Page 23 of Blaze & Ajax

I counted out another fifty and handed that back to him, along with the baggie holding thirty pills.

This job only netted me a hundred and thirty bucks, which wasn’t nearly enough. But selling the Xanax would bring me almost five hundred for my share.

What I needed was to sell high-end pills—opiates and shit.

Or you could get your ID back and a fucking job. The thought punched unwanted and unhindered through my mind.

I paid for the food, dropped a tip on the table, and climbed out of the booth. Before I walked away, I turned to face the younger man. “Don’t call me again.”

As I walked out into the damp, late morning, I shoved on a beanie while berating myself with words like ‘loser,’ ‘pathetic,’ ‘weak,’ and ‘piece of shit,’ while Cueball’s words echoed back at me. ‘There’s a good person somewhere inside those black eyes of yours.’ I didn’t believe him, but I still needed them.

My Dom never believed it, but he said I was good, anyway, because he got to fuck me. And Ajax only said that to me because I begged him to.

No, there was nothing good about me. Yet, I needed to hear those words. It helped me not hate myself so much.

A part of me wanted to change and do better. The other part didn’t give a shit. Why should I? No one liked me, anyway. No one stuck around. No one fucking cared. Who the fuck was I going to be better for? Me? Why bother?

What Ineededwas to be punished, toearnthat good boy title. It’d been way too long. That was the only time I actually believed those words because I worked so hard for them.

Afterselling the Xanax and paying off Storm, I headed home to shower, not wanting to stick around long enough to chat, feeling edgy and worn.

It was late afternoon, and I knew Ajax would be home. It’d been two weeks since I’d dropped to my knees for him because I’d been avoiding him, but now I had to see him again. I’d promised myself I wouldn’t do it again, but if I didn’t, I would suffocate in this self-loathing that was as corrosive as any acid.

After prepping and showering, I stared at my dripping face in the foggy mirror, always hating what looked back at me.

My mirror image turned red as the rage at myself consumed me. I suddenly lashed out and smashed the glass with my fist, shattering and fracturing a corner of it. The pain was excruciating. I sat on the toilet lid, cradling my throbbing hand, now bleeding all over the fucking place.

The ache was soon replaced with burning numbness, allowing me to wrap my hand in bandages. I also tore apart an old T-shirt and wrapped my hand in it.

I tossed on a pair of jeans with holes and a black hoodie and slipped on the rings on my left hand since my right hand was fucked and swelling.

It was hard to get my shoes on, but I finally managed.

Once I was ready to leave, I just stood facing the closed door to the apartment with a sense of hopelessness and loneliness. This was all Ajax’s fault. If he’d only left me alone, I wouldn’t have kissed him that day. Now, he was all I could fucking think about, and soon Ajax was going to make this all better, if only temporarily. Then I’d get to come home and hate myself all over again.

Ajax opened the door to his studio apartment after I pounded on it.

There was no humor in his laugh as he looked down at me. “And here I thought I was finally free of you. What do you want now? To choke on my cock again?”

I didn’t even bother to hide it. “Yes.”

This time, when I tried to shove my way inside, he stood his ground.

“Come on! Every dude likes their dick sucked.”

“If that’s true, you can suck any dude. Why me?”

I pushed harder against him. “Just let me in.”

“Not until you tell me why you’re here and why you came last time.”

“Dammit! What the fuck does it matter?”

I had to push him. I didn’t want to tell him my story. Besides, it wasn’t his fucking business.

He fisted my hoodie and towered over me. Looking up at someone nearly a foot taller than you could be daunting, especially when they were pissed. He had dark circles under his eyes, and he looked a little gaunt, reminding me of that kid today. Ajax didn’t do drugs, right? I’d never seen him do more than weed.

“Listen, you feral gremlin, I’m not about to be used.”

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