Blaze (Big D Escort Service Book 2) Page 7

  Nine

  Dave glanced at his phone as he walked through the apartment complex. His shirt flapped away from his bare chest, and the top button on his trousers stood open, revealing more skin than he usually did when enacting the Walk of Shame. That was saying something. He’d been in such a hurry to get out of there, he’d stopped at nearly buttoned up.

  A text message had come in from Colton. Where you at?

  Frowning, Dave noticed the time. Six o’clock.

  When was the last time Colton had texted that early?

  His first thought was that something might be wrong. The very next thought was Janie.

  On my way home, he texted back. What’s up?

  Stop by when you can. I want to show you something. Maddie is not pleased.

  Anything wrong?

  Not in the way you’re thinking.

  With a frown, Dave trudged up the steps to the apartment.

  “Oh shit!” One of the stoners from next door closed his door and walked toward Dave with a huge smile. “Dude. You are my hero.” He put up his hand for a high five.

  Dave paused for a moment, just to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. “Are those women’s yoga pants?”

  Joe—or was it Tim who had the fuzzy beard probably hiding a rodent or two?—looked down at himself. He adjusted his dick to not be so obvious. “Probably. I don’t know. I just put them on.”

  “Do you have—” Dave stopped himself. Why ask if they had a woman staying over? How could that possibly make it normal to pull on a pair of yoga pants without a man-sized crotch, legs a half a foot too short, and fitting issues in the thigh area?

  “Cool.” Dave turned the key. It slid too easily. Unlocked.

  He pursed his lips, because Janie needed to be better about locking the door in such a dumpy part of town.

  He pushed into the confines of his apartment and felt his shoulders relax. The smell of clean cotton from the air freshener wafted up to him. The feel of his surroundings calmed him. Helped him get past the night from hell.

  He tossed his clothes onto the couch, shrugged out of his shirt, and pushed down his slacks. All of those went into the pile. His shoes he slipped off where they were, leaving him entirely bare. Wallet went on the coffee table, as did his phone. He went and got himself a glass of water and gulped it down.

  He was halfway to his room when he stalled. He had a roommate now. He couldn’t just leave all his laundry for Janie to find. That wasn’t fair.

  He bowed over at the thought of tidying up. Exhaustion dragged at him.

  “Oh!”

  Dave’s head snapped up. Janie stood in her doorway with a teeny-tiny tank top and itty-bitty girl briefs. The pink fabric hugged the V between her upper thighs, promising the kind of delight that had haunted his dreams last night, making him toss and turn. The delight he’d wanted instead of what he’d had, something that had become painfully obvious when he’d struggled to maintain an erection. He’d had to keep the woman occupied with foreplay while the little blue emergency pill kicked in.

  “Sorry—” He gritted his teeth and tensed. He’d meant to apologize for the nudity, or maybe the mess of clothes she was about to find. Now, however, that sorry would also have to cover the hard-on that had finally showed up in full force.

  Ten hours too late!

  “Wow.” She grinned as she looked away. Her teeth raked against her full bottom lip. “That is quite an instrument you got there. And it was left switched on, in case you hadn’t noticed.” She laughed, an erotic sound—which was probably his mind playing tricks on his dick. “I was about to start the coffee brewing early. Want some?”

  He groaned at the sight of those briefs pulling up into her shapely butt, exposing half of her cheeks. He’d never seen briefs like that, and while they didn’t seem very practical, they were the hottest damn things he’d ever seen in his life.

  His shoulder hit the wall as he staggered into it. He bent over painfully, looking like a fool, but so close to rushing toward her and taking her he couldn’t think straight.

  “Is this a Jekyll and Hyde situation and I’m about to see the switch?” she asked from the kitchen. “Or maybe you’ve ingested poison and I should be calling 9-1-1… Blink once for yes, twice for—”

  “I’m good.” He straightened up painfully and sidestepped until the corner blocked his cock from her line of sight.

  His extremely lucid dreams of Janie last night had severely fucked with his mind. Severely. He was so far gone he didn’t know how to come back.

