Finding Eden(46)

“No.” Danny shook his head, wondering if Paul had put him off women forever. He couldn’t close his eyes and not see Paul’s back, raw and bleeding. A hatred for dominant women blossomed in his soul and he didn’t see how anything, save severe memory loss, would cure him of it. “Fuck no.”

“So what?” Jason asked, laughing at him. “You think he’s going to give up the lifestyle? You know that’s not true, not once he’s gotten a taste of it. That’d be like trying to turn a gay man straight.”

“Yeah, I know that’s probably unlikely. He’s pretty into it.” Danny put out his cigarette and turned to Jason. “Actually, I have a different plan. I think you should be my older, wiser guide to the lifestyle. You seem responsible to me.”

“No.” Jason swallowed hard as he looked away. “I’ve already helped you more than I should. I’m not a BDSM outreach program. No way.”

“Why do you do that?”

“I’m not helping you,” Jason said defiantly.

“You can keep telling yourself that, but we both know you’ll end up saying yes,” Danny said knowingly. “I told you I’d be your friend for life if you helped Paul. That means you’re stuck with me.”

Jason snorted. “Great.”





Chapter Six

It happened as the sun rose and Danny found himself lying in bed after an exhausting thirty-six hours of caring for Paul. It was something he wouldn’t have thought possible, a complete one-eighty in his OCD, when one compulsion died and another was born from the ashes.

Despite a short visit from Jason on Saturday, it wasn’t until the wee hours of Sunday morning that Paul’s fever came down significantly enough for Danny to relax. Instead of much-needed rest, he lay there next to Paul and stared at the ceiling, watching the dust dance in the beams of sunlight filtering into the room. He’d barely slept, but the only thing he could recognize was the wild panic caused by the knowledge of just how dirty his house was. With Paul’s back in the condition it was, anything could cause infection.

They’d have to hospitalize him if he got an infection and that would destroy everything Paul had worked so hard for. The only way Danny had to protect Paul was to clean the ruin of a house he called home and keep it sterile.

Before Danny knew it he was out of bed. He gathered up the beer bottles still lined up everywhere, throwing them away as if he never had the problem to begin with. Every pizza box, discarded napkin or soda can was mocking him, a glaring reminder that he had failed Paul. He couldn’t make up for what happened. There was no way to go back in time and know that pushing Paul away would leave him horribly vulnerable, but he could make sure he was safe from this point forward.

Cleaning with manic vengeance left him with a full garbage can and an overflowing hamper of dirty clothes, but that didn’t fix the underlying problem. His house was a lot dirtier than just the discarded trash and clothes caused by laziness.

Desperate for some sort of control, a haven that would protect Paul, Danny started searching for cleaning supplies underneath the cabinets. When he found none he ended up at the kitchen table, making a shopping list for supplies. It was considerable, and he realized he was flat broke with no way to pay for them. He tapped the pencil against an old envelope he was writing his list on, debating between the blowjob-for-cash prospect or doing something much more sinister.

He unplugged his cell phone from where it was charging and did something he considered a last resort. He dialed the number, listened to it ring and then swallowed his pride when it was answered. “Hey, Mama.”

“Oh, Chico,” she said, sounding panicked, obviously catching a desperation in his voice. “What happened? Are you in trouble?”

He snorted, hearing the unspoken question. “They don’t let you use cell phones to make calls from jail.”

“I didn’t think that.”

“Can I borrow some money from you?” he asked, feeling his cheeks burn and choking on the words. “Do you have any?”

She was silent for a moment. “I spent my grocery money. I’ll get more on Monday. He hasn’t started giving me money for Christmas shopping yet, but I could ask. How much do you need?”

“Shit.” Danny groaned, covering his face with his hand because his father was tight-fisted with their money. He always bought them nice things, probably to make up for being an asshole, but as far as actual cash, he was too much of a control freak to let his wife have more than a small weekly allowance. “Forget it. I’ll figure something else out.”