“Like I said, Charlemagne speaks highly of your talents. All the boys know it, and they all want a piece of you.”
“What?”
“Yeah. If I can give you to them, they’ll vote for me.”
“You’re fucking out of your mind. I’ve got a guy, and I have no intention of—”
“Yeah, yeah, I heard. But I’ll make it worth your while.”
I pushed the chair back and got to my feet, angrier than I could ever remember being. “You couldn’t afford me.”
“There’s more to life than money. I’ll give you a position in my court. A very high position.”
“No.” How could he even think I’d do something like that? “And if I hear you’re promising my favors to anyone, I’ll track you down and beat the shit out of you. And don’t think I can’t.” I thought of the undercover cops at the gym, but I knew better than to mention them. I must have looked grim. To a man, the rent boys’ jaws had all dropped. “Good night.”
And I walked out.
* * * *
I felt…filthy…and even the hottest shower I could stand didn’t help.
After the debacle of last spring, there wasn’t a bottle of any kind of alcohol in the house, other than the occasional bottle of wine or beer.
No, wait a second. There wasn’t any here, but downstairs…?
I yanked on a pair of jeans and ran out of the apartment, leaving the door open. There were cars parked in front of the house, so the ladies would all be on the first floor, entertaining.
As I approached the door, I could hear laughter and conversation. Shoot, Gus had said something about them having an orgy. I started to turn away, when the door was flung open.
“I’ll get the presents—Whoa!” A blond barreled into me. “Sorry, dude.” He gazed up and down my body, and grinned. “Well, hello. Care to join us?”
“No, thanks. I just wanted to ask the ladies if I could borrow a bottle of something.”
“Sure. Come on in. I like your barbell.” He stared at my pierced nipple, and I suddenly realized I was not only barefoot but shirtless as well.
“Hey, The—Sw—uh…what’s up?”
Of course Gus wouldn’t know how to address me. I probably looked like the epitome of a rent boy, which I was no longer supposed to be.
“Do you have a spare bottle of Jack? Or Dewars?” I remembered what Vince had said the night he’d gone to bed with Pretty Boy, but I wasn’t going to ask for rubbing alcohol.
“Will Canadian Club do?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll get it.” She sauntered to the wet bar, a sway to her butt, drawing the blond’s attention to her. Fortunately she didn’t take her time. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.” I cradled the bottle in my arms and started for the door.
“Why don’t you stay?” the blond asked, blocking my way. “We were just going to open our presents. I wouldn’t mind opening you.”
“Sorry. I’m waiting for a phone call.”
“Go, Theo. It’s okay.”
“Thanks, Gus. I’ll replace this tomorrow.”
“Are you sure I can’t persuade you to stay, Theo?” Shit. Now he knew my name.
“Let it go, Eddie. He’s got a very possessive boyfriend who carries a very big gun.” Gus patted my shoulder, giving me a push to get me out the door. I didn’t care if it was to save my neck or because the last thing the ladies would want would be having a guy muscle in on their clients.
I took the hint and bolted out of the apartment.
“Now, I believe you said something about presents,” she said coquettishly.
I took the stairs two and three at a time, being careful not to drop the bottle of whiskey, and in less than a minute, I’d reached the apartment. The door was still open.
I skidded into the entryway, slammed the door shut, and made sure I threw the lock.
I felt even dirtier, and I put on a sweatshirt. I took the bottle into the kitchen, found a glass, and poured myself a couple of fingers. Then I said, “Screw it!” filled the glass, and knocked it back, coughing and choking as it burned its way down to my gut.
* * * *
I was cold. The level of whiskey in the bottle had dropped to about half, but it wasn’t doing any good. I pulled a throw out of the linen closet and wrapped it around myself. I didn’t want to go to bed, so I went into the living room and turned on the television. The Big Chill was on—Wills’s favorite movie. I wished he was here to watch it with me.
On second thought, maybe it was just as well he wasn’t. There was no way I could conceal what had happened today.
Maybe I just couldn’t escape the fact that I was a whore. Franky had thought so all those years ago. Those cops thought I could be had for the taking. Martin had hoped I was, Grand Prix sure as hell wanted to use me, and the blond downstairs would have been happy if I’d joined in the threesome or foursome or sixsome.