Page 16 of Three, Two, One [321]

He’s right. Those problems are never going away. So does it matter if I let go of them for a little while? I swallow again and give a small nod. “OK,” I breathe. “OK.”

He folds the covers back and I climb in next to him. He’s so warm. And when his arms wrap around me, I fall for it.

I fall for his charm.

I fall for his kindness.

I fall for his good looks.

And then I fall into the best sleep I’ve had… ever.

I met JD when we were both on the streets. Him because of drugs. Me because I was new in town and hadn’t found myself a place. I stepped off the bus from Miami at one in the morning, walked outside the bus station and the first thing I saw was JD getting rolled by some thugs.

They were winning, but he didn’t need saving. He just needed help.

So I helped.

He’s two years younger than me, so he was young back then. Only twenty-one. And he was fucked up. It was clear he’d been fucked up for a pretty long stretch. Not anything he couldn’t be weaned off of, otherwise I wouldn’t have wasted my time. But he was drunk and on something else he never copped to.

So I helped him out. And afterward, we sat on a concrete wall across the street from the bus station until the sun came up and he was able to talk in complete sentences.

Objective number one when I got to Denver was to procure a partner. So I procured JD. He never went to college but he’s not a stupid guy. And he sorta knew the business, but he wasn’t an actor.

And that was OK with me. I didn’t need an actor. I needed someone real.

JD is as real as they come.

And that fucker can talk a girl into sucking his dick in the middle of a nightclub in under five minutes when he turns on the charm.

I know. He did it in front of me the first night we went out together. And that’s how I came up with the idea for Public Fuck America. I came to town with money and a goal. But I didn’t know how to reach that goal until I met JD.

He’s my best friend. And I’d do just about anything for the guy. But this girl, man. I don’t know what it is. I just want her. I want her and he’s got her.

I want to go home and take her back but I can’t. We’re still in debt to Ray until the end of next week, and there’s no way around it. I can talk big to Ray all I want, but he’s a friend too. I don’t want to piss him off. I don’t want to fuck up what we’ve built here. And I don’t want to set myself back any more than I have to. My life has been on hold for four years. I’m ready to move along.

So whatever JD is doing with her, it needs to wait.

I turn onto Speer Boulevard and take it up into the Highlands neighborhood, then cut through the side streets until I get up to 44th which takes me over to the west side.

Why do I like this girl anyway? She’s too skinny, she’s pasty white, she’s on drugs—or was last night. Even if they were forced on her, that’s a red flag.

But none of that matters because all I can think about is the mystery. Who is she running from? Why did they drug her? How did she escape?

I find myself needing to know the answers to these questions for multiple reasons. Is she in the business? Her pussy has been waxed bare. Her legs fell open on command. She was pretty receptive to the idea of making money off her body. And she never said no when JD and I tag-teamed her outside or in the tub.

I mean, we were just playing with her and what she did for us was not hardcore. But it was sexual. And we are strangers. And she’s still at our house right now.

At least I hope she is. Because I don’t care if JD has her, I want her. I want my fingers inside her again. I want to kiss her sad, pouty mouth. I want to take her to bed and fuck her slowly.

Jesus Christ. What is wrong with me?

You’ve been on the job too long, Ark, the inner voice says.

And it’s true. Four years is way too long. I’m ready to get out of here.

The diner that Lanie works at is up in the western suburbs in an old downtown of a city that used to be more urban back when Denver was small. But now it’s just part of the sprawl, a place with a few old buildings so they can call it Old Town. But really, most of them were razed so they could put up townhouses and make them look old-timey, but still give them that shiny new polish in order to charge outrageous prices for units.

Lanie works at a restaurant that held firm against the developers that took over Main Street. I’m not even sure it has a name. The sign on the front says Diner in that old neon script that used to be common in the Fifties and Sixties. Lanie works breakfast and dinner every day but Monday. Which is good for me, because I’m gonna need all afternoon to get my two movies.