CHAPTER NINE
“Hey, baby, you awake?”
Gabriel turned over in bed, his left knee twisting in the covers, the twinge of pain enough to remind him that he needed to stretch out before doing anything dramatic like getting out of bed.
“Yeah,” he called, and shuffled to sit upright a bit more. He wanted to be respectful to Stefan and give him the attention he deserved. It wouldn’t be right to be slouching about in bed when Stefan was probably bringing in coffee and toast, or something like that anyway.
Stefan pushed in with a mug in one hand, mail under his arm, and his iPad in the other.
“I have something to show you,” Stefan said, and sat on the side of the bed. “The money came in from that client at the Stafford Hotel.”
“Good.”
“He sent us a lot of money, more than I was expecting. You know anything about why he’d do that?”
“No,” Gabriel said.
“What did you quote him when you agreed to it all? It’s a lot of money sitting in the account.” Stefan sounded proud, and Gabriel smiled at him. There was nothing better than breakfast in bed with Stefan talking over how well Gabriel had done in the few days previous.
“Six hundred; I never thought he’d take it,” Gabriel said.
“Six hundred, eh? For four hours.”
“Yeah.”
“He’s sent us a thousand—that’s some tip.”
Stefan reached out a hand and circled Gabriel’s wrist, and Gabriel knew better than to pull away even when it tightened fractionally and burned a little. Stefan rubbed his thumb over the scar there, right on the wrist.
“I did a good job,” Gabriel defended himself. And he had. He’d played his part, and Cam had seemed happy when Gabriel left. Added to which he’d come all over Gabriel’s hand and the expression of bliss on his face when he’d peaked was something Gabriel could keep locked away in his head. The expression had been pure pleasure, untouched by darkness in any way.
“You were his escort, his companion. No sex, right?”
“Stefan—”
“The parameters agreed, the rules we listed before this, said that there would be no sex, like he asked.”
“I know, but—”
“What did you do, Gabriel?” The grip on his wrist tightened and fear flared inside him. He’d done this, fucked up again, gone against what Stefan had said. Why did he even think he could make decisions like that for himself?
“He was pissed off with his family, so I gave him a handjob and got him off.”
The hand holding his wrist flew up and slapped him around the face, the coffee in his hand slopping over the side and onto his bare chest. He couldn’t help it, he yelped, a strange, twisted sound that he couldn’t keep in. Stefan hated it when he made a noise. Another slap pushed his head back to the headboard, and he tried to put the coffee away from him only to have it yanked from his hand. Another slap turned into more of a punch, right on his shoulder, and he moved sideways in the bed, his trapped knee twisting.
“Fucking idiot,” Stefan snapped. “You break the fucking rules and no one will want your ass, not even me.”
“Stef—”
“If he doesn’t repeat request, then it’s your fault for fucking off a cash cow, you stupid fucking idiot.”
Another hit. This one connected with his chest. And there was more shouting. “You want to go live on that fucking farm with all the other victims? Huh? You want to go stay with Kyle who writes to you about horses and barns? You want to give up the chance of a new life and shovel shit for the rest of your life?”
Stefan yanked back the covers, exposing his naked body to the cold air.
“No, I don’t,” Gabriel said. He writhed away from Stefan, but Stefan was bigger, stronger, and filled with righteous anger, and Gabriel knew this was all his fault. He shouldn’t have fallen for sapphire eyes and a sad expression; he should have done what Stefan had agreed to and left.
Stefan shoved his iPad to the floor and straddled Gabriel, pinning his hands above his head and holding them there with one of his hands. With his free hand, he circled Gabriel’s throat.
“I don’t want to,” Gabriel said.
“Did I not make it clear?” Stefan snarled. “Was I not one hundred percent fucking clear about what you needed to do? You were a broken soul, and I saved you, and you repay me with this shit?”