  “I need to get a few hours’ sleep.” He turned toward his room without another word.

  He needed to take a moment, jerk off, shower at the coldest possible setting, and sleep. All of those things were mandatory. In that order.

  It wasn’t until he had lain down in an attempt to sleep that he realized he hadn’t asked about her painting session. He wondered if she had started, and if so, what subjects she’d chosen, or if she was simply going for abstract. It wasn’t like he would understand much of what she said when she got into the nitty-gritty of her art, but he had every reason to suspect he’d still be fascinated. Just watching her eyes light up as she spoke about the work she loved would be enough.

  His eyes drooped. What seemed like a moment later, he felt a small hand on his shoulder, shaking. “Hey, dummy, wake up. Your phone won’t stop ringing. It’s probably important. Are you supposed to be balls deep in someone’s ass right now or something? Because clearly they can’t wait for a little pump and grind.”

  Her low, sultry voice slid across his skin like velvet. The stir in his cock was instantaneous, like he hadn’t thrown in an extra whack-it session and accidentally come all over the well.

  “Jesus. That thing is like a jack-in-the-box. Dave, wake up.”

  Something flicked the tip of his hard cock. His eyes snapped open of their own accord. He sat up in a rush. “What the fuck?”

  Janie stood over him with a scowl—one hand braced on her hip, the other holding his phone.

  “What?” he asked, panting. The dick flick didn’t escalate into pounding, or even stinging, pain. He gave a relieved, though shaky, exhale.

  “Here you go, playboy.” She held out his phone, and he realized she’d put on a bra, a loose shirt, and jeans.

  “What’s the problem?” He wiped his eyes.

  “You left your phone on the coffee table. It seems like every five seconds you get a text from a chick. It’s distracting. And someone named Betty has been calling for the last half-hour. Clearly you overslept for an appointment.”

  He snatched the phone out of her hands. “How long have I been out?”

  “Three hours.” She turned away from him.

  “And she’s been calling for half an hour? Or less?” His heart started to thud.

  After tapping Betty’s name, he hopped out of bed, accidentally bumping into Janie as he did so. He muttered an apology while hurrying to his dresser. “C’mon, pick up. Pick up.”

  “How late are you?” she asked, hesitating by the door. “And what are you supposed to be doing?” She rolled her eyes. “I have no idea why I find this whole thing fascinating.”

  “It’s not a gig.” The phone went to voicemail and his stomach clenched. “Damn it, Betty. Pick up!” He tapped it again. “Janie, is there coffee made?”

  Her brow settled low over her eyes. “It’s a little old because I didn’t know when you would wake up, but there is some.”

  He snatched out some sweats and a T-shirt and threw them on the bed. “Can you get me some, please? I need help. I have to—” It went to voicemail again. Adrenaline pushed his heart into his throat. “Fuck. I have to go. Now. It’s an emergency.”

  Confusion stole over her expression. “Okay. Sure.”

  Without another question, she disappeared from the door. He could hear her hurried footsteps down the hall.

  He tapped the speakerphone and then Betty’s name before grabbing some underwear. He put them on and slipped into the
sweats.

  “Here.” Janie rushed in with a travel mug, bless her heart. She’d figured out that he’d have to leave. “It’s hot. Give it a minute.” She put a bottle of water beside it on the dresser. “Water actually wakes you up faster than coffee, so you might want to drink that, too.”

  “Thanks.” He shrugged into his shirt. Fear surged through every ounce of his person.

  “It’s not my business, but who is Betty?” she asked in a small voice.

  “My mother. Our agreement is that if she thinks she might not make it through the day, she calls ten times in a half an hour. Last time it was because she had been on a drug binge for a week and didn’t want to go through life anymore. She’d slit her wrists.”

  Ten

  Janie felt the blood drain out of her face. Without thinking, she raced back down the hall and into her room, grabbing a sweatshirt and slipping into her runners. She was back out by the time Dave passed by, a terrified look on his face and his keys in his hand.

  She met him at the door.

