Chapter Five.
Blaze sat on an overturned keg behind the restaurant, examining the fragile stick of ash at the end of his cigarette. The flesh over his hands felt damp and pruned, and he couldn’t stop rubbing his fingers together. He’d just ended his shift and it was late, the air cool and wet. Already he could feel the congestion building in his sinuses.
He’d thought a lot about Trent’s words to him the night before, and had spent nearly the whole of his shift giving it a good solid turn over. Shortly before punching out, he’d come to a decision. Blaze finished his cigarette and dropped it to the wet pavement. He ground the stub with his heel.
Blaze stood, reached his arms up into the air in a long, luxuriant stretch, and ducked back into the dull clamor of the kitchen. He found the greasy office phone and scooped it from its cradle. He punched Trent’s landline from memory, and waited. It was after eleven and he knew Trent would be there. On the third ring, Trent picked up.
“It’s me,” Blaze said.
“You need a ride?”
“Meet me. Let’s get a drink.”
Trent said, “All right.” He sounded, to Blaze’s ears, pleasantly surprised.
“Wear something nice,” Blaze told him.
A moment went by. When Trent spoke again he sounded half suspicious, and half amused. “Nice?”
“But tough,” Blaze amended.
“Blaze--”
“Just try. Please? Meet me at work. I’ll be out front.”
Blaze hung up, and chewed on his thumbnail for a minute. He snatched up his coat and things from his locker and went out. He lit up another cigarette and waited.
Some time later, Trent’s dark green Volvo puttered around the corner. Blaze jumped in.
“Where are we going?” Trent asked him.
“Straight,” Blaze said. “I mean forward. Go.” He pushed his bag down between his feet and yanked the seatbelt across his chest. He looked over Trent’s attire as best he could in the dark car. It seemed okay.
“I wasn’t sure what you meant, exactly,” Trent said, his gaze moving from the road to his mirror, back to the road again, and then to Blaze. He grinned, flashing even white teeth.
Blaze sat back with a happy sigh. He felt better already. “Turn up here. Second lot on the right.”
Trent did as Blaze told him, and snuck little glances across the car. “You’re not dressed up.”
“I’ve been washing dishes for eight hours.”
The car slowed to a halt, and Trent killed the engine. “So what are we doing?”
Blaze looked down at his hands, rubbing his fingers together still. The dish soap burned at his skin. He made a note to call in and quit the next day. “I need your help with something,” he said, slowly.
Trent just watched him. Blaze unbuckled his seatbelt, and Trent’s too. He crawled up onto the seat and struggled to climb over Trent’s lap. Trent was surprised but said nothing, and even squirmed to make room. It was a tight fit, and Blaze’s knee hit something and then suddenly Trent’s seat lay flat, and Blaze was sprawled right over him. They grunted and wriggled and finally went quiet, panting together.
After a moment Trent cleared his throat. “Well,” he said. “This is nice.”
Blaze brought his mouth down hard over Trent’s, holding his face with both hands. Trent’s palms immediately came down over his ass, and they rubbed and made out together for several minutes. Trent broke away suddenly and said, “We could get in trouble,” but he sounded pretty thrilled about it.
“I gotta tell you something,” Blaze told him. He gripped the edge of the back seat with both hands, and Trent peered up at him from between his arms. Trent’s gaze kept flitting down, and Blaze turned his head to groan into his arm. “Stop that,” he said.
Trent’s eyebrows shot up. “What?”
“Stop looking at my mouth.”
A slow, lascivious grin came over Trent. His eyes moved pointedly down again, and he shifted his head up, inviting another kiss.
“No, wait,” said Blaze, “I need your help with something.”
Trent just reached for him, but Blaze grabbed him by the wrists. He pinned them to Trent’s chest. “Trent,” he said, firm.
Trent went still and looked at him. The gleam of arousal remained in his eye, but he was listening.
“I went to jail,” Blaze said.
Trent cocked one thin, dark brow. “I know that.”
“I got fucked up a lot,” he said.
“Yes. Well.” Trent cleared his throat again. “You were a drug addict.” He said it like he might say Blaze had temporarily become an alien, or a ghost, or something, and Blaze guessed none of those were all that big of a step in the wrong direction.
“Yeah,” he said. “So I was in a pretty bad place.”
Trent’s hands moved to his sides, sliding warm across his back.
Blaze swallowed hard. “So I’m trying to get better. Understand?”
Trent’s hands paused, the gleam of arousal flickered. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying.” Blaze swallowed again, finding himself stricken with cottonmouth for some reason. He held Trent’s gaze. “There’s stuff leftover.”
“Stuff.” Trent’s voice came flat and toneless.
“I’m trying to fix it.”