He pressed hard against Gabriel’s windpipe, held his hand there, his eyes inches from Gabriel’s and his mouth constantly moving. Gabriel’s vision blurred and darkened. Was this what it was like for Cam? Pure, blue-eyed Cam, with his broken gaze. Gabriel could see spots, knew he was losing consciousness, and only at that moment did he stop struggling.
He hadn’t been wrong. What he’d done for Cam had been because he’d known he could make someone else’s pain vanish. It’s not wrong. I wasn’t wrong.
Silence, and Stefan was climbing off him, wiping at the mess he’d left coming on Gabriel’s belly.
“Look what you made me do,” he said with genuine regret in his tone. Then he pressed a kiss to Gabriel’s forehead. “I’ll make you a new coffee, baby,” he added.
And he left.
Gabriel wanted to curl onto his side and cry, but if Stefan was coming back…he needed to move.
Then he saw the letter on the floor, addressed to him, the envelope torn open. Another letter from Legacy Ranch. He reached over to push it under the bed. There couldn’t be an excuse to upset Stefan anymore.
That move had the cum on his belly pooling and sliding off onto the covers. He wiped at the mess with the corner of the sheet, knowing he would put every piece of fabric on this bed in the wash. Stefan never usually got angry like that inside Gabriel’s bedroom; not in his sanctuary.
Stefan came in, all smiles, flinging open the curtains to a bright new day, talking about their healthy bank balance and how Gabriel’s percentage would be nearly two hundred dollars.
That wasn’t much, but he had fucked up.
Now if only Cam would call again; then he could make everything right with Stefan.
“Remember you’ve nothing booked for today. You may want to get yourself ready and get out into the real world. You can’t stay in bed forever.” He tutted and crossed his arms over his chest. “Can’t have you going out looking like you got into a fight. I’m out for the rest of the day. Have fun.”
Stefan left, and only thirty minutes after the front door slammed did he dare to pull out the letter; it was dated two days ago and in different handwriting than usual, although the tone of it suggested the same author, maybe dictating. He read on.
Gabriel, this is Jason, Kyle hurt his hand yesterday and had to have stitches which makes it all kinds of painful for him to hold a pen. The idiot. I told him not to try and pull that nail out of the wood without protection, but no, he had to do it anyway. Anyway, he’s sitting next to me so I have to write what he says. Some guy turned up looking for Mistry yesterday. Said he’d lost her and did we have her, and Kyle called up to the house and Darren and Jack came down and went all bad ass on him. I didn’t like the guy, looked a bit shifty, but Kyle said we should try and be polite. Sometimes I think Kyle is too nice for his own good.
Ouch, Kyle just smacked me one. The ass. So, yeah, picture this, Jack is saying that it was convenient that this guy wanted Mistry back after we’d all spent time and thousands of dollars on getting her all fixed up. Darren added that he could give a full accounting of the costs that would need to be repaid, and Jack said that as soon as the guy handed over papers of proof, and a check, that he could have Mistry back. He left, but I think he’s trouble, watch this space.
Kyle just told me to write to tell you to visit, like he does all the time.
He just smacked me again, I swear, this is getting out of hand. But you gotta love the guy.
Anyway, that’s the latest news, and Kyle says hi, and more next week.
The letter was signed with a scrawl that looked something like the name Jason. This was letter thirty-three. They’d begun to arrive a year ago, charting Kyle and Jason’s messy, happy home life on a ranch.
Gabriel ached with the need to see the place, but he would never go.
Seeing the name Darren there was too much. It had been Darren’s brother Hank who had abused Gabriel at the Bar Five Ranch, and Darren had sent a check to Gabriel to pay him off. The letter with it had spoken of sorrow and guilt, and how Darren would always be there if Gabriel needed him.
Fuck that.
Stefan had taken the letter and the check, cashed the check, and laughed when he burned the letter.
“Like anyone else cares about you the same as me,” he’d said.
So no, Gabriel didn’t want to hear what Darren fucking Castille was doing.
