“Rick,” Maisie whines, tugging on his sleeve, “where is he?”
Their hair is an unbrushed mess over, their trademark lashes and highlighter are nowhere to be seen, and there’s a smear of blood across their chin. Rick’s annoyance fades as fast as it had risen. This is the first friend Joey has had in years and they've put aside all of their own needs, hell they've cut themselves shaving, hurrying to get here when Rick called. He jerks his head toward the staircase.
“He’s upstairs.” Maisie darts toward the first step but Rick grabs his arm. “Don’t wake him up brat or I’m going to be pissed.”
Maisie glares at Rick then races toward the bedroom. Rick pulls a chair out and sits down. Joey had still been asleep, curled in a tight ball with Finn next to him when he woke up. He’d managed to shower and dress in an old white work shirt hanging out over even older jeans without disturbing either of them and made his way downstairs. While a cup of yesterday’s coffee heated, he’d made his calls. Charlotte of course had poured out yesterday’s coffee and brewed a fresh pot.
“Okay, we’re all here.” Charlotte puts a plate of bagels on the table and fills his cup. “Tell us what happened.”
Rick snorts; a dry, humorless sound. “He literally walked into him in the middle of the restaurant.”
“Yes, you said that on the phone.” Ian’s tone is mild. Patient. “I assume there’s a bit more to it than that, considering you called us.” He looks pointedly first at Bill and then Carter, who is nodding.
Running his thumb along the lip of his mug, Rick recounts what happened up until Joey fled the restaurant, then pauses. Carter leans forward, face serious.
“Spill. What is it you’re not telling us?”
Rick looks around the table. They’d all, with the exception of Harper, gone to college together. Rick and Charlotte set up the business straight out of college while Carter sat for the bar and worked his way up through the District Attorney’s office. Once the company was stable, they’d approached Ian and brought him in as a partner and head of digital media. As for Harper, he’d met him about a decade ago, found him to be an excellent doctor and an even better friend. There’s nobody else he’d trust to treat Joey right now.
“It’s Blake Danvers.” Rick looks around the table. Three stunned faces and one confused one stare at him. Had he been a betting man, he would have won.
“No fucking way!”
“Are you shitting me?”
“Jesus Christ, are you fucking sure?”
They all speak at once and Rick glares at them.
“Keep your fucking voices down, damn it.”
The shocked babble subsides, leaving an uneasy silence in its place. Bill clears his throat.
“I take it you all know who this Danvers is?”
“Back in college, he was the TA for a second year calc class we took,” Charlotte explains, eyes fixed on Rick. “Sometimes ran into him in the clubs. Liked to think of himself as a Dom I think but was really just a prick. Big shot patent attorney these days. His name pops up in the papers from time to time linked to some new gadget or other. Couple of our clients use him. Rick are you sure?”
“No, I picked his name out of a fucking hat. Of course I’m fucking sure, Charlie.” He rubs his cheek as he nudges his iPad in her direction. “Sorry. Tired. Googled the fucker.”
While Charlotte reads out the bio from Blake Danvers’ website, Rick stares at the picture on the far wall. The poster of Bambi from Joey’s old rat’s nest of an apartment. Rick had it framed and hung the week after Joey moved in. Even as he protested that it was too childish for the stylish penthouse, Joey had beamed with pleasure seeing it. Now, all Rick can think of is what his life would be like without him. Empty. Devoid of color.
Everything about Joey is a delicious combination of complexity and simplicity. He has no hesitation letting Rick take the lead, bowing his head at a simple change in tone of voice. Sweet. Shy. Submissive. And yet… despite everything that submission is given with a willingness Rick has never before encountered. It’s not simple sexual need - although there is that. Nor is it fear - though there is often worry in those eyes. Despite everything he’s been through, Joey wants to be loved and more importantly - he wants to love. Each time Rick tells him he loves him, he feels Joey relax a little more. Press a little harder against him. Clutch a little tighter. Lately, Rick has taken to murmuring it when he knows Joey is on the edge of an orgasm and it invariably pushes him over.
