Page 28 of Grind
Once Paul was gone, Frank washed off the dirt and grime in the shower but was well aware he’d never be clean enough for a guy like Ezra. He’d never be able to be honest with him, so the delusional fantasies of Ezra wanting to be with him were just that. Delusions.
He could never have someone this radiant and perfect, and even leaving crime behind altogether wouldn’t have atoned for all the blood on Frank’s hands. It chilled him that had Ezra not known Frank, he might have made the mistake of running home straight from Paul’s. He wouldn’t have survived the night.
Frank cursed when his head hit the showerhead, and he stepped out of the stall, grabbing his towel. He wiped the wetness off his body, gave his long hair a firm squeeze, and left the bathroom, feeling his stomach drop at the sight of his living room.
He’d made a lot of the furniture himself and was proud of that, but every bit of his house was practical rather than elegant. In comparison to the cozy minimalism of Ezra’s apartment, Frank’s bungalow was a shack full of mismatched items with a disassembled radio taking up most of the table, Strongman tournament cups on the kitchen counter, and trash bags piled around the trashcan, because he’d recently been too busy to think about cleaning.
He grabbed the empty tray of a TV dinner and got rid of it, but the longer he stared at the mess, the clearer it was that unless he made Ezra sleep in Jag’s den tonight, he didn’t have enough time to tidy up.
He just made sure there was no lube by the sofa, and that his guns were locked away, but after that, he braided his hair, put on a clean pair of jeans and a T-shirt, and headed out with a heavy heart.
Ezra’s presence here would lead to nothing good. Paul had asked Frank to keep an eye out for Ezra, because hestill had Paul’s car keys. Which was a lie. But if he asked Frank, he’d be contacting other acquaintances as well. No immediate solution was foolproof, so they’d have to play it by ear until it was safe for Ezra to leave, but his dreams of LA would be shattered, because he couldn’t go the place he’d said he would.
Ezra could not continue advertising his services and being a presence in his usual circles, period. And that meant, he could no longer work as an escort, because sooner or later, Paul would track him down.
He didn’t yet know how to break the news, so he focused on getting to the den as fast as possible. It was past two a.m. and he needed to sleep off this fucked-up day before having serious conversations. He whistled as soon as the truck where Jag would have taken Ezra came into view, and sure enough, the junkyard warrior peeked out of the cab before sending Frank a signal with his flashlight.
Good. No trouble then.
Frank climbed into the cab to find Ezra in front of a set of cards on the floor. As soon as he spotted Frank, his eyes went wide.
“I was worried,” he said, rising to his feet. His hand rested on Frank’s arm, and the touch triggered an eruption of goosebumps. This guy was doing things to Frank. Things he hadn’t felt in a long time, if ever, but they were not a good match, and it would be better for Ezra to remain ignorant as to why.
“I see Jag kept you occupied. You’ll spend the night at mine, and we’ll figure out details tomorrow. All went smooth with Paul, but he took his damn time, and was asking about you.”
Jag leaned against the wall of the cab with a packet of chips in his hand. “Why didn’t you tell us you were getting massage therapy?”
Frank stilled, blindsided by this idiocy. Massage therapy. By inserting dick into Frank’s throat more like. Or giving the most amazing hand jobs.
At least this meant Ezra hadn’t told Jag the truth. “Jag, it’s been a long night, okay?”
“Maybe he should give massage therapy to Dane too. He’s been having pain in his shoulder,” Jag said with the kind of sincerity no one else was capable of.
“Sure, Frank’s friends are my friends,” Ezra said, smiling at him, and leaned toward Frank to obscure the fact that he was now holding onto Frank’s T-shirt, as if he needed the safety of his closeness.
“Maybe. Keep his presence here secret, Jag.”
“But—”
Frank knew exactly what he wanted to say, so he raised his hand. “Yes, you can tell Dane, but make sure he understands Ezra needs to stay hidden.”
Jag nodded. “I’ll do that.”
Frank didn’t wait any longer and pulled on Ezra’s elbow, urging him outside into the crisp night air.
Shame crept up Frank’s back when he noticed Ezra had turned his coat inside out, as if he feared the dirt of Frank’s junkyard would rub off on him, but he didn’t argue and just went down the ladder, straight onto the ground littered with empty cans.
“Dane hid your car, and everything went smoothly on that end. How… how are you feeling?” Frank asked, leading the way with his hands in his pockets to not make Ezra feel like anything was expected of him. Their new situation was a minefield, and neither of them needed more disruptions than this night had already provided.
He could practically sense Ezra’s minty breath on his back as Frank headed down an alley broad enough for his stocky form. He kept the flashlight low, to focus on obstacles under their feet, but his thoughts were spiralling out of control. Once again, he considered leading Ezra to Shane’s home, since it would stay unoccupied for the next few days, but his thoughts stalled when a warm hand closed on his wrist, as if Ezra were attempting to get Frank’s hand out of the pocket.
Frank couldn’t deny Ezra, so he entwined his sausage fingers with Ezra’s elegant digits.
“I’m alive. Thanks to you.”
They remained quiet for the length of their trek through the mounds of junk. It was only once they stepped into the clearing around Frank’s home that he relaxed.
“I’m so sorry you’re in this mess. It’s not your fault, but you will have to deal with it. We’ll work out some kind of plan for you, but Paul has lots of connections. We’ll have to be careful.”