Trent stared up at him for a long minute, and Blaze could not read his expression. Finally Trent struggled beneath him and said, “Get off.”
Blaze got off. He watched Trent fix the seat, take the keys from the ignition, and exit the vehicle. Blaze scrambled out too, and the car chirped behind them. He caught up with Trent.
“There’s a place over here,” he began, trying to herd Trent over to the bar. Trent stopped in his tracks, and glared at Blaze.
“I knew it,” he said.
Blaze held his hands up. “Just listen--”
“This is just like before!”
“After tonight,” Blaze cut in, “Trent, please. After tonight, it’s done.”
Trent’s eyes went wide. “That’s why you couldn’t get it up the other night.”
Blaze’s face went hot and he quickly looked around them. The lot was empty. “Sh!” Jesus.
“You are using.” Trent seemed awed by it. “You actually are. After all of that.”
“No,” Blaze said, shaking his head, waving his hands in front of him, oozing denial. “Not true. No way.” He wished for a pair of those air traffic control sticks. “Not doing that.”
“Right.”
“I’m not. I swear.” Blaze let his arms fall limp to his sides. He met Trent’s gaze as calmly as he could. “It’s not that.”
Trent just looked at him, lip curled in disgust.
Shit, Blaze thought. “Feel my hip,” he said, and presented it.
Trent stared at him. “What.”
“Feel my hip.”
Trent checked around them. There was no one close by. He placed his hand over Blaze’s hip. “Very nice,” he said.
Blaze leaned in. “It’s money,” he said, in low tones.
Trent accepted this with a serious nod. “Wonderful. Is there a wallet in there, too?”
Blaze scoffed at him. “Not in my pocket. Jesus, do you have pockets that far back?” He quieted his voice. “I taped it.” He pulled Trent’s arm, and they started for the bar. “I’m paying back a loan.”
Trent shook him off, and only made a few steps. “A loan. Right. I should just go home, now.”
“No. Trent. Come on.” Blaze looked at him, pleading. “It’s just this, and then we’re done.”
Trent shook his head, and stared at the late night place across the street. “I thought we were done already.”
Blaze let that hang for a minute. “I’m sorry. Trent. Please.”
“I can’t believe you kept this from me. I can’t believe…”
Blaze bounced forward. “I know! I know. It was stupid. I was scared and I thought I could handle it on my own, and I just… I didn’t want you to know. For a bunch of reasons.” He reached out for Trent’s sleeve, closing his hand over one lean, sinewy arm. “I’m trying to make it better.”
Trent stared at him for a long moment, and then he asked, “So what’s happening tonight?” His expression was still hard, and Blaze wasn’t quite sure he’d gotten through.
“I’m paying him off. All of it.”
“And you called me. Why?”
Trent’s whole body seemed to lean back toward to the car. Blaze observed him turning the keys over inside his pocket. “I want you here. I just thought--you should know. And this way, you’ll know it’s done.”
Trent looked over at the bar, his expression tight and stony, and then at the pavement, and then Blaze. He was waiting.
Blaze floundered. “And.” He couldn’t think. “Um.” He rubbed his fingers together, and frowned at them. His hands shook. “I don’t think I should keep things from you. Left to my own devices I seem to, um. Fuck up. A lot.”
“You really do,” Trent said, and though it stung, Blaze took it. Trent studied him for several seconds, and said, “So what now?”
Blaze expelled a slow, measured breath. Yes. “Let’s get a drink. I, um. Need a drink.”
They went into the bar together. It was a little rowdy, not bad for a Friday night. They were outside the immediate realm of the downtown area, and the madness here was tempered. Trent ordered a beer, and Blaze had a jack and coke. Trent left a twenty on the bar and squeezed through the crowd. Blaze scrambled after him. Trent’s glower found them a space in the corner, and Blaze just concentrated on sipping his drink.
“You meeting him here?”
Blaze pointed upward. There were apartments over their heads.
“What did you owe him? Total?”
Blaze forced down a huge gulp. The drink was strong. “About a grand.” Trent balked at him, and Blaze offered a shrug. “It’s happened before. Usually I pay off a different way. You know, if it gets that bad.”
Trent’s expression turned suspicious. “Pay off? Like how?”
Blaze averted his gaze. “Help him out with projects, maybe. Stuff like that.” He could feel the force of Trent’s gaze on him, and he quickly sucked down the rest of his drink.
They went upstairs together, and Blaze led them down a dim hall. He stopped at a door and raised his hand to knock.
Trent said, “Wait.” He held out his hand. “I’ll give him the money.”
