Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Devon
Just a few twenties. They won't know.
Swallowing hard, I stare down at the open cash register in front of me. The Prospector closed an hour ago, and I’ve already mopped the floors and finished the dishes. All that's left is to count the cash in the till, which is my job tonight because Christian's busy taking inventory in the back.
Taylor and the other servers left early since they finished their shit, which only leaves us, Juanita, and the cook, Gale. Everyone's occupied.
Nobody will know.
Just sixty bucks. That's all I need. I'll pay it back.
With a quick glance over my shoulder, I snatch a handful of twenties and stuff them into my pocket. Just as I grab another stack of bills for counting, an iron-tight grip wraps around my bicep.
“What the fuck do you think you're doing, asshole?”
I whip my head around to find Christian's blazing hazel eyes, nostrils flared. “I… I wasn't—”
Growling something in Spanish, he yanks me toward the kitchen. Both Juanita and Gale glance up at us as we storm through, but Christian waves them off as he drags me through the back door.
“Smoke break,” he mutters. We burst into the back parking lot, cold air chilling my skin. I barely get a chance to breathe before my back slams against the brick wall.
“Give me the money, Dev,” he snarls in my face, palms planted flat on my shoulders.
I lift my chin despite the blood roaring in my ears. “What money?”
“Don't fucking lie to me!” His fist connects with the wall beside my head. “Couldn't even go more than a week, could you, motherfucker? Jonesing for a fix that bad?”
My stomach bottoms out, taking my breath with it when I shove him backward. “Fuck you. You think I’d seriously take money from Juanita just to get high?”
“If the shoe fucking fits, yeah.”
“It doesn't. I wasn’t buying coke, goddammit!”
Christian just crosses his arms with a scoff. “Prove me wrong.”
I bite down on my cheek hard, humiliation flooding my senses.
“I met with my probation officer yesterday. She said it doesn’t look good to not have a phone.
I need service to stay compliant, so I was going to use the money to turn it back on.
I wasn’t buying dope. Not that I expect you to believe any of that. ”
He stares at me silently, searching my face for any hint of a lie. When he doesn’t find one, his features soften. “So that's where you went. Devon, look—”
“Save it,” I snap, looking away. “I get it. That’s what you think of me. That’s what everyone thinks.”
“That’s not—”
“It is.” Taking the money out of my pocket, I shove it into his chest. “Here. I'll get my phone service some other way.”
Fuck if I know how, though. Jesus, this is embarrassing. I'm thirty years old and don't even have my own income to spend.
“This doesn’t make it okay,” Christian growls, snatching the twenties from my hand. “You can’t steal from her, man. She gave you a chance when she didn't have to because I asked her to.”
“I know. I just…” Carding a hand through my hair, I tilt my head to scowl at the stars. “I didn’t want to ask you.”
He reels back like I hit him. “Why the fuck not? You ask me for food. For rides and clothes. You suck my fucking dick without letting me return the favor, but this is where you draw the line?”
That catches my attention. “Wait, pause. Did you say let you return the… what?”
“Seriously, fucker, I don't understand you,” he grumbles, pulling a pack of smokes out of his pocket as he starts to pace. “Twice. Twice you gave me head. Why the fuck for?”
I watch him stick a cigarette between his lips and light it before I reply slowly. “Why did I… give you head?”
The confusing asshole just tosses me an odd look. “Yeah. Why would you do that if you didn’t want anything from me?”
My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth. “You think I did it because I wanted something?”
“People like you don’t do shit for free.”
“People like me? Seriously?”
“Have we forgotten how you treated Xed? And Salem? Logan? You slept with Arya behind my back, fool.”
I flinch, despite all those accusations landing somewhere close to the truth, just maybe not the truth he assumes.
Yes, I supplied drugs to Xed and Salem in exchange for sex, but it was more than that, at least for me.
They wanted to get high—I just wanted them to stay. “You really think that’s who I am?”
Christian flicks ash from his smoke, shrugging stiffly. “You tell me. You’re the one sucking me off.”
God. Part of me wishes I could get high just to escape this shit.
“I did it because I wanted to. End of story.”
“Bullshit. Nobody just sucks dick because they want to.”
A snort leaves my throat. “I can assure you, they definitely do.”
We stare at each other in silence while he finishes his cigarette. A calculating look crosses his features when he leans down to put the smoke out on the asphalt. “Here.”
