Salvation (8 page)

Even though I was tired, I didn’t fall
asleep right away. Instead, I tucked my hand behind my head and stared at the
ceiling. Despite spending most of the day worrying about my cousin, my thoughts
now drifted to Vincent.

I had to stay away from him, I knew that
for a fact. So what if he was the most gorgeous man I’d ever seen, and so what
if we had great chemistry? I could have been killed last night during that
high-speed chase, and who knows what would have happened if those men had
caught us? Plus, Vincent readily admitted that he was a criminal. I had no idea
what he was involved in, but it was obviously pretty hardcore. Why else would
thugs be chasing him?

The rest didn’t matter. It didn’t matter
that I kept thinking about his beautiful dark eyes and the way his hand felt in
mine, or that I kept remembering the way he held me securely and rubbed my back
soothingly while we were hiding in that storage closet. It didn’t matter that
I’d always wanted to be held like that, and before last night, I never had
been. It also didn’t matter than when we kissed, it felt like the first day of
spring after a bleak, miserable winter.

It didn’t even matter that I wanted him
with every part of me.

Spending time with him was obviously
dangerous, maybe even deadly, and I had more than just myself to think about.
What would happen to Melody and the baby if I got myself killed because I
couldn’t stay away from Vincent? Mel needed me. She didn’t have anyone to look
after her, certainly not that random guy she’d run off with after knowing him a
week.

I rolled onto my side and wrapped my
arms around myself, feeling really alone right then. It was something I was
used to. I closed my eyes and listened to the sounds of the city outside my
building. There was constant noise in this neighborhood, a cacophony of traffic
and car horns and people, the rattle of big trucks and buses, the
not-infrequent wail of a siren. Oddly, all of that felt reassuring somehow,
keeping me company until I finally drifted off to sleep.

Chapter
Five

It was dark when I awoke so I located my
camping lantern, another thrift shop find. It was so bright that it illuminated
the entire apartment. I took it to the bathroom with me, where I used the
facilities and brushed my teeth, then dragged a comb through my hair. Since I’d
slept in my clothes, same as always, I was ready to go once I slipped my feet
into my sneakers. I grabbed my phone and left the apartment, double checking
that the door was locked behind me, and as I jogged down the five flights of
stairs I patted my pockets to confirm that I had my bus pass and a few dollars
with me.

I wasn’t paying much attention to where
I was going, so when I burst through the front door of my building, I almost
collided with someone on their way in. “Well, that was easy,” a familiar voice
said. I looked up at Vincent, who was smiling at me. “I thought I’d have to go
apartment-to-apartment to find you, but here you are.”

“Oh! Hi. Did your cousin Carla tell you
where I live?”

“Yes. She didn’t know the apartment
number though, so this was lucky.”

“What are you doing here?” I asked. God
he looked good. Vincent was wearing a form-fitting black cashmere sweater and
dark indigo jeans. I stuck my hands in my pockets, fighting the urge to run my
palms over his broad chest.

“I wanted to see if you’d come and have
a drink with me. I would have called first, but I didn’t have your number.”

I hesitated for a long moment before
saying quietly, “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“I see.” After another pause, during
which I looked at anything but him, he said, “You weren’t going to call me,
were you?”

“I don’t know. Probably not.”

“I didn’t mean to make this awkward. I
was just hoping you hadn’t made up your mind about me yet.” There was something
in his tone that made me glance up at him. It was as if he’d shut down his
emotions, his expression grave. He stepped aside, clearing the way for me.
“Don’t let me keep you, it looks like you have somewhere you need to be.”

“Yeah. Um, I’m going to visit Skye at
his job. He’s a dancer at this place called Daddy’s Boiz, and I don’t know, I
guess I have a bad feeling about it. I was going to go and check it out, make
sure it’s all, you know, legitimate or whatever.” I was rambling a bit, because
this situation made me really uncomfortable. I didn’t want to do this, I didn’t
want to push Vincent away. But how could I knowingly get involved with a
criminal? How could I keep putting myself in danger?

He knit his brows slightly. “I’ve heard
of that place, it has a bad reputation. Maybe you shouldn’t go down there.”

“I’ll be fine. I’m just worried about
Skye, and I think I’ll feel better after I see this place for myself.” After
another awkward pause, I forced myself to step around him and head down the
stairs, my hands still in my pockets to keep from reaching for him. “Take care
of yourself, Vincent.”

“You too, Trevor.”