The set of Trent’s jaw said don’t fucking argue so Blaze tore the tape off his side with a wince and handed the little baggy over. Trent removed the bills, counted them out, and put them in his pocket. “All right. No, wait.” He grabbed Blaze’s arm and pushed him up against the wall. He came down rough, stubble scratching, and his tongue forced its way into Blaze’s mouth. It was a hard, possessive kiss, and Blaze was happy to take it. After a long moment Trent pulled back enough to say, raggedly, “After this--”
“Yes,” Blaze said.
“You’ll tell me everything.”
Blaze curled his hand around the back of Trent’s long, narrow neck, fingers sifting through the short, dark hairs there. Their eyes were close, and Trent’s seemed huge and dark. “Okay,” Blaze said, “Fine. I will.”
“And meetings. You’ll go.”
Blaze was in no position to argue, although part of him wanted to. “Okay,” he said. He figured he’d give in even if Trent told him he had to wear a tracking device on his ankle. As long as he got to stay. As long as Trent didn’t make him go.
Trent took his mouth again, briefly this time, and then they separated and he said, “All right.”
Blaze knocked.
After a minute the door opened, and then time seemed to speed up. Avery was curious about Trent. He looked him up and down, and Blaze could see him just licking his chops. Blaze glared at him. Meanwhile, Trent was grimfaced and humorless. He handed Avery the cash and when Avery asked, “Is that all of it?” Trent growled, “You tell me.”
A small thrill went through Blaze. He could see Avery sizing Trent up, taking in the quality of his clothes, taking in his stony gaze and the hard line of his mouth. Then Avery looked Blaze’s way, and Blaze saw him sketching a story from the state of his red, swollen lips and the color in his cheeks, the brightness of his eye.
Avery stared at Blaze a few seconds more, and then he slowly counted the bills. Looking down at them he said, “I guess that’s all of it.” Then he looked up and sent a scathing glance Blaze’s way before settling his gaze on Trent once more. “So what do you do, mister?” he drawled.
Trent only stared uncomprehendingly, and Blaze quickly stepped in. “He’s an architect.” Blaze looped his arm through Trent’s and sent Avery a broad wink. He knew what Avery thought, but it didn’t matter. Avery was a dick.
Avery just stared at him for a minute, and then he said, “Whatever.”
“Let’s go,” said Trent. He sounded irritated. “It smells like feet in here.”
So they left. Blaze skipped down the steps, feeling light. Trent came after him at a more sedate pace, and they went to the car together. The little Volvo chirped and Blaze threw himself at Trent, trusting Trent to catch him. He squeezed his arms around Trent’s neck and said, “Thank you,” in a low, hushed tone.
Trent merely permitted the hug, and when Blaze pulled away, he said, “I’m not happy.”
“I know.”
“I’m. Mad. I think.”
“Okay,” Blaze said. “Sure.” He rubbed Trent’s arms, grinning at him. “I love you.”
“Don’t say that,” Trent growled, but the stone of his expression seemed to crack. “You make me crazy, Blaze,” he said, plaintive.
“I’m sorry,” Blaze said, grinning still.
Trent just pushed him toward to car.
They went back to Trent’s apartment, and Blaze followed Trent around while he moved papers and put a pot of water on to boil and changed into something more comfortable. A high whistle sounded from the kitchen and Blaze said, “I’ll get it.” He hurried down the hall and poured the steaming water into a mug, with a bag of tea in it. He added a dash of cream and carefully carried it back to the bedroom. He even blew on it.
“It’s hot,” he warned.
Trent eyed him from the bed. He wore only a sweatshirt and loose blue shorts. He accepted the mug and blew over it. He sipped cautiously, and stared at Blaze.
Blaze settled down on his knees between Trent’s legs. He looked up at him adoringly. “I like it when you’re growly,” he said.
“I’m not growly,” Trent growled. “I’m pissed. I trusted you.”
“I know.”
“This can’t be like before. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“You can’t keep things from me. You can’t just owe some guy a grand not tell me about it.”
“I’m sorry. I fucked up.”
Trent just shook his head, staring into his tea. He drew a breath as if to speak, but then he held it, and then he let it out again.
“What?” Blaze rested his hands over Trent’s knees. “What is it?”
Trent drew another breath. “I don’t know.” He looked away, and scrubbed a hand across his face. “I’m tired.”
Blaze jumped up. “Okay. Sleep.”
“We’re not done here.”
“Yeah,” Blaze said, taking the mug from him. “Sure.”
“We’re not.” Blaze pulled the covers back for him and Trent lay back.
Blaze quickly undressed. He wanted a shower but thought to put it off till morning. He peeled his shorts down his legs and left them in the hamper, and then he crawled in beside Trent. He scooted in close, encouraged when Trent didn’t turn away.
Trent closed his arm over Blaze’s shoulders, saying nothing. Blaze nibbled at his jaw, and Trent released a long, slow breath. “You make me crazy,” he sighed, moving his other hand to grip side and flank, squeezing hard.
