Cattle Valley 27 - Alone in a Crowd (12 page)

Locky loosened his tie after a long day and fixed himself a Jack and Coke. The money he earned practicing law at his father’s firm would pay his bills for the rest of the year, but the clients he dealt with made him feel dirty at the end of the day.

“Lockland, are you joining us for dinner this evening?” his mother, Gloria Regent, asked.
“Not tonight. I’m meeting friends.” Locky took another sip of his drink and settled himself on the tufted red leather sofa in the den. He cursed himself for giving up his apartment, but it didn’t make sense to hold onto the damn thing when he was only home three months out of the year.
“Will Brooks be driving you?” Gloria asked.
The last thing Locky needed was for the family chauffer to know his business. “No, I’ll drive myself.”
“Well, be careful, dear,” Gloria said before leaving the room.
Locky finished his drink before going up the back staircase to his bedroom suite. He had no plans to meet friends, but he did hope to get laid. It wasn’t often that he went in search of a random partner for the night, but he needed to get Becket out of his head and dreams.
Showered and dressed to impress, Locky left the house. He ate a quick dinner at his favourite restaurant in Portland before arriving at the club around ten-thirty. It was still early for the usual crowd, but that suited him fine. He had a few ghosts he needed to exorcise before he’d be in a party mood anyway.
“Hey, Bobo,” Locky greeted the owner. He’d known Bobo for years and had even helped him out of a few tickets early in his career. It was the first time he’d stepped foot in the club since the night that had changed his life.
Bobo’s blue eyes opened wide. “Locky?” He grabbed Locky into a bear hug, fitting for someone of Bobo’s size. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”
It had been almost two years since Locky had left Bobo’s Bar late one night, slightly tipsy and rejuvenated after a blowjob in the bathroom, to stumble upon a young man beaten and dying beside his car. Despite his best attempts, the guy, Steven Rajos, had died in Locky’s arms, forever changing the way he viewed his future. “I figured it was time.”
Bobo released him and went around behind the bar. “What can I get ya?”
“Jack and Coke.” Locky crossed his arms and rested them on the familiar bar. Even after moving away, he still kept track of the local news, hoping the police would catch the group who had beaten Steven, but still nothing. “Any more trouble?”
Bobo slid Locky’s drink across the bar. “Not like that night, not here anyway. There’ve been similar incidents at other clubs, but the kids all made it.”
“And the cops still don’t have any leads.” Locky had talked to the detective who handled the case several times since he’d left Oregon, and they still couldn’t seem to track the fuckers down.
Bobo shrugged. “Hasn’t slowed people down. This place is still packed almost every Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights.”
The thought of another kid getting hurt simply because they were gay, made Locky sick to his stomach.
“Hey, boss, did you order toilet paper?”
Locky turned to see who had spoken and couldn’t believe how much the man looked like Becket, same dark curls, same big brown eyes. He leant back against the bar and stared at the younger man with appreciation.
“In the storeroom,” Bobo grumbled.
When Locky’s cock started to harden, he decided to do something about it. He stood and crossed the room to stand in front of the cute twink. “I’m Locky. I don’t think we’ve met.”
The younger man shifted the mop to his left hand before he reached out to accept Locky’s offered greeting. “Trent, and I’m new.”
“My nineteen-year-old nephew,” Bobo added.
Figured.
“Nice to meet you.” Locky withdrew his hand and shook his head at the loss. “Get back to work,” Bobo ordered.
“It was nice to meet you.” Trent licked his bottom lip as his gaze travelled up and down Locky’s body.
“You, too.” Locky didn’t mind the appreciative stare, he was well used to it, but he hated that Trent wasn’t old enough to play with. He rejoined Bobo at the bar. “Sorry, I didn’t know.”
“He’s a good boy, but I promised my sister I’d keep him out of trouble.” Bobo passed Locky a fresh drink. “And I can tell by the way you were looking at each other, that’s exactly what you both had in mind.”
“Don’t worry about me. I have a strict rule about messing with guys under twentyone.” If he didn’t stick to his rule, he’d lose not only his self-respect, but his job as well. His mind wandered to Becket. Shit, physically that guy pressed every one of Locky’s buttons. It was only Becket’s immature, careless attitude about life and sex that served to remind Locky of his age.
Bobo’s growl broke the spell.
“What?” Locky asked, taking a sip of his drink.
“You’re daydreaming of someone, and I hope for your sake it isn’t my nephew.”
“Nah, there’s this kid in Idaho that I can’t stop thinking about,” Locky confessed.
“Let me guess, he’s under twenty-one?”
“You got it. Plus, he lives in the house where I work, double no-no.”
“How young is this kid?”
“Twenty. He’ll be twenty-one around Halloween, but he’ll still be living at BK House.” Locky ran his fingers through his hair. Since the night of Demitri’s Super Bowl party when he’d made the unforgivable mistake of kissing Becket, Locky hadn’t been able to get the taste of the younger man out of his system.