I didn’t look back as I walked down the
street to the bus stop.
You’re doing the right thing
, I told myself,
even as another part of me screamed
no, no, no!
He was bad news, I didn’t
want any part of whatever he was involved in. This was the right choice, the
mature decision.

Wasn’t it?

When the bus arrived, it was almost
empty. I sat toward the back and put my feet on the seat, hugging my knees to
my chest as I rested my forehead against the window. More than one rider over
the years had carved graffiti into the glass, probably out of sheer boredom.
One tag caught my attention and I sat up and blinked at it, then ran a
fingertip over the tiny word. Some other Trevor had sat in this same seat and
scratched his name into the window. It wasn’t like the other tags, most of
which were bold and screamed for attention. Instead, this one was a whisper.
Trevor.
I could relate to my namesake, to this other boy who’d felt the need to leave a
little mark behind, a tiny declaration of ‘hey, I’m here.’ He and I probably
had a lot in common.

After a couple transfers, I got off the
bus in an unfamiliar part of town. It wasn’t far from the financial district
and a few big hotels, but the neighborhood was still fairly sleazy. I passed
several bars and clubs, then finally found Skye’s place of employment. Red neon
spelled out the club’s name above a series of plexiglass cases that covered the
front of the building, each containing color posters of different (barely
legal) shirtless boys. Oh man, this was as bad as the business card, only on a
larger scale.

I went up to the bouncer and started to
say, “I’m here to see—”

Before I finished my sentence, he held
the door open for me and said with a leer, “Go right in. Always room for one
more cute little twink.”

The interior of the club was really loud
and fairly dark, except for the spotlights that shone on more than a dozen
little platforms around the room. Young guys, many in pairs, were dancing on those
platforms dressed only in skimpy, tight shorts. The young wait staff wore the
same thing, but with the addition of sneakers and cropped tank tops that did
little to cover them up.

I spotted my friend across the room.
While most of the dancers played to the audience, moving their bodies
provocatively to the pulsating techno music, Skye was just dancing, eyes
closed, hands raised over his head as if he was on the dance floor of any club
in the city, clearly enjoying himself. He looked gorgeous. The baggy clothes he
usually wore hid the fact that he actually had an amazing swimmer’s body, lean,
perfectly toned and currently glistening with sweat.

Even though he wasn’t doing anything
lewd like his fellow dancers, the tables around him were full. At first I was
surprised that he drew a crowd, since he wasn’t being overtly sexual. But all
of a sudden, I got it. I understood why he was so appealing in a place like
this.

Skye, like his dancing, was pure and
innocent. He was just up there having a good time, seemingly oblivious to the
leering crowds. But to the type of men this club attracted, his beauty, youth,
and naïveté were an aphrodisiac. To them, his innocence must seem like a pretty
bow on a present, something enticing, but that was ultimately meant to be
stripped away as they claimed their prize.

“Hey sexy, can I buy you a drink?”

I was startled by the voice close beside
me and turned to look at the sixty-year-old man that had spoken, his eyes
roving slowly down my body. “No,” I said tersely, taking a step back from him.

He actually held up a few bills, rubbing
them between his fingers as he said, “I’ll be at the bar if you change your
mind.” Ugh! I felt like I needed a shower after that five second conversation.

When I realized several patrons at nearby
tables were eyeing me like I was dinner, I crossed my arms over my chest
defensively and hurried to Skye’s station. Thankfully, the music ended just a
minute later and an unseen announcer said, “The boys will be taking a short
break. Make sure you show your appreciation, gentlemen, they’re dancing their
sexy little asses off for you!”

Skye hopped down nimbly from the stage
and dragged the back of his hand over his forehead. Immediately he was
surrounded by a group of men, all of which were trying to hand him something,
whether it was cash, or their business card, or a drink. He smiled brightly at
a stocky middle-aged man to his left and accepted a tumbler of clear liquid,
which he drank thirstily, then gathered the bills and cards that were being
waved at him, his smile genuine as he thanked his admirers.

While all of this was going on, a couple
more men offered to buy me drinks. I declined their offers, then waved my
hands, trying to get Skye’s attention. There were so many men around him that I
couldn’t get near him. Finally he saw me, his cute face completely lighting up.
From here, I could see his lips form the words ‘excuse me,” before he cut
through the crowd.

“Trevor!” He grabbed me in a hug. “You
came, I’m so glad! See, this place isn’t so bad, is it? You could do the same
thing I’m doing, we could share a platform!” He took my hands as best he could,
given the fact that he was holding a lot of stuff, and began dancing with me
(despite the fact that I remained perfectly immobile), swaying his body even
though there was no music playing and brushing against me playfully. Several
club patrons stopped what they were doing to stare at his little show, which
made me really uncomfortable.