He showered and dressed, making sure his clothes covered whatever bruises there were. They’d be gone soon; not much marked his sun-bronzed skin. And all the time he thought about the ranch, and Stefan, and that pure, perfect moment when every care and worry had disappeared from Cam’s face as he was coming.
He wasn’t ever going to Legacy Ranch.
I’m not going there. Stefan needs me. Stefan saved me.
Then he caught sight of a bruise he couldn’t cover, high on his forehead—nothing too obvious, but he could see it if he looked closely enough.
Stefan pulled me from that street corner and brought me home. Gave me food. Gave me a bed. Saved me.
He picked up a jacket and left the apartment, his cell in his pocket and no destination in mind. Sometimes he liked to walk the streets of Dallas, dressed in his smart jeans and nice shirt, but today he wanted to get into a different headspace. He stopped for a coffee, sitting with a whole load of tourists all taking selfies in front of the building which, he picked up, had been used in an episode of Dallas way back in the eighties. For the longest time he nursed his coffee and people-watched and tried really hard not to think of anything.
But that wasn’t possible, because he had too much to think about that he couldn’t push to one side.
When he thought back to the day of the trial, he just remembered crying.
The words had been there, explaining what had happened to him, and he recalled seeing the two others who had suffered at the hands of a sadistic bastard—a young kid, Daniel, and a man older than him, Kyle. Neither of them had cried.
But Gabriel had cried when he arrived there, cried as he spoke, and sobbed in the car afterward.
Stefan had held his hand in the car, driving one-handed and reassuring him that everything was going to be okay. He’d even bought Gabriel a suit.
“You have to look like a normal person, Angel,” he’d said as he’d knotted Gabriel’s tie before they left the apartment. The tie had hurt because the bruising on his neck was new, and Gabriel always knew that was when the crying started.
Stefan said he looked so pretty when he cried, talked about his dark eyes being soft.
“Is anyone sitting here?” A voice broke into his reverie, and he looked up into the face of a kid, no more than ten or so, with a family behind him.
“I was just leaving,” Gabriel lied, and stood up, picking up his cup and then wondering what the hell to do with the delicate china he’d been given. He went back inside and placed the cup on the counter, then left, walking past the family of four—mom, dad, two sons—laughing over something on a phone in the middle of the table.
Familiar feelings of envy rose to the surface, and he pushed them away. He hadn’t ever needed a dad, or a brother, but he’d loved his mom.
Now he loved Stefan, and if he wasn’t careful Stefan wouldn’t be part of his world. Getting those letters from Kyle was causing a problem. At first Stefan had been intrigued, telling Gabriel he should make an effort with the obscenely rich Campbell-Hayes family, adding that they owed Gabriel. How he figured that, Gabriel didn’t know, and he’d said so. He had a tenuous connection to Darren, who worked for them, and that was it.
Ever since then, when a letter arrived there was a rage in Stefan that scared Gabriel.
The letters needed to stop.
He pulled out his cell and the last letter, which was folded in his pocket, and with no thought other than to make it all stop, he dialed the number written carefully at the top of the paper. The phone rang three times, and relief began to manifest in his chest when it seemed that there was no one to answer. Then the ringing stopped and the call connected.
“Legacy Ranch,” a voice announced.
“I need to talk to Kyle,” Gabriel said before he could second-guess himself.
“Kyle! Phone for you!”
There was a clatter as the phone was clearly dumped somewhere—a table, or a counter, or the floor, maybe. Then another noise as it was picked up.
“Kyle Braden. Can I help?”
Kyle had a soft voice. Gabriel remembered the tone from the trial. The skinny guy had had green eyes that were sunken, and he’d looked gaunt and exhausted. The only part of the story of his life that Gabriel knew was the fact that they’d both suffered at the hands of Hank Castille.
“You have to stop writing those letters,” Gabriel snapped.
There was a moment of silence, then Kyle spoke. “Gabriel, is that you?”
