Broken Compass

by Jo Raven

  Excusing myself to hit the bathrooms, I quickly sweep the area for the guy I’m looking for, ask a few people if he’s around, but it seems not.

  Gigi doesn’t stay long. I don’t know how to help her, what to do. I hug her before she leaves.

  “You know you can always talk to me,” I whisper in her ear. “Whatever you need, I’ll be there.”

  “I know,” she whispers back. “It’s just… it’s nothing. I’ll call you tomorrow. Stay out of trouble.”

  “Always,” I lie and walk her out of the club, wait until she climbs into a cab and goes.

  Why am I not in that cab with her, heading home? Why haven’t I told the boys it’s time to pack it up and go to bed? Dancing with them was fun, but it’s getting really late, and the whole purpose of coming here tonight was to find that dealer.

  I don’t want to admit to myself how disappointed I am at not finding him yet again. I’m going to give up. It cuts me up inside, the realization that I have to stop looking and hoping, that I’m putting the lives of the people I love in danger for the slim ridiculous scrap of hope that I might find out what happened to Kash.

  God, I want him back. The Kash I knew. Not the Kash who left without a word.

  Nate gestures at me from the bar where he and West have retreated. I join them, pick up his drink and take a sip.

  Gah.

  “So where do we start?” West asks, blue eyes transparent in the strobing lights of the club. I have to focus on his lips to make out the words, and I almost miss the girl waving at me from the other end of the bar, hypnotized.

  Damn, West has nice lips.

  And I feel bad to tell the boys the guy we’re looking for isn’t here, when they came ready to be my bodyguards. When I have just lost hope.

  “Hey, Syd. Do you know that woman?” Nate elbows me, landing me back in the here and now. “Because she sure seems to know you. Unless that’s her dancing style?”

  I turn and focus on the woman who’s gesturing at me to join her. I asked her about this pusher in the past and she didn’t know him, so what’s up with her now?

  “Come on, guys.” I straighten and start in her direction. “Let’s see what she wants and head home. I’d rather go to bed with you than linger here.”

  “Amen,” West mutters and it makes me smile.

  The woman is taller than me, not that it’s difficult, and her short hair is bleached almost white. She’s dressed in leather pants and a top with cleavage so deep it reaches her bellybutton. She eyes my boys with interest, licks her lips.

  Okay, now I want to throat-punch her.

  “Did you want to tell me something?” I ask, and okay, I may sound as pissed as I feel.

  Hey, this evening has been shitty, dancing with my boys excepted. We need to do that again.

  “Word got around you’re looking for The Eel. You asked me about him once, I remember. Some weeks ago.”

  “The Eel?” Nate squints down at me. “Is this for real?”

  I pat his arm. “What about him?”

  “He’s here,” she says with a grin. She jabs a hand over her shoulder. “Men’s bathrooms. Hurry or you’ll miss him.”

  Of course he’s here.

  Have to give up to win, isn’t that what they say? Though whatever the guy says, there’s no win in it for me.

  The Eel lives up to his name—short, skinny, slimy, eyes darting nervously back and forth. He’s probably high, and suspicious.

  “What do you want?” he snarls. “You got people asking for me. What’s your problem?”

  “No problem,” I say, swallowing a wad of nervousness. “I was told you may know something about the disappearance of a friend. Kash Graham. Tall, blond, dragon tats on his arms. He vanished from—”

  “I know Kash.” He glances behind him, scratches at his pointy chin, shifts from foot to foot. “I saw them take him.”

  My heart stops. “Saw who?”

  “How the hell should I know? Didn’t exactly stop and introduce themselves, did they?”

  “What did you see?” Nate asks, a growl deep in his voice.

  The Eel looks ready to slither out of here. “Who are you?”

  “We’re his friends.” West puts a heavy, calming hand on Nate’s shoulder.

  “Please tell us what you saw,” I whisper, still not sure my heart is beating as I wait.

  The Eel glances between us, shrugs. “Two guys followed him, grabbed him, threw him into a car and left. I was at one of my usual corners and happened to glance up. Took seconds.”