He digs into his pocket and pulls out a hundred-dollar bill. All I can do is blink at it as my brain tries to catch up.
“I…”
“Take it,” he says quietly. “It's from our tips tonight, anyway. Next time, just fucking ask. I don't wanna worry about you using again.”
Shame weakens my knees, but I take the money with trembling fingers. “I haven't so much as had a drink since you bailed me out of jail.”
“I know. Just don’t make me doubt it. And I want proof that you use that money for your phone.”
With that, he turns toward the door and heads inside, leaving me alone with the money. I let my head thump against the wall and gaze at the night sky as the cash weighs heavily in my hand.
Those dark thoughts start to creep inside.
Just once. One line. Christian won't know. I could buy an eighth and still have plenty left to get my phone turned on. It's been a while, anyway, and maybe now I could do it every so often without falling back down that rabbit hole—
“Fuck,” I whisper, rubbing my eyes with my fists.
Kingston Blake's voice runs through my head again. “You're fucked if you don't take this seriously.”
I won't do this. I can't. It would be a slap in the face to everyone who's helped me out so far, and for what? A couple hours of bliss that'll end with my next drug test?
My probation officer said I'd likely be required to attend meetings as part of the plea deal. Maybe I should preemptively look some up. Maybe.
Shoving the cash into my pocket, I head back inside to finish my shift, feeling a little lighter than I was moments ago.
Here's your proof.
The next morning, I lean back and stare at my phone, wondering if the text will go through this time. All of the others over the last year didn't, but I changed my number so he has no excuse to ignore me now, even if he is out riding with Taylor.
A message comes through after a few seconds.
What'd you do with the rest of the money?
Grinding my teeth, I huff in irritation and send him a picture of the new boxer briefs I'm sporting, complete with a perfect imprint of my dick.
Now I don't need to cum in yours anymore.
His comment from yesterday has been playing in my mind all day, about how I didn't let him suck me off—as if he’d even want that. Christian might have experimented with me in Ohio during the tour, but that guy is at least ninety-nine percent straight. I think.
Having a guy suck your dick doesn't mean shit.
It takes him a while to respond, and I'm about halfway through researching rehabilitation programs when his message comes through.
Why the fuck are you in my bed? Get out.
Nah. With a grin, I snuggle deeper into his blankets and ask a question instead.
What's your snake's name? She keeps staring at me.
Probably because she's not used to assholes being in there. I call her The Ex Wife.
I chuckle.
You're the biggest asshole I know, so if she's used to you, she'll get used to me.
I'm serious, Dev. Get out of my room.
I don't think I will.
Ignoring his text, I go back to my research, thankful to be off the couch for once.
When I'd gotten back from walking to the store earlier, Logan had been deep into a work meeting in the living room.
I don't know why he wouldn't do that shit in his room, but I'd just simply waved and then shut myself in here to give him some privacy.
Glad I did, honestly, because Christian's space is cozy.
The python's heated lamp casts an ambient red glow, just bright enough that no light is needed. A humidifier on top of the dresser bubbles quietly next to a framed photo of Christian’s family.
From what I can tell, he's the oldest. Two sisters, a brother, and his mom.
I wonder where his dad is, or if he even knows him.
Pulling up our messages again, I decide to ask that very question.
Do you have a dad?
He responds instantly, almost like he'd been waiting for another text.
Obviously, dumbass. I didn't just spring out of the ground.
That's all he says, though. Nothing else.
Where is he?
Fuck if I know. You still in my bed?
Rolling my eyes at the subject change, I snap a selfie of myself with my head on his pillow and send it.
You better be gone when I get back. I'm serious.
I have no intention of leaving. At least, not until someone knocks softly on the door.
“Hey,” Logan calls out, “I'm done with my meeting. And I uh… made pasta if you're hungry.”
My stomach growls in response.
With a sigh, I get up and throw on a pair of Christian’s pants. Eventually, I'll need to buy my own clothes, but for now, I like wearing his shit. Mostly because it seems to piss him off and turn him on at the same time.
When I exit the room, Logan’s sitting at the kitchen island with a steaming bowl in front of him. Another sits in the spot across from his stool, and I pad over to study the chicken alfredo he made.
“You didn't have to cook for me,” I say, sliding onto the stool with my mouth watering.
Logan scans my bare chest. “I didn't cook for you. I made myself dinner and had extra. Figured I'd save some for everyone.”