Page 3 of New Year (Reconstruction #3)

CHAPTER TWO

A week passed with no nine o’clock appearance by Natty. Shelton wore his disappointment on his sleeve each time he returned from his smoke break without having seen him. Zack regretted that he might have scared the young man off before managing to offer help, but all he could do was pray this Natty had found a safe place to land.

Sunday afternoon, the restaurant across the street was hosting a formal event, which meant street parking was tight and very limited. Zack ended up parking three blocks away, closer to a not-so-great neighborhood Chase had warned him to avoid after dark, if possible. Tonight wasn’t possible, and after a mostly uneventful evening service, Zack locked up behind the last staff member and followed them down the alley to the street.

He watched while they scattered toward their own cars or the nearest bus stop, and then he turned and began walking. The streets here were lined with a mix of historic homes and small businesses built into those homes, mostly restaurants but also boutiques and a few law offices.

On the next block over, those homes made a dramatic shift into older brick houses and cracked sidewalks. A few stores were still open, mostly pizza joints and a cigarette outlet. Folks wandered the sidewalks in pairs and small clusters, probably college age. Even in the summer, Chase had told him, Reynolds still had a healthy population of young adults looking for something to occupy their time.

Zack walked with purpose, shoulders back, eyes always watchful. He could defend himself and had no expectation of anyone messing with him. Six-foot-three, two-twenty, fit from years of hard work and harder play, very few people got in his face. And if they did, they weren’t in it for long.

On the next block, he passed several closed storefronts in a strip mall, next to a gas station/convenience store. The place had a slightly more sinister look in darkness than it had this afternoon. Young men and women loitered on the sidewalk, most dressed to attract attention. Others probably had product for sale to the right buyer. To Zack, they were just out there earning a living, and if they didn’t bother him, their existence was not a threat to him walking to his car.

He spotted his car in the distance, one of maybe a dozen still parked on this block, which was mostly business rather than residential. As he passed the mouth of a narrow alley between two brick buildings, an odd noise stopped him cold. Not quite a muffled shout, but also not a groan. Something in between. A glance down the alley, past trash cans and a collection of plastic crates, he spotted what appeared to be two human shapes close together.

Not my business.

Then that sound again—pained. Not a cry of pleasure but fear, followed by a distinct, “Stop!”

Zack pulled out his phone and pressed 9-1-1, but didn’t hit send yet. Inserting himself into a situation that did not involve him was a quick way to end up hurt or dead. But he couldn’t ignore it. He’d ignored someone’s protests once, reassured by the person causing them that it was an act, a role-play they enjoyed together, and he’d nearly allowed a young man to be raped right in front of him.

“No!” turned into a muffled scream, and Zack stopped thinking.

He charged into the dark alley, eyes open for a weapon, and Zack grabbed a plastic soda crate as his only real option. He’d lost a lot of muscle mass in the last few years, after adopting a very different lifestyle, but he still knew how to use his height and voice to his advantage.

The two shapes were pressed closed to the wall, the shorter of the two mashed against it. He was struggling, his protests muffled by the other man’s hand over his mouth. Zack cracked the crate off the side of the building, and the attacker froze, head whipping up. Middle-aged white guy in a suit, trousers puddled around his ankles.

He glared at Zack. “Fuck off, asshole. This doesn’t concern you.”

“I heard him screaming from the street,” Zack snarled. In his mind’s eye, he was back in his old playroom, listening to Boxer yell at him about the unsafe scene unfolding, about not understanding the terror in Riley’s muted protests.

“I’m getting what I paid for outta this slut,” the suited man snapped back.

“Take the gag out,” Boxer had ordered Zack. “I want Riley to tell me he’s okay with this.” And then later, “He should be looking out for all his guests. Not just the ones who used to suck his dick on the regular.”

Never again. “Let him go. I want to hear from the guy you’re holding down that you paid to treat him like this.”

“Fuck you. You a cop?”

“Concerned citizen.” He held up his cell, showing off the screen. “Or we can let the actual cops figure this out. I’ve got nothing to hide. You?”

With a furious growl, the suited man released his prey and took a few steps backward so he could reach for his trousers. The other guy slid to his knees, hugging the dirty wall, and started to sob so violently that Suit Man fled. Zack nearly hurled the soda crate at him, but that mattered less than the traumatized man in front of him.

“It’s okay, you’re safe now.” Zack squatted, uncertain what else to do besides reassure him. He seemed average height and skinny, even beneath a dark sweatshirt and loose jeans. Light blue jeans with a black stain on the left leg. Three blocks from the restaurant. What were the fucking odds? “Natty?”

His head snapped up. A red scrape colored his right cheek and his lips were swollen. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Were you getting food from Shelton? Behind River Bistro?”

“So? He offered. I didn’t steal it.” His lips parted, and his eyebrows shot up. “Fuck, you’re the guy who saw us.”