We were near a door marked ‘employees
only,’ and I kept hold of Skye’s hand as I said, “I need to talk to you,” then
began leading him toward the door.

“Where do you think you’re taking him?”
someone asked. I recognized the patron that had handed Skye a drink when he
first got off the stage.

“He’s on break,” I said.

“Too bad,” the man said angrily. “He
stays out here.”

Even though he had thirty years and
sixty pounds on me, I hit him with a hard glare and snapped, “I said he’s on
break.” I knew I was about as intimidating as a squirrel, but maybe if I acted
rabid enough, this person would leave us alone.

Okay, that didn’t seem to be happening,
so I went with ignoring him and dragging my friend away despite the man’s
protests. I pushed through the employees-only door and when it swung shut
behind us, Skye said, “I’m really not supposed to leave the floor, not unless I
have to pee real quick. The management wants us to stay out there so the
clients buy us drinks. It increases the club’s profits.” He slurred that last
part a little, then swayed slightly. “Whoa, I must not have eaten enough
today.” Then he changed the subject by saying, “Well, as long as I’m back here,
let me put this stuff in my locker.” He held up the fistfuls of bills and
business cards he was clutching, then took off toward a deserted locker room to
our right.

“Skye, we need to talk about this
place,” I said as I trailed after him.

“I know the club seems kind of weird at
first,” he said, going up to one of the lockers and swaying again as he spun
the dial on the padlock, “but everyone’s been really nice to me. I was kind of
worried when I first applied for the job a couple weeks ago. I mean, this isn’t
normally my kind of place, you know? But it’s not like a strip club or
anything, I don’t have to get naked. And even though the customers try to hit
on me, all I have to do is say no.” He was having a bit of trouble with the
lock, and finally got it open on the fourth or fifth try.

“Are you okay?” I asked as he swayed
again. “Maybe you should sit down.”

“I think you’re right.” He grabbed a
blue backpack from inside the locker, then tried to sit on a nearby bench. He
almost missed, and I caught his arm to help him.

“Are you drunk, Skye?”

“I don’t think so. I’ve only had three
or four drinks over the last two hours.” He unzipped his pack and stuffed the
money and business cards inside, then started to tip over backwards. I grabbed
him again and sat beside him, holding him up. “Don’t know what’s wrong,” he
slurred. When he looked at me, his eyes were almost fully dilated.

“Did you take any drugs?”

He shook his head. “Never. Oh wow, I
don’t feel so good.”

Dread began to build in me as I said, “I
think someone may have slipped you something.”

“What? No. Who would do that?”

“Half the men in that bar.” I suddenly
felt like I needed to get Skye away from here, and fast. “Put your shoes on.”
Awkwardly, I helped him stuff his feet into his sneakers. Before I could get
his shirt on him, he passed out. It was all I could do to catch him and swing
him onto the concrete floor.

Shaking him did nothing, he was out
cold. I checked his pulse, which seemed a bit fast. The dread was replaced with
anxiety. If he
had
been drugged, whoever had done that might decide to
come back here and collect their prize. I quickly shoved his clothes in his
backpack and zipped it shut, then stuck my arms through the straps, all while
trying to figure out how to get my friend out of here.

Just then, someone barged into the
locker room and demanded, “Where’s Skye? I’m not paying him to hide in the
fucking locker room!” A man with a shaved head and a thick gold chain appeared
in the doorway. When he noticed my friend splayed out on the floor, he asked,
“Is that little shit drunk? What the hell’s going on?”

I stood up and squared my shoulders,
putting myself between the stranger and Skye’s prone body. “Who are you?” I
asked.

“Who am I? I’m the owner of this club,
you little fuck. Who the hell are you?”

Instead of answering, I said, “I think
my friend was drugged by one of your patrons.”

“How dare you make those kind of fuckin’
accusations in my club! If any drugs were involved, that kid took ‘em
willingly. When he comes to, tell him his ass is fired. Now get him off my
property! That’s all I need, some addict ODing on the premises.”

“That’s really awesome, the way you care
about your employees,” I muttered.

Since the situation was already out of
control, it was probably best not to antagonize this guy any further. I grabbed
Skye by the armpits and hoisted him up as best I could, then dragged him out
the back exit, which fortunately was only a few feet away. As soon as the heavy
door swung shut behind us, I sat down in the alley and held his head on my lap.
It wasn’t easy dragging someone who weighed as much as I did, and I needed to
rest for a minute.