  “Wha—” He scuffed his shoe on the floor and staggered into the door, his usual grace gone. His puffy eyes and disorientation suggested he still wasn’t completely awake. That, or fear for his mom was clouding his thoughts.

  She grabbed the keys out of his hand, opened the door, and pushed him out. That she could was a testimony to how out of it he was.

  “I’ll drive. Where’s your water and coffee?” She pointed at his empty hands.

  “Damn it—”

  “I got it.” She ran back into his room and snatched them off the dresser. The coffee splashed her wrist, burning her. She ignored it and ran back, thrusting the containers into his hands. “Let’s go.”

  He reached for his keys. “No. You shouldn’t come. Betty won’t be in her right mind. She isn’t fun to be around.”

  Janie ran around him, heading toward the parking area. “You fear for your mom. That means she has some good attributes in there somewhere. I grew up with a woman who doesn’t. At least not when it comes to me. Trust me, I’ll be fine.”

  As she neared his car, she chanced a glance back to make sure he was following.

  “Janie, please, give me the keys. This isn’t your concern.”

  “Atticus wasn’t yours. My life struggles aren’t yours. Yet you’ve helped me every step of the way. If I can stand by you, support you or help you, I will. Now hurry up; you’re wasting time by arguing.”

  She clicked the key fob and opened the driver’s-side door. His confusion was evident when she sat in the captain’s seat. “You’re loopy. It’ll be safer if I drive.”

  He got into the passenger side a moment later, sucking down the water.

  “Where to?” she asked, flipping into reverse and backing out much faster than he ever did. He reached for the dashboard to brace himself as water sloshed out of the bottle. “Oh sure, you get splashed by the cool water, whereas I get to be a burn victim.”

  “Take a right here.” He secured his drinks between his legs and worked at his phone. Moments later, Siri’s voice streamed from the speakers, telling her where to go.

  “Bluetooth. One day I’ll have a car with Bluetooth.” She stepped on the gas.

  “By the time you get it, the technology will have moved on.” He slurped down the rest of the water.

  “Is she in a home, or…” Janie let her words linger as she pushed past the speed limit.

  “Trailer park.” He cleared his throat. “Where I grew up.”

  She took the turn too fast and a smile slid up her face despite the circumstances. The car could really take a corner. “How nice for you. I got to grow up in the projects, kept safe by my stolen gun. I honestly don’t even know if it worked, but showing it around kept people off my back. That, and I once stabbed a guy who tried to get handsy. In the upper thigh. I was aiming for his crotch, but I missed. Probably a good thing. Last I heard, he still has a limp. How about you don’t try to take what ain’t yours, bitch?”

  She belatedly realized he was staring at her. A quick glance showed her his expression was unreadable.

  She turned onto the freeway before raising her hand. “I win.”

  He shook his head and looked away. “I guess you do. How’d you get a friend like Madison if you grew up poor?”

  “Cheating. Claiming someone else’s address as ours so I could get into a better high school, then committing a federal crime and going through their mail in case the school tried to contact me. How’d you hook up with Colton?”

  “My aunt lived in the school district. I stayed with her half the time. When things got bad at my house. My stepfather was abusive before I was old enough to fight back.”

  She did a so-so wag of her hand. “That one might be a tie. My mother slapped me a few times, but that was it. I guess you won’t be so embarrassed around me about this stuff anymore, huh?”

  “I should’ve known, honestly. I mean, I could tell you were a scrapper, like me, but I didn’t know to what extent. It makes sense I’d be drawn to someone with similar roots.”

  Heat rushed to her face and her stomach flipped with his admission. She pushed it away. He obviously meant as friends. “Now who’s slumming it?”

  Dave huffed once, all the laughter he could muster. His face still clearly showed the fear and worry he felt for his mom. “We’ll take turns slumming it. Now it’s my turn, and when you’re rich and famous, we’ll switch.”

  “That’s fair, I suppose.”

  After half an hour of strained conversation in which Janie kept trying to find something that might keep him from dwelling, they turned off the freeway. A few more turns and the cracked roads filled with potholes dwindled until they were cruising down a gravel lane.

