Chapter 20 Jeremiah
Jeremiah
I sighed. No matter how slowly I chopped these vegetables, it was inevitable.
I needed to leave for work soon. Leaving my family only seemed to get harder as time went on, but it was a fact of life.
I needed a job to help support all the people I loved, and I was infinitely lucky there were so many of them.
I knew Lazlo had just as hard a time leaving in the morning as I did in the evening.
This weekend, I would make sure we did something all together.
The weather was supposed to be nice. Maybe we could bundle Mia up and take the kids to the zoo.
It was all decorated for Christmas, and they even gave the animals presents.
As it always happened, as soon as I’d begun dipping the strips of raw chicken into the egg bath, followed by breadcrumbs, the house phone rang. I looked down at my gooey fingers. “My hands are gross. Could somebody else answer that?” I called.
Lazlo appeared around the corner. “Don’t say mean things about your hands.
They are very talented.” He gave me a teasing wink, before he picked up the receiver.
“Hello? Hellooooo… Huh. They hung up.” He set the phone back in its cradle.
“That’s the third time this week. I hope it’s not a problem with the line. ”
I frowned. “Yeah… I hope not.” A shiver crawled up my spine.
It was probably nothing. Likely just telemarketers trying to convince us to change phone plans or some scam from “the internet security company” asking for access to our computer.
I wouldn’t even bother having a home phone if it weren’t for Sammy.
It was for emergency purposes, and it hardly ever rang.
“Do you need some help?” Lazlo asked, coming up behind me and hugging me around the waist.
I leaned into the contact, shaking off the creeping sensation from a moment ago.
“Sure. Would you mind setting the table? I’ll get these in the frying pan, and then we should be able to eat soon.
” I glanced at the digital clock on the stove.
My shift at Mickey’s didn’t start until eight, so at least I could eat dinner with my family.
It took Lazlo a while to clear the table of August’s art supplies.
He’d really taken to collage, overlaying clippings from nature magazines with pressed flowers and some of his own artwork, using paint and markers.
He claimed he was still trying to find his niche.
I didn’t know anything about art, but I thought his creations were beautiful.
For Christmas, I’d been sneakily updating the downstairs guest room to be a studio for him.
August was currently giving Mia a bath because she’d had a bit of a diaper mishap, and Sammy was taking care of his homework so he could have the night off to watch a movie. It was all just life, nothing special in particular, but I still wished I could stay and spend the evening in with them.
After dinner, we all helped with the cleanup. Many hands made light work, and soon enough, August was making a triple batch of popcorn, and Sammy was queueing up one of our favs, The Princess Bride.
I found Mia on the living room floor having some tummy time.
I lay down beside her, and she lifted her head up to look at me.
“Hey there, ladybug,” I said, and she gave me a drooly gurgle, excitedly kicking her feet.
Gods, she was getting so big. She wasn’t crawling yet, but if you weren’t watching her, she would roll all the way into the next room.
I picked her up and gave her a big hug. She smelled like lavender soap, and the pang in my chest was nearly painful.
“Papa’s gonna miss you,” I whispered in her ear.
I wasn’t officially her papa or anything, but it felt right.
I would protect my little ladybug with my dying breath.
I just hoped it would never come down to that.
Lazlo was watching me, a dreamy smile on his face. “You could call in sick. I’ll even write you a doctor’s note,” he said with a smirk.
I groaned. “Don’t tempt me. Staying in with you guys sounds so much better than babysitting rowdy drunks.”
August came in with the giant bowl of popcorn. “Put them all in a timeout and come home early.” He held a piece of popcorn up for me, and I ate it, accidentally sucking on his fingertips in the process. His pupils expanded, the slightest hint of his arousal scenting the air.
“I’ll be home as soon as I can,” I promised. “Be ready for me?” My words implied a lot, and when they both nodded, my head was filled with all kinds of dirty imagery of how they might interpret my request.
Groaning, I passed Mia over to Lazlo, and as they headed into the living room to get settled with their movie night, I headed for the door instead. The night was especially dark and cold when leaving the comfort of home. We’d had a decent dump of snow over the week, but the highway was clear.
The city streets were decked out in blinking lights and garlands, and even at Mickey’s, we’d been getting into the holiday spirit.
The bar was filled with retro decorations, likely coated in a heavy layer of lead paint, and we’d sprinkled a few 80s Christmas carols throughout our usual music selection.
The DJ, Lucy, was maniacally planning to drop “Last Christmas” by Wham!
just after midnight to ruin everyone’s Whamageddon for the year.
Even before the doors were open, a line had formed outside the building.
It was a festive time of year, and spirits were high—high enough to keep everyone warm against the blustery wind picking up.
We’d set up a few patio heaters just in case, since our patrons preferred to dress to theme instead of being prepared for the weather.
“Everybody ready?” I called to my coworkers.
I got a few shouts of agreement, and Lucy yelled, “Release the hounds!” before she cranked on the playlist.
I opened the door and greeted the first customers in line, checking IDs and eyeing them up for any potential weapons.
There were plenty of women with teased hair and headbands, bangles stacked down their wrists, fishnet stockings under their neon skirts and wedge-heeled boots.
The guys were decked out with leather jackets and gel-spiked hair, and many of them carried sunglasses specifically for when Corey Hart’s “I Wear My Sunglasses at Night” came on.
