I stared into my third cup of battery acid disguised as coffee, last night’s humiliation slamming into me in nauseating waves.
The L train screamed outside for the seventeenth time since dawn. I know that because I hadn’t slept and had been counting every time the damn thing passed.
I was dead tired, but every time I closed my eyes, I saw his face. The disappointment. The dismissal. The sharp, cold cut of his jaw as he’d told me to get out.
I shifted on Kenzie’s couch, and the springs dug into my kidneys. Apparently, even the furniture was set on torturing me. I put up with it until Kenzie eventually got out of bed, their pink hair, which was a mess of spikes, as always, looked like they had been playing with electrical outlets.
“Jesus, you look like you didn’t sleep. Or get off. Rough night?” They grabbed a mug with a faded rainbow flag and made themselves tea. They tried to hide it, but I could see how they assessed me with the look people give stray dogs they considered adopting before letting rationality win out.
I stared at my hands, picking at the frayed hem of my shirt. The threads unraveled like my goddamn sanity. “You could say that.”
“Trouble in Benefactor paradise already?” They hopped onto the counter, bare feet thumping against the cabinets in a rhythm that scraped my nerves raw. “Thought you’d at least milk it for a few weeks before he got bored.”
Their words cut deeper into the divots of my shame. Why the fuck did I care if Silas got bored with me? This was about cash, nothing else. About not sleeping on the street when Marco returned in three weeks—two weeks and five days, actually—and reclaimed his apartment. Kenzie would land on their feet; they always did. They had a job. Income. Even if it was scraping minimum wage.
Me? I was a ticking clock with an eviction notice as my fairy godmother.
Bad luck clung to me like a stench, though most people just called it my “attitude problem.”
Not my fault my last boss got wasted during inventory and thought my ass was part of the stock to be handled. Not my fault the sleazebag couldn’t stay upright when I shoved him off me, or that he crashed into his own fucking stock. He had thousands of dollars of booze shattered across his storeroom floor, and somehow, I was the problem.
I just needed one fucking break and a cash infusion that didn’t involve selling organs.
But then that’s what this Aspirant gig promised, right? A payday. Ninety days of yes-Sir-no-Sir bullshit for a man who pissed money. Then I’d walk with enough cash to rent some place where I could start a real life for myself. This was just another job to endure. Another suit to tolerate until I could afford four walls that belonged to me and a mattress without springs that created bruises. Maybe even a ceiling without water stains shaped like Nixon’s jowly face watching me sleep.
So why did Silas’s disappointment last night carve a hole in my chest I didn’t know how to refill?
He’d tossed me out like I was nothing. A kid who couldn’t resist licking the candy, or some other fucked-up analogy that described whatever the hell had happened between us in that hotel room.
“So, what happened?”
Damn Kenzie. Always asking the questions rattling in my head.
“I fucked up,” I muttered, shoving my mug away. The coffee had gone cold, a skin of oil floating on the surface like a dirty puddle that told me I hadn’t washed the mug properly. Or maybe I had, and our tap water was just that shitty. “Made a mistake during… you know.”
Kenzie’s eyebrows launched toward their hairline. “During ‘the sex?’” The way they said that made me roll my eyes. “What, you call him ‘Daddy’ when he wanted ‘Master’?”
Heat crawled up my neck and bloomed across my face like a rash. “Oh my god, Kenzie!”
“What?” they asked. They had the power of oblivion that made them blind to my actual situation. “You’ve got an old dude willing to pay to shove his shriveled cock up your ass. What else could have gone wrong?” Before I could say anything else, they added, “Are you loose?”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” I swore. No, I was not loose. I was nice and tight, and the last time I’d had anything up there other than my index finger was months ago. God.
But I didn’t want to give Kenzie a fucking play-by-play though, even if my words did stutter. “It’s not… we didn’t even…”
But it was exactly like that, wasn’t it? No fucking way I could explain kneeling blindfolded in a hotel room until my knees bruised. I couldn’t tell them about pressing my tongue against expensive carpet fibers, about the leather taste of Silas’s shoes against my lips as I ‘showed my obedience’. Or about how words had spilled out when I was supposed to stay silent while jerking myself off in front of him.
How do you explain that being kicked out like a stray dog wasn’t the worst part? That the real knife-twist was seeing disappointment flash in those steel-gray eyes as he’d closed the door in my face.
How could I talk about how I’d failed him?
“He’s very… particular,” I said, the understatement burning my tongue. “There are rules.”
“Rules? For fucking?” Kenzie snorted, spraying coffee droplets across the counter. “What, no eye contact? No kissing? Don’t fall in love with the moneybags?” They puckered their lips in an exaggerated smooch.
“Something like that.” I stood so fast the chair scraped the linoleum and then I dumped my mug in the sink where it clattered against the rest of the unwashed dishes. “I need a shower.”
“Hey.” Kenzie’s voice softened to the tone people use with wounded animals. “For real, though. You okay, Jay? He’s not hurting you, is he?”
Yes.
No.
Not with his hands. Not in ways that left bruises you could photograph or allowed for statements that made any semblance of sense.
No. Silas had hurt nothing but my pride.
“I’m fine. Just didn’t sleep.” I stretched my lips into what felt more like a grimace than a smile. “And the money would’ve been sweet, you know? For rent. For not being your problem when Marco drags his ass back.”
Kenzie flicked their wrist as if they were shooing a fly. “I get it. Sucks your sugar daddy turned out to be a prima donna.”
If only they knew half of it.
I fled to the bathroom, the lock clicking with finality behind me. Steam still clung to the mirror from Kenzie’s earlier shower, a ghostly shroud over everything in the tiny space. I dragged my palm across the glass, leaving a streak of clarity that reflected a confused face. A stranger stared back at me, hollow-eyed and uncertain. I barely recognized myself.
When had I started looking like this?
And what the fuck was happening to me?
Just like that, I felt a surge of anger. I’d signed up to be some loaded bastard’s toy for quick cash; I hadn’t agreed to this hollow ache in my chest. I hadn’t signed away the right to sleep or eat or think about anything but him.
When had I started craving approval from a man who saw me as nothing but a signature on paper and a body to command?
When my phone buzzed in my pocket, my heart nearly stopped. Thank fuck I wasn’t still in the lounge room as I would have made a bloody idiot of myself as I scrambled to get it free from my jeans.
A notification from the Vault Messenger.
From him.
I swiped it open, my hands shaking so badly I had to try twice.
