Luke stripped off his work clothes and pulled on a pair of sweats and a long-sleeve T-shirt. A Bruce Willis movie was playing on the TV. Luke settled down with a beer to watch but spent more time thinking about the long-ago scenes playing inside his head. How could he ever forget Ash saving his ass in the boys’ bathroom when two members of the football team held him around the neck, inches from shoving his head down the toilet? Or the time he was jumped as he cut across the field so he wouldn’t have to walk past the team hanging out in front of old man Beamer’s candy store? Once again, Ash had rescued him, both escaping with only some minor cuts and bruises. That’s why he couldn’t believe or understand how Ash could have left him and Brandon. Ash had told Luke to leave with him and take Brandon, but Luke had known that would be impossible, as Brandon was too young. Instead he’d begged Ash to stay, but Ash was adamant.
“You don’t understand. I gotta go. Take care of yourself and watch out for Brandon. I’m gonna make sure he don’t hurt you. When I get settled, I promise to come back for you.”
Fucker. Ash never came back, never did anything to make sure Luke didn’t get hurt. Now for some reason, Ash had decided it was time to make an appearance, and they were all expected to drop everything for him. Maybe once Luke would have. But those days were gone. Luke finished his beer and tossed the bottle aside. He wasn’t the scrawny kid any longer who needed someone else to be his white knight. Though he wasn’t the tallest guy around, training at the gym had given him hard muscles so that he could take care of himself. As a boy, he’d always looked up to Ash because of his size, but he now knew bigger didn’t always mean better.
At the commercial he went into the kitchen and rummaged around the fridge until he found some Chinese food that still smelled okay from a day or so ago. As he stood, waiting for the microwave to ping, Luke decided to pay a visit to the shelter tomorrow and see if there were any viable candidates to work with the kids. Thinking about the foundation focused his thoughts back to Jordan Peterson. Pale and thin as he was, the man exuded sexuality, and Luke’s libido, long denied, ignited like a fire from a lit match tossed into gasoline. The combination of blond hair and blue eyes had always been his weakness in men. Add to that a cockiness that Luke admired; Dr. Jordan Peterson was one dangerous package.
His food ready, he grabbed another beer and headed back to the sofa to watch the movie. The second beer hit him hard, and as he ate he remembered he’d had no lunch today. His body slumped against the sofa cushions while his mind wandered from the television screen back to Jordan. That arrogant mouth and blue, blue eyes had his neglected dick springing to attention, and with a moan he shoved his hand beneath his sweats, freeing himself to the air. The image of Jordan’s pink lips wrapped around his cock sent him thrusting into his palm, the wetness of his precum enabling his hand to slide down his shaft, creating a delicious, torturous friction.
“Fuuuck.” His groan bounced off the empty walls of his apartment, mingling with the sounds of the gunfight from the television. Fast and rough, he stroked himself until his balls drew tight and his dick jerked, once, twice, and he came hard, ejaculating onto his shirt. White light burst behind his eyes as he gasped for air, perspiration drenching the curls that lay on his brow. He sank back into the sofa, even the cushions beneath him damp with sweat, his body boneless and utterly spent.
With a heavy, fumbling hand he pulled off his sticky shirt and threw it on the floor, then dragged the blanket over his naked chest. On the one hand his body lay pliant, sated, and drained. He groaned and stretched. On the other, he hadn’t jerked off to the thought of anyone he’d known in years. And why Jordan Peterson, someone he didn’t even particularly like? Before he drifted off to sleep, he found the remote next to him and clicked off the television set.
* * * *
“Good morning, Luke.” Miranda, the security guard at the Bowery homeless shelter located on the Lower East Side, greeted him with a smile. New York City had over fifty thousand homeless people, and the shelters were all bursting at the seams. He’d called this place home when he first arrived in the city, and it became as familiar to him as his own skin. The hallways hadn’t changed much in all that time, and Luke shivered slightly from his memories on his way to the offices in the back. The same dank smell of unwashed bodies and fear permeated the air and the walls, despite the stinging scent of disinfectant and air freshener the cleaning crew left behind. The sense of despair was palpable. It was a place where hope came to die if you let it grab hold of your soul.
Groups of children played in a community room, untainted as of yet by the cruelty of their situation. He passed by vast rooms filled with rows and rows of beds that looked comforting yet provided no safe haven once the dark of night settled in. When he’d lived here, he’d taken classes at City College at night and worked two jobs during the day. The less time spent in this depressing atmosphere, the better. The half-opened door to the director’s office allowed him to peek inside and see Wanda Grant, the director of the shelter, roll her eyes in disgust at whatever the person on the other end of the telephone was saying. She caught his eye, and a grin burst across her face.
“I gotta go. Talk to you later.” Her accent, a curious combination of Southern and Brooklyn, became more pronounced whenever someone or something got her annoyed or excited, which was most of the time. After she hung up the phone, she beckoned him inside. “What are you standin’ there for? Come on in here.”