Bobo leaned against the bar, putting his face right in front of Locky’s. “Take it from me, finding someone to spend your life with is a hell of a lot more important than any job you’ll ever have.”
“Easy for you to say, you’ve got Mike and this place.”
Bobo’s eyes filled with tears. “Mike left me last year, said he was tired of sitting home by himself every night.” He stood up. “And like a proud fool, I let him go.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I liked Mike. But you can’t really compare what the two of you had to me and Becket. As I said, he’s young and immature. Hell, I doubt the kid knows what monogamy is, let alone love.”
“Maybe so, just don’t count him out because you’re afraid of losing your job. Besides, you could have any man you wanted, outside my nephew, of course. The fact that you’re hung up on this one guy tells me you like him more than you’re willing to admit.”
No longer in the mood to hook-up, Locky finished his drink. “It was nice seeing you again, but I think I’ll take off.”
“Don’t be a stranger.” Bobo shook his head when Locky withdrew his wallet. “It’s on me.”
“Thanks.” Locky left, feeling worse than he had going in. He bypassed the parking lot and walked to his car down the street from the bar. Although he’d heard what Bobo had to say loud and clear, he still doubted Becket could ever settle down.

Sitting on his bed, Becket called Fallon Bennett. It had been a while since he’d spoken to Fallon, but hopefully the hunky older man hadn’t forgotten him.
“Hello?”
“Fallon? It’s Becket. Do you remember me?”
“Of course I remember you. How’re you doing?” Fallon asked.
“Bored. I got back in town last night, and thought maybe we could get together.” Becket crossed his fingers and hoped Fallon didn’t already have plans for the evening.
“I’d love to, but I’m stuck at the club. Feel like stopping by and keeping me company here?”
“Which club?”
“Mine, Fallon’s on Fifth. It won’t open for another week or so, but you’re welcome to come by for a personal preview.”
“I’d love to.” Becket prayed Fallon already had beer onsite. He loved Charlie and Jack, but they refused to let him drink while living at BK. “I assume it’s on Fifth Street, what’s the exact address?”
“Just get off the bus at Fifth and Strong, we’re at the end of the block, you can’t miss it.” “Cool. See you in a few minutes.”
“Can’t wait.”
Becket hung up and checked himself out in the mirror once more. Dressed in skin tight jeans and a white light-weight cotton T-shirt that was practically transparent, he definitely gave off an ‘Available and looking for fun’ vibe.
Perfect.
He ran down the stairs, two at a time, before yelling down the hall, “I’m going out.”
“Got your key?” Jack asked from inside his and Charlie’s apartment.
“Yeah.”
“Be safe,” Charlie added.
Safe.
Becket backtracked to the bathroom and selected two condoms out of the provided communal stash. With protection in his pocket, Becket left BK and headed for the bus stop.
It was a short ten-minute ride to the corner of Fifth and Strong and before he knew it, he was standing in front of Fallon’s new place. He stared up at the big expensive sign and shook his head. Fallon’s sign was over-the-top, just like the man himself. Becket wouldn’t doubt the damn thing cost more than all the other signs on the block combined.
He tried the door but found it locked. He used his fist to pound against the chrome and glass door and waited. Several moments later, the door opened to the view of a scrumptious shirtless man in work jeans. “Can I help you?”
“I’m Becket, Fallon’s expecting me.” The small gold hoop running through one of the man’s nipples captured Becket’s attention. “Nice,” he said when he was caught staring.
The man stepped back and let Becket in before locking up again. “If you like that, you’d love the one in my cock.”
“Jigger, leave Becket alone,” Fallon said, crossing the room.
Becket threw his arms around Fallon and gave him a quick kiss in greeting. “It’s good to see you again.” He felt Fallon’s hands land on his ass and pull him closer.
“I figured that Neanderthal from the party had stolen you for himself.” Fallon continued to knead Becket’s ass as he kissed his neck.
As much as he wished he could say differently, Becket had finally concluded that Locky was a lost cause, at least until he was older. “He doesn’t want me. He just doesn’t want anyone else to have me.”
“His loss.” Fallon kissed Becket again, tickling the inside of Becket’s mouth with his tongue.
Damn, Fallon was good. Becket was hard within minutes and ready to take things to the next level. “Do you have an office somewhere close?”
“Yes, and unfortunately, it’s currently occupied by a man from the Alcohol Beverage Control Bureau. If you can wait around for another half an hour or so, I’ll show you my apartment upstairs.”
“So no beer?” Becket groaned and ran his hands over Fallon’s chest. He unbuttoned Fallon’s white dress shirt enough lick one of Fallon’s small nipples. “I was really looking forward to loosening up a bit.”
Fallon buried his fingers in Becket’s hair and whispered in his ear, “Tell Jigger to get you a glass from my private stash and wait for me upstairs.”