  My heart starts beating again, slamming around in my chest. “Anything else? The… the license plate number?”

  “What do I look like, a cop? Didn’t even see the license plate, sugar. Didn’t think to look. Are we done here?”

  Nate starts forward, and both West and me step in front of him. “This isn’t a joke, asshole,” he bites out.

  The Eel spits between us and turns to go. He disappears in the crowd, and I lean into Nate and West.

  The return of hope is so sharp it shreds me, and with it, the worry and fear for Kash.

  “I want to go home,” I whisper, my lungs suddenly too small to draw breath. “Please. Please let’s go home.”

  We make it out of the club, half-dragging, half-supporting each other. None of us are drunk, but it’s as if this piece of news has hit us over the head like a hammer. We grab a cab, and I’m climbing out of my skin.

  I’m hot, too hot, wound up too tight. I’m angry, and miserable, and I need to feel something other than despair. I want the touch of my men, the burn of their stubble on my face, the sting of their teeth on my skin, the pleasurable ache of their cocks filling me, pushing me into oblivion.

  Because, what do I do now about Kash? What do I do? I can’t do nothing!

  And yet I can’t do anything.

  Anything but hold on to the boys I have left, who have my heart and who set me on fire even as we fumble with our clothes, my movements clumsy with the cocktails I consumed and the dread about Kash churning my stomach.

  I’m kissing them before we even get out of the cab. Kissing them in the elevator, as they fumble with the key to unlock the apartment door, as we stumble inside.

  We fall in bed in a tangle of limbs.

  Then West’s mouth is on mine, stealing my breath, and Nate’s hands are all over me, under my clothes, touching me everywhere.

  It’s such a relief to let sensation take over, override the anxious circles my mind is running in and give in. Touch and be touched, kiss and be kissed, remember we’re all of us hurting over this, over Kash, not just me.

  Nate doesn’t take charge tonight, not in words. He pushes me down on the bed and rips my clothes off my body, spreads my legs, frees his cock and pushes into me.

  Hard. Violent. Angry, just like I feel.

  West is stripping beside me, and I’m riveted by the way his sculpted body is revealed, inch by inch, and by Nate’s biceps and bulging pecs as he bends over me, his big cock filling me up, splitting me in two.

  “Syd…” I watch the desire, the tension tightening his mouth, his jaw, the strain in his strong body as he slides in and out of me, faster, harder until he’s rocking me with each thrust. He pulls my leg up, around him, and I lift the other to lock both around his hips. “Oh fuck…”

  The angle deepens, and I moan his name as pleasure sparks and coils, heavy, in my core. Grabbing his shoulders, I arch up against him, needing him deeper even if it hurts. The boys are big everywhere, and their cocks are no exception.

  He grunts and slows down, then speeds up again, looking into my eyes as he gives it to me full-force, not keeping anything back, rising above his demons.

  My Nate.

  West rests his hand on Nate’s arm, his other jacking off lazily, his gaze hungry as he watches us fuck, locked where Nate’s cock slides in and out of me, our flesh slapping, our pants and moans filling the air.

  Nate bends over and licks at my mouth, his breath scorching my lips, hi
s tongue lashing at mine, stroking. I whine, winding my arms around his neck, digging my fingers through his sweaty hair, my hips lifting to meet him, my pussy squeezing around his length.

  He lies between my legs, over me, elbows braced on either side of my head and fucks me until I come, my cry of release lost in his mouth. Wave after wave of pleasure hits me, drowning me, and then he comes with a long, low groan. His cock pulses inside me, the heat of his release so deep inside me setting off aftershocks that rock me and make me clench again.

  He gives another broken groan, and thrusts once more, burying his face in my neck and gasping.

  I’m panting so hard I’m seeing stars. I hold onto him, tears burning the back of my eyes. I wish…. I wish…

  But then West is there, the moment Nate rolls off me, his blue eyes boring into me. I smile for him, gulping down the tears before they form and run down my cheeks. I let West pull me up onto his lap and onto his hard cock.

