Bouncer’s Folly (6 page)

…Just follow your heart…

Yeah sure, easy for them to say.

38

Gracie C. McKeever

* * * *

Trevor had barely been alone since he’d left the hospital and this
presented more than a few problems. How was he supposed to establish the
boi’s state of mind and find out why the police had not given
him
a visit yet?

Was Trevor having second thoughts about them, finally seeing the light?

Was Trevor protecting him?

That his OD and near-death experience had finally made Trevor realize
no one could love him like
he
loved him was ironic. It made him wonder if
he should have gone the rough and forceful route rather than the smooth
and charming route with Trevor long ago.

Unless Trevor wasn’t protecting him but in fact was setting a trap,
waiting for the right time to reveal who had hurt him in the restroom? That
seemed more likely. Why would Trevor protect him now when he could have
cared less about him before? It was the crux of their problems. Trevor
didn’t believe that they belonged together and he did.

But he had another chance now to convince Trevor of the rightness of
their connection.

He wouldn’t fail this time.

* * * *

After leaving the hospital, Ramsey took a walk around the block to clear his head before finally jogging the several blocks from the hospital to his day job at Equinox.

He had three clients to put through their paces today before he went home and got ready for his night at
Zara’s
. One client was female and the other two males, all of whom felt it was their God-given right to flirt just shy of sexual harassment.

Ramsey tried to take it in stride because one, he hated whiners. Two, he made an excellent living at what he did. Three, he enjoyed helping people.

And four, he sympathized with the loneliness that drove this sort of desperation. If things got out of hand with any of his clients, he knew how to tell them where to go, but for the most part, he just went along with the program and let them have their fun.

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39

Ramsey had to do some mental preparations, however, before going out to face his first client, a middle-aged, divorced mother-of-two from the suburbs who was on his dick like a mother and didn’t know how to take no for an answer. He’d done everything he could to deter her advances, even revealed he was gay. Not that it was any secret. He’d been out since he was fifteen and everyone at Equinox knew. But not even this stopped Stella. He would have been flattered if he didn’t think she was one of those women who had a thing for gay guys because she thought she had what it took to convert him.

He could have told Stella she was wasting her time, but she was a big girl and if she chose to ignore the facts, this was her funeral.

Ramsey went to the locker room and changed out of his jeans and button-down into an Equinox Personal Trainer T-shirt and matching warm-up pants.

A lot of the trainers wore shorts during their sessions with the sole purpose of showing off their toned, muscular legs but Ramsey’s comfort came before his ego, and the long pants were one of his best defenses against the sub-zero AC in the gym. Even at
Zara’s
where the kinetic crush of bodies night after night upped the temperatures, he still felt the draft.

He took a deep breath and paused on the threshold between the locker rooms and the outer workout rooms, closed his eyes and pictured Trevor before he’d left him in the hospital.

Ramsey knew Trevor had been looking at his ass, felt the heat and wished he’d had on shorts to expose his well-muscled legs for Trevor’s pleasure. He worked hard on staying healthy and keeping in shape and knew he had a nice body. For once he’d wanted to show it off, wanted another’s sexual attention.

He had been off the dating radar for so long, barely going out or doing any sort of socializing that didn’t involve work, he forgot what it was like to welcome the attentions of someone he was physically attracted to, much more invite them.

This had all changed in the span of twenty-four hours and the advent of one sexy, drugged-out twinkie, who wouldn’t be drugged-out for much longer if Ramsey had anything to say about it.

He breezed through his first two, two-hour sessions easier than usual, focusing on thoughts of Trevor and when was the next time he would see 40

Gracie C. McKeever

him again. It was only between his second and last session that he realized he hadn’t gotten Trevor’s number and had no way of contacting the man if he wanted to. And he wanted to, hated that he hadn’t taken more control of the situation, had in fact, put his fate in Trevor’s hands. That wasn’t like him.

