Phoenix Club 07(23)

Reaching to the edge of the mattress, Angel grabbed his jeans and dug down into the rear pocket and withdrew two bills. He dropped the pants and sat back against the wall again and stared at the two twenties. Crawling off the bed, he went to the corner of the bedroom where the large hole afforded the rats entrance into the room, knelt down and reached inside the wall. He brought back a small mason jar with a metal lid, unscrewed the lid then dropped the two bills in with a small collection of loose change and other smaller bills, replaced the lid then hid it back inside the wall and returned to bed.

It wasn’t much, but it was a start. If he could skim a little off his earnings without Wade or Axel finding out, maybe one day he would have enough to take Maddy far away–without fear of being found again.





Chapter Ten


Devil on My Shoulder





Dane stayed with Max all night, making love and talking. For reasons Dane wasn’t entirely clear on, Max seemed at ease opening up to him, telling him things that he was sure other ears rarely, if ever, had privy to. Dane told him things as well, but they both managed to keep that one secret unspoken.

“You really like him, don’t you?” The gray light of dawn pressed at the drapes as they had yet to get any real sleep.

“Who?” Dane murmured, though he knew the answer.

“Angel.”

He sighed. “Yeah, I…guess I do.”

Max turned his head and looked at him. “You are aware that he likes you too, right?”

Dragging his hands down his face, Dane groaned. “Yeah…maybe…” A short laugh puffed off his lips. “I don’t know.”

“Why are you fighting it?” Max asked quietly.

“I don’t know that either.” Dane admitted, then looked at him and smiled. “Maybe I’m afraid of commitment.”

Chuckling low, Max shook his head and rubbed the back of his hand down Dane’s chest. “I don’t think that’s it.”

Dane exhaled heavily and tucked his arms under his head, staring at the ceiling. “I don’t know.” He said quietly, soberly. “Maybe…I don’t think I deserve the love of an angel.” He shrugged. “Or anyone for that matter.”

Max turned onto his side and gazed at him. “Why would you think that?” He traced patterns on Dane’s chest and stomach. “From my standpoint, you’re a hell of a good man.”

The memories pushed in and Dane closed his eyes. “I wasn’t always.” He whispered.





***





The hard kick to the end of the mattress came way too early for Angel. A couple more hours of sleep was much coveted, but Axel’s insistent foot jabbing the bed refused to let him rest.

“What?” Angel mumbled.

“Breakfast time, slut boy.” He said. “Get on it.”

Angel rolled over and groaned, eyes heavy. But he knew better than to tell the guy to go away; the next kick would be to his gut or ribs. “Okay.”

“Well get a move on.” He ordered. “You have three hungry mouths to feed.”

Three? It didn’t take much thought to figure out that the third mouth belonged to Byrd. Instant tension squeezed his chest. Byrd was a catalyst that made an already bad situation–even worse. Nothing good ever came of his visits. He was the exception to the no side jobs deal. If he put up the cash, he got what he wanted, every time.

Maddy was still asleep and he didn’t wake him. He would have to eat when Wade and Axel did, they wouldn’t let him make something later. But Angel would let him sleep until breakfast was done–especially since Byrd was there.

“Hey,” Byrd snorted when Angel entered the kitchen. “How ‘bout we turn on some music and you can do a little dance for us while you cook?” The three of them laughed. “Breakfast and a show.”

“Fuck.” Wade chuckled and shook his head, lighting up a cigarette. He took a long drag and let the smoke out slowly. “Get this, the little dancing fairy brought home three hundred bucks last night. Can you believe it?”

“Nice.” Byrd grinned then smacked Angel’s ass, making him jump and frown hard at the man. “Who’d have thought this little ass could be so profitable?”

“That’s just the tip of the iceberg.” Wade pointed two fingers at Byrd, his cigarette pinched between them. “Wait till he starts getting the private customers. Those rich, horny bastards will pay a shit load to unload in that tight little ass.”

Tendrils of nausea weaved through Angel’s intestines. Dancing was one thing, even private dancing. But he wasn‘t a dancer, not really. That was just his cover. Wade hadn’t sent him into the Phoenix club to be a stripper–but to be a hooker. He’d heard some of the other boys talking about the offers made to them for sex, though few accepted the offers, or at least didn’t admit to accepting them. Angel was sure some did. Some of the offers were astronomical–at least in Angel’s book.