Chapter 7
Like a deer in the headlights, DJ froze and stared at Seamus while trying to figure out how to get out of answering his question.
“DJ?” Seamus looked up at him from his crouch on the floor. “I need you to answer me.”
His effort to avoid the problem was as effective as the deer’s. He racked his brain as he tried to come up with a way to say something that would explain his injuries without lying to his husband. He was drawing a blank.
“DJ, please.” Seamus stood up. “I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on.”
“I don’t need help.” He had managed mostly on his own since he was a kid.
Sure, his sister had been there for some of that time, and she loved him dearly, but she had been so depressed about leaving Claddagh and so fixated on returning that she hadn’t noticed how bad their grandfather’s gambling truly was or its ramifications.
She was long gone by the time he died, and DJ was the only person left to clean up his mistakes. “I’m handling it.”
“Clearly, you’re not,” Seamus snapped.
DJ had never seen him angry, and he felt bad for causing it, but he didn’t want to drag Seamus into his mess.
“I’m going to take off.” He turned around to retrieve his clothes from the bathroom. “Thanks for letting me shower here. I won’t need water again tonight.”
“No, please stay.” Seamus clutched his hand. “I'm sorry for saying that. I’m just worried about you.”
Other than his sister, nobody cared about him so deeply and she was too far removed from his daily life to understand his actual struggles.
Thankfully, he was turned away from Seamus, arm stretched behind him, so he was able to raise his gaze and blink away the moisture in his eyes before it was noticeable.
“They’re not as serious as they look. He’s not trying to kill me or anything.” Killing DJ would cut off his payment stream. So would injuring him so severely that he couldn’t work. Which was why DJ was confident that the loan shark wouldn’t do either.
“Who is he?” Seamus took hold of both his shoulders and turned him around. “Who is doing this to you?”
He sighed in resignation. There was no way for him to avoid the conversation. “You don’t know him. He doesn't live in Hope.”
“Who doesn’t live in Hope?”
“My grandfather’s creditor.”
“Your grandfather passed when you were eighteen. How does he have a creditor and why is his creditor beating you up?”
“He’s dead, but his debt is still very much alive.” He rubbed his palms over his eyes. “And unfortunately, I'm now responsible for paying it.”
“How are you responsible? Did you guarantee his loan?”
“The types of people he borrowed money from didn’t have such a formalized process, and if they had, I doubt I’d have qualified because I was a kid back then.”
“I don’t understand any of this.” Seamus shook his head. “You’ve been paying off a loan you didn’t take for almost ten years and the lender is assaulting you?”
“Yes,” he said, because Seamus had summed it up quite nicely.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
The stress of the conversation had sucked away whatever energy DJ had left.
“I need to sit down.” He walked over to the bed and lowered himself onto the end.
“My grandfather had lost so much money in his life that nobody close to legitimate would lend him a cent. This guy’s sketchy as hell, and I’m guessing he only did it because my grandfather agreed to an absurd interest rate. ”
“How much money do you need to pay him off? I can help.”
“No way.” DJ shook his head.
“I own this building, DJ. All of it. I don’t pay rent on my apartment or my bar. It’s Hope so nothing’s all that expensive. I’m sure I have enough to help you pay off an old debt.”
“You own the building?” That was new information.
“Yes.”
“The whole building?” The bar and Seamus’s house were in a huge three-plex that took up most of Washington Street. Each portion had a business at basement level, another at street level, and either an office or a residential unit on the top floor.
“Yes. Let me help you.”
“How were you able to buy this whole building?”
“I inherited money from my grandparents. Real estate prices in Hope are a fraction of what they are in Massachusetts, and when I moved here eighteen years ago, they were even lower. I couldn’t believe the deals I could get here so I bought the building and opened the bar.
It was a good decision; I’ve done pretty well for myself with the bar and the rental income.
” He stepped closer until he stood right in front of DJ. “I can help you. How much do you owe?”
“I don’t know.” DJ’s mind was swimming. “I’m so tired.”
“Okay.” Seamus reached his hand out, paused, and then brushed it over DJ’s hair. “Get some rest. We can talk about this in the morning.”
Working late nights meant Seamus’s schedule had him sleeping most of the morning.
