Page 73 of Blackmail
“He didn’t look like the sort of guy who needed to pay for sex. I’d have let him do me for free. The guy looked like a pirate. But in business clothes.”
What the what? “How do you know what a pirate looks like?”
I’m not touching the other part of that statement. My brother’s gay? Maybe. After what happened to me, it would explain why he was relieved to get off the farm. Still, I refuse to think about my little brother letting anybody “do him.” Especially Sebastian.
This is God punishing me for that sex toy joke earlier, that’s what this is.
“Mrs. Marchal, in eighth grade, before Pop made us stay home to work full-time? Her classroom had a bookshelf full of books we could borrow. I couldn’t bring ’em home but could read if I finished my work early. My favorite series was one with magic pirates on a flying ship, and dragons. All your guy is missing is an eye patch.”
“He’s not my guy.”
“You sure?”
Not even a little bit. “I was sure the first time you asked me. Leave it alone.”
“Yes, sir.”
My phone buzzes.
Brennan: Got a tux handy? PJ’s got whatever plague happens to be going around, and one of his regulars has a charity function tonight. All you gotta do is show up and look pretty.
Simon: Send me the info. I’ll be there.
As soon as I hit send, I want to throw up.
“I have to go out,” I tell Gabe. “Got a job tonight. Go ahead and shower, eat, rest, watch TV. Whatever you want. Stay out of my room and don’t pet Penelope unless you want to lose a hand.”
“Do you mean you’re going out to have sex with somebody?”
“It’s only a dinner date. Stop asking me about sex.” Since all of PJ’s clients are companion arrangements, I’m not expecting this guy to want me to put out. I could push for it—the money would be better—but the idea gives me a queasy feeling.
Fucking Sebastian. I can’t get him out of my head. I need to, though. Maybe I will try to upsell my dinner date. Get over someone by getting under someone, isn’t that what they say?
“You started it.” Gabe pouts.
“You’re right. Sorry.” I blow out a breath. “I know this is a lot for you. You’re going to need help, and you’re going to need money. Get some rest while I go out and make money. Tomorrow we’ll talk about how to get comfortable with being out in the real world.”
“You should introduce me to this Brennan person. Since he helped you, maybe he’d be willing to help me.”
I almost choked on my tongue. “I don’t fucking think so.”
He winces. “Language, Isaiah.”
“Simon. And trust me, once you realize nobody’s going to whip you or wash your mouth out, you’ll also realize the f-bombs are a lot of fucking fun.”
“So, why can’t I meet Brennan?”
“Brennan’s not a good guy. He runs guys, girls, shady loans, I’m not even sure what else. The only legal shit he’s into is fronts for washing his illegal money. God forbid you get into debt with him; it’ll take you forever to get out.”
I’ve been working on it for almost five years, after all.
“I’m a little bit confused.” Gabe scratches his head. “You’re saying he’s bad. But you also sound like you sort of like the guy. You’re still working for him.”
“Brennan found me the night Pop almost whipped me to death. He got me medical care and a place to stay, and he gave me a fake identity so nobody from the farm could find me. He gave me work and enough money to attend nursing school so I could get on my feet and eventually leave Belle Argo. He saved my life. So no, I don’t exactly hate him. I also know what he’s capable of. And, Gabe, I don’t want you in that life.”
“Shouldn’t that be for me to decide?” There’s a defiant lift to his chin. Guess the farm didn’t beat him down thoroughly. Good.
I blow out a breath. “Look, you’re underage. It’s your first day of freedom. Get a decent night’s sleep before you make any decisions. There’s no rush.”
