Page 11 of Never To Suffer

“I don’t need you to take care of me, Xan. Besides, that’s dangerous shit. The dickheads in the area they patrol would take one look at your skinny white ass and, hell, I don’t know. That’s where my sister’s ex hangs out. That’s his gang’s territory. I don’t want you there.” I lean against him, pressing my forehead against his shoulder.

“It’s not patrolling, that’s the best part. I stare at monitors for a few hours a night, like I do now.”

“Or we can stay in, save our money. Sam won’t mind if I put in some overtime while I can, and he’ll let me work on the road, too. Modern technology saves the day. And the paycheck.”

“You’re already working too much, you’re going to burn out.” He lifts my head and slides his mouth over mine. “Stay here. I’ll go get you some clothes.”

I let out a shivering scream while Xander moves his hands as fast as he can to rinse the color out of my hair. The cold water help with the color, but sometimes, I’d rather risk the color to keep my head warm.

“Oh, I’m sure you’re going to like this one, Beetle.”

“We won’t know until it’s dry, but yeah, you’re right.”

He turns the water off and massages the conditioner into my hair, relaxing me almost to sleep with his fingers.

“Remember the first time I tried to do your hair?”

The snort echoes off the sides of the sink. “Yeah, the bathroom had orange splotches all over the wall and the sink, but somehow my hair didn’t end up all that orange.” I bite mybottom lip and lift my head. Droplets of water glide down my face, but I don’t care. “Skylar had to call a friend of theirs to come fix it, so I didn’t look like a Chucky doll.”

“Do you think they’re gone for good? Like, never coming back to Los Angeles?”

“Would you want to come back after all of that? The accident, that bitch basically getting away with it, losing Steve. I’m not sure I’d be able to handle half of what they did and stay alive, let alone return to where it all happened.”

“But they have friends here. They have… they have us here. We got them through it. We were there in the hospital when they woke up. We helped them through the physical therapy.” He sighs and turns the water back on, motioning for me to stick my head back under. “It wasn’t the plan to fall for one another, but we did. We all did. What would be so bad about them coming back here?”

I let the thought run through my head, something I’ve tried to avoid in the past. It’s not that I want to block the memory of them, but reliving what they went through, the sleepless nights of pain and nearly losing an arm after some bitch ran their motorcycle off the road? That’s what my brain tries to remember. Xander always focused on the good and the bad, leveling out sleepless nights with stolen glances and secret touches. He’ll never admit it, but my Xander is something of a hopeless romantic.

“Okay, you’re all set. Let’s go dry you off and see how this looks before we head out.” He says, wrapping my head in a towel. “I don’t wanna be late. They’re playing Empire Records, and you know half these kids won’t know that movie.”

“We shouldn’t know that movie, Xander.”

“Shut your mouth, woman. It’s a classic!”

CHAPTER 6

OH LOVE

GREEN DAY

In the last hour,I’ve had two requests to meet up, one asking for a private show, and another three telling me I need to update with more videos or they’ll unsubscribe. It’s typical, but it also means some people out there want to throw some extra money my way.

I check my watch and see Dani shouldn’t be home for another few hours, which means I should be able to throw some numbers out and see who bites. Worst-case scenario? The private shows aren’t as private as the viewers believe, with four of them in the room at once. Best case? Both in-person meetups.

I pull out the fancy box Dani got me for our weed stash out, ready to roll a joint to relax before I go on cam. Only it’s empty. Not even shake.

Shit.

I’m not going to my parent’s place for some uppity bullshit dinner while I’m sober, and getting drunk isn’t an option. Right now, Dani and I have about twenty dollars in the bank, and we’ll need that for gas. No time for the little shit. I need to go big. I crack my knuckles and open my messages to see who requested an in-person meeting. The first name isn’t familiar,but the second one? Mitchell comes from money and pays well, but there’s a reason he pays well.

I met Mitchell at boarding school—in fact, a surprising number of my clients came from my time at boarding school. Mitch played football for the school, and, like everyone else there, he had more money than brains. Affluent jerks learn early how to throw money at their problems rather than deal with them. Sometimes, when they’re stuck in a closet or questioning which way the door swings, I get to be that problem.

The downside? I’m not rugged or athletic. I’m a fucking pretty boy with a soft voice and too much sarcasm. Eventually, they tire of hearing me run my mouth. It’s taught me how to take a punch…or three. Some of these guys, like Mitchell, get off on taking things too far. I shouldn’t let them, and I’ve used up my excuse other than some part of me likes it. It’s the only reason I can imagine for going back to them so often. It’s not the money, even though the rough guys always pay more. It’s the contempt in their eyes when they call me the second time, or the third. Shame, disgust, anger—every bit aimed as much toward themselves as me.

Mitch’s career in pro sports didn’t work out, but daddy paid the right people off and now Mitch pretends to work in his cushy high-rise office in downtown LA. He found me a few years ago on the website and we’ve met up a time or ten.

Fuck, Alex. Your mouth feels still so damn good.

Stop crying, you little shit! This is your fault, faggot! You made me do this!

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