Chapter Five
Eli
The stairwell smells like old shoes and someone’s half-hearted attempt at air freshener. My legs ache, my head’s still a little fuzzy from earlier, and all I want is a shower, something edible, and maybe six hours of uninterrupted unconsciousness. The good kind.
I’m halfway through sticking my key into the lock when a voice echoes from down the hall.
“Waddell,” my landlord calls, voice sharp. “Got a minute?”
I bite back a sigh and glance over my shoulder. “Evening, Mr. Dorsen.”
He crosses his arms over his stomach, keys jangling in his hand like a threat. “Rent’s due tomorrow.”
“I know,” I say, turning back to the door. “You’ll have it by noon.”
He hums like he doesn’t believe me. “Good. Because starting next month, rent’s going up a hundred.”
I stop cold, key still halfway in the lock. “What?”
“You heard me,” he says, shrugging like it’s nothing. “Cost of maintenance went up. Taxes. You know how it is.”
“No, I don’t,” I mutter. “Because nothing’s been maintained since I moved in.”
He ignores that, gives me a tight smile, and heads down the hall. “Don’t be late this time, Waddell. I’d hate to have to find someone else for the unit.”
When he’s gone, I finally get the door open and push inside. The apartment greets me with its usual chorus of creaks and hums…the fridge rattling, the ceiling fan whining, the sound of my bank account crying in the distance.
I lean my forehead against the door for a second and whisper to no one, “You’re doing great, Eli. Living the dream.”
Then I push off, kick off my shoes, and try not to think about how close I am to losing the only roof I’ve got.
This crappy place isn’t worth six hundred a month, let alone seven, but it’s still the only home I have.
I need a shower badly, but my head’s throbbing harder by the second. I can’t tell if it’s leftover from the fainting spell earlier or if it’s about to happen again.
I haven’t gone down twice in one day in years, but with the way things are piling up, I wouldn’t be surprised. I’ve never handled stress well.
Sighing, I flop onto the bed without even bothering to pull the blanket over me. My legs hang off the edge, the mattress springs dig into my back, and it’s nowhere near comfortable.
Still, it only takes a few seconds before I’m out cold.
Asleep… or passed out.
Not sure which.
And honestly, I don’t care.
***
“Mr. Dorsen, I’m here to pay the rent.”
He looks up from behind his desk, lips already curling into that smug half-smile I’ve come to hate. “Glad you decided not to be late this month, Waddell.”
I sigh, hand him the check, and turn to leave…wanting this conversation over before it can start.
“You’re short a hundred,” he calls out.
I stop mid-step and slowly turn back. “You told me last night that it didn’t start until next month.”
“Today is next month,” he smirks, leaning back in his chair. “The first of it, anyway. Have it by the end of the day, or you’re out, Waddell.”
“The end of the day?” My pulse spikes so hard I feel it in my throat. “I can’t get that kind of money that fast. I don’t get paid for two weeks.”
“Don’t give a shit,” he says, shrugging like it’s nothing. “If I don’t have it by six, pack your bags.”
He slides the check into his desk, already moving on to whatever’s on his phone.
I stare at him for a long moment, fighting the sting behind my eyes.
Just another day, Eli. Just another freaking day trying to keep your life from falling apart.
Back in my apartment, I take a deep breath, trying not to panic while I figure out how to scrape together another hundred dollars before I have to leave for work.
I won’t get home until close to ten, even though the garage closes at eight.
Because public transportation is slow as heck that late in the day.
I’ll miss Dorsen’s deadline no matter what.
For a second, I consider asking for an advance on my paycheck…but the thought dies as quickly as it comes. Asking the new owners for money? Yeah, that’s a surefire way to get fired before I even make it through my first week with them.
Sighing, I head to the kitchen, open the freezer, and pull out the worn ziplock bag labeled sunny day. I dump the contents on the counter and start counting.
Eighty dollars.
I grab my wallet…forty more.
A hundred and twenty total. Barely enough to keep a roof over my head.
I almost cry when I see the last lonely twenty sitting on the counter. It’s not enough to pay even one bill. Heck, it’s barely enough to cover one more taxi ride to work.
Still… It’s better than losing everything.
So I tuck the twenty into my wallet, shove the rest of the cash into an envelope for Dorsen, and whisper to the empty room, “Guess the lights’ll have to take a vacation this month.”
And the water…and my phone.
And food.