Last night, snuggled together in the back of the cab on the way to the restaurant, Joey had taken a breath and opened his mouth as if to speak then seemed to change his mind. Blushing, he’d ducked his head and dotted kisses under Rick’s ear with a quiet giggle. Rick thought then - thinks now - he’d been about to say the words. How different might the night have ended had that bastard not shown up?
“Rick?” Ian raises an eyebrow; clearly waiting for some sort of response or reaction. Rick shakes his head. What? “I said, maybe you should fill us in on the details.”
Pinching his nose, Rick tries to decide where to begin. “He was nineteen. Just a fucking kid. A fucking kid who’d never been with anyone and didn’t know shit about anything. He just wanted someone who would take care of him.” His voice breaks and he has to stop for a moment. When he’s sure he’s calm enough, he tries again. “He wanted someone to love him and that fucking son of a bitch nearly killed him.”
For the next half hour, he tells them what he knows. Some of it Charlotte has already heard, but when she hears about the day Blake chained Joey to bed, then raped him, tears stream down her face. Ian looks as though he might vomit on the table. Rick explains about the teddy bear and Finn, the kitten. About the nightmares and the panic attacks. About the man who can plan and guide a project with calm efficiency but who panics at an egg dropped on the kitchen floor. The shy man who never initiates sex outright, but whose reticence is slowly being replaced by enthusiasm and curiosity. The soft giggles and quiet tears. The moments of sass and that one burst of real anger when Rick had called him ‘boy’.
“I don’t know what to do,” he admits. “I want that bastard to pay but not if the price is Joey. I can’t… won’t do that to him.”
“I can refer you to someone who can help with the anxiety and the night terrors.” Bill turns his cup in a circle. “And as we discussed on Monday, I also have the name of someone for you who can look at his past injuries and advise what, if anything, can be done for those.”
“Thanks. That’s a start.”
Carter rests his elbows on the table and rubs his palms together. The collar of his Henley gapes, revealing the fine silver chain Rick knows he only removes when he and Charlotte are at the club and he wears his leather collar. For some reason Rick can’t take his eyes off the padlock clasp, the key to which hangs around Charlotte’s neck.
“I don’t suppose he’d be willing to testify?”
From behind him, on the stairs comes a voice, low and tremulous.
“No.” Seated on the top step, Finn on his knee and Maisie’s arms around his shoulders, Joey shakes his head. “No.”
“Baby -”
“I can’t.”
Joey comes downstairs, Maisie trailing behind him. He places Finn on the sofa and goes to stand by Rick, eyes cloudy and troubled, chewing his bottom lip. Nods at the coffee pot.
“Can I have some of that?”
“I’ll get you a cup.” Charlotte pushes back her chair and goes to the kitchen.
Holding his hand out, Rick pats his thigh and pretends he doesn’t feel a pinch of pain when Joey doesn’t move. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Maisie slide onto Ian’s lap, tucking into the older man’s embrace. A moment later, Joey takes his hand and lets himself be pulled down. Grateful, Rick rubs Maisie’s jean clad calf with his foot and presses a kiss to Joey’s temple.
“Please don’t make me.” The words are muffled against his shoulder but still understandable. Rick smooths his palm up the length of Joey’s back
. Charlotte returns with the cup and a dish of food for Finn. Whispering his thanks, Joey reaches for the cream and sugar. When it looks like he’s about to dip the spoon in the sugar for a fourth time, Rick takes it from him and puts it to one side without a word.
“Joey,” Carter begins, “I get it, okay? You’re scared, we all understand that.”
“No. You don’t.”
There’s no heat in the words. No anger. Just sad acceptance that once again pinches at Rick’s heart. Carter seems to consider the answer then clears his throat.
“So explain it to me. I want to help you, okay? Make me understand.”
♦♦♦
Joey
He knows it hurts Rick when he doesn’t sit down on his lap immediately. Hates that with every fiber in his body because the very last thing he wants to do is ever hurt Rick. He lo… he doesn’t want to hurt him. Even though Joey knows that it is exactly what he is going to do, he still hates it. The least he can do is try to keep it to a minimum so when Maisie sits on Ian’s knee, Joey swallows his fear and embarrassment and lowers himself to Rick’s.
