by Jo Raven
“Fine,” I say. “Go.”
His eyes narrow, then he turns around and stands with his back to me. His shoulders are heaving, and for a moment I want to take it all back. Go grab him, make him sit, clean the blood. Make him understand where I come from, why this matters so much to me.
Why I’m so damn furious and why I want an explanation.
But the moment passes, and he shakes his head, then opens the door and is gone.
“You don’t understand.”
His words echo in my head in the dark hours of the night. The things I said. The things he said back.
Sinner, my aunt’s voice whispers in my mind, but it’s grown fainter than ever.
Shut up, I tell it, and it goes silent.
Still, when morning comes, nothing is clearer. Or midday. Or evening. Or the day after.
I surface from work only to field another call from my dear dad, and after he threatens Ocean again, and I all but lose my shit on him, I tell him I’ll meet him next week to see what he has to say. To set his terms and make his demands so that I can tell him what to do with all of it, and maybe punch him for good measure.
He has nothing to threaten us with. This is bullshit. Between that and all my thoughts about Jason, I fuck up every single task assigned to me, until I’m sure I’ll be fired.
By the time the weekend comes around, I’m damn tired. I tell Ocean and the others I’m not up to anything, lock up my apartment door and slide, lost in a fog of alcohol, anger and want, caught in an internal war I can’t seem to win.
I should be worried about meeting my old folks, who are fucking scammers, selfish and not caring about their kids’ wellbeing. I should worry about losing my job at Collateral Damage and letting my friends down.
But all I can think about is Jason. That paleness. The way his voice shook when I made my accusations.
What if he isn’t scamming my brother? For all he knows, I’ve told Ocean he’s throwing his money down the drain, and he won’t see another penny. If he was a scammer, wouldn’t he have a story ready to give me?
Or maybe he thought I’d be as easy to convince as my brother? Maybe it was all an act, and he thought I’d buy the emotional meltdown. A calculated risk, going all in, in the hopes that I wouldn’t tell Ocean.
Fuck that. I’m not a push-over. I’m telling Ocean everything.
But every time I lift my phone to call my brother, I hesitate.
Disgusted with myself, I throw the phone on the coffee table and turn on the TV on low. There’s a football game on, and I stare at the images, not really registering anything.
Jason taking off his tank top, turning to face me with that cheeky, crooked smile, his tattooed, strong chest in full display.
Jason pushing me down on the sofa, strong hands on my shoulders, kneeling between my legs. Winking at me.
Going down on me.
How the hell can I be turned on, and worried, and so fucking angry at him at the same time? Makes no sense.
And the worry wins out. For all that he told me off and walked out with his head held high, he’d looked downright scared. Of what? His monthly allowance from Ocean and Jesse getting cut? Or is there something more he isn’t telling me?
I think again, like I often have, of the thug I punched in the alley, and of the scars on Jason’s chest and arms. I need to see them, map them, find out what happened. Find out who he really is, what the truth is. But I blew it all by yelling at him and showing him the door.
Dammit, what was I supposed to do? Play along forever?
You weren’t just playing along, the voice in my head snickers. Come on. But you keep telling yourself that, buddy.
Keep telling yourself that you only wanted to talk to him, that you weren’t into it when he sucked you off. That you didn’t come so hard you thought the top of your head popped off and your heart stopped.
That you weren’t dying to do the same to him, and fuck the goddamn truth.
Monday morning finds me nursing a hangover and new doubts. This time they have to do with this meeting with my parents. Today’s the day we’re supposed to meet. Should I have told Ocean about it? Or anyone else?
We’re only supposed to talk. That is, to negotiate. What else do we have to talk about? Reminisce about my rotten childhood? Or about how they lied to Ocean three years ago, making him think Mom was on death’s door, took his money and skipped town without a goodbye note?
Besides, it’s nowhere shady, I made sure of that. We’re meeting at a small park Dad suggested, in the late afternoon.
I’m there on time, eager to get this over with. As I enter the small park, I realize I’ve wanted to do this all this time. Confront him. Look into his eyes as I ask him if he ever regretted how he treated us. If Mom did. I want to know if they’re sorry.
If I can find it in me to forgive them and let go of this all-consuming rage that had me beating up whoever looked my way at school and got me into fights that made Aunt Martha hate me even more.
Thinking about his total disregard for Shun and me stirs up all sorts of memories. Good ones, with my brother. Bad ones that I’ve been trying to forget.
Ocean says he’s made his peace with all that happened, but not me. Not yet.
Seeing my father is a sledgehammer to my chest. Sure, he’s changed over these past seven years. I was a scrawny, short kid last time I saw him, and he seemed huge. Now he just looks old, shorter than me, chubby around the middle, his beard streaked with white, his eyes lost in a web of wrinkles—but it’s still him.
“Dad?” It feels strange to call him that, to call anyone that. Mom isn’t with him. He’s alone, and I refuse to examine the sting of disappointment. She hasn’t seen me in seven years, but she doesn’t seem to have missed me.
