Page 15 of Jace 4Ever
“All right.” He grabbed my hips and pulled me in for a long, slow kiss. “Call me, Jace. Or I’ll find you and fuck you into the mattress.”
“How…is that a threat?”
“It’s a promise. Now promise you’ll call.”
I made a slow ‘X’ over my heart. “Promise.”
Kissing me again, he pulled the door open and stepped behind it like a shield. “So I don’t beg you to go home with me.”
I laughed and headed for the subway. “Thank you, Nelson, I’ll call. I swear.”
“You better! Remember my threat!”
Turning for just a moment, I saw him staring at me with some kind of emotion I wasn’t ready to see there. I quickly ran down the steps, disappearing down into the subway and pulling out my MetroCard to get home.
Which was going to be especially shitty after spending a night and day in the lap of luxury at Austin’s and just walking and existing with Nelson.
The train pulled up almost immediately and I hopped on, ready for the ride up the west side of Manhattan to my shithole apartment. Back to my reality, the real shit. Not the shining palaces in Soho and Tribeca, or the gorgeous penthouses on the Upper East Side.
I kept my head down, staring at my shoes, committing the whole of the past twenty-four hours to memory to carry me through the next week.
It had been a wonderful dream. Spending time with a Hollywood superstar, getting to know him, and finding out he was amazing in bed. Watching my friends succeed beyond their wildest dreams. Seeing our group of friends grow and welcome more people into the fold.
The train pulled into my station. Climbing the stairs, I was relieved to see there was no one around. Washington Heights had changed a lot since I had been a kid, but it was still not the safest neighborhood. Most people here knew me and would watch out for me—like I would for them—but I just liked when there was no potential for danger.
I hiked down the street to the door of my apartment building. Just like everything else around here, it was better than it had been years ago. I didn’t love living here, though. There were plumbing problems, roaches, and neighbors who liked to fight and screw entirely too loud.
Shoving the key in the lock, I twisted the knob and kicked exactly the right spot for the door to release and let me in.
There were no lights on inside, which was a relief. I flicked the switch, brightening the room immediately. I saw two roaches scurry away. Better than normal. I closed and locked the door, then headed for the kitchen to grab a bottle of water and a Pop-Tart for later.
Turning the light off, I hustled down the hallway that had scuff marks and stains on the walls and a carpet that should have been replaced four tenants ago. Pulling out my key for my bedroom door, I stopped when I saw the frame.
It was broken. Again.
“Damn it, Jerrod,” I whispered. I pushed the door open and walked in.
He’d tossed the room. Probably him and his stupid friends, looking for my money or for the drugs they swore I took or sold or something.
Closing the door, I wedged the chair there under the knob, until I could get Mr. Franklin to come up and fix it. I hoped this time I could talk him into the metal frame and door. I didn’t have all the money for it, but I could probably ask to pay the difference between the wooden one and new metal. And hope I had it.
Instead of spending the night relaxing and trying not to think about the shit my life was, I now had to spend the night righting my bedroom, rehanging all my clothes. The first thing I went for was the safe, though.
Tucked in the back of my closet, beneath the clothes, under floorboards I had pried up, the flat, wide safe was still there, untouched. It held what little money I had, and some of my important papers. Noah had recently agreed to co-sign for a safety deposit box for me, down by his place. I’d moved my passport, birth certificate, and social security card there, along with my mom’s jewelry that I couldn’t part with and my dad’s cufflinks and tie clip, Breitling watch and wedding ring. It was better to lie to Jerrod that I’d sold the Breitling. It was the most expensive thing I owned, and I didn’t want him to think it was still pawnable.
In the small safe I kept cash and insurance documents, and that sort of thing. Carefully tucking the rug back in, I moved the plastic bins back where they were supposed to be and started to straighten my closet, then out into the main part of the room.
This time, the mattress was only tossed and not slashed. Thankfully, the sheets were only pulled off and thrown in the corner. The drawers weren’t too bad, mostly tossed within themselves.
The entire drawer of my panties and playthings for when I was feeling slightly more femme was completely empty. Shaking my head, I walked into the bathroom and found all of it either stuffed in the toilet or torn and hung over the curtain rod.
I pulled out the wash bin I used for all of my underwear that weren’t boxers or briefs. Slowly, I extracted the delicates from the water and was relieved to discover that no one had shit in the toilet this time, and there was no scent of piss. I could save everything not torn—which was the majority of the panties and garters. The stockings were hopeless, so I just threw those in the trash.
Running the cool water into the wash bin, I rinsed everything and then left it to soak, while I finished cleaning up and righting my room.
After washing the clothes and hanging them on the retractable clothesline in the shower, I pulled the curtain mostly closed and put a little fan on the edge of the tub to circulate the air. It had taken me two hours to straighten up and this time, I made the decision to pull up boards on the other end of the closet and tuck my delicates in a box. It was more work, but at least I wouldn’t lose them.
Undressing, I caught sight of the black panties Nelson had loved. He’d loved them so much he’d left me in them.