“Stop writing the letters. My friend Stefan doesn’t like it.”
“It’s real nice to hear from you,” Kyle said. His tone was less business and warmer now, the cadence of it soothing.
“Stop. Okay?”
More silence, and the noise that had been in the background vanished; seemed Kyle had shut himself in somewhere quiet.
“How are you doing?” Kyle asked.
Why the hell did Kyle want to know that?
“Stop writing them, understand?”
Before he could second-guess himself, he ended the call, then stared at his cell with abrupt disbelief of what he’d just done. Stefan would be pissed if he found out; he’d explicitly said that if Gabriel ever contacted anyone at Legacy, he needed to manage what Gabriel said. Stefan knew best, so why had Gabriel even thought it would be a good idea to call?
Because this is my life. Because I have bruises.
An incoming text scared the shit out of him so much that he almost dropped the phone because he’d been so deep in thought.
The message was simple.
Are you free? I want to book you this afternoon. Who was this from? And then another text from the same number. Cameron Stafford. Sorry, forgot to say that.
Gabriel’s first instinct was to say no. He didn’t want to open himself up to seeing Cam in any way, but he knew Stefan would want to comment on this.
He fired off a quick text to Stefan to ask if Cam was a client he wanted Gabriel to see. Stefan answered immediately.
Do it and don’t fuck it up. Leave him wanting more.
Gabriel looked at the time, added on an hour to get himself ready, then texted a time to Cam.
Half of him expected the return text to be a negotiation on something—time, more about money, questions about Gabriel—but all the that came back from Cam was a reminder of the room number.
People walked past his hiding place on their way to wherever they were going. Work, or maybe they were heading up to Klyde Warren Park, but they all had purpose. And he bet none of them had a purpose that included being paid for sex in the afternoon.
He straightened his back, rolled his neck, and pocketed his cell.
Show time.
He knocked on the door and heard Cam on the other side call, “Come in.” He tried the handle, thinking that was some kind of wind-up, but the door opened. He didn’t know what he was expecting to see inside. Some of his clients were already buck naked, some dressed in an approximation of what they considered sexy, but Cam? He was on the floor with Gidget on his stomach and they were fighting over a chew toy. He shouldn’t find it cute, but he did. Gidget was a nice dog, reminded him of the dogs on the ranch when he’d been a kid.
When his mom had still been alive.
Before it had all gone to hell.
Cam rolled up into a standing position and Gidget stood at his side, both of them looking right at Gabriel.
“Hey,” Cam said, and brushed at his chest. His black T-shirt, all kinds of casual, emblazoned with a logo that included a faded rainbow and writing, was covered in dog hair. “How’s that?” he asked, spreading his arms, and Gabriel wasn’t sure what he needed to comment on. Was it the shirt, the dog hair, the muscles of Cam’s arms, or the fact that Cam was fucking gorgeous?
“How’s what?” That seemed like a safe question.
“Did I get all the hair off?”
Gabriel moved closer. “Nope,” he said, and wondered if he should be brushing it away.
Cam laughed at that, and in a smooth move he pulled the T-shirt off and gripped it in one hand. “I need a clean shirt,” he announced.
But Gabriel wasn’t listening, not really. Cam wasn’t built or muscle bound, he was slim, his chest hair the same blond as his hair, his cinnamon nipples slightly erect, probably due to the AC that blasted into the room, counteracting the heat outside. And the hair below his navel disappeared into the band of his loose sweats. Those same sweats hung on his hips, his stomach flat, and in there, hidden away, was something that Gabriel couldn’t forget.
The weight and feel of Cam’s sex was the stuff of his fantasies at the moment. That and the look on the man’s face.
“Is everything okay?” Cam asked a little uncertainly.
“Yeah?”
“Sorry, you’re just super quiet. Hang there a minute.” He walked confidently past the sofa and through a door, coming back a little later pulling a new T-shirt over his head, this a Dallas Cowboys one.