Jesus, I thought I had this under control. This isn’t why I’m doing this.
Right?
“Raine.” His voice hasn’t changed one bit, dry and cracking on my name like a whip, laced with loathing. His gaze slides over my face, slick like oil. “Well, well, if the runt of the family hasn’t grown up. And grown teeth, too, haven’t you?”
I’ll show him teeth. “What do you want, Dad?”
His eyes narrow, a watery, washed-out blue. “You should have let your brother handle this.”
I take a step closer, look down at him, my jaw tight, my hands curled into fists. “Why, so you can swindle the rest of his fucking money out of him?”
“Stay back, boy.” He lifts a finger, and I remember this gesture.
I have a sudden, crazy urge to crush his finger and then punch him in the face. I clench my fists and grind my teeth. “Listen good, motherfucker. You’ll get no more money out of us, got it? It’s over. Go back into the hole you crawled out of. We owe you nothing.” I take another step forward, and he takes a step back. Something flickers in the depths of his cold eyes, and I want to believe it’s fear. Fear is what it should be. “Get the fuck out of my sight.”
I expect him to get in my face and push me, yell something.
But he smirks as if he knows something I don’t. “See, told you. You should have let Ocean talk to me. Because you…” He strokes his beard. “You, filthy faggot, are no son of mine. Tell Ocean that if you don’t do as I say, there will be consequences.”
And with that, he turns around and starts walking.
“Hey. Just one sec, you fucking asshole.” He thinks he gets to walk away without hearing all I got to say to him? “That’s it? You call me a faggot and think I’ll fall apart and beg you for forgiveness? And what consequences are those, huh? What did you think you’ll do, spank me? Beat me up?” He keeps going, and I follow after him, all fired up for a fight. My fists are itching. “Oh wait, I know. Forget all about me until you need me again? Well, newsflash: Shun and me, we don’t need you anymore. Those days are over. We’re not little kids anymore, depending on you, motherfucker. How does it feel to be the one needing us?”
He doesn’t even glance my way. “You’re not the one wh
o will get hurt. I know where your friends live, who their girlfriends are. Where their kids play.”
My blood turns to ice. I follow after him. “What did you just say?”
But he doesn’t reply. We’re out of the park, at the corner of a narrow street, and I reach to grab his arm, turn him around.
He evades my grasp, hurries into the alley, and I follow, vibrating with rage and fear. I stumble a few steps and stop. “Wait!”
And that’s when I see the guys detaching themselves from the shadows of the alley and coming at me.
I take a step back.
Finally my dad turns, a disturbing smirk on his face. “This is a taste of what will happen to you and your loved ones if you don’t pay up,” he says. “Get him, guys.”
Fuck.
Part Two
HUSH little baby on the tree top
The wind is blowing, the cradle will rock
I’ll come with my knife and make it stop
One time, two times, three times, four
Five and then we go once more…
Chapter Eighteen
Jason
It’s warm, the surface underneath my naked body soft. Feather-light touches of pleasure pass over my skin. Fingertips. Lips. The light scruff of a man’s jaw.
Oh God, more… It’s so hot.
I’m burning.
A hand is holding me down, an arm braced over my chest, my legs, and I don’t wanna struggle because it feels so damn good. A breath washes over the hollow of my neck, my jaw, and I shiver, a sweet ache spreading down my back.
“Jase…” A man’s deep voice. Familiar. Sexy.
Safe. And dangerous.
It makes no sense, but there’s a heaviness between my legs and I spread them, giving my dick space. It’s dark, and I can’t see the man, or myself for that matter, but fuck, I’m hard. So fucking hard it hurts.
“Touch me,” I whisper, but I’m not even sure I’ve spoken the words out loud.
Please.
He bends over me, powerful arms bracing on the bed on either side of me, pressing his hard-on against mine, and I groan, lifting my hips, needing to feel him. Dark blue eyes gaze down at me. That wide mouth curls up in a smirk.
I want… Fuck, I want… Please.
But no sound comes from my mouth, and I can’t move my arms or my legs. Can’t move, but I manage to arch up against him, and he obviously gets the message. He knows exactly what I want, what I need. He presses against me, into me somehow, ramping up the pressure, the pleasure, until I’m shaking, every muscle locked tight, my balls hard, my dick twitching and leaking. I’m panting, hovering on the brink, needing a last push to crash and fall.
“Jase,” he says in my ear. “Slow down. Slow down now.”
The pressure breaks, and I whine in the back of my throat, my body jerking, the spike of release so sharp it feels like dying.
Holy shit…
“Raine,” I whisper in recognition, and gratitude, and goddamn relief, and then I wake up, gasping for breath.
In Mayleen’s apartment, on her ratty sofa.
Without Raine.
And as I remember everything, my relief turns to bitter anger and despair. Raine thinks I’m using his brother, and Jesse Lee. That I’m wasting their money on drugs or booze. No wonder he hates me.
