Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
PJ
For the second time, I spent the night at Fallon’s, not sleeping. This time, I didn’t stay awake to watch him sleep. I stayed awake for the same reason I used to sit outside of my foster sister June’s bedroom at night.
If someone’s coming to hurt Fallon, I’ll be here to stop it.
Right now, I’ve got a brunch to get to. The group chat with my fellow escorts is already buzzing, and they’ll give me hell if I don’t show. Fallon and his brother are still sleeping upstairs. Wes, who stuck around like a persistent STD or a purity chaperone, insisted on taking the guest room.
I stuff my feet into my shoes and hustle for the door. I’m picturing Fallon up there in his big bed all alone, wishing I could give him a goodbye kiss. It’s too much drama, though, with Wes in the house.
I’m nearly out the door when a noise comes from the stairs. “Didn’t think you’d still be here.”
Fucking Wes. If this dipshit weren’t Fallon’s brother, I’d pop him in the face. “Well, I’m leaving now, friend, so you don’t need to worry. Maybe after I go, you can work on getting whatever’s lodged in your ass unstuck. You look constipated.”
“You were supposed to take him on one damn date, not worm your way into his life. He’s vulnerable, and you’re taking advantage. He doesn’t need complications right now. He sure as fuck doesn’t need some kind of gold-digging whore messing with his head.”
Oh, I don’t fucking think so.
In a blink, we end up with my arm against Wes’s throat and his back against the wall next to where I jerked Fallon off last night. When the haze clears, his face is red, and his fingers claw at my arm. I take a step back, but I don’t let go.
“You don’t know shit about me, Wes.”
“I know you resorted to violence the second I suggested—”
“Except you didn’t suggest, did you? You accused.
And I won’t lie to you, Wes, I’ve done some things that would make your nut hair curl tighter.
You didn’t grow up the way I did, so you wouldn’t understand what it takes to survive that shit.
You also don’t seem to understand that your brother’s pretty special to me. ”
He gurgles, and I give him a grin that probably looks fucking unhinged. He can still breathe, though, I know he can because he’s still making noise. He’s fine.
“Let’s get something crystal fucking clear, Wes. I’ve gotten attached to Fallon, and I’ll mess up anyone who hurts him, even if that person is you. So I suggest you stay out of our shit.”
The way my hands are shaking makes me step back and let my arm drop. Wes is gasping like a fish on land, the drama queen. The buzzing of my phone reminds me about brunch, and now I’m going to have questions to answer about why I’m late from a bunch of nosy-ass whores.
Fuck. I clench and release my hands, trying to discharge some of the rage still looking for an outlet.
“By the way, you didn’t tell Fallon the truth about our ‘blind date.’” I lean heavily on the air quotes as I reach the door. “He deserves the truth. So either you tell him, or I will.”
“Don’t.” Wes’s voice is a raspy whisper. “Please don’t. It’ll hurt him. I don’t think he can take that right now.”
“I think what you mean is he’ll be pissed at you for lying.
Fallon’s not fragile. He sure as fuck doesn’t need to be treated like a child who can’t make his own decisions.
And guess what else, Wes? The world is small, especially when you don’t want it to be.
All it takes is him running into someone else who’s been on a date with me for the whole house of cards to fall down.
” I enjoy the play of emotions on his face while that thought sinks in.
“You’d better tell him, because if that day comes, I won’t hesitate to throw you under the bus. ”
With that, I walk out, taking my battered Toyota downtown to our group’s favorite brunch place.
Honestly, my shoulders drop away from my ears as soon as I walk into Gil’s.
The smells of coffee and sizzling onions and potatoes, the voices of my fellow escorts chattering from the back room, and the distinct lack of Fallon’s asshole brother are the closest things I have right now to normal.
The closest I’ve had since I was a kid. Although when Evans and I were roommates, talking about our juvenile hopes and dreams together, I was almost there.
“Look who the cat fucking dragged in,” yells Simon from our usual table. Which is funny. He hates it when people say that to him.
I give him the finger, which he returns to me with both hands. Cool.
Everyone else has already ordered. Fuck you very much, Wes. A quick look around the table tells me I’m the last to arrive.
To my left is Simon, who sort of used to be our head bitch.
For sure, he has the liveliest personality.
Now, though, he brings his brother and the guy he’s living with to our brunches, which is a little weird.
Especially since I think his partner, Sebastian, used to be a client? The story’s unclear.
