Page 6 of Gold Rush (Murphy’s Pub #3)

“I went to private schools, but I begged my parents to let me go into city leagues for sports and other activities. I wanted to know kids from places I’d never been. So, they let me. And I met kids that became my best friends.”

“Okay, that doesn’t explain why you’re living in a motel now and doing what you do.”

“I went to Harvard my freshman year in college. I know, big time, fancy school, the best. I didn’t get in from my parents’ wealth or influence.

I got in on my own merits, and I was really proud of that.

Then…after a frat party, I woke up…realizing that something bad had happened to me.

I wasn’t the same after. I couldn’t be. I flunked out, my parents lost their minds, and I took off, without a dime or a skill for anything.

None of the people I grew up with would help me.

None of them would give me a dime or a place to live.

So, I found some of my old friends from city league, and they helped me. ”

Goldie didn’t doubt that a bit. “I’m glad you had friends.”

“They were amazing. They got me set up with a job. I couch-hopped for a while, and then…my friend died. He was hooking and it was from an overdose.”

“An overdose.”

“Yeah. It hurt bad. I’d never lost anyone before and never thought of it happening to him.

He started acting weird a month before that, and I didn’t know it was because he was being dosed.

What would I know about all that? I just went about life until I found out what really happened to him, and who had done it to him.

After that, I became a little obsessed. I had to get back at that pimp. ”

Goldie understood it then. He sat back in the chair and asked, “And you’re pulling us into your revenge scheme?”

“I didn’t want to. You did that on your own.

I was going to call the cops on the pimp after he dosed me.

When I started hooking, for the money and the ability to find this guy, I’d heard horror stories about him and a few others.

I started getting closer to the people working for him, started hooking on his blocks, and after a few months, he took notice of me. ”

“You started selling yourself for fucking revenge?”

“Yeah, and the money. Unskilled labor isn’t exactly a great way to make a nest egg.”

Goldie couldn’t believe it, but it fit. He’d seen people do worse for revenge. “I’ll need to update my crew on this. Tell me you weren’t lying about the money.”

“I wasn’t. He has enough drugs and money to buy a mansion. I know money. I came from it. The goons, yeah, he has them, but any distraction will work. These people don’t see threats. Even cops are on their payroll.”

Goldie didn’t say a thing, but he knew that to be true. “So…what kind of distraction would you recommend?”

“A hot new piece of ass that all the pimps want. And a new pimp in town. Those are the threats.”

Goldie stared at him, but his mind was spinning. “A new pimp and a new, hot piece of ass…”

“Better a stable of hot pieces of ass, but one or two would be fine.”

He had a stable of hot men. Now, just to get them to go along with it. “Listen, I have some recon to do. Why not come with me? You look totally different, and no one would guess you’re the guy that got away.”

“Sure. If you…if you forgive me for lying.”

“Lies are mostly defense mechanisms. I forgive you, and I’m sure the rest of my people will, once I let them know.”

“Thanks.”

They left in a rideshare and got to the neighborhood where Dean directed them. Goldie had them dropped off by a bar, where they went inside to have a drink and pretend to just be a couple of guys hanging out for the evening.

“Do they ever come here?”

“Sure. They own this neighborhood. Everyone just…gives in to them.”

“Sad. Real sad. These old neighborhoods are ripe for gentrification if they don’t clean up the crime and crime bosses. Next thing you know, they’re filled with yoga studios and coffee houses with beat poets and acoustic guitars.”

“You seem to know a lot about that.”

“Downtown, it used to be more diverse as far as homes, stores, and then they got it all prettified. Other neighborhoods, too. My old neighborhood, which I remember as a little kid. They’re rare now, and that’s a shame.”

“I never saw them when I was young. I played in the parks in these neighborhoods, but then I was rushed into the car and taken away so fast, like they were all out to steal me. Now, I’ve seen them, and I see the beauty in them.

The older ladies who tend their roses in their old house shoes.

They make these gorgeous bushes to sit in front of houses that haven’t had new paint in a decade or more, with house numbers that are rusted and leaving bloody looking streaks down the columns. ”

Dean could have been describing his grandmother and her home. “You see a lot.”

