Page 4 of Grind
“Busy? On your birthday? And here I was thinking I could surprise you with some fun!”
Well, at least the old bastard didn’t have the not-so-bright idea to arrive at the gates of the junkyard uninvited. If that had happened, Frank would have sicced Jag on him, regardless of their shared past.
He sat on the tire because he had a feeling this might be a longer chat. Possibly one of those in which Paul tried to entice Frank back into jobs that involved producing cadavers rather than just disposing of them.
“Oh? It’s my birthday? I forgot.” In case Paul was hoping for an invitation.
The raspy laugh echoing in the receiver brought back memories of a time which, while violent, had been much more carefree. But Frank shook off the temptation to go back to his old ways. He had changed and didn’t want to go back to the man he used to be.
“Well, Frank, It’s your fortieth. The big one. You need to celebrate.”
Frank smiled to himself despite his feelings for Paul being ambivalent at best. “Fine. What should I do? Go out and party? I’m too old for the clubs now. I feel like I’m in kindergarten when I sometimes take the plunge.”
“Oh, I got you, Frank. Do you trust me?”
Trick question. “I trust you enough to hide your shit.” Which was an incriminating kind of trust that went both ways. They both had dirt on each other, which created a perfect balance.
“Well good. I’ll send you an address. Come at eight.”
Frank groaned. “Listen, Paul, I appreciate it, but I don’t have time—”
“Trust me, Frank. You’ll like my surprise. Live a little. Christ! Can’t even give my old friend a gift anymore?”
“Okay. Fine. Send the address.”
Fuck it. Paul was right for once in his life. Frank did deserve to live a little. Especially on his birthday.
Chapter 2
Frank
Thetwohoursremaininguntil eight provided Frank with just enough time to clean up, change, and drive to the address Paul had sent him. The navigation led him to an area with modern apartment buildings, which meant that maybe the two of them would end up drinking and reminiscing about the good old days while carefully omitting the bad ones. Frank had made the effort of dressing in his best jeans, a leather jacket, and a T-shirt with the logo of Shane’s dog training business.
He accessorized with heavy boots, rings big enough to break teeth, and several necklaces he’d made himself out of scrap. As much as he loved a bit of bling, wearing jewelry wasn’t always practical in Frank’s line of work, so he’d seized the opportunity and gone all out.
He felt a bit uneasy walking the clean, cream-colored corridor that wouldn’t be out of place in a nice hotel. His world was all about hauling junk into a truck and filling holes in the ground with cement, not fancy places where people drank martinis, but he wasn’t intimidated by wealth either.
At forty, Frank had been through enough shit to know a man’s worth didn’t depend on the kind of car he drove or—in his case—how many gold bars he had stashed under the floor. He was who he was and didn’t give a fuck what someone residing here might think of him.
Once he found the right door, he rang the doorbell, ready for whatever surprise Paul had in store.
But when the door opened, his confidence evaporated like dew in the scorching sun. Hedid notfeel ready.
The man standing beyond the threshold didn’t belong in a place as mundane as this apartment building. His eyes were twin copper plates, and his full lips stood out on his smooth face that was masculine yet had a soft edge to its pronounced jawline. And his hair? Thick and dark, it framed his face with soft waves, as if it had been styled by angels.
Frank knew nothing about art, but as he took in the muscular yet slim form of the stranger, he knew that Leonardo da Vinci himself couldn’t have conjured a man more beautiful. He was harmony. Perfection. So beautiful Frank forgot how to speak, and instead stared at the smooth chest exposed by a silk shirt fastened with a single button.
Of course. Paul had invited him to show off his new conquest, and instead of pulling himself together, Frank took the bait and imagined his fingers capturing one of the two golden necklaces dangling over the flesh on show.
“Evening,” the stranger said in a surprisingly low, smooth voice. He was still young, but no longer a boy, as evidenced by the strength of his features.
Frank smiled, trying not to stare at the nipple peeking out from under the shirt. He wanted to see this beauty naked and strapped down on the bed, trembling at his touch, but no matter how attracted he was to this guy, this had better not be some weird threesome situation Paul wanted totreatFrank to, because he did not share. Especially not with Paul. The two of them had enjoyed a few tumbles in the sheets in their twenties, but they weren’t each other’s types. Not then, and even less so now.
“Is Paul in?” He’d better be, because if he was leaving Frank with this gorgeous piece of ass, he might have overestimated Frank’s morals.
The rosy lips curved, and the young man brushed his thumb against a belt buckle that might be worth more money than Frank’s truck.
Everything about him wasexpensive. Even the peppery note of perfume caressing Frank’s nose felt refined. A closer look at the stranger's jewelry made Frank feel a bit underdressed and self-conscious. He’d learned a fair bit about pricey watches and the like from his fun, but ultimately misguided, relationship with a pawn shop owner many years ago, and the trinkets this man wore were almost asfineas him.
