Page 2 of Redondo (Mates of the Mylos #7)

CHAPTER 2

THOMAS

I peered around the stairwell to see if Mr. Janeski was around. Seeing he was talking to my direct neighbor, old Mrs. Lamont, I quickly hot footed it into the alley. I didn’t have his rent and he’d already slapped an eviction notice on my door two weeks ago anyway, though he kept trying to corner me, reminding me that I was still going to be held accountable for the rent and late chargers, so if I just went ahead and paid before the day I had to vacate, he’d let me stay on a month to month as long I could also show I was now readily employed. However, I had neither money nor a job, and I’d already lost my car. No car, no food deliveries, and thus, no money between acting gigs. Not that I currently had any of those either.

The alley had a pull down fire escape I could use to get in through my back door. Except there were two shady looking guys leaning against the brick wall, who smiled as if I was just the guy they’d been looking for. I spun around to leave, but now there was an even bigger guy behind me.

I swallowed.”Hi, fellas. I don’t have any money, so if this is a mugging, all I’ve got to give you is my phone.”

“Well, now see,” the scary big dude in front of me said, “the lack of money is precisely why we’re here. Isn’t that right, boy?”

“Yes, that’s right, Zach,” one of them said.

I swallowed.

“Th..this is about Anton?”

“Ring a ding ding!” the man mountain said, lifting a tanned fist to rap me hard on the head. “Looks like there’s something in this noggin after all.” He took a step back and the other two guys came closer, standing now on either side of me. If this had been a casting call for ‘modern hoodlums trying to look respectable’, these guys would be a shoo in. Tight black and navy blue t-shirts, designer jeans, and collectible sneakers, as well as bulging muscles under tanned skin and well coiffed hair. They probably had upper middle class parents who had no idea their sons were thugs who likely were in it for kicks as much as some extra cash.

“Anton said to tell you that you have until the end of next week. He’d have given you an extra seven days, but that eviction notice on the door means you’d be harder to find.” He bent down, his nose touching mine. “Not that you’d ever think of running, right?”

“R…right.”

He patted my cheek. “Like I told him, you’re a good boy. Fit, too. Be a shame to beat your ass, unless you’re into that. I can even hook you up with a guy or two who would pay off your loan and maybe even your rent in exchange for getting to beat your ass and then some.”

He straightened up, taking a step back.

I shook my head vehemently. “No…no. That’s alright. I’ll get the cash, I swear.”

“On your own head be it.” He jerked his head to the side and his two buddies followed him out to the street.

My hand flew instinctively to my chest, clutching my pec over my racing heart. I was in seriously deep shit, no two ways about it, and it was all definitely my fault. If I’d only listened to my mother and returned home to Sarasota, I’d not be facing imminent eviction and a near future, very likely life threatening, beating. No, I’d be using my acting skills to pretend I was ever so glad to see my Uncle Ned’s Dented But Dandy customers come through the doors so I could ring them up. I’d still have my car, old enough that it wouldn't look out of place in the mostly abandoned strip mall where the grocery store was located, but new enough to not be too terribly embarrassing.

I hadn’t listened to the most recent admonishments during her monthly tirade of a phone call, though. Well, physically I had. I’d sort of mentally checked half way out so I could let her words wash over me instead of soaking all the way in because I knew her words would hurt and reopen soul deep wounds. So instead of going home and moving back into my old bedroom and working for Uncle Ned like I’d done summers during high school, and having to fend off daily recriminations that I didn’t go next door to Dented but Dandy into Tabernacle of Miraculous Faith (WE PRAY FOR YOU, THE CITY, THE COUNTY, THE STATE, THE COUNTRY, AND THE WORLD) so they could deliver me from the evil that had afflicted me with ‘same sex attraction disorder’, and add my voice and part of my pay to the tithe the family gave so that prosperity would rain down upon us. according to Lorraine Abernathy, Prophetess of the Generous Almighty Daddy God. Seriously. That was how the church’s name, slogan, and her title were all painted on the shop window glass of the unit they rented. The beat up old metal folding chairs and duct taped folding table they used as an altar didn’t scream that she was all too successful, either, and neither did the slightly wilted flowers one of her flock brought from the hospital. There’d still been a Get Well business sized card with a signature in one of the arrangements the one time Mama and Aunt Jess bamboozled me into entering the premises.

No, I hadn’t gone for the physically and financially safe option at all. I’d been dead certain that since I’d had a chewing gum commercial three months ago and it was nearly time for the catalog work I usually did to come around, I would be able to rebound from losing my job as a dishwasher at Paulie’s Tapas and Grill. After all, I’d found a lifeline from the friend of a friend of a friend in the form of an informal loan to keep the lights and water on as well as some pretty basic starvation rations in my belly. Only it hadn’t, nor had I gotten any of the roles in any of the plays I’d tried out for. I’d have to call Uncle Ned and beg him to buy me a bus ticket home for tomorrow and wheedle him into giving me a cash advance on the meager wages he’d pay me so I could, at least, give Anton a down payment on what I owed and borrow Mama’s car to do some Door Dashing and Uber Eats to pay him the rest as fast as I could. I’d have to agree to go get prayed over and politely extricate myself from the dates with the girls she and Aunt Jess would try to fix me up with. But first, before I tossed myself into that big, hot, and humid, pit of misery, I’d call Cheryl in the vain hope that, as my agent, she’d found something juicy for me at last that was all but guaranteed.

My heart was calm enough now that black spots were no longer dancing in front of my eyes, so I risked taking a peek around the front. Mr. Janeski was gone, as was Mrs. Lamont so I could get in that way. Thank goodness for that, as anxiety had left my arms feeling like wet noodles and my legs weren’t much better. I scarpered on up the two flights of stairs in a hurry and quickly opened my door. Slipping inside, I hurriedly shut the door behind me, throwing the bolt. Then I went into the kitchen and did the same thing there, in case those guys came back to pay me an early visit. Sinking down onto the rickety kitchen chair the apartment came furnished with, I raked a shaky hand through my hair before pulling out my phone and thumbing through my contacts.

“Hello? Cheryl, it’s me, Thomas.”