DJ worked until closing for Slice of Life, but that wasn’t as late as the bar stayed open, and regardless, he started early each day at either Jesse’s Diner or Strong Brew, so he was used to sleeping very little and getting up with the sun.
That worked to his advantage the next morning, because he got up, put the sheets and towels he had used in the laundry, and while he waited for the washer to finish, prepped a breakfast casserole in the Crock-Pot he remembered seeing in one of Seamus’s kitchen cabinets.
Then he left a note thanking Seamus for letting him crash and left for work, all while Seamus slept.
He wouldn’t be able to avoid talking about his personal issues forever, but he’d at least have a little time and space to get his thoughts in order.
Body on autopilot, he got through his busy shift at Strong Brew and then checked his phone to see a missed call and a couple of texts from Seamus.
As much as he wanted to avoid the conversation Seamus wanted to have, he wasn’t going to ignore his husband, so he called him while he walked across the street to Jesse’s Diner.
“Hi,” he said when Seamus answered. “Did you sleep well?”
“Not really. I’m worried about you.”
“Can we talk about this later? Please?”
“Sure.” Seamus sighed loudly. “Thank you for making me breakfast. You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to. Do you like it?”
“It’s delicious. I’m eating it right now.”
“Good. I can change it up depending on whatever ingredients are handy. It’s a really versatile casserole.”
“Does that mean you’re staying over again?”
“Oh. No, that’s not what I meant.” He needed to be more careful in choosing his words. “But I'm glad you like it.”
“I do. When can we talk?”
DJ sighed. “I just got to Jesse’s and I need to start work.”
“Can you come over when you’re done?”
“I’m doing deliveries for Slice of Life tonight.”
“Come over after that. I’ll ask Laura to close the bar.”
Hearing Laura’s name made him grin. She was blatantly making moves on Seamus, and he was oblivious to all of it. DJ wondered how frequently that happened. He was guessing plenty of patrons came on to their hot bartender and Seamus probably had no idea it was happening. He was adorable.
“I can do that.”
They said their goodbyes, and he walked into his next job.
It was a busy lunch, one of the cooks was out sick, and Tanner took the day off because Mike was in town.
By the time he was able to clock out, DJ was run ragged.
Unfortunately, his day only got worse when he listened to a voicemail from his landlord.
“Hey, DJ, I’m really sorry about this, but you’ll need to clear your things out of the apartment right away. We figured out the reason for the sewer problems and it’s bad. I can give you a day or two, but that’s it.”
What the hell? He called his landlord on his way to Slice of Life.
“DJ, did you get my message?” he asked as soon as he answered.
“Yes, why do I need to move out? I can handle not having water for a little longer.”
“We need to demolish the building.”
“What? Why?” His place was a dump, sure, but it was usually habitable.
“The pipes under the building were disintegrating. It’s been going on for a long time.
All the leakage loosened the soil underneath and that made the foundation crack.
When we looked in the attic, we realized a lot of the studs and beams are damaged too.
It’s too expensive to repair and too dangerous to leave standing.
The city’s making me demolish the building and they said nobody can stay in it. ”
“Fuck.” He took a deep breath but he didn’t feel any calmer.
“Yeah. When can you get your things?”
“I don’t know.” He dragged his hand through his hair.
He lived in a studio; the minimal furniture was there when he moved in and was likely to crumble if he tried to move it.
The only things he’d be taking were his clothes, a few knickknacks, and the supplies in his kitchenette.
It probably wouldn’t take him more than an hour to clear out. “Tonight or tomorrow I guess.”
“Do what you can to make it tonight. Some of the folks from the construction crew will be there tomorrow.”
“Okay,” he said.
“Thanks, DJ. Take care.”
“Fuck me,” he said to himself after getting off the phone. “What will I do now?”
In between pizza deliveries, he went online to find another apartment, but Hope was small enough that the options were limited, especially in his price range. Maybe he could find someone who needed a roommate.
His phone rang with a familiar and unwelcome number. He wanted to ignore it, but experience told him that wouldn’t work for long. “Hey.”
“I’m here to collect. Where are you?”
He stepped out back and leaned against the wall. “About that, I can’t make a payment right now?”
