“I don’t think you really mean that, Adonis.” Davis sneered when he growled out Donny’s given name and gave a rough squeeze to his neck, pulling some hairs and causing him to gasp in pain. Donny squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath in through his nose. He exhaled, bringing up a knee with all the force he could muster, managing a direct hit to Davis’s khaki-clad crotch. Davis cried out, instinctively releasing his hold on Donny.
“I do mean that, Davis. I don’t say things I don’t mean.” He turned again to leave while Davis was still crumpled in half, massaging his cock and balls with shaking hands. One step away from the table and Donny thought better of it. He turned around and picked his twenty up from the table, tapping the top of Davis’s head with it before leaving the restaurant.
Donny pulled his phone out of his pocket to call Athena, but before he was able to dial, the screen lit up with an incoming call from his work.
“Hello?” he answered, holding the phone against his shoulder to slide his cash back into his wallet.
“Donny, hey, it’s Lawrence. Are you busy?” Lawrence sounded breathless as he huffed into the phone.
“Not exactly, but I’m also not working tonight,” Donny clarified.
“I know! I know, but I’m in a bit of a bind. Can I get you to make a delivery for me? Mel called in sick, and I have three to do before I go home, and this new one just came in, and I can’t do it.” Lawrence’s voice took on a tone that sounded a lot like trepidation as he pushed the request out, and Donny wasn’t sure what the problem was. Lawrence had easily gotten through four deliveries in two hours in the past.
“It’s not like you to turn down tips, Lawrence. Why can’t you do it? What is the delivery?” Donny was standing in the middle of the sidewalk and someone bristled past him, knocking him off balance and causing the phone to slip from his grip.
“Fuck.” Donny bent down to pick the phone up and dusted some gravel from the back of the case. As he returned the phone to his ear, he caught only the tail end of whatever Lawrence was saying.
“...not so bad, I don’t think. Please, Donny? Just come by and grab it, make the drop, and then go about your night.”
Another tip was another tip, even if it was only a few bucks. It wasn’t like Donny was hurting for money or anything, though. Athena did well with her modeling and always kicked cash down to Donny after she got paid. He lived in Hollywood like he'd always dreamed of doing, he had three little Siamese kittens that adored him more than anything on the planet, and he had a delivery job that allowed him flexibility with his schedule to pursue his real dream—which wasnotbeing a cat-owning delivery driver.
“Fine, I’ll come by. Leave it on the counter,” Donny acquiesced, digging his keys from his pocket and trekking the block to where he and Davis had parked.
“You’re a lifesaver!” Lawrence exclaimed before ending the call.
Donny slid his phone back into his pocket and laughed when he saw that Davis’s vehicle was already gone. Donny climbed inside his car and headed toward work to see exactly what he’d signed up for by agreeing to do this delivery for Lawrence.
After picking up what proved to be a surprisingly small box, Donny punched the address into his GPS, pleased to find it was only a few blocks away from his apartment. A few important blocks, Donny noted to himself before mentally amending—holy shit, this guy lives in the W penthouses.
He pulled into a guest parking spot, rode the elevator from the garage to the lobby, and waited for the doorman to show up.
“How can I help you?” The doorman ended up sounding unexpectedly condescending when he finally appeared, which was off-putting considering he was supposed to be polite to residentsandguests. Donny was pretty certain he probably looked more like a kid who had stumbled in off Hollywood Boulevard to get a glimpse of the posh Hollywood lifestyle than someone actually had any sort of business being inside the building, but that didn’t excuse the attitude.
“I have a delivery for,” Donny glanced down at the package, “Roland Wilson.”
“You can leave it with me.” The doorman held his hand out. Donny pulled the package closer to his body.
“Sorry, that’s against company policy. The customer didn’t approve us to release the package to anyone other than himself. Can you call him up, please?”
The doorman looked Donny from shoes to hair before picking up the phone and dialing. “Mr. Wilson, you have a delivery downstairs. Yes, thank you, sir.” He hung up the phone and squinted his eyes at Donny, before he stepped out from behind the podium.
“Please allow me to see you to the elevator.” The doorman gestured to a bank of elevators, pressing the call button on one which immediately opened. Donny stepped inside and the doorman leaned in, swiped a key card across a gray pad, and pressed the PH1 button before removing himself from the elevator car.
The doors quickly closed and the elevator ascended. Donny realized this was one of those fancy elevators that traveled at what he assumed must be the speed of light because his body arrived at the penthouse floor long before his stomach.
He found the large black double doors with the PH1 marker on them and knocked twice. Almost immediately, the door opened a crack and an arm snaked out.
“I need a signature, please?” His voice tipped up in a question when he realized Roland Wilson had no intention of making an actual physical appearance. Donny heard an exasperated sigh before the arm disappeared inside, and the door closed. A chain lock disengaged and the door re-opened.
Once Donny was able to get an actual look at Roland Wilson, his breath audibly caught in his throat and he choked out a noise that sounded like a cross between a groan and a sigh.
The man who stood in front of him—this Roland Wilson that Lawrence didn’t want to deliver to—was a sight. He was tall, easily six foot, with a mane of golden brown hair that hung around his face like a halo to past his shoulders. What Donny guessed to be a few weeks’ worth of facial hair bloomed up his cheeks. Behind a cluster of dark lashes, bright green eyes glared at Donny, and one of Roland's arms extended forward again, gesturing for the pen and clipboard he was squeezing tightly between his fingers. Even with a body that vibrated with coiled tension, Roland was far beyond handsome. He was breathtaking.
Donny extended his hand and the clipboard. “Line 4, please,” his voice barely above a whisper.
Donny didn’t feel like himself. This wasn’t him. He might be small, and people always assumed he was meek and quiet, but that had never been true. Yet here, in this hallway, Donny couldn’t get a fucking coherent sentence from his brain to his mouth.
Roland signed the paper and thrust it back toward him. Donny fumbled for it, dropping it to the floor as he extended his other hand to hand off the package. Donny bent down to collect his clipboard and Roland snatched the package. By the time he’d straightened up, the front door of PH1 had slammed closed and Roland had disappeared.