“How do you know what you’re wearing?” Gabriel blurted out before he could stop himself. He should keep his mouth shut. Stefan was right; when Gabriel asked stupid questions, he didn’t just embarrass himself, but Stefan as well.
But Cam didn’t seem fazed by the question.
“I have this system. First off Six describes everything, and then everything in my closet is grouped by type, so you know, button-downs in one place, T-shirts in another, and then there’s this.” He came closer to Gabriel and stopped. “Feel this.”
He held out a hand, and Gabriel took it, allowing himself to be guided to touch a raised profile of bumps in the hem of the T.
“Is that braille?”
“Yep. Tells me this is a Cowboys shirt, and it’s dark blue. Right?”
“Yeah.” All Gabriel could think was that Cam was real close, and that the scent of him was so familiar that Gabriel was actually feeling the low pull of arousal. That hadn’t happened in forever.
Cam stepped back, and Gabriel wanted to follow, but he didn’t.
“Money,” Cam announced, and crossed to a bureau, pulling out an envelope. “Should cover me into the evening.” Then he frowned. “Unless you’re already booked out tonight.”
Gabriel took the envelope and opened it. Always count the money. There was enough there for a midnight finish—a lot of money.
“No, you have me for the rest of the day.”
“Okay then,” Cam said with a grin. “Come on.”
Gabriel was flustered after all these years; faced with that smile, he’d forgotten his job. He needed to negotiate what was happening here, but he’d lost the power of speech. Gidget had given up and padded into the kitchen, and just that small barrier between them was gone now.
“What do you want?” Gabriel asked, professional and to the point.
Cam tilted his head. “As much as we can fit in,” he said. “I need to get you out of my head, and I really need to get off.”
Okay, a transaction like that was one Gabriel could handle. He stepped up into Cam’s space and fisted his T-shirt. His part of this deal was to start things off using what he’d learned about Cam, and the biggest thing was the talking.
“You want me to make you feel good?” he asked.
His voice sounded a little alien to him, like he wasn’t putting all his effort into it, and that single thought made him angry with himself. Frustrated that he couldn’t get into character, he yanked at Cam, then began to push him back, right up against the wall by the bedroom door. Cam let out a soft oomph as he hit the wall but he didn’t yank himself away. Gabriel moved up close, pressing his weight against Cam.
“You shouldn’t have bothered putting your shirt on,” he said, and lifted it up over Cam’s head and tossed it to the floor.
Actually faced with being able to touch Cam properly, he forgot what he needed to do next.
Nipples, belly, lower, cock, done.
But all he wanted was the one thing not many of his clients wanted. Kissing. And right now, all rules about asking permission were forgotten, and he cradled Cam’s face. “I’m going to kiss you until you can’t breathe,” he announced.
“Uh-huh,” Cam murmured and went limp against the wall.
He was so gorgeous, and kissing this man would be worth every minute that Gabriel put into the work. He controlled the kiss, the pressure of the lips, the tongue, and the way he pulled back whenever Cam tried to make any kind of change to the kiss.
Meanwhile his hands moved down Cam’s body, pausing at his nipples and gently caressing them, then harder, until he got the response he wanted, the groan of need in Cam’s throat. At that point he pulled away, recalling how Cam wanted him to talk. He was a professional, and his ultimate goal was to get Cam off.
“You like that?” he asked, twisting his fingers a little, pulling at the nipple until it extended, moving the position of his hands so that he could concentrate on the teasing while the weight of his wrist and arms held Cam still. The position was awkward, but Cam rested his head against the wall, and his mouth was open, his lips wet from their kissing. He moaned low and deep, and Gabriel twisted that little bit harder, eliciting more moans. He replaced his fingers with his mouth and moved his hands to the band of Cam’s sweats, hooking them and pushing them down.
“I’m going to hold you down and suck you until you’re nearly there. You want me to do that?”