The caffeine is cutting through the last of the haze left by the tranquilizer Doctor Harper gave him last night, leaving him feeling empty but calm. He should have known this wouldn’t work. Couldn’t work. Boys like him - men like him he corrects - don’t get a happy ever after. That’s just for Mikey or Teddy in the books he reads.
“Make me understand,” Carter repeats. He’s a good-looking man, broad shouldered with a strong jaw and kind eyes. Joey can see why Charlotte was attracted to him. At the throat of his shirt Joey can see a necklace of some sort and when Carter shifts in his seat, he gets a glimpse of a padlock. Understanding dawns on him and he glances at Charlotte. He’s her sub. Maisie is Ian’s… well Maisie is just Ian’s. God, how he wishes he could be Rick’s that way.
“Rick told you most of it. My father died when I was a kid. My mother was an alcoholic.” He looks from one face to the next, trying to ignore the pity he sees. “But the kind who never hurt me. Only herself.” Disbelief writes itself across Charlotte’s face. “She was my mom and she loved me and if she’d known what I’d gotten into she would have done everything to get me out.”
Charlotte still looks skeptical but she doesn’t pursue it. “How did you get involved with him? I mean, I understand you might have gone on a couple of dates but you’re smart and good looking; you must have had plenty of offers.”
Joey sighs. It always comes back to this: why didn’t he do something differently? Anything. People always want to know why he didn’t do something. It’s never about Blake having done something terrible, it’s always about why Joey didn’t stop it. As if it was that easy.
“Charlie, it wasn’t his fault.” There’s an edge to Rick’s voice Joey’s never heard before. Cold, dangerous.
“I’m not saying it was. I’m just saying that-”
“That if I had made better choices this wouldn’t have happened to me.” The small twinge of guilt he feels for snapping at her - he knows she doesn’t mean to blame him, she just doesn’t understand - is stilled by the despair surging through him. “That if I’d run away sooner or if I’d turned him down or maybe if I had called in sick that morning and he’d asked someone else out, things might have been different? I ask myself that every fucking day.”
Charlotte flinches at the expletive and Maisie pats his knee, humming something incomprehensible involving the word sugar. Joey digs his fingers into Rick’s forearm before continuing.
“I don’t have an answer for that. But I can tell you how it started.” He bites his lip and glances at Rick.
“Only if you want to, baby. It’s nobody’s business but yours.”
He nods.
“Rick’s right,” he says finally. “I was a kid. A stupid kid but I didn’t know that then and by the time I figured it out, it was too late.” He takes another sip of his coffee, grimacing at the taste. Even with three spoons of sugar it’s still too bitter. “I’d never dated or even been kissed.” Heat rushes to his cheeks. “I … was a virgin.”
“Nothing wrong with that.” Ian’s voice is calm, and he offers Joey a kind smile. “Maisie was my first.”
Judging by the look on Charlotte's face, Joey isn’t the only one surprised by that admission. In his ear Rick mutters about her needing to be hit over the head with information at times. Charlotte flips him off and asks Joey to keep talking.
“I’d been playing around online, and I wanted ...I’d found these sites and I thought maybe I’d like….” Embarrassed, he hides his face in his hands. “I wanted a Daddy. And you know to be...taken care of like I was still little. Like ...really little.”
“You wanted to try age-play,” Carter offers. “No need to be embarrassed Joey. I know you’ve figured out I’m a sub, I saw it on your face before. I’m sure you’ve got an idea of what Ian and Maisie are into.”
Joey glances at his friend and his discomfort increases when Maisie waggles their eyebrows at him.
“We don’t do much age play, but you know I like to I dress up in pretty things. Dresses and lace and oh the shoes, sugar.” Bliss fills Maisie’s eyes as they snuggle back against Ian.
“And you know what Rick likes.” It’s not a question but he nods anyway. Yes, he knows. "So you don't have to be embarrassed with us."