Simon leans over and pokes me in the ribs. “Where ya been, slacker?”
I’m choosing to assume he’s joking around. He’d better be. Nothing raises my hackles like being called lazy.
Still trying to shake off my anger from Fallon’s fucking no-boundaries brother, I shrug and hope it looks casual.
“You know, the usual,” I say mildly as I try to flag down a server.
“Work’s been busy since the semester’s about to start up.
Basic stuff. Cleaning and restocking the dining halls for when all the students pour in. ”
My brain flashes back to the night before, to jerking off Fallon against the wall of his entryway with the door standing wide open. If I wasn’t sure already, the pure, unguarded pleasure on his face was enough to convert me to bisexuality.
Or…whatever they’re calling it these days. Non-straight-ness.
To my right, Ravi leans into my space. “Hey, have you started on the reading list yet for Lit 102?”
Ravi’s a freshman. I’m a senior. A senior who sucks at reading and the more complicated parts of the English language (who needs to diagram a sentence anyway?), so I stupidly put off some of the basic required classes until senior year.
“No, I have not started on the reading list. The semester hasn’t begun yet. ”
“You might want to. It’s kind of meaty. Sula, Fahrenheit 451, The Scarlet Letter, and The Grapes of Wrath. Lotta deep shit.”
Great. “There are movies I can watch, right?”
Rav pushes his glasses up his face. “I think so? But they don’t always follow the book exactly.”
I’m currently unable to deal with this. “Whatever. Reading’s not my thing. I only need to pass the class.”
Funds are still a bit tight, so I limit my order to some fruit, toast, and OJ.
They’ve got excellent pancakes here, fluffy ones with berries, but I’m trying to put more aside in savings.
If I find Evans—when I do—I don’t know what he’ll need.
If he happens to be a hundred percent okay?
Then I want to be able to contribute to the dream we promised each other back when we were still in foster care.
Ravi taps on my hand. “Let me know if you need help, yeah? I like reading and doing research.”
Well enough to get started on the reading list before the semester’s even begun. From the same kid who stays up late researching cock cages for fun, that’s as surprising as finding out fire is hot.
“Thanks.”
Ravi’s offer creates a tight feeling in my throat, though.
It occurs to me that after an entire year of hanging out and Sunday brunches, I’ve held these guys at arm’s length.
I haven’t known who to trust since this whole adventure started.
It wasn’t until Christian got pretty badly beaten by his ex a few weeks ago that I started getting to know the others in the group.
They all treat me like a friend anyway.
“I, uh, might take you up on that, actually,” I tell Rav after a while. He’s a friendly kid, to be honest. Nice enough that I sometimes wonder how it is he ended up here with us.
“Hey.” I clear my throat, hesitating before I turn more to face him. “You’ve been doing this for about a month or so. How’s it going for you so far?”
Ravi, focused primarily on a breakfast burrito that’s almost bigger than he is, lifts one shoulder.
“Fine, I guess. So far, it’s companionship and dancing at parties.
I don’t mind. A lot of the companionship guys seem surprised that I’m smart.
Like, why would I be doing this if I had better options or something? ” He shakes his head.
“I get that all the time.” Michael, across the table, pipes up. “I gave a dude tips on how to recession-proof his retirement plans last week, and he looked at me as if he’d seen a unicorn. Some of them will give you legit info, though. I’ve gotten some solid investment tips.”
Michael’s sitting next to Dean, like usual.
I’m not sure I understand their deal. Sometimes they seem to hate each other.
Sometimes they seem like friends. I think I heard something about them being related?
I’m not clear on how, since Michael is a buff Black dude, with kind eyes and a wise, old-soul vibe that makes the rest of us look like neanderthals.
Dean is lanky, golden all over, and I get the impression he’s so tall his elevator doesn’t quite make it to the top floor.
Adoption, maybe? Stepsiblings? Not my place to pry.
“I don’t mean to be nosy,” Dean says in his southern drawl, “but are ya nervous, Rav? Because we’ve all been there. If you’ve got concerns, we can probably help.”
“Oh, I’m not nervous.” Ravi, who seems to end most sentences with a question mark, sounds confident for a change. “I’m waiting for Brennan to work out the details of my auction.”
Fucking what? “What the hell does that mean?”
I’m relieved to see I’m not the only person who looks confused. Across the table, Troy and Adam have paused in the middle of blowing straw papers at each other, and even Simon’s ears are perked up.