“God,” Cam whimpered.
“Yeah, and then I’ll stop, and I’ll leave you on the edge. You like that?”
Cam reached wildly for Gabriel, for his head, his hair, before resting his hands on Gabriel’s shoulders, clenching and unclenching on the muscles there. Then, refusing to yelp in pain as he slid to his knees, Gabriel was face-to-face with Cam’s underwear, which he eased down smoothly. Cam was a nice size—a mouthful, a handful—and Gabriel’s mouth watered at the thought of getting his lips wrapped around him.
He didn’t wait. There was no talking. He wanted to take Cam over the edge right now, and he rolled on a condom before swallowing him. This wasn’t finesse; this was need and right-fucking-now. Meanwhile, he gripped Cam’s thighs and loved that Cam was trying to buck and couldn’t. Cam’s hands were on Gabriel’s head, and as he came he let out a strangled moan.
Gabriel dealt with the condom, only realizing as he assisted Cam in easing down the wall that he was half hard from sucking him off. That wasn’t right. He didn’t get off on the work he did. It was a job, and him getting aroused in any way was not part of that.
Hell, he couldn’t get aroused.
Only he was half hard, and the sight of Cam breathing heavily, his head back against the wall, his knees drawn up, had Gabriel thinking that somehow he’d lost control.
That scared him
“You close your eyes when you kiss.” He said that to change the subject in his head. I’m getting hard.
“I do?” Cam said, like he hadn’t considered that before. He reached out a hand to touch Gabriel’s face. “Come here,” he said.
Gabriel moved a little closer, his knees killing him. At least with Cam not being able to see, he didn’t have to pretend he wasn’t in pain.
“Can I?” Cam asked, and slid his hand up Gabriel’s arm to his neck and then to his chin.
“Yeah,” Gabriel murmured, and allowed Cam to trace his face.
“You’re taller than me,” Cam said. “I know that because Six told me, but also because when we kissed I had to tilt my head back. You’re slim, but you have muscles in your arms. Do you work out?”
“Pushups and things,” Gabriel said. “I’m not a gym rat.”
Cam smiled at him, that soft, cute smile, and continued his exploration. “You said you have Latino in you. How much?”
Gabriel shrugged, his usual response to that question.
“You need to use your words,” Cam teased.
“A small bit, on my dad’s side maybe.”
Cam’s fingers settled on his lips, tracing the shape of them, then moved up to his nose and across to his cheekbones. “You have a beautiful face,” he murmured.
“Says the guy who can’t see,” Gabriel said without thought. “Sorry,” he added.
“No offense taken,” Cam said, and smiled even wider. “You have this beard going on,” he added, and poked at it before running his fingers through the scruff. “Just at the sides and the chin. That’s in fashion, I guess.”
Gabriel recalled shaving off his thicker beard, leaving some, cutting his long hair short. “Yeah,” he answered.
“I liked the feel of it on my cock,” Cam said, bluntly and still with that infuriating smile.
“Good. I aim to please.” He was trying for teasing, but Cam’s smile slipped a little, and Gabriel needed it back. He wrapped his hand around Cam’s soft cock and leaned in so his mouth was next to his ear. “I like the feel of your cock in my mouth.”
“I’m not sixteen still,” Cam said. “I can’t go again.”
So Gabriel showed him exactly how easy it was to get him hard again, only this time he stretched the time out, used every trick he knew, every dirty word that worked, until Cam was a mess of writhing need lying on the carpet.
“Gabriel, please.”
Gabriel settled between Cam’s legs, pain like knives through his knees, and pushing the pain aside, he spread Cam’s thighs and considered his next move. He lubed his finger and pressed it to Cam’s hole as he licked the tip of his cock. He wasn’t going to ask if that was okay, Cam wouldn’t want to hear uncertainty, and the way he bucked up into Gabriel’s mouth had him thinking he was doing something right. He added more lube, pressed harder, deeper, finding that elusive spot that he knew would send Cam wild. And all the time he was sucking and licking, and when Cam was coming he scrambled to hold on to any part of Gabriel he could reach until he fell back spent.
