Page 22 of Seamus's Basement
“No, please stay.” Seamus clutched his hand. “I'm sorry for saying that. I’m just worried about you.”
Other than his sister, nobody cared about him so deeply and she was too far removed from his daily life to understand his actual struggles. Thankfully, he was turned away from Seamus,arm stretched behind him, so he was able to raise his gaze and blink away the moisture in his eyes before it was noticeable.
“They’re not as serious as they look. He’s not trying to kill me or anything.” Killing DJ would cut off his payment stream. So would injuring him so severely that he couldn’t work. Which was why DJ was confident that the loan shark wouldn’t do either.
“Who is he?” Seamus took hold of both his shoulders and turned him around. “Who is doing this to you?”
He sighed in resignation. There was no way for him to avoid the conversation. “You don’t know him. He doesn't live in Hope.”
“Who doesn’t live in Hope?”
“My grandfather’s creditor.”
“Your grandfather passed when you were eighteen. How does he have a creditor and why is his creditor beating you up?”
“He’s dead, but his debt is still very much alive.” He rubbed his palms over his eyes. “And unfortunately, I'm now responsible for paying it.”
“How are you responsible? Did you guarantee his loan?”
“The types of people he borrowed money from didn’t have such a formalized process, and if they had, I doubt I’d have qualified because I was a kid back then.”
“I don’t understand any of this.” Seamus shook his head. “You’ve been paying off a loan you didn’t take for almost ten years and the lender is assaulting you?”
“Yes,” he said, because Seamus had summed it up quite nicely.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
The stress of the conversation had sucked away whatever energy DJ had left. “I need to sit down.” He walked over to the bed and lowered himself onto the end. “My grandfather had lost so much money in his life that nobody close to legitimate would lend him a cent. This guy’s sketchy as hell, and I’m guessing heonly did it because my grandfather agreed to an absurd interest rate.”
“How much money do you need to pay him off? I can help.”
“No way.” DJ shook his head.
“I own this building, DJ. All of it. I don’t pay rent on my apartment or my bar. It’s Hope so nothing’s all that expensive. I’m sure I have enough to help you pay off an old debt.”
“You own the building?” That was new information.
“Yes.”
“The whole building?” The bar and Seamus’s house were in a huge three-plex that took up most of Washington Street. Each portion had a business at basement level, another at street level, and either an office or a residential unit on the top floor.
“Yes. Let me help you.”
“How were you able to buy this whole building?”
“I inherited money from my grandparents. Real estate prices in Hope are a fraction of what they are in Massachusetts, and when I moved here eighteen years ago, they were even lower. I couldn’t believe the deals I could get here so I bought the building and opened the bar. It was a good decision; I’ve done pretty well for myself with the bar and the rental income.” He stepped closer until he stood right in front of DJ. “I can help you. How much do you owe?”
“I don’t know.” DJ’s mind was swimming. “I’m so tired.”
“Okay.” Seamus reached his hand out, paused, and then brushed it over DJ’s hair. “Get some rest. We can talk about this in the morning.”
Working late nights meant Seamus’s schedule had him sleeping most of the morning. DJ worked until closing for Slice of Life, but that wasn’t as late as the bar stayed open, and regardless, he started early each day at either Jesse’s Diner or Strong Brew, so he was used to sleeping very little and gettingup with the sun. That worked to his advantage the next morning, because he got up, put the sheets and towels he had used in the laundry, and while he waited for the washer to finish, prepped a breakfast casserole in the Crock-Pot he remembered seeing in one of Seamus’s kitchen cabinets. Then he left a note thanking Seamus for letting him crash and left for work, all while Seamus slept.
He wouldn’t be able to avoid talking about his personal issues forever, but he’d at least have a little time and space to get his thoughts in order. Body on autopilot, he got through his busy shift at Strong Brew and then checked his phone to see a missed call and a couple of texts from Seamus. As much as he wanted to avoid the conversation Seamus wanted to have, he wasn’t going to ignore his husband, so he called him while he walked across the street to Jesse’s Diner.
“Hi,” he said when Seamus answered. “Did you sleep well?”
“Not really. I’m worried about you.”