“Welcome to Mickey’s, my dudes. Have yourselves a bodacious evening,” I said, letting the first group through the door.
I passed them each a glowstick bracelet on the way through the door and started a count.
Within the hour, the place would be packed to capacity, and then my job would shift to maintaining the number through the door.
I’d been doing this job a long time, and I was pretty good at it.
It wasn’t just tossing the rowdy customers and escorting drunks into cabs.
It was also about reading body language and deciding who was here to cause trouble instead of having a good time.
It was during one of these scans of the line ahead of me that I became aware of one man in particular who stood out from the crowd.
It was more an absence than it was his presence that caught my attention, like an empty void surrounded by light.
He looked to be in his late 30s, maybe early 40s, dark hair and eyes, medium build.
On any given day, I wouldn’t have given him a second glance, but here, surrounded by neon colors and spandex, his white button-up and gray blazer were entirely out of place.
He seemed to be here alone, or maybe he was meeting someone inside.
His hands were tucked into his pockets, and I found myself subconsciously checking for suspicious bulges under his jacket.
When it was his turn at the front of the line, I stood up a little straighter, my body on alert, almost expecting trouble from him. “Can I see some ID?” I asked, half blocking the door.
He scoffed, eyebrow arched. “Seriously? You think I look underage?”
“I ask everyone, and you’re no exception.”
Shaking his head, he reached into his inside pocket and pulled out a wallet. “Have at it,” he said, passing over a driver’s license.
I stared at it longer than necessary, clocking his info. Brandon Levine, age 39, living in Boston. I raked my gaze over his face, making sure it matched the photo. The name wasn’t familiar, but I made note of it anyway.
“You married?” he asked me while I did the inspection, smiling blandly.
I instinctively bristled at his question. “I’m not sure that’s any of your business.”
He held his hands up in defence. “Whoa, just asking since you seem the protective type, a real hero. Now, it’s just my opinion, but a man like you needs someone to take care of, a way to scratch that itch.” He leered lasciviously. “So… have you got someone waiting for you at home?”
I didn’t like the way he watched me, analyzing anything about me or mine. Something about this guy just didn’t sit right with me, but there was no reason not to let him in, so I finally handed his ID back and opened the door for him. “You have a good night, sir.”
“You too, hero,” he said, winking as he grabbed a glowstick from the basket on the way by.
For the rest of the night, my attention wavered, half on the line in front of me, half on the exit, waiting for him to leave.
I kept expecting to get a call on the radio from security inside, letting me know of a disturbance, but the night remained suspiciously quiet.
There was this constant frisson of electric energy coursing through me, constantly on alert, and by the end of the night, I was feeling it.
Every muscle ached from how I’d been tensed up.
The guy left at some point, but he must’ve slipped out in the ruckus at the end of the night, because I never caught sight of him again.
After last call, the lights were turned up, and the rowdy holiday crowd spilled out onto the sidewalk.
I got busy diverting drunk patrons into cabs instead of the cars they considered driving home.
There was hooting and hollering, and one woman gave me an unwelcome kiss on the cheek, smearing her lipstick on me.
I felt sorry for the 24-hour restaurant down the block where I knew half these people would be headed to grab some breakfast to soak up the booze.
I, however, was more than ready to head home. The tension I’d felt all night lingered, long after the bar closed down and I escorted my coworkers to their cars parked across the lot. I swore I felt eyes on me as I climbed into my SUV, but when I turned to look, there was no one there.
The whole way home, I kept an eye on the rearview mirror, watching for anything suspicious, or someone following me.
I was filled with this cold, creeping dread, but as I left the city limits and the highway grew dark, I shook my head, laughing at myself.
“Don’t be ridiculous. He was just some random guy, not a serial killer.
” So I turned on some music and tried to convince myself to relax.
The house was dark when I got home, and I sat in the car a little longer than usual, watching the end of the driveway.
But there was only so long I could justify sitting in the car, growing colder by the second.
Finally, I climbed out, and when I heard nothing but the wind through the trees, I went inside.
The house still smelled like popcorn, but I was less concerned about having missed move night now, my focus elsewhere.
I locked the deadbolt behind me and checked the back door too.
Upstairs, I peeked into Mia’s room, then Sam’s, and found them both fast asleep.
No matter what I did, the unsettled feeling remained.
I thought of what that guy had said, that I needed someone to protect in order to fulfill some instinct I had.
Maybe that was true. Maybe it was just his nosy questions that made me a little too aware of how everything important to me was so fragile. How easily it could all be lost.
When I snuck into the master bedroom, the bedside lamp was still on, but my men were both asleep, August’s head on Lazlo’s chest, arm draped over his stomach.
I watched them sleep for a moment, aching and dreading and yearning all at the same time.
How quickly they had become my everything.
I undressed as quietly as I could, and when I lifted the sheet to crawl in beside August, the light glinted off the silver butt plug he’d shoved in his ass.
Well, I had told them to be ready for me. Smirking at my mischievous omega, I reached down and gave it a gentle tug, making him moan in his sleep. “If you take that out, you’d better be prepared to replace it with something else,” he mumbled.
Lazlo’s eyes cracked open, the sheet slowly tenting over his stiffening cock. “I’m wearing one too, you know. Would you like to see?” The answer would always be yes.
They certainly were the distraction I needed from my troubles tonight.
As distracted as I was, though, I barely registered the sound of a car driving slowly past the house…