Page 63 of Brave
Pausing long enough to breathe through the burn just now hitting his stomach, Carlson finished off his glass. He swallowed with a grimace, but that didn’t stop him from tapping the bar, signaling Klara to hit him again.
A good bartender with more than a few Black Light years under her belt, Klara looked to Spencer, who immediately refused. “You are no good to me drunk.”
“Consider this me calling in a personal day.” Carlson tapped the bar again. Pretending not to notice when Spencer and his wife exchanged looks, he muttered, “I don’t know what to do, but I have to figure something out.”
“This is not your mess.” Motioning Klara to hand him a bottle, he sent her to the other end of the bar before pouring a thin finger’s width of amber liquor into the bottom of Carlson’s empty glass. “Why are you so hellbent to fix it?”
“Because nobody else will,” he said, as annoyed with Spencer for pointing it out as he was with himself for shouldering the responsibility in the first place. Cynthia was his, and for her he would do just about anything. Pony, on the other hand, wasn’t, but the tie between the women ran too deep for him to ignore. Whatever harm came to Pony, Cynthia would feel it. Frankly, both women had already been hurt far more than their share. He really didn’t want to be the one to add to that.
He also really, really didn’t want to take Pony on as his submissive.
But there was no way he was going to leave Cynthia in her mother’s screwed up care. And if he took Cynthia, then there was no way he could leave Pony. Without Cynthia, it was only a matter of time before Pony ended up on the street.
“So, ideally we need someone willing to take Pony off your hands.”
“No,” Carlson corrected. “What I need, is someone who knows how to fix what Ethen’s done to her. She doesn’t need the lifestyle right now. She needs rehabilitation. Someone who can undo serious slave training. Cynthia wants independence. She wants to be able to dress her, bathe by herself, fix her own meals and then eat them without fear of doom and punishment. Pony doesn’t want even that much. She physically and emotionally cannot take care of herself, not even to the slightest degree. And financially?” He snorted. “Hell, she just got fired. I’ll bet she can’t hold a job right now any better than Cyn can. It would take a very specific type of man who’d be willing to take on a sub with all those problems.”
Tipping his head, Spencer nodded. “Yeah, it would.” He took a slow pull of his drink, savoring it as he swirled what was left in the bottom of his tumbler.
“Jesus,” Carlson muttered, picking up his glass as if inspecting what little was left in his. “Can you imagine the damage it would do to her if she connects up to another guy like Ethen?”
“Yup.” Tipping back his head, Spencer finished off his last swallow.
“I don’t think I can live with myself if she got hooked up with another jackass.”
“Nope.” Thunking his tumbler down on the bar, he clapped a hand on Carlson’s shoulder, giving a rare if comforting squeeze.
“Where are you going?” Carlson asked, turning his head to watch as Black Light’s manager stepped off his stool. He blinked, a little surprised when the room kept spinning.
“To make a phone call,” Spencer called back, then disappeared into his office.
“What?” Carlson asked, turning to find Klara moseying up to his side of the bar again. “He knows a guy, who knows a guy?”
“Who knows at least one other guy,” she joked, taking away both the liquor bottle and the empty glasses. “What else can I get for you? Water?”
“Adulting sucks,” he groaned, rubbing the back of his head. “Water, yes, please, and coffee. About four hours’ worth.”
“You got it, sugar.” Chuckling, Klara went to make a pot.
* * *
“You’re out of your mind,” Marcus Hawke said. “I don’t even do that work anymore.”
Cellphone held to his ear, Spencer rubbed his forehead, nodding even though he knew his old friend couldn’t hear or see it. “Yeah, I know. But this is a special case.”
“They’re all special cases. I still don’t do it.”
“Can you recommend somebody? Preferably someone kink friendly, who won’t fuck her up any worse than she already is?”
Swearing softly under his breath, Marcus went silent on the other end before echoing, “Kink friendly?”
“Yeah.”
“All right.”
Spencer couldn’t see Marcus any more than the other man could see him, but from the sound of his voice, he was pretty sure Marcus was doing the exact thing he was: hunched over his desk, rubbing his face, reluctantly being dragged into something he really wanted no part of.
“What’s the situation?” He sounded tired.