Becket groaned when Fallon pulled away. There was nothing in the world like being held by a bigger, stronger man. “Please tell the guy in your office anything he wants to hear so he’ll get out of here.”
“That
guy
is the key to me opening next week.” Fallon slapped Becket’s ass on his way by. “Take care of Becket while I’m gone,” he told Jigger.
Jigger grinned. “You heard the man.”
“Booze, he wants you to give me booze, nothing else.”
Jigger stared at Becket for several moments. “He said you could go upstairs?”
“Yeah, ask him if you don’t believe me.” Becket didn’t like the jealous note to Jigger’s voice. Was he sleeping with Fallon? “You going to show me upstairs, or should I find my own way?”
“I’ll take you, don’t get your panties in a wad.” Jigger led Becket to a door at the back of the club.
When Jigger gestured for Becket to go first, Becket shook his head. “I’ll follow you.” There was something about Jigger that made him uncomfortable. Sure the guy was good looking, but he couldn’t help feeling that Jigger had something going with Fallon. He waited until he entered the apartment. “Are you sleeping with Fallon?”
“Who isn’t?” Jigger laughed, his back to Becket. “Kid, if you’re looking for a boyfriend, you’ve got the wrong guy. Fallon’s cool, but he likes ‘em young and only a night at a time.” He handed Becket a drink.
Becket smelt the mahogany-coloured liquid.
Strong.
He wasn’t big on liquor, but he didn’t have the guts to tell Jigger that, so he downed the drink in one long gulp. “You’re not young, and he’s obviously fucking you.”
“No one fucks me, boy.” Jigger took my empty glass and refilled it. “Sit down and don’t touch anything,” he warned before leaving Becket alone in the apartment.
Becket took two sips of the second glass before his head started to swim. He’d never been a huge drinker, but he wasn’t a damn lightweight either. In an effort to gather his wits, Becket shook his head, but the action only made him dizzier.
With his head swimming, Becket had little choice but to stretch out on the sofa. Staring at the swirling ceiling fan was the last he remembered before he passed out.

Becket groaned when someone shoved him, trying to rouse him from his deep sleep. “Ten more minutes,” he mumbled.
“Not likely, not unless you want the whole street to see you like this,” a deep voice replied.
The statement didn’t make any sense. Becket rolled over and winced at the hard bed under his sore body. He opened his eyes and stared up at Jack. “What’s going on?”
“Thought you said you had your key.” Jack took a sip of his coffee and shook his head. “Come on, I’ll help you inside.”
Inside?
Becket lifted his head and looked around. He was on the front porch instead of upstairs in his bed. Birds singing, cars driving by, sprinklers watering, were all indications that another day had begun, but Becket’s mind was still on the previous night. “What am I doing out here?”
“Beats the hell out of me. I guess you were too drunk to get yourself inside.” Jack set his coffee cup on the porch before helping Becket to his feet.
Becket wobbled as he tried to piece together the events that landed him in the position he currently found himself in. “I wasn’t drunk.”
“Sure. You just decided it was a nice night to camp out.” Jack picked up his cup before ushering Becket inside. “Go take a shower. You smell like a whore house.” He pointed Becket towards the staircase. “I’ll make you some breakfast.”
Becket used both hands on the banister to help himself climb the steps.
I had one drink
, he told himself.
One and a half, maybe.
With the house virtually empty, he went straight to the bathroom instead of stopping by his room. His first look at himself in the mirror made everything worse. “Shit.”
Becket ran a hand over the hickeys on his neck. Wondering how far down they went, he pulled his filthy shirt off over his head. His entire chest and torso were covered in small bruises, like someone had made a meal of him. “What the fuck?”
He reached into his jean’s pocket and came out with two unwrapped condoms. Playing it safe had always been a hard and fast rule with him. Becket crossed to the row of showers and turned one on, praying whoever he’d been with had supplied their own protection.
Fallon.
He suddenly remembered falling asleep on Fallon’s couch. With his hands on his zipper, he remembered Fallon trying to wake him up. Bits and pieces of the previous night began to come back to him. Fallon talking to Jigger as Becket tried to keep his eyes open.
Becket toed out of his sneakers and pushed his jeans down. Somewhere along the way he’d lost his underwear. The thought of someone finding them, mortified him, but not as much as the dried streaks of cum running down the inside of his thigh. ”Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!” he yelled, the sound bouncing off the tiled walls.
He jumped under the spray and grabbed for the soap, hoping to erase the evidence of his careless night. After scrubbing himself from head to toe, Becket didn’t feel any cleaner. Although he still didn’t know who he’d had sex with, one thing became perfectly clear, he’d been drugged and fucked without protection.
Becket took his anger out on the wall, punching his fist against the tile. The sickening crunch of bone quickly gave him something else to focus on. He didn’t hold back his scream. The pain of his injured hand helped cover the anguish over his broken spirit. As he sank to the floor, Becket knew he’d never look at his world the same again.