Page 41 of Shot For Mercy

I wonder how he will react. Will he stop talking to us? Move out and forget I ever existed? It scares the hell out of me. I don’t want to be in his past. I want to be in his present and future. Where I’ve always been—where I know I belong. But something tells me he’ll never forgive this. That our friendship will be over. Is it worth it? Losing someone so important to me because of great dick? Well—no. Emiliano is more than that, at least to me. It’s the fact I don’t know where he stands that worries me. One minute Emiliano is pushing me away, then the next one he wants me once more.

From now on, I’m going to wait until he seeks me out. I’m done chasing after him. Done looking desperate—donefeelingdesperate. He can be the one to feel that way over me. Maybe if I act indifferent, he’ll feel crazy enough to claim me once more. I crave his attention. Being in his arms is like taking a hit of my favorite drug. I’m a junkie for him, and I’m already having withdrawals. But I’m probably delusional, and he won’t seek me out. So what do I do if he doesn’t? Do I just pretend nothing ever happened between us until he breaks for me once more? Fuck, I don’t know how to do this. Playing hard to get with him will be the death of me. The thought alone makes me want to scream, which is why I’m here, at Luna’s Den, to drown my sorrows.

Luna’s Den is Emiliano’s brothel, but I’m obviously not here for sex. My friend from high school, Amy, works here. I used to come visit her often before I went to prison, and I wanted to surprise her. I called ahead to find out what time she’d be busy, and her break starts right about now. The one thing I love about this place is that it has a bar and lounge area; it’s all very sophisticated and high-end. You can just tell that only the richest men come here. I wonder what Amy gets paid for her services. It has to be a lot of money. Good for her.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” Amy says, sounding excited. I look at her, bouncing on the balls of her feet, and get up from the barstool to hug her. I squeeze her tight. “Ah, baby bear. What are you doing here?”

“Oh, you know.” I grin as I pull away, holding her at arm's length and looking her over once as if searching for injuries. All clear. “Here to see my favorite girl.”

“Your favorite one, huh?” She smirks.

“Yeah, but don’t let Emiliano hear us talk about it.” I purse my lips. “He’s a jealous motherfucker.”

At this, she frowns. “What does he have to do with this?”

“I’ve been—I’ve been seeing him.” Her eyes widen. “In secret.”

“Oh, wow.” Amy slaps my shoulder, then takes a seat at the barstool beside mine. I sit down too, waving down the bartender. “You’re a bigger whore than I remember.”

I smirk. “Only for him.”

“Are you dick-whipped?” She touches her chest as if she’s in shock, and I laugh.

“You could say that,” I admit. “It’s still new, but Ames, I’ve had feelings for him since before I went to prison. I guess I thought they’d be gone by now. But no such luck.”

“Fuck,” she murmurs, and when the bartender comes to greet us, he looks at Amy and grins. A little intimately, if I do say so myself. “Six shots of tequila, on me.”

“Fuck no,” I growl. “I got the tab.”

“It’s on the house.” The bartender winks.

“And you call me a whore,” I mumble.

Amy laughs loudly. “So he has a crush on me.” She winks. “Gotta milk it sometimes.”

“Slut.” I grin, shoving her shoulder playfully. This is what I love about Amy. It’s easy with her. And I never have to worry about her wanting more from me. She knows I’m one-hundred percent gay. I’ve always liked dick. Women have never once appealed to me, and she accepts that. “I’ve got some secrets to spill.”

The bartender places the shots of tequila in front of us, smiling sweetly at Amy. She smiles back. “We’re good for now, Jordan.” She winks, and he blushes. “I’ll call you for more shots soon.”

“Fucking hell, Ames,” I cackle. “Have mercy on him.”

“Never.” She chuckles. “Now spill the tea.”

“I royally fucked up.” I sigh, and she raises one eyebrow, encouraging me to continue. I take a shot and slam it down. I need alcohol for this conversation. She does the same, except she sucks on the lime after. I just take it straight. “I let Matteo fuck me the day he picked me up. For old time’s sake.”

“Youwhat?” she sputters, and I take another shot, grimacing at the taste. “Old times?”

“Yeah.” I sigh. “We used to fuck sometimes.”

“How often?”

“Well, he was my first, and I was his. Then after that, it was only occasionally,” I tell her, taking the last shot. She still has another one left, which she gulps down now. “Don’t judge me.”

“Never,” she says, her serious face firmly in place. “I just have to wonder—how the fuck are you going to be with his dad when you two have history?”

“I—”

“He’s going to fucking kill you,” Amy groans, waving down the bartender again. She asks for six more shots, and before I know it, I’m buzzed. “He knows how to hold a grudge, Cole. I don’t think you will make it through this together.”

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