  He pushes inside me, slowly, body taut, his hands on my hips, holding me, lowering me on top of his hard-on. His eyes dip between us, where he’s sinking into me, the blue in them dark and blazing. More and more, until he’s seated all the way, balls-deep, stretching me to the point of pain, and promising pleasure.

  I’m not sure this is a good idea. I’m a bit sore inside, and I’ve just come, but as West rocks up into me, the pressure starts mounting again.

  This is crazy, but I find myself moving, rising and falling, the slide and scrape of his cock inside my pussy maddening and all-consuming. I ride him while Nate watches, still panting harshly, his spent cock lying on his flat stomach, cum still dripping from the small slit on his cockhead, forming a small puddle over lickable abs.

  West grunts, thrusting up, cheekbones flushed, mouth seeking mine, and my whole attention is back on him as we rock together. Our bodies press together, and I’m spread open, my sensitive clit rubbing on him and throbbing. My legs are locked around him as he somehow pounds up into me, fucking me with the intensity that’s all West.

  And that look in his eyes, on his face, the sorrow and fury, the desire and affection, it’s what has me careening over the edge once more, coming apart on his cock, gasping at the burn of pleasure gripping me, turning me inside out.

  He thrusts through my orgasm, curling over me, pushing deeper into me as he loses control and spills inside me, his cock pulsing, shooting out jet after jet of fire.

  Oh God…

  I’m sated, and calmer, and yet utterly destroyed and cut wide open. It’s as if by having sex, and coming hard, I’ve forgotten to guard my heart and the tears spill from my eyes.

  “Syd? Are you all right?” West frowns, reaches up one hand to brush my cheek with his fingertips. “What did I do?”

  I put my hand over his, lean into his touch, as Nate sits up and puts his arm around me, concern written all over his face. “I just need some fresh air.”

  “Syd…” Nate glances at West when I slip out of his hold and off the bed. Grabbing one of the boys’ T-shirts, shrugging it on, I stumble out of the room and to the balcony. I lean over the rail. I remember standing here with Kash many nights while he smoked, talking about anything. His day. My day. The future.

  Stop thinking like he’s dead. He’s alive somewhere.

  Has to be.

  “Syd… come back to bed.” Nate is at the balcony door, in a pair of loose sweats, a hand in his ruffled dark hair. The faint light from the street below gilds the hard planes of his bare chest. West appears behind him. He leans against the open door.

  “Someone took him.” God, I’m so pissed at the world. So frigging flaming pissed. Incensed. Furious.

  My heart’s in pieces on the floor.

  “That guy’s high most of the time on the same junk he’s selling,” West says. “You can’t trust what he says.”

  “But what if he’s right, and we’re leaving Kash to die? What if his uncle is lying? What if it’s all a lie?” My voice catches. I swallow down a sob. “What if Kash is in danger?”

  “Conspiracy theories?” Nate sighs. He pads over to me, leans on the rail. “You realize that if Kash was kidnapped, the chances of him being still alive are slim.”

  “Okay, Mr. Criminologist. You don’t know that.”

  He shakes his head, huffs. “I’m only saying it’s been months, Syd. And even if we accept that all this is true, that Kash was kidnapped then…” His voice cracks. “Who took him? We have no suspects, no descriptions of the kidnappers.”

  West comes to join us, looking down at the street. “We’re in the dark just like before.”

  I swallow hard. How can I accept he isn’t coming back? “We have to tell the police about this, even if they laugh in our faces.”

  “We will,” Nate says, and West nods.

  Good. And I’m reading Kash’s journal all the way to the end, starting right now. If there is a clue, any clue at all of who took him… then I’ll find it.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  From Kash’s Journal

  April 17 - Three years ago

  Dear Journal,

  I’m so fucking tired of running. Running from home, from my uncle, from my past. It keeps catching up on me in my sleep, in these panic attacks that twist me up and won’t let go. At least I have my faithful pouch. Smoking is the only thing that helps. Or maybe it’s all in my mind.