Wanda barely gave him a chance to move before she grabbed him to her well-endowed chest and gave him a big, smothering hug. Luke remembered his very first night after he’d arrived at the shelter from his painful trip up north. Wanda had taken one look at him, shaken her head, and led him straight to the kitchen. In between bites of roast turkey and mashed potatoes, she managed to get his entire life story, something he had sworn he’d never tell anyone. But Wanda was so motherly and comforting, and he was so lonely and confused, the words had poured out of him. It had been years since anyone had listened to him or paid him attention.
“How are you doing? It’s been so hectic. I’m sorry I haven’t been by in the past few weeks, but I’ve been working on the gun violence prevention foundation. Thanks for setting up the today’s meeting with the volunteers.” He pulled away from her jasmine-scented embrace to sink into the chair in front of her desk.
Wanda nudged the other chair closer to his and sat next to him. “I’m fine, baby doll. How are you doin’?” She ran a critical eye over him, and he flushed as if she could see all the secrets inside of him. “You’re lookin’ too thin, like you haven’t been eatin’ proper.” A scowl twisted her full-lipped mouth. “They’re workin’ you too hard at that hellhole, aren’t they? I told ya, they’ll eat your soul for breakfast if ya let them.”
He shook his head. “I’m fine, and I am eating.” If you counted takeout and leftovers. But if he told her that, she’d be over at his place with enough Tupperware to have a party for the entire borough of Manhattan. Luke shuddered.
“Humph. So you say.” Those licorice-black eyes narrowed. “And what about you, baby doll? You meet a fine young man yet? I can’t stand to think of you all alone night after night.” Her well-worn hand reached over and took his, giving it a gentle squeeze.
Mother of his heart. If ever anyone could claim the title, it was Wanda. She had never judged him or looked down on him when he told her he was gay, even though he knew she was a churchgoing woman.
“You know me. I’m not looking for anyone. I’m fine the way I am.” With his hand and his dirty thoughts. That was all he could hope for, anyway. What did he know about relationships? The only people he’d ever been close to had betrayed him, left him swimming against the tide, only to be flung back to the shore, more battered and helpless than ever.
“It’s not right for a man like you to be by himself. It gets you to do too much thinking about things. You’re young. You need to live a little.”
“I am living. That’s what I’m here about. I finally met the person who was placed in charge of the foundation, and now we can move ahead with the men and women you’ve chosen to work with us. By hiring people who’ve lived through the violence, they’ll have a better understanding to talk to the people in the community.” What a shame Keith had to die for something like this to come to fruition. At least Jordan had finally come to grips with his loss and proven himself worthy of Keith’s trust. In truth, Luke had his doubts for a while.
Back to business, Wanda handed him a folder. “They’re all waitin’ for you in the big conference room at the end of the hall. Inside you’ll find the names and background checks for five of the people I feel will be best for the job.” For a moment, the gleam in those dark eyes dimmed. “Each one of them has had experience with drugs and gun violence, either personally or by losing someone close to them. I wish I’d have been able to meet the detective who died. He sounds like he was a wonderful man.”
“He was.”
Startled, Luke jumped out of his chair, almost dropping the folders. “Jordan?” Surely he must be seeing things. Dr. Jordan Peterson could not be at a homeless shelter on an early Saturday afternoon, looking like he’d stepped out of the pages of a men’s fashion magazine. Yet here he was, and he’d made an obvious effort to pull himself together, dressed in casual clothes that hung on his still-too-thin body. The paleness of his skin contrasted with the luminous blue of his startling eyes, and he’d cut his hair so that although it wasn’t short, it no longer lay in waves against his collar. A shame, Luke mused, imagining the thick strands sliding between his fingers.
Also obvious and altogether unwelcome was this unholy response his body had whenever the man was in his vicinity.
“In the flesh. I thought I’d come by and meet the people who are helping to make Keith’s dream a reality.” The slight arrogant drawl of that prep-school voice normally grated on Luke’s nerves. He heard it plenty in the halls and meetings in his office. But somehow on Jordan, each word echoed sensuality and promises yet to come. Watching that wicked mouth, his appeal was clear. Jordan radiated charm, sex, and class. The man was out of his league, and Luke was out of his mind for even thinking about him.
“Hello, I’m Wanda Grant.” A smile tugged at her lips as she introduced herself. “I run the shelter. So nice to meet you finally.” Her voice softened. “I want to extend my sympathy for your loss. Lucas tells me Mr. Hart was a wonderful man.”
And like that, the light flickered out of Jordan’s eyes. “Thank you. He truly was one of a kind.”
As Wanda murmured more comforting words to him, Luke wondered if he’d been wrong in thinking Jordan had begun to recover and move past his loss. It would be criminal for a man like him to live the life of a monk. His gaze traveled over Jordan’s lean but more than appealing, tight body, stopping only when he met the dancing dark eyes of Wanda.
Shit. Busted.
Even the fierce, dark scowl he directed at Wanda did little to detract from her smile. Best to get Jordan out of here now and speak with Wanda later. “So, um, why don’t I take you around, and you can meet the people Wanda selected to work for the foundation. Then we can sit and explain what the day-to-day activity of the center we’re planning will be like.”