“You broke me,” Cam mumbled behind the arm that flopped over his face. Then he held out a hand. “Help me up?”
“Hang on,” Gabriel said, then used the wall and the nearby sofa to get to a standing position. His left knee buckled enough to steal his breath, and he closed his eyes, working his way through the pain.
“You okay?” Cam asked from the floor, rolling onto his side and then to his knees. Even in pain, Gabriel could appreciate the view, and then the muscles spasmed again.
“Yeah,” And fuck, how much focus did it take even to form that simple word? He was far from fine. He hadn’t been fine since Hank and Yuri had found him when he’d run and broken both his kneecaps with baseball bats. He was fucking lucky he could walk; pity his job had him on his knees so much. The spasm passed, but by this time Cam was up, pulling his sweats to his hips, so Gabriel wasn’t there to help him stand. He picked up the Cowboys T-shirt and placed it deliberately into Cam’s hand. Cam thanked him quietly and pulled it over his head.
“You like movies?” Cam asked, going into his kitchen and confidently feeling his way around to fill the coffee machine with grounds. Was there anything Cam couldn’t do?
“Some,” Gabriel said. He couldn’t recall the last film he’d seen—some Clint Eastwood boxing film, he thought, with a woman who died? All he remembered was that it had been boring, and sitting still that long had made him hurt all over. Still, the guy he was with had wanted a handjob in the movie theater, and a booking was a booking.
“I have a lot of everything,” Cam said, and gestured to a large cupboard, “Help yourself.”
Gabriel didn’t move at first. He guessed it was impossible to fill the times with just sex, although he wouldn’t mind getting Cam off a hundred times just to see his face.
He opened the door to the treasure trove, and so much color hit him that he blinked. Each DVD had a strip on the outside with more raised bumps, and it seemed like certain movies were grouped together. Flashy hero movies were in one spot, old black-and-white Laurel and Hardy comedies in another. The only group that looked random was ten cases on the top shelf alongside two trophies lying on their sides. He tilted his head to look at them, and they were for junior tennis, with Cam’s name on them, another facet to this man’s personality.
Up on this shelf was The Shawshank Redemption, nestled between The Empire Strikes Back and Guardians of the Galaxy.
“Why are these ones at the top separate?” he asked, and jumped when Cam spoke by his shoulder. He was losing it if Cam could get that close without him realizing.
“My favorite films. Well, at the moment. Pick one of those.”
Gabriel reached in and pulled one out at random, and snorted at the choice. “Armageddon?” he asked. He’d seen it before on TV, but he wouldn’t have expected it to be one of Cam’s top ten films.
“Yeah, it was the last film I really watched,” he said, and tapped his temples. “I don’t even know why this one sticks out; it was full of clichés, but it stuck with me.”
And now Gabriel felt like shit. He hadn’t even thought about how a blind person watched a movie.
“We don’t have to watch anything,” he said quickly.
Cam handed him a coffee. “We can’t have sex for the next few hours, much as I’d like to.”
“You’re paying me for sex.”
“No, I’m paying you to stay with me on a boring off day. My manager has everything in hand, so it’s just me and Gidget.”
“But—”
“Anyway, I’d like to watch this with someone who isn’t former Special Forces like Six. He spends whole movies telling me that a particular action sequence isn’t feasible, or that a person wouldn’t do this or that in a certain way. He’s a real buzzkill.”
They went to the sofa, Cam pushing the disc into the machine then sitting next to Gabriel.
Gabriel watched him carefully, saw the way he walked with a brush of his calf against the table, knowing when to turn, how to stand, when to sit. There wasn’t much in the way of fumbling, like maybe he’d practiced this a lot. As soon as he sat down, Gidget jumped up next to him.