“Where are you?”
If he answered that question, he’d end up with more bruises, and if any were on his face, Seamus would notice.
“Never mind. I know the answer. You’re at your little pizza job, right? That’s where you always are at night. I’ll see you soon.”
Hoping to avoid a confrontation, he rushed inside, grabbed his next delivery, and hurried out. He thought he was home free when he left the customer’s house, but he wasn’t that lucky. The first shove from behind caught him completely off-guard and he fell to the ground.
“Your payment is due.”
“I lost my place and I have to find a new one,” he explained breathlessly as he tried to rise to his feet. “I’ll need money for a deposit and rent. I’ll pay you as soon as I can.”
The boot to his back had him on the ground again in seconds. “I don’t care about your personal issues. You need to pay me.”
He tried to think through how much it was likely to cost for him to get a new place to live and if he’d have anything left in his account to give to his grandfather’s lender.
“Did you hear me?” The question was accompanied by another kick.
He was being more violent than usual. Then again, DJ didn’t usually refuse to give him money; he just never had as much as he demanded.
“I … I can give you a hundred.”
“That’s not enough.” He kicked him again, full force.
DJ curled in on himself and coughed. “It’s all I have.”
“Do it.”
Hands shaking, he took his phone out of his pocket and Cash Apped the money.
“I expect more in a week,” he growled once his phone dinged. “No later.”
DJ stayed on the ground for several minutes, catching his breath, and then he got up and went back to work.
Thankfully, the night wasn’t overly busy, but he was still dead on his feet a couple of hours later.
When he looked at the address for his next delivery, he got a surge of energy.
He hadn’t seen his friend Todd Smitty since he had moved into the sheriff’s house about a month earlier.
The two of them were taking care of Todd’s baby niece while his active-duty military sister was on deployment.
“Hey!” he said happily when Todd opened the door.
“Deej!” Todd whisper shouted. “Come in. Come in.” The last words were also whispered.
His sister used the same volume on some of their calls. “I assume the baby’s asleep?” he said as he stepped inside.
“Finally.” Todd sounded relieved. “How’ve you been?”
He followed Todd into the sheriff’s kitchen and set the pizza on the counter. “It’s been a day,” he admitted, keeping his voice low so he wouldn’t wake the baby.
“What happened?”
“I have to move out of my apartment.” And he was sore all over. On the plus side, his face was spared so none of his injuries were visible.
“Are they finally tearing the place down?” Todd asked.
“How did you know that? I just heard.”
“Because you live in a shithole. Honestly, I’m surprised it hasn’t fallen down around you already.”
“Who’s your friend?” a deep voice boomed.
Startled by the loud sound in the otherwise nearly silent house, he snapped his gaze toward the doorway where the sheriff was glowering at them.
“Um,” Todd whispered, seeming confused at the sheriff’s demeanor. That made two of them. “Rich, this is DJ.” He held his hand toward DJ. “Deej, Rich.” He moved his hand in the sheriff’s direction.
“You didn’t mention you had a date lined up for tonight. Would’ve been nice to know.” The sheriff was furious, his fists clenched, as he towered over them. “Will you at least be back by the time Molly wakes up in the morning? Or is a booty call more important than your niece?”
“Dude!” DJ said, offended at the accusation.
He was married, not that anyone in Hope knew that, but regardless, he hadn’t been behaving inappropriately with his friend.
“What the hell?” He could understand Sheriff Davis wanting to make sure the baby was well-cared for, but that wasn’t an excuse for him to make disparaging assumptions and lose his temper.
Still facing the sheriff, Todd said, “Shh.”
Sheriff Davis ignored Todd and looked at DJ menacingly, his muscles bunching.
On the plus side, the big man’s rage was focused entirely on him, so Todd was safe and he didn’t look scared.
But DJ couldn’t handle more hits that night, especially from someone that huge, so he needed to get out of there before things went from bad to worse.
“Whatever. I don’t need this. I’m out of here.” He carefully made his way around the distressingly unhinged sheriff and over to the front door.
“Your money!” Todd said from behind him.
“Keep it,” he said, rushing out of that house as quickly as he could manage. “This day is fucked.”