How pathetic was that? Not pathetic because he hadn’t gotten Trevor’s number, but because he felt the need to call him after seeing him only a few hours ago.

Damn, he had it bad and anticipated it getting much worse after that kiss he and Trevor shared. The genie had been let out of the bottle now and there was no going back. He knew what Trevor tasted like, his musky-sweet scent imprinted on Ramsey’s olfactory memory making him salivate anticipating another sample. And he wanted to know more, wanted to get to know Trevor better—physically and mentally.

“I’m thinking that’s not for me.”

Ramsey shook his head and glanced down at his last client of the day from where he was spotting him at a weight bench. “What isn’t for you?”

Since Hayden had never been shy about touching Ramsey’s person he reached out to stroke the hard-on plainly visible behind the front of his warm-up pants and licked his lips. “This nice big one right here.”

Ramsey almost swallowed his tongue trying to get away from Hayden’s touch, so sensitive and full, he nearly came on the spot. “I think we’d better take a short break.”

“No worries, hun. I’ll be here when you get back.” Hayden chuckled as Ramsey headed for the locker room. “Whoever he is, he’s one lucky guy!”

Ramsey didn’t know about all that. He did know one thing for damn sure. He had it bad!

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41

“Open up, Trev. It’s your friendly neighborhood candyman.”

Zara went to the door and looked through the peephole for no other reason except she needed something useful and safe to do. It wasn’t likely she would recognize who was on the other side, so the act was pretty much a waste of time.

“Since when do you look through the peephole, mon? You know
me
.”

Wroooong. Trevor knew him and from the looks and sounds of it, the Rastafarian on the other side of the door wasn’t someone Zara wanted to know. Sure, Halloween was several days away, but she had a feeling Rasta wasn’t really talking about candy, and he definitely didn’t look like the second coming of Sammy Davis, Jr.

“C’mon mon. Open up and let me see you’re all right.”

She could just ignore him, but decided that would bring her more trouble, if not more attention, than she wanted. But God, the man was a complete stranger. How was she supposed to let him in and wing things?

Travis had made things easy, doing most of the talking on the drive from the hospital and filling in gaps on the assumption that his brother was still suffering from his OD and didn’t remember some things. Plus it was kind of hard not to trust a guy who was your mirror image. It went with the territory that Travis only had Trevor’s best interests at heart.

She guessed she could play the amnesia card with Rasta man too, but for how long before she said something that gave her away?

Taking a deep breath, Zara made a decision and opened the door.

“It’s about time, mon. I was beginning to wonder if you were holding last night against
me,
when you know I taught you better.”

“I don’t remember much about last night,” Zara admitted, stepping aside to let the man into the apartment.

42

Gracie C. McKeever

He was a shade darker and a few inches taller than Ramsey, which was saying something since she’d put Ramsey at six-two. The dreadlocks tucked under the tri-colored green, black and yellow knit hat made him seem even taller and Zara could just imagine how far down his back those locks would tumble if he took off the hat.

With hazel eyes and a beard and mustache trimmed around his mouth, Rasta was a nice-looking guy, if also slightly menacing and Zara wondered if there was anything between him and Trevor beside supplier and user. She didn’t get a sense that he was gay, but then it wouldn’t be the first time her gaydar had been off. She hoped there was nothing between them. She didn’t need that type of complication in her life right now.

Rasta reached beneath his Jiffy Pop-looking hat to pull out a large plastic baggie filled with weed and shook it in front of Zara’s face as he took a seat in one of the beanbag chairs. “This will give you a smooth, mellow high. On the house.”

“Uh, I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

“What I tell you about mixing up all a them artificial chemicals them make in the lab, hmm? They kill you dead like poison. Now this,” he shook the bag again, “this is all natural, the only way to go. Listen to Jazmon. He won’t steer you wrong like those others.”

