Page 17 of Just Business
“I’m heading out. Class tonight.”
“Have a good one.”
“Thanks.” Justin headed toward the outer door, but Sam called his name. He peeked back into the office. “Yes?”
“You’re doing fine. Very few people can hold their own against Eli.”
Justin wet his lips and searched for something to say. There wasn’t anything, just heat radiating from his face.
“Have a good class, J.”
“Thanks.”
This time, Justin escaped the office and unchained his bike. He had no idea what to make of Sam’s comments—other than whatever game he and Eli were playing didn’t upset the boss.
He didn’t know whether to be relieved or terrified. Last time he’d flirted like this, he’d ended up in Francis’s trap. No job. No money. No freedom. Justin swallowed bile. Elihad a job, at least. That put him in an entirely different category. Justin pushed off and pedaled toward campus.
Chapter Four
There was an unwritten rule about Pittsburgh weather that in October, when the leaves crunched under foot, there would be one day with clear blue skies and temperatures in the seventies. Eli glanced up. That day had arrived right on schedule and had made the entire office itch to get out—even Sam.
After an obnoxiously long telephone conference, Sam offered Eli lunch and lured Justin along with the promise of buying. Engineering had scampered out earlier. If Sanhex hadn’t been such shits, the whole office might have gone out together, though Eli didn’t mind the smaller group.
Justin stood out against Sam’s suit, with his rock t-shirt, leather wrist brace, and ripped blue jeans. His casual clothes had grown on Eli, especially when he could admire Justin’s ass as they walked up Murray Avenue. One benefit of his leg—which ached like hell, despite the good weather—was that his pace was slower than Sam’s or Justin’s. He’d let them take the lead.
Sam said something and Justin laughed. Eli smiled and the pain in his step faded a bit.
Justin had settled in nicely the past few weeks. He’d managed to wheedle all the necessary expense paperwork out of Fazil in a matter of days, rather than the two weeks it usually took Eli. Even Sam had coughed up missing information for Justin after a single inquiry.
Perhaps the pretty face helped, even with straight-as-sin Fazil. Or the offbeat demeanor. Certainly Justin’s fine features still drove Eli out of his mind. Not that he’d let Justin see that. Instead, he left his ruler and his gloves on the edge of his desk—and didn’t Justin stare at those every time he entered the room or walked past.
Was it idle curiosity? Hard to tell—Eli had certainly met plenty of men who talked the talk and ran the fuck away when an actual flogger and a set of cuffs came out. If Justin was a submissive, he was likely a horribly bratty one. Every one of Eli’s nerves sang at that thought
They reached the top of Murray and Sam stopped outside of the Silk Elephant. Thai tapas. Perfect for lunch.
“One of Eli’s favorite places.” Sam held the door open for both Eli and Justin, the bells on the door clattering pleasantly.
“You like things hot?” A quirk to those lips.
Sam wore a poker face. Badly, but that was Sam for you.
The hostess smiled. “Welcome, three for lunch?”
Eli nodded, avoiding Justin’s question. “Yes, please.”
“We’re clearing off tables right now. Won’t be more than a few minutes.”
“Excellent.”
They waited by the door while the staff worked. By the looks of things, they’d arrived just at the end of the lunchtime rush.
The bells on the door chimed, sounding the arrival of more patrons. Eli paid the ringing no mind until a man’s voice sounded at Eli’s back, as musical and cutting as he remembered. “Do you ever wonder what became of our son?” In Ladino, of course, so Eli would understand but no one else would.
Splinters of glass cut their way up Eli’s spine. His parents still lived in the area, but they’d all managed to carve out an existence that excluded one another. Not today, though, because here they were. If they still kept strict kashrut, they shouldn’t have been here.
“Maybe he would have grown into a fine man and not a...” His mother’s voice soft voice trailed off, but the missing word drove the stabbing straight into his skull. Monster. Fag. Whore. Disobedient son. He’d heard those and more.
Air. He needed to breathe. Unclench his jaw. Not think of Noah’s smile or the blood or the sound of metal crumpling or Rachel’s cut-off scream or Milka sitting next to him in the car as it turned and bent and shattered. His friends, his love: gone, all gone.