  “We should’ve brought my car,” Janie said softly as they rolled through the entrance of the bent and badly leaning fence surrounding the trailer park. Dirt marred the various dwellings and weeds choked the tiny yards. One of the trailers had replaced a window with duct tape. “This one really sticks out.”

  “Here.” Dave pointed at a yellow-orange single-wide trailer with flaking white paint on the door and window frames and the broken picket fence out front, revealing the stained brown beneath. “I would’ve kept up the painting, but she said that her rich son made the neighbors think she was putting on airs, so I stopped.”

  Janie could hear the heartbreak in his voice. It squeezed a deep part inside her, making her want to put her arms around him.

  Before the car had even come to a complete stop, he flipped the lock and swung the door open, hopping out. She was out a moment later, running up the steps behind him as he turned the handle and pushed. Nothing happened.

  He peered in the window beside the door and then switched sides. Not seeing anything, he thumped back down the steps.

  She waited impatiently as he disappeared around the corner, probably headed to check out the back stairs. A moment later he was back, determination combating the terror in his expression. He moved Janie to the side gently before ramming the door with his shoulder. Wood groaned and the hinges squealed as it broke. Dave pushed through with Janie following close behind.

  Magazines lay scattered around the living room area, as though they had been stacked and someone had flung them off the coffee table. An empty pill bottle lay on the couch. The white cap rested beside one of the fallen magazines.

  “Betty?” Dave called, doing a frantic eye sweep.

  Janie grabbed the pill bottle and read the label. Xanax prescribed to Nora Hutchinson.

  “Betty!”

  Janie slipped the bottle into her pocket and hurried after Dave, who’d run down the short hall to the right. The fridge door stood open and food had been pulled out. Milk lay in a puddle on the crappy linoleum floor.

  A door stood open down the hall, and Dave’s broad back filled the frame. He had his hands up. Every muscle tensed on his sizable frame.

  “Put the gun down, Betty. This will pass,” he said, his voice quavering.

&nbs
p; A surge of adrenaline ran through Janie’s body. There was no way the older woman would go through with it now that her son was there, but it had obviously been close. How terrible.

  Janie’s middle ached. He truly did love and fear for his mother. He needed her. Janie was sure that the fridge had been stocked by him, or someone he employed. The ingredients were top quality, and she knew he bought the same brands for himself. The place was probably cleaned by a company every so often, judging by how orderly most things were, and the magazines were surely paid for by Dave.

  Dave whored it up to take care of his mother in any way he could. He worked his ass off to provide.

  Warmth and sadness filled Janie’s heart. He was only trying to do what was right. Maybe trying to make up for all the times he couldn’t help her with the abusive father. Or the times he’d spent in safety with his aunt while his mother was left to fend for herself. It wasn’t an original tale, but an extremely damaging one to softhearted people like Dave.

  The other piece of the puzzle was easy to see.

  Betty was on a drug trip of some kind, and her anger had been directed at Dave. She hated that her son babied her. Organic milk? A cleaner? He flashed his wealth around and made her the subject of her friends’ mockery. Janie could practically hear the gossip and snide remarks now.

  The catty bitches in this trailer park were jealous of Betty’s setup, of her rich son, and they made it known in passive-aggressive ways that warped a drug-twisted mind. Her rage at her son probably lasted only so long—then her love of her baby boy would take over and she’d feel sick for thinking such hateful thoughts. The anger would turn into self-loathing. Self-loathing would then turn into giving up.

  Janie’s mom had tried to use mind tricks on Janie, too. Tried to make her feel bad about herself. But Janie was a very different sort of woman, and she didn’t take that kind of crap from anyone.

  If only Betty had the same constitution, poor Dave wouldn’t have to be in this situation.

  Frustration and anger boiled up inside Janie. Judging by the practiced way Dave was now trying to talk Betty down, trying to coax her to let him in the room, to put down the gun, this was a situation on repeat. They’d been here multiple times before. This had to be something that constantly dragged Dave down. Something that was always in the back of his mind.