“I was raised appreciating art. My parents own forty galleries across seventeen countries.”

“Impressive.”

“Eh, if you are into that.”

“Haze is. He’s our resident artist.”

Dean’s eyes dropped to the table as he said, “And you’re the resident…?”

“Bouncer, recon man, you know, no special skills except walking around and looking at stuff.”

“Recon is the most important thing, isn’t it? Without that, you can’t possibly trust going into a job. Right?”

He was flirting, but Goldie refused to flirt in a bar that was less than gay friendly. “Watch that stuff here, Dean.”

“I can’t help it.”

“Really? And why is that?”

“Because,” he whispered. “You’re the most incredible looking man I’ve ever seen in my life. And I’ve been to Italy.”

Goldie laughed heartily, getting looks cast their way. He threw down a twenty and said, “We need to go.”

They walked along the street, and Goldie tried to pay attention to the area, but it was hard with those blue eyes cutting to him and away, the bright smile that came with it. “You could have gotten us killed in there.”

“You’re a big guy. I doubt they wanted to scrap with you.”

“You never know how a man feels when he’s scared or bigoted. Anyway, show me more.”

“Sure,” he said, then took Goldie’s hand, surprising him before he pulled Goldie down an alley and pushed him against the bricks of one of the buildings.

Goldie was much bigger than Dean, but it didn’t matter. Dean had the upper hand as those eyes smoldered, and his tongue ran over his lips to wet them deliciously.

When he moved up to his toes to kiss Goldie, Goldie remembered he had strength, so he picked Dean off his feet and held him to kiss him tenderly, much slower than Dean’s plan, he was sure.

A first kiss should be tender, sweet, he thought. A first kiss would set the tone of whatever was to come for the couple, and Goldie didn’t want a hot fuck and that was it. He was ready for more in his life.

When he set Dean back to his feet, Dean’s eyes slowly opened as he whispered, “Wow. Wow. That was…”

“Decent?”

“That was perfect. You like me.”

Goldie again laughed. “Yeah, and?”

“Just making sure I wasn’t the only one. So, let’s get back to work. Stop flirting with me.”

For being so reserved when they’d first met, the real Dean was coming out, and Goldie liked him much better.

“How was the makeover?” He asked as they walked down the sidewalk.

“Abs is…funny, and he hates me.”

“No, he doesn’t.”

“I don’t mind it. He’s protecting you. I’d make a guess that of all the guys in the place, you and him are the tightest.”

“He’s my best friend, yeah. We’re…close.”

“Are you in love with him?”

The questions he had were very forward. Goldie found he liked that. “No. I love him as a friend. As a close, wonderful friend.”

“That can certainly turn into another kind of love.”

Thinking of Cosmo and Hippy, he knew that to be true. “Maybe, sure, but he’s like my little brother. And yes, he’s very protective of me, and I am of him too.”

“Have you ever had to beat someone’s ass for him?”

“Yes. Once. He got in with a rather shitty guy who ended up hitting him, and that, hopefully, will be the last boyfriend he ever hits.”

As he shivered, Dean said, “Whoa. Remind me to stay on your good side.”

“That would be good to do.”

Taking notes on a few things, Goldie and Dean walked along for hours, until the sun was long gone from the sky. Dean took him across the street from the abandoned shoe store the pimp used as his headquarters.

“That’s where the money is?”

“Yup. The upper two floors are where the hookers are kept. So, whatever you guys do, don’t hurt them.”

“You know more of them?”

“A few, yeah. They’re…dying. Being hooked on that shit, it is killing them. Slowly.”

“Okay. I’ll let the guys know, and I’ll start coming by here a few times a day.”

“I’ll come too.”

Goldie stopped him and looked him in the eye. “No. You showed me the place. I want you to stay at the pub.”

Dean nodded a little and smiled. “Sure. I like that you want to keep me safe.”

“Yeah?”

Dean ducked his head and said, “Yeah. I like you too, if you didn’t already figure that out.”

“I did.”