Zara hadn’t heard such a convincing pitch since her brief stint as a telemarketer and wondered who those others were. Jazmon almost had her ready to sit down in the other beanbag chair and roll a blunt. But she couldn’t no matter how curious her salivary glands were. She had made a promise to Ramsey and even if she wasn’t as chemically dependent as Trevor seemed to be, she couldn’t go back on her word, didn’t want to.

“Um, I just got out of the hospital after an OD.”

“I know. But that was because you didn’t listen to Jazmon.”

She wanted to ask him why he was being so generous with his good stuff. But maybe Trevor really was that good and regular a customer that he rated the preferential treatment and perks from his supplier.

Zara remembered the clothes in the closet, all quality materials and labels, just like what Trevor had on when he’d OD’d. Then there was the computer set-up and all the paraphernalia in the house that led her to believe Trevor was into some serious computer programming business on the side
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43

of the full-time IT job she found out from Travis he had with
Marlowe
Industries
.

She thought that Trevor might have been leading a little double life. By day and during the week he was a responsible nine-to-fiver and by night and the weekends he was Mr. Wild Party Boi. Zara wondered how long he had been juggling the two lives, didn’t think he could have been doing it for too long before they eventually collided and burned him out. Like last night for instance.

“What’s wrong with you, Trev? You never say no to a free high.”

“I think it’s about time I did.”

“Oh, now don’t go telling me I’m losing my favorite customer.”

She noticed that he’d said favorite and not best and wondered, again, if Jazmon liked Trevor as more than just a source of steady income.

Someone pounded on the door and Zara jerked her gaze across the room, startled.

“I only got enough for you and me, mon. Not your party bois.”

Zara glanced back at him as she went to the door. “Gotcha.” When she looked through the peephole this time, her heart leapt before plummeting to her shoes with the ramifications of the new arrival. “Oh shit.”

“Who it be? Five-oh?”

“No.” It was much worse than the police. Oh fuck. She turned to Jazmon and said through her teeth, “Put that stuff away, now.”

“You said it wasn’t the cops. Who it be? Your boyfriend?” Jazmon laughed until he saw the look on Zara’s face.

“I know you’re home, Trevor. Open up,” Ramsey demanded.

Damn, Trevor was a popular guy today. Who was going to drop by next? His parents? That would just really be the icing on the cake. One Zara didn’t think she could digest right now.

Where were her angels when she needed them? Oh yeah, that’s right.

They had
abandoned
her.

Ramsey knocked on the door again.

Zara couldn’t stall any longer without making him more suspicious so she reached for the door, unlocked and opened it.

Ramsey stood on the threshold staring down at her for one long moment, gaze raking her from head to toe before he pushed the door all the way open and walked by her to stand in the middle of the living room. “I see 44

Gracie C. McKeever

you have company.” Ramsey looked down at Jazmon with not a little animosity and Jazmon returned the look with his easygoing smile and a salute.

“Hey mon.”

“Don’t ‘hey mon’ me. Are you or are you not here to sell my boyfriend drugs?”

“Oh, now that be a loaded question.”

Zara stepped in between Ramsey and Jazmon as Jazmon stood from the beanbag chair. “Jazmon was just leaving.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Ramsey said.

Zara pressed her hands against his chest and felt his heartbeat pound against her palms. She stopped just short of moaning and fondling his pecs as Jazmon stepped around them and saluted again before leaving the apartment.

Ramsey left her, marched across the room, closed and locked the door before turning back to her. “I’ve been gone, what, a few hours? And you’re already backsliding?”

“I wasn’t backsliding. He offered and I said no.”

“Why did you let him into the apartment in the first place?”

And why did she feel like a child being chastised by one of her parents?

Damn, this being Trevor wasn’t much different from being Zara. If it wasn’t her parents or Zack telling her how irresponsible and unwise she was, it was Quincy.

But Ramsey was right. She’d made a stupid mistake, which made her all the angrier with him for pointing out her flaws.

“You’re not my father,” she muttered.

“Are you sure about that?” Ramsey slid his belt from his jeans loops.