  Maybe all addicts think the same before their world comes crashing down. Then again, my world crashed down long ago. Might as well walk its ruins with a joint in my hand.

  But Philly is getting complicated. And I thought someone was following me yesterday, so… Time to move on.

  June 3 - Three years ago

  Made it to St. Louis. Still don’t know where I’m staying, or where I could work. I’ve had jobs in a couple of food joints and restaurants, so I’ll probably start with that. I’m running low on money, though. Thinking to sell one of my last expensive things. My dad’s watch, maybe. Though I don’t want to.

  Not sure why I cling to these things. Dad is gone. It has sunk in, even if in my dreams he’s sometimes there, with Mom and sis.

  Maybe I won’t need to sell it yet… I just need to find a cheap room and land a job quickly. I’m saving the watch and a couple more things for rougher times. Experience tells me that sooner or later, they’ll come.

  I’m seventeen now. In next year I’ll inherit my dad’s money. What will Uncle A. do then?

  Nothing good, I bet.

  June 23 - Two years ago

  Dear Journal, you’re useless, you know that? You never ask how I am. For being my only friend, you sure aren’t earning any brownie points right now, because guess what? I got a room. And a job.

  The job is in a Greek restaurant. Pay is decent. And the room is cheap. So all good. We’re set for now. I should be relaxed. But something’s stressing me—well, more than normal. Probably the new place. The owner’s son is nice, and he’s friends with the girl living right across from his apartment, and another guy living below. They’re good friends. I like them.

  But it feels like they’re hiding secrets, and I’ve got enough of my own.

  September 30 - Two years ago

  I think I like St. Louis.

  I like these guys. Sydney, Nate and West. Okay, I more than like them, I connect with them. They’re fucked up—like me. Their families screwed them over—like mine. And there’s something about them that pulls me like a magnet.

  Sydney is hot… and the guys want her. I want her too. What is this mess? I should walk away. But I wanted to stay just a bit longer, save some money. So fucking tired of moving all the time. I like the guys. I like Syd.

  Why can’t I stay?

  But I’m not supposed to be talking to you about them, am I, dear fucking Journal? I’m supposed to be talking about the past, and the things that wake me up at night in cold sweat. The things that send me outside in the cold to smoke weed and try and breathe.

  November 8 - Two years ago

  What the fuck?
>
  That is the question, isn’t it? Something off with the family I’m staying with. Nate’s family. And West’s grandfather is seriously disturbed. The way he talks to West… As for Syd’s mom, she’s never around. I’m starting to think she doesn’t live here.

  I think Sydney is really sad. So sad. Makes my own sadness sharper. Nate isn’t okay. Something’s going on with his family. His dad? And West’s grandfather is acting weird.

  Jesus, what have I got myself into? I should be getting the hell out of this city. I’ve been here long enough. Flying under the radar works but one slip up and I’ll be spotted.

  Time to get moving.

  January 16 - One year ago

  The chandeliers were swaying in the breeze. I remember that so well, the day Mom and Shelly died. The door was left open. The gunshots were silent. Fired from a distance. One of them smashed a painting on the wall. My mom’s face was hit. She lay in a pool of blood. My sis…

  God fuck, why am I writing this? I know it’s not helping, it’s not an answer. Is it wrong that I want someone to hold me and say I won’t be alone forever? That I lost the ones who loved me, but it’s not the end? That not everyone out there only cares about my inheritance and/or is trying to kill me?

  When Sydney held me the other day… it felt so right. It felt good, all the way to the marrow of my bones. When Nate has his arm around my shoulders, or West slaps my back, I feel… like I should stay.

  Should I stay? Am I the greatest fool the world has ever seen? They want each other. Love each other. They love Sydney, and where does that leave me?

  Don’t say it.

  Fucking stupid journal.

  March 6 - One year ago

  Still here.

  I had to get Nate out of this place. Get him away from here. There’s no use denying the fact that I care for him. For all of them. Syd came with us, and it made me happy—that she’s moving on, and moving in with me.