***Skip***
I waltz into the garage with a…pun fully intended…skip in my step.
That is, until I see Eli start to sway as he hauls a massive hunk of metal toward the junk pile.
“Hurry the fuck up, Eli!” Knuckles barks from across the garage. “I don’t have all day. Put some damn muscle into it.”
My good mood dies instantly. I take a step forward, ready to break his fucking face, but a heavy hand lands on my shoulder, halting me mid-stride.
“Stand down,” Maverick says.
“Release me, brother,” I growl, every muscle in my body coiled tight. “I’m not standing here while that fucker treats Eli like shit.”
“I’ve been watching them for the past half hour,” Maverick says evenly. “Knuckles has been a broody bastard the whole time, yeah…but he only just told Eli to move that hunk to the trash. I was about to step in when you showed up.”
He gives my shoulder a quick squeeze before letting go. “Now go help your boy. I’ll keep an eye on Knuckles.”
I don’t need to be told twice.
Maverick releases my shoulder, and I head straight for Eli. The sound of metal scraping concrete echoes through the garage, cutting through the usual noise. Eli’s still trying to lift the damn thing. Too proud to ask for help, too stubborn to stop.
Halfway there, I catch Knuckles watching me. I meet his stare dead-on and let mine harden into something cold enough to freeze him in place.
His smirk falters. Eyes widen just a fraction before he takes a single, cautious step back.
Smart move.
When I reach Eli, I don’t say anything at first. I just grab the metal from his hands and toss it on top of the pile.
He blinks up at me, cheeks flushed, sweat clinging to his temples. “I...I had it.”
“Sure you did,” I say with a grin that doesn’t quite reach my eyes. “But next time, maybe don’t try to wrestle something twice your size when you’ve barely slept.”
“How do you know I’ve barely slept?” he asks, eyes widening.
“Because those pretty brown eyes of yours are surrounded by exhaustion,” I tell him softly. “Now, I want you to go sit down and rest.”
“But Knuckles is—”
“None of your concern,” I cut in, already steering him toward the office. “Foster’ll be by in about an hour to go over the building schematics with you. Spike wants us to upgrade… well, everything.”
“It might be cheaper to tear it down and start from scratch,” Eli mutters as he flops onto the couch.
“You’re probably right, pretty boy,” I chuckle. “But all the same…rest until he gets here.”
He looks up at me shyly. “Where are you going? And why do you keep calling me ‘pretty boy’? I’m a man, you know.”
“Do I ever,” I grin. “To answer your first question, I’ll be out there with Knuckles, trying like hell not to beat his face in. And as for your second…” I tilt my head, letting my eyes drift over him with deliberate slowness. “I call you ‘pretty boy’ because that’s what you are.”
His face turns crimson, and I can’t help but laugh.
“And the blushes just make you even more so,” I tease. “Though, I’ll admit…I’m a little disappointed. This is the first time we’ve met where you haven’t fallen into my arms. I rather liked having your pretty boy body pressed against mine.”
Eli laughs, shaking his head. “Even when I was out cold?”
“What can I say?” I shrug, grinning. “I’ll take what I can get. Now, rest.”
“Bossy,” I hear him mutter as I leave the office.
***Eli***
It’s been a week since the Shadows bought the garage, and I’ve learned a few things.
One, Knuckles is a jerk. But the guys seem genuinely surprised by how he’s been acting, which means he wasn’t always like this. That part worries me.
I keep wondering if it’s my fault somehow.
And two…Skip flirts with everyone.
And I mean every… single… person… he… sees.
Contractors, electricians, plumbers, decorators, food delivery workers. If they’ve walked through those doors, they’ve gotten the smile. That flirty, confident grin that probably melts half the population and leaves the other half tripping over their words.
Male or female, it doesn’t matter. Skip doesn’t discriminate.
For a minute there, I’d been stupid enough to think he might actually be interested in me. That he found me attractive. But I’ve quickly learned how wrong I was.
“I’m off tomorrow,” one of the interior designers says in a voice so sultry it could melt steel. “Want to meet up and… get to know one another in a far more sexy way?”
I manage to refrain from rolling my eyes… but only just.
Okay, so I’ll never have the kind of confidence that woman has. Or the skinny pink-haired man dropping off supplies, the one currently raking his eyes down Skip’s body like he’s trying to memorize it.
“Care for a third?” the man asks boldly. “I’m not into pussy, but I don’t mind sucking your dick while you eat her out.”