“Yes, but it’s okay. You are not in any trouble for that.”

“Then why did you track me down? Were you following me?”

“No, this was a very fortuitous coincidence. I was walking to my car when I heard you yelling.”

Natty had stopped crying and was watching him with a unique sort of curious distrust in his puffy eyes. “You walked into a dark alley in this neighborhood because you heard screaming? You gotta death wish, man?”

“Not at all. I’m generally a non-confrontational person, but I also won’t turn a blind eye when someone might be in trouble. Not again.”

He wiped his nose on his dirty sleeve. “Well, uh, thanks for the save. You better go before you get mugged.”

“Can I give you a ride somewhere?”

“Nah, this is kind of my place.”

“Then what about a meal? There’s a diner over on Filbert that stays open until two. I’ll buy you anything you want.”

His eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Why?”

“Believe it or not, I really do want to help. I owe the universe a debt, and I’m trying to pay it back. When Shelton explained why he was giving you food, I wanted to help then, but you never came back to the restaurant.”

“I thought you’d call the cops.”

“I understand. Please, let me buy you dinner.”

Natty watched him from under a fan of thick eyelashes. “Just dinner? No strings?”

“Well, I’d like it if we could converse over dinner, but I’m not going to demand you blow me in the parking lot. I’m not that desperate for sex.”

Instead of reassuring Natty, the young man huffed and straightened his shoulders. “I’ll have you know my mouth has been known to give straight men nothing short of a religious experience.”

Zack smiled at the assumption of his sexuality. “Cocky, aren’t you?”

“Cocky and experienced. I don’t usually let things get so out of control with a john. He paid for a blowie and in the middle, he decided he wanted to fuck me. I said no, and…well.” He met Zack’s eyes. “Thank you. Sincerely, thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Sincerely.” He looked away from Natty’s swollen lips. “Come on, let’s go get pancakes or a cheeseburger, or whatever it is you’re craving right now.”

Natty studied his face for a long moment before shrugging. “Sure, why the fuck not?”

Zack stood then reached out, pleased when Natty took his hand and accepted help standing. Natty swayed once but stayed upright. He didn’t limp on the walk to Zack’s car, which reassured him a little that the john hadn’t been too rough.

Natty paused by the passenger door of his four-door sedan. “This is your car?”

“Yes, why?” Zack hit unlock on the key fob. When he got to Reynolds, he’d traded in the utility van he’d been driving for a simple, reliable vehicle to get him around the city.

“I dunno. Between the suit and where you work, you look like the kind of guy who’d drive a Porsche or something.”

“I did, once upon a time, but I’m not that man anymore.”

“Sounds like a story.”

“It is, believe me.” Zack slid inside and started the engine. Cranked up the a/c, which cooled down quickly in this car.

Natty got in the passenger side and seemed to melt right into the seat. Like he’d uncoiled from the tension wrapped around him once he was in a safe space. “Smells nice in here.”

Zack pointed to the vent clip. “Caribbean breeze, or something. A friend of mine swears by them.”

“I never tried them.”

“I used to get the ones that had that new-car smell, so it never lost that scent while I drove it. Not that I used to drive cars for longer than two years.” And good God, that made him sound like some sort of rich prick, especially saying it to someone he’d just scooped up off the streets, who obviously didn’t own one car, much less regularly swapped them out for the newest model.

That’s not me anymore.

He got them on the road, but ended up confused by a series of one-way streets that Natty helped him navigate, until they were going the right way.

“You really aren’t used to this side of town, geez,” Natty said.

“I’m not used to Reynolds, in general. I’ve been here less than two months. Moved in April.”

“For the job at the restaurant?”

“That was half the reason. The other half is intensely personal.”

“Okay.”

Zack paused at a red light. Glanced over at Natty, who looked sharply away, as if he’d been staring at Zack. In profile, with yellowish streetlight on his face, Natty looked young, almost innocent, with a narrow nose and high cheekbones. Even with puffy lips and red-rimmed eyes, he was handsome in a boyish way.

And Zack really wanted to see Natty smile.

He pulled into the diner’s private lot, which had at least a dozen other cars, even this late on a Sunday. Natty used the vanity mirror to check his face, wincing when he touched the red scrape on his cheek. He caught Zack watching him and actually winked. “It’s not the worst I’ve looked this year.”

Zack shocked the hell out of himself by growling.

Natty’s lips twisted in a faint smile. “It was a work accident.” That smile disappeared. “Anyway, now that I can smell the food, I’m starving. Feed me, Seymour.”

Zack laughed, a little surprised someone Natty’s age knew that cultural reference. “My name is Zachary Matteson, but call me Zack.”

“Nathaniel Hawking, but my friends call me Nat. Right now, you can call me Nathaniel.”

“Fair. Nathaniel. Let’s eat.”

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