“At first it was okay. It wasn’t like the stuff I’d read online but Blake said that was because that was for people who were just into cheap porn. That he would show me what it really meant to belong to someone.” Silence settles over the room as they wait for him to choose his words. “The first time he hit me, he said it was because I needed punishing. That I wanted it. And he wasn’t wrong. I mean - I didn’t want him to hit me, but I’d read about punishments so I thought… I thought….”
What had he thought? That it was his fault. His fault for misunderstanding. For misbehaving. For being… wrong. Just the smell of the coffee is making him feel sick now, so he pushes it away, takes a deep breath and fills in the gaps. Gives them the details Rick can't. The beatings. The rape. The humiliation. The cages and the bathroom routines. About how the cigarette burns were somehow worse than the broken fingers. How you learn to read the moods early enough to know how to dodge some of the blows. About being chained to a bed in unbearable heat and somehow surviving it. How you don’t care about being raped one more time while you lie in a puddle of your own waste, too dehydrated to even cry because you’re just relieved you’re still alive. And about the parties where you were put on show - sometimes clothed, sometimes naked and expected to… do as you are asked.
“Do as you’re asked?” Rick’s voice has that edge again and his arms are tight enough around Joey to make breathing difficult. “Do what exactly?”
Joey shakes his head. He doesn’t think he can share that even with Rick. “Just whatever they wanted me to do. What he wanted me to do. That’s all.”
“Why didn’t you leave, Joey?” Carter asks.
He shrugs, too tired to be angry. “How? He controlled everything. He chose my clothes, my food, when I took a piss. And where. He had all the money. He had… everything. I had nothing.”
“But there are places to help -”
Maisie interrupts with a loud snort. “Yeah but they’re not for boys like sugar and me. What would he have done if they were too full or just turned him away? Turned tricks like me? I was lucky, I met the best Daddy ever.” They stretch up to kiss Ian’s cheek. “Most die in the gutters under someone’s boot or at the end of a needle.”
Ian whispers something in Maisie’s ear, tucking an errant curl behind it at the same time.
“Who would have believed me?” Joey looks around the table. “You all know him. Or know of him. You all know me. You’ve heard everything he did to me and yet you’re still asking me why I didn’t do something. If I was smaller or… or something you wouldn’t ask me that. At first, I thought he loved me. Then I was too scared. Then I was too weak.”
“No. You were never too weak, baby boy.” Rick’s voice is heavy with conviction and Joey longs to believe it. “You got out as soon as you could.”
“Yeah. I did. And I ran as far as I could.” Fear and longing block his throat. Defeat weighs his shoulders down. “And he still found me.”
“Yes, he did.” Charlotte takes his hand across the table. “But you’re not alone anymore. You have us to help you.”
“No. You don’t understand. You don’t know what he’s like.” He drags his fingers through his hair. “He’s going to find me.”
“Who gives a flying fuck?” Rick demands. “Let him find my fucking address. I’ll have a trespass notice issued. Get a restraining order so he can’t come near you if I have to.”
Joey’s not sure if he wants to laugh or cry. Restraining orders. Trespass notices. When Blake decides he wants something, he gets it.
“We’d been together about a year when he decided he didn’t like the neighbors’ dog. The local authorities said there was nothing they could do. The dog wasn’t dangerous, wasn’t bothering anyone.” Joey picks at his sleep pants. “Then the dog disappeared. Just vanished.”
“Dogs sometimes run aw-” Charlotte starts.
“I saw it in the trunk of his car. What was left of it.”
“Jesus.” Ian looks ill and Joey knows he’s thinking of the little dog he and Maisie have at home.
He shrugs. “He won’t give up until he gets what he wants.”
And what he wants is me.
♦♦♦
By the time everyone leaves, Joey’s head is pounding. Bill Harper narrows his eyes at him, asks if he needs anything, then turns to Rick and tells him to call any time. He asks Joey if he can hug him and delivers a clumsy but warm embrace before making way for Charlotte. By the time there is only Maisie left to say goodbye to, emotion is threatening to swamp him again.
Rick: (Joey - Part 2) Page 5