“Dammit, Skip!” Spike shouts from somewhere across the garage. “Get a damn room! I don’t want to hear that shit.”
Skip just laughs, turning toward the guy with that same easy grin. “Sorry, man,” he says, shaking his head. “Not into twinks…cute as they may be.”
“Your loss, sexy,” the man smirks, sauntering toward the entrance. “This twink would’ve totally rocked your world.”
“Lucky me,” the woman purrs, dragging a finger down Skip’s arm. “Guess I get you all to myself.”
I shouldn’t care. Really, I shouldn’t.
But when I glance back at Skip, I see it…the flicker of interest in his eyes as the woman leans closer, her hand trailing down his arm. It’s small, maybe even harmless, but it’s there. And it stings more than I want to admit.
Of course, he’s interested. How could he not be? She’s beautiful. Confident in that effortless way people like me will never be.
And me? I’m the awkward chunky guy who passes out when things get stressful. The one who hides behind spreadsheets and inventory lists because numbers don’t judge or stare too long. I’m not the kind of person who catches someone like Skip’s attention. Not for more than a second, anyway.
The thought sits heavy in my chest, so I shove my earbuds in before I can hear another word of their conversation. The music fills the space, drowning out their laughter, their flirtation, the sound of her giggling as she tugs at his shirt sleeve.
I turn back to my desk and focus on what I can control.
Orders. Inventory. Organization.
By the time we open for business in a few weeks, everything will be neatly filed, cataloged, and easy to find. It’s mindless work…but it’s safe.
And right now, safe is all I can handle.
Before I know it, it’s five. I save everything, shut down the system, and grab my bag. The men will be here for a few more hours, but I’ve got somewhere else to be…my new second job that no one can ever know about.
I was desperate after my jerk of a landlord raised the rent, and fast money was the only option. Without it, I wouldn’t be able to eat or even get to work.
“Hey, pretty boy, where you in a hurry to?” Skip calls as I step outside to wait for my ride.
“Need to leave early today,” I say, keeping my eyes on the street instead of his face. “Already cleared it with Spike.”
“Come on, baby,” a woman whines behind him. “You said five. It’s five, and I’m so damn horny.”
I glance over, and there she is. The same woman from earlier, leaning against Skip’s bike, smirking like she already knows she’s getting what she wants.
Perfect. Just what I needed. My crush about to spend his night balls deep inside a woman.
Yeah, I’m pissed off. But not at Skip. Not even at her.
I’m mad at myself for being stupid enough to think I ever stood a chance. For getting my hopes up.
“Listen…” Skip starts, but my ride pulls up right on cue.
I don’t give him the chance. “See you Monday,” I cut in, grabbing my bag and hurrying to the van before he can say another word.
The driver glances at me in the rearview mirror.
“Where to?”
I take a deep breath, staring out the window. “Emerald City,” I say quietly.
His brows lift in the mirror. “The club?”
“Yeah.” I force a small smile. “The club.”
He doesn’t ask questions…thank God. I don’t think I could stomach having to explain it.
Fifteen minutes later, the glowing neon sign of Emerald City Gentlemen’s Club washes over the van’s windshield in flashing greens and purples. From the outside, it looks loud, alive, full of people who have the kind of confidence I’ll never understand.
Inside, it’s… different.
By the time I clock in at six, the music’s pounding, the lights are dim, and laughter mixes with the metallic click of high heels on the stage. I nod at the bouncer and slip through the back hallway toward the supply closet, trading my backpack for a rolling mop bucket.
This is my job.
While the dancers work the floor and the customers drown in alcohol, I sweep, scrub, and mop up whatever gets left behind. Glitter, spilled drinks, broken glass… sometimes worse.
I tell myself it’s just work. Honest work. But every night, it chips away at something small and quiet inside me.
Still, it’s money. And right now, money means rent, food, and the faint hope of not losing everything.
As I start wiping down the hallway mirrors, I catch sight of my reflection…rumpled clothes, tired eyes, dark smudges under them from too many late nights and fainting spells. Which have increased since starting this job.
Skip is probably having hot sex right now while I’m about to go clean man juice off the bathroom floor. The thought stings more than it should.
I glance at my reflection again and wonder if I’ll find someone of my own. I know it won’t be someone like Skip. But I’ll be happy as long as it’s someone.
Loneliness seeps deeper into my heart before I turn away and get back to work.