All Yours Tonight (The Brazen Boys) by Daryl Banner

Author:Daryl Banner [Banner, Daryl]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Frozenfyre Publishing
Published: 2015-06-20T00:00:00+00:00

[ 3:23 PM ]

The red light lasts forever. There’s no other cars anywhere. No oncoming traffic, yet I sit here patiently following the rules and listening to the sleepy purr of my truck.

I could just go. I could break the rule and just soar through the red. Yet here I sit, sweet as ever, waiting for the color of a light to give me permission to step on the gas.

The purring of the engine reminds me of the AC humming in Bradley’s house. Just hearing it, I drift into a trance, imagining myself wrapping my yellow-haired boy up in my strong arms on his couch, or in his bed.

My phone rings. Naturally, I’d placed it in my lap so the device sends a sudden and not-unwelcome wave of vibrations through my happy place. Bringing it to view, I find it isn’t the client I was expecting.

It’s Bradley. He hasn’t talked to me since the night of the birthday boy. When I returned to his house after my date, no one came to the door. Some dark, morbid part of me wondered if he’d done something to himself. My mind filled with visions of him lying lifeless on the floor before his couch that we’d slept on a dozen times. Or on the carpet in his bedroom. Or in his bathtub. Just the thoughts chilled me in the ugliest way that I had to cancel on a client because suddenly I had the urge to vomit on a nearby flowerbed. As I hadn’t eaten all day, there were no gifts in my belly to offer the brightly-colored flora. They were thankful.

I bring the phone to my ear. “Brad?”

“You do realize I’m really pissed at you, right?”

I swallow. “Because I didn’t stay?”

“Not that.” He clears his throat, blasting my ear with static and fuzz. “Because I’m being forced to spend the week with my mother and old relatives I don’t know who’ve flown into town and still haven’t left, even though my dad’s service was well over a week ago.”

I’m not sure what this has to do with me. But following Bradley’s logic, considering his mental state, isn’t the easiest thing to do.

“And,” he goes on, “my dear sweet mother is hounding me about being single for the rest of my life. I’m too pretty to be single.”

“Haven’t met the right girl?” I jest.

“What I’m saying is, how much is it going to cost me to have you get your butt over here and pretend to be my boyfriend?” He waits exactly four seconds for an answer before adding, “Or is there some long list of damsels in distress you have to fuck first?”

“Where’s your mother live?”

“Ten minutes’ drive up the North Freeway, exit where the Sheraton is—big rundown thing, can’t miss it—enter Castlewood on the right, big gated stuffy community, tell the guy at the front you’re here for the Prince Estate family gathering, they’ll buzz a thing, let you through, blah, blah. When can you be here?”

A car honks behind me.

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