What about the practicalities of being blind? Who walked Gidget? How did Cam learn a new room, or read people’s reactions? Gabriel had so many questions, and he couldn’t ask any of them.
Asking them would make this whole thing horribly intimate and real.
“Oh, wait.” Cam pushed himself back off the sofa, Gidget padding after him. There was banging in the kitchen, then he walked back with an armful of chips. Gidget had a big chew bone. “Can’t watch Armageddon without snacks,” he announced, and dropped everything on the small table. “Help yourself. Not sure what’s there.”
“You have at least fifteen bags of Lays,” Gabriel said, and counted the rest. “Yep, mostly that.”
“Salt and vinegar. I love those. Pass me some.”
Gabriel placed a bag in his lap. “You need me to open them?”
“Yeah,” Cam said a little sadly. “Could you help me? I always worry I’ll open them upside down and look really stupid.”
Gabriel reached for the bag and there was a little tug-of-war
Cam huffed that small laugh of his. “Dude, I was joking, I can open chips. Jesus, I’m not totally incapable.”
“Yeah, yeah, of course you can. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply…” Gabriel trailed off when he saw Cam’s smiling expression. “Asshole,” he added on the end.
“Sorry, couldn’t help myself.” Cam opened the bag and crunched the first handful of chips. “I went out with Adam once. He’s the ex who… Yeah, never mind, he’s the ex, which is the important thing. He took me out on our first date to this really cool restaurant, the ones where you eat in the dark.”
“You eat in the dark?”
“Yep, it’s all about sensory appreciation. Anyway, he freaked out, and whereas usually in restaurants people ask the guy I’m with what I want to eat—”
“You’re joking.”
“I promise you I’m not. It’s as if I can’t make decisions on my own. So Adam’s freaking out, he can’t see, he’s panicking, and he doesn’t like that it’s me helping him. I should have known he was a waste of time.”
The film started and they stopped talking to watch the first scenes, and before Gabriel knew it, the film had finished and they only had around two hours on the clock to go. He was feeling sleepy, warm from where Gidget had chosen to climb up between them, her head in Cam’s lap, her ass and tail sprawled over Gabriel.
“Want to take Gidget for a walk with me?”
Gabriel nodded. “I’m still on the clock,” he agreed.
He couldn’t fail to notice Cam’s subtle change in expression.
“And I’d like to,” he added, hoping that would lessen the impact of reminding them both what he was doing there.
It seemed to work, and they walked with Gidget in the middle to a small park that nestled hidden behind the old hotel. They talked about everything and nothing, and Gabriel ignored the fact that his phone had vibrated in his pocket on several occasions. He knew it would be Stefan, but as soon as he got home a thousand or more richer, Stefan would be so damn happy.
When they arrived back at the hotel, there was an hour remaining, and when Gabriel left, dead on midnight, Cam was blissed out and making him promise to do this again.
Cam was clearly rich enough to afford it, and he added the client to his mental list. He liked being paid to watch films and talk actors and walk the dog.
Back at his apartment, he opened the door, and Stefan was waiting for him, leaning against the counter.
“I was worried,” he said calmly.
“I had a job,” Gabriel answered, and pulled out the envelope fat with hundred-dollar bills.
Stefan walked over and leaned past Gabriel to shut the door.
“Who for?” He took the money and opened the envelope, and Gabriel’s chest puffed a little with pride.
“Cameron Stafford; paid for the whole afternoon and evening.”
“You didn’t call me.”
“You said you were out all day.”
“Still,” Stefan patted Gabriel’s cheek, “you should have called me, Angel. How can I look out for you if you don’t let me know where you are?”
“I’m sorry,” Gabriel said quickly. This could turn on a dime. Stefan could be happy because of the money, or get angry with him. Pride slid away from him and was replaced with fear, and he knew the moment when Stefan’s calm control snapped.
And thankfully Gabriel didn’t remain conscious for all of it.