had started as an attempt at seduction had turned into something else. Something that frightened me.
I shoved him, and he stumbled back several steps.
He came back at me, his face contorted with rage, and I landed a solid punch on his cheekbone. Pain shot through my hand, but I wasn’t about to show it.
Z righted himself quickly, and before I could even pull back for another punch, he backhanded me hard across the face. The skinny fucker was stronger than he looked. The blow knocked me off balance, and I fell onto the bed.
I shook my head, feeling a little bit dizzy, and scrambled back to my feet. But as I moved toward him again, he pulled a switchblade knife from his back pocket and ejected the blade.
I froze.
Z grinned wickedly, his hand twitching. “Boy Scout. Remember?”
I was pretty sure Boy Scouts didn’t carry switchblades, but I wasn’t going to argue the point.
“No need for all that,” I said quietly. “Please put the knife away and let’s discuss this calmly. I won’t fight you.”
I had been in a few scraps in my life, and my dad had beaten me plenty, but I’d never had a knife pulled on me before. It was a hell of a lot scarier than it looked in the movies.
“Lay down!” Z yelled. “And get those fucking shorts off. I’m done playing around with you.”
Oh, God. This was really happening.
I did as he ordered, feeling the burn of bile in the back of my throat as I slid my shorts down my legs and laid back on the bed. A trembling started deep in my body and made its way to the surface, and with it came the ache of humiliation.
I felt so fucking weak. He was going to take what was Gio’s, and I was going to have to let him.
Z undid his jeans and slid them to his knees, along with his boxers. His erection stood straight out from his body, hard and imposing and even more of a weapon than the knife he was using to subdue me. Because the knife was a threat; his dick was a promise he intended to keep.
He transferred the knife to his left hand and started to stroke himself with his right. “You got anything to slick this thing up with?”
I pointed wordlessly to the nightstand, and he reached into the drawer. I saw an opportunity to grab the knife and went for it.
My back was barely off the bed before Z was on top of me with the knife pressed against my throat. “Try that again, and you won’t live to take another breath.”
I nodded, my eyes wide and fearful.
He stood back up and slicked himself. Then he stared at my soft dick in a way that made my skin crawl.
“What’s the matter? This body doesn’t turn you on?” He lifted his shirt to reveal a wasted chest and belly, his ribs pushing painfully through the skin. “Don’t look at me like that, you fucking prick. With that fucking disgust on your face. I used to be pretty like you.”
I opened my mouth to deny that I’d been looking at him in any particular way, but he jabbed the knife at me.
“Shut your mouth, you nasty little whore. Get those legs spread.”
I whimpered and did as he asked, resting the soles of my feet on the bed. He hooked his arms arou
nd my legs and pulled me to the edge of the bed, accidentally scratching my thigh with the tip of the knife and drawing a thin line of blood.
“Oops,” he said. “Better be still. I’d hate to nick an artery.” He studied my face, and his tongue along his lips. “Maybe I should accidentally cut up that pretty face of yours. Think Gio would still want you then? I’m betting he’d throw you away just like he did me.”
I was trembling so hard it was like I had fever chills. Z stood over me, with that evil grin and the knife in his hand, and bents his knees to push inside me. I squeezed my eyes shut, a low moan coming out of me that sounded like an injured animal.
But then I heard Gio’s steady voice. “I see you’ve discovered my plaything.”
Z tensed, and my eyes flew open. Gio stood in the doorway, calm and collected as if it was just any other day. As if I wasn’t lying on the bed with a man about to rape me at knifepoint.
“Gio,” Z gasped. “I just—”
“Thought you could cut me out of the fun,” Gio supplied for him. He stepped toward us, mild annoyance registering on his handsome features.
I was confused. Shouldn’t he be alarmed? Shouldn’t he be rushing to rescue me? To wrestle the knife from Z, or pull out his gun and tell him to step away?
If this had been a movie, he would have been drawing his gun and shouting, Step away from the boy before I blow your fucking head off. Not stripping his shirt off and looking at Z with an expression of… Tenderness? Desire?
I watched in horror, unable to speak or beg for help.
Gio came close, gripping his balled-up shirt in his left hand as he stroked Z’s face with the right. “Why didn’t you tell me you wanted him? You wouldn’t have needed that.” He jerked his head toward the knife, now held loosely in Z’s grip. “Peter will do whatever I tell him to.”
Gio leaned in and kissed Z gently on the corner of his mouth while running his free hand down his arm. A visible shudder rippled through Z’s body, and his eyes fluttered closed as he relished the tender kiss.
“Gio.” His voice was soft. Needy. “I wanted—”
“I know,” Gio said quietly. “You missed me. And I’ve been spending time with someone else.”