Fuck. It’s as if I can never catch a break in my goddamn life.
It pisses me off, and it stabs me deep inside, because he’s right to think I’m a junkie and a good-for-nothing. If I allowed myself to let go, I’d snort enough coke to escape reality for good. I mean, some people are depressed. I’m not. My life is shit, and it’s all I can do not to go knocking on the Club’s door and beg for a bag of powder to take off the edge of despair.
But Raine can’t know this, any of this, and these dreams need to stop.
Mayleen puts her suitcase down, an old, battered thing covered in stickers, and hesitates. “Tell me the truth, Jason. Why are you sending me away?”
Using my full name is a sure sign that she’s super serious and not up to any hedging and teasing.
Just as well. Not sure I am, either. But I try anyway.
“What are you talking about?” I force a grin and scratch the back of my neck, then lower my hand hurriedly. She knows my tells. “I found you a good job, a nice place. You told me how many times over the years that you wanted out. Well, you’re out.”
Her face lights up, and I don’t have to force the grin anymore. Hell yeah, this is a good thing. She’ll be safe, she’ll be happy.
“And what about Adam?”
“I’m getting you all out. Trust me.”
“And what about you?”
I open my mouth, but again the words don’t come. Dammit. “I uh. I’ll follow you. Soon.”
“Jason.” She stares me dead in the eye. “Promise me.”
“Promise you what?”
“That you’re getting out, too. That your plan includes yourself.” She puffs out a breath, tucks her hair behind one ear, her long earrings twinkling. “Come on, don’t make me say it.”
“Say what?” She’s lost me here.
“You promised me once before, Jason. That we’d stick together, no matter what. I’m holding you to that promise.”
Shit. “We were kids.”
“We were fourteen, and what the hell does that matter?” She takes my hand in her smaller one. “I’m not leaving unless you promise again.” She squeezes, her grip surprisingly strong for someone that fragile-looking. Those green eyes pin me like a moth on paper. “Promise.”
Jesus. “I… I promise I’ll try, May.”
“Not good enough.” Her voice hardens. “Come with me now.”
“I can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“What the hell does that mean? There’s still Josie and Adam. I’m not done here.” I squeeze her thin fingers. “Go or you’ll miss your bus. I’ll be joining you before you know it.”
She sighs, nods. “I’ll be waiting for you.”
“You do that. Who else will watch weird TV shows with you, huh?”
She smiles, a watery smile, and nods again. “Where will you sleep when it gets too cold on the street? Josie and Adam have a roof over their heads, at least.”
Yeah, I’ve tried not to think about that. “Oh, you know. Here and there. The Club.”
She’ll be fine, that’s what counts. Josie and Adam, too.
“Come here.” She tugs on my hand, then throws her arms around me, surprising me with a hug. “You’re the best, Jay-bug. And my friend. Don’t let yourself get hurt, okay?”
A little too late for that, I think as she pulls back and grabs her suitcase again. The other, heavier one is already inside the coach. She waves and smiles. “Bye, Jay-Bug! See you soon!”
I lift my hand to wave back, the weight on my chest preventing me from drawing breath. God, my eyes burn. This sucks.
I’ll see her again. Soon. I just have to… take care of everyone. And everything. And somehow find a way out for myself, too.
A fucking miracle, maybe. Because after I’ve sent everyone off, then… Then what should I do?
The weight on my chest grows as I watch the coach roll out of the parking lot, and pass my arm over my eyes, just in case, but there are no tears.
Good. So now…
“Jason!” The familiar voice has me jerking around with its urgency. “Jason!”
“Right here. What’s up, Josie?”
A welcome distraction.
She comes jogging up to me, her short dark hair glinting with streaks of silver and metallic blue. Her long coat is blue, too, covering what I know is a sexy outfit—silver shorts over fishnet tights, boots, and a tiny top.
She stops and bends over, panting. “Your friend,” she manages.
“What friend?”
Mayleen’s gone. Josie and Adam are good kids, but we’re not as close. I don’t have any friends left.
Stop it. Mayleen will be happy. She’ll probabl
y forget about you in a few days, too.
I rub a hand over my face.
“You okay?” Josie finally straightens. “Your eyes are red.”
“It’s the wind.” I wave a hand at her. “What was the urgency?”
“It’s that guy you wanted me to tail.”
Raine? “Not to tail, Jos, just to keep an eye on.”
“Whatever. The tall, blue-eyed hottie. That one.”
I reluctantly nod. So he’s hot. So what. “What about him?”
“I think he’s in trouble.”
I squint at her in the low light. “Say what?”
“He’s nearby, saw him talking to a man in that small park a block from here. Thing is, I saw that same guy earlier talking to Simon’s goons in an alley nearby. Looked like they’re waiting to jump him.”
“What?”
This makes no sense. What the fuck is Raine doing, walking at night time alone in Simon’s fucking turf?
And what the hell do I care?
