Page 87 of Grind
“I told you, we don’t really talk much anymore,” Ezra said, sitting close to Frank with a large bottle of vodka. He seemed confused for a moment, as if he’d only now remembered he didn’t have another hand to unscrew it with. His gaze settled on Frank.
Oh. So that had been the point of alcohol provisions. So that they could loosen up a bit. Frank sure as fuck needed it, so he opened the bottle without wasting time.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think it was something you needed from me,” he said as guilt crushed him over yet another of his failings. He'd even argued that point with Jag and Dane like some old grump when Ezra had been wasting away all alone and waiting for a word from him.
“I don’t think I’ve been much fun to be around lately, so I get it. It’s not what you’re used to from me,” Ezra said in a soft voice, watching the clear liquor being poured into a glass.
“You’ve been through a lot. You have the right to be angry or upset. I just wish I could help.” Frank downed a shot, enjoying the burn, but then grabbed his fork to dig into the food.
Ezra exhaled and spun some of the wholegrain pasta with chicken and sauce onto his fork. “Maybe I do, but what about you?”
“Hm? What about me? I’m… fine. My hands are fully healed, and that was the only thingIhad to deal with.” Frank shrugged and dug into the food, painfully aware how close to Ezra he was. Just enough to sense the teasing whiff of Ezra’s peppery cologne, or get a glimpse of a nipple whenever Ezra leaned forward. Was it torture or heaven? He wasn’t sure.
“That’s not true, is it?” Ezra asked, meeting his gaze. “You have to deal with me, and my moods, and… all the issues I caused,” he added, shaking his head as his eyes dimmed a bit.
Frank’s first instinct was to deny it, to claim he wasn’t bothered by anything, so Ezra could feel more at ease, but he got the sense that Ezra didn’t want niceties for their own sake. He wanted aconversation, and Frank could only lie for so long.
“You’re not a burden, Ezra. It’s just… a little tough to be around you sometimes, because of our history. Just like seeing Paul reminds me of stuff I don’t want to remember, seeing you reminds me of things I don’t want to forget. But being exposed to that can hurt.”
Ezra inhaled and emptied his vodka glass. His face was beautiful even when the sharp bitterness of the liquid made him grimace. “I talked to Ros earlier, and it made me regret that I haven’t asked more questions when we talked about Paul and you.”
An alarm bell rang in Frank’s head, but at least he had the delicious food to soothe himself with. “Why? It’s all history.”
“History that’s still affecting us both. And I want to know what happened. Why did you work with him? Why did you stop? Why is he still coming back like a nasty rash?” Ezra asked and poured them more booze.
If Ezra wanted to know everything, Frank definitely needed another drink. “You can leave stuff behind, learn from it, but it still stays with you, makes you the person you are now. My past is ugly, Ezra. And I guess you think badly enough of me for what I do in the present. I didn’t want you to also see all the shit I left behind.”
Ezra shifted closer, his amber eyes like two candles illuminating Frank for questioning. “Will you tell me if I ask?”
A raw wound opened inside of Frank as if Ezra was prying it open with his bare fingers, so he took another shot of vodka to disinfect the tender flesh. “If that’s what you want, I will. I don’t need to keep secrets from you.” Because if Ezra wanted to incriminate him, he already had all the necessary ammo, and Frank wasn’t going to trap him here forever.
Exhaling, he met Ezra’s gaze, and placed his fate in those delicate, beautiful hands. The still-swollen nose flared when Ezra nodded, chewing on his food without paying any attention to it, as if he only cared about the things Frank might tell him.
Frank took a deep breath. “When the dinosaurs still roamed the earth, and I was ten,” Ezra shook his head with a little smile and kicked his foot under the table, “my mom left me and my sister with my dad, and went back to New Zealand. This might not seem like it has much to do with Paul, but we’ll get there.”
Ezra swallowed and sucked in more of the spaghetti, but his attention seemed absorbed by Frank’s words. After four weeks of avoiding each other, it was as if a switch flipped, and while this was nothing like the sense of familiarity from before the accident, dopamine raced through Frank’s veins.
“The thing is, my father was not a good man, and I don’t blame my mother for going across the ocean to escape him, but it did leave me, as the older child, to be his new target. I had to grow up fast, and I did. Not only mentally, but physically as well. By the time I was a teenager, I was big, angry, poor, and gay. Not a great mix, but the more violent I got, the more I could see my father back off.”
Frank opened his mouth to continue, but he lost his breath when Ezra placed his hand on his forearm, filling the thin layer of air separating them with fireworks.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
Frank swallowed and slowly entwined their fingers when Ezra didn’t back off. So maybe it was greedy of him to steal touch this way, but he’d enjoy it anyway.
“To amend the being poor part, I got drawn into a gang. Most of the tiger tats on me are from that time. And it wasn’t even a problem for those guys that I was gay. In hindsight, I can see that all they cared about was that I was fearless and had the muscle to back it up. But I felt accepted, I got myself the coolest car I could afford and fucked any pretty boy who wasn’t too afraid of me.”
Ezra shook his head and rubbed Frank’s hand with his thumb, swallowing hard. “You do have the aura of someone dangerous. When I first saw you, I was… worried. It’s one of the hard parts of being an escort. You see many people behind closed doors.”
Frank squeezed his hand tighter. “I’m sorry you felt that way. Is that why you were against bondage? I get it. Why would you trust a big tattooed bastard who didn’t even pay his way.”
Ezra shrugged, shifting closer again, until his knee met Frank’s under the table. “Even the nicest-looking people can do something unpredictable. People who never had to live under one roof with my father would always think he was so polite, and kind. And he can be, when he is in a good mood. I never knew when it would change, and that stuck with me.”
Frank wanted to hug him, close him in a cocoon of safety, because he understood the meaning behind Ezra’s words. Painfully so. “Is that why you’re not in touch with your family?”
Ezra licked his lips. “My parents are both… they’re difficult in their own ways. My dad would come home angry and unload all that on us. Most of the time, he’d just be unpleasant, but it would sometimes get physical. Not in this kind of stereotypically violent way, but he’d slap me if he thought I did something wrong, or push me. Sometimes, I would really not see it coming.
“He did the same thing with Mom, but she doesn’t want to leave him, so I can’t help her. Especially now, after I became an escort. She literally pretended to puke when she found out.” Ezra rolled his shoulders, as if he could no longer stand the tension keeping them rigid. “Even though I feel she set me up for this. She encouraged me to look pretty and find a guy who’d take care of me.”
