FIC: The Hiatus ~ Chapter 8
Title: The Hiatus ~ Chapter Eight
Author: bugs
Rating: T+
Word Count: 2,400
Pairing: Sharon/OC, Sharon/Flynn UST, Sharon, Rusty
Spoilers: Through season 1 of Major Crimes
Summary: Sharon must deal with her past as her everyday responsibilities call for her attention.
Chapter 8:
"As soon as Big Bear opens, we'll be going up to our cabin on the weekends--would you like to come with us? I'm sure my parents would be fine with it. There's a whole boys bunk room and Aaron and Gary won't be coming so there's plenty of space--" Poppy had to slow down for a breath.
Rusty pushed his pasta around on his plate. "I don't know how to ski."
"Ski? I snowboard!" She gave him a light punch in the arm.
Poppy's friend Baylee giggled and watched Rusty over the top of her water glass, her gaze curious.
"I don't snowboard either." Rusty couldn't eat another bite; he shoved his plate away.
Poppy squeezed his arm. "I'll teach you!"
Rusty's voice had an edge. "I don't have any clothes for the snow."
Poppy didn't see his agitation. "My brothers have tons of old clothes. We can find you something."
"Maybe I don't want to go!" he burst out.
The other couples at the table went still.
Poppy blinked at him owlishly. "Fine," she said crispy and turned to talk to the boy sitting beside her.
Rusty slumped in his chair and tore the corner off his roll, but just squished the piece until it because a ball of dough.
Without looking at him, Poppy sought and found his free hand to give it a squeeze. He clutched it back, but then reached into his other pocket and found the note there.
When Adam had shaken his hand goodbye, saying that the pictures would be ready in a few days, the photographer had passed a folded slip of paper into Rusty's palm.
Rusty didn't know how he'd managed to smile for the photographer and keep his hand for shaking as he put his arm around Poppy's waist at Adam's direction. Perhaps because he'd met Sharon's gaze over Adam's shoulder. He'd never seen her look that happy; it helped him put on a good performance.
But he had experience, didn't he?
Adam hadn't been like the other johns. Rusty had almost believed Adam at first when he'd first met the young man and he said that he just wanted to take artistic nude photographs. He didn't want to have anything done to him, or to do anything to the boys. He wanted to watch and take pictures. In a warm, well-lit hotel room...No car's back seat, or down on his knees in a urine-soaked alley--seemed like a good gig to Rusty.
Perhaps that had been the problem. As awful as it had been to work as a street hustler, Rusty quickly learned to simply zone out during the acts. But Adam took him to classy hotels, told him to drink from the mini bar while the photographer adjusted his lights and scrims. Then Rusty would strip, just wanting it done, but Adam would spend hours with his 'art'.
The cool plastic of the light meter, pressed against Rusty's pelvis... Adam's smooth voice: "It has to be just right--"
Somehow the man's intense gaze, his breathless direction for Rusty's actions, was more terrifying than any business-suited closet case's sweaty fumblings. And it kept getting worse with each encounter...
Rusty's few bites of his dinner turned in his stomach.
"Do you want the panna cotta or the parfait?" Poppy asked, scanning the dessert menu.
"I don't want anything," Rusty said weakly.
"We can share," she suggested.
"Sure, but pick what you want. I'll only have a few bites," Rusty mumbled.
The note in his pocket said call me with Adam's phone number.
~*~
Sharon shuffled through some notes she had on her case, organizing them in date order. Taking a sip from her wine glass, she waited for her LAPD laptop to log on. Her gaze strayed to the clock.
"The dance will just be starting. You've got a couple hours until you can begin worrying," Nick said from the couch where he had his own paperwork spread out around him.
"I'm not worried. I did a background check on that limo driver," she said haughtily, entering her password for the network.
Nick only raised his eyebrows and took a swig from his beer bottle.
"And I made it clear that he knew I was a cop before the kids took off," she added.
He snorted. "Lot of trouble for a school dance. Jeez, I took the bus to my date's house and we walked to the auditorium--"
"That was then, Nick," Sharon said, making it sound a very long time ago.
He frowned and scratched some notes on his legal pad.
"When do you go to trial?"
"Supposed to be next Monday," he said, "but they can still make a settlement offer at any time."
"Any chance they'll put out the money you need?"
"Not close yet. I'm not even considering the low-ball offers we've been getting," he said without looking up.
"Always playing all in," she noted.
He shrugged.
She looked at the horrific photograph of Britni's bloated, discolored nude body after it had been found in a remote reservoir by a fisherman. The young woman wasn't that far removed from her high school dances...And the prime suspect was her old boyfriend. Sharon brought up the Britni Collins file and opened the photograph from Britni's senior prom, with Seth Branson at her side, his smirk annoying Sharon.
She was set to interview him first thing tomorrow. She really needed to go to bed on time tonight...She glanced at the clock again but chose to ignore Nick's chuckle.
"Want me to turn on the Nancy Grace show?" he asked. "That should keep you distracted."
"No thank you," she shot back. "Poor Buzz is watching it for us and he'll give me his notes."
"Better him than you?" said Nick.
"Most definitely." She took another deep drink from her wine, then started transferring her notes, keeping her gaze from the clock.
~*~
"You were so wonderful," Poppy gasped, still holding Rusty's hand after they moved off the dance floor. He'd successfully navigated them through the waltz and was actually pretty proud of himself too. He grinned at her.
"Nothing to it," he said, sounding bored.
"Good job, Rusty," said Sister Doris from behind Rusty. She looked at their joined hands pointedly.
"Thanks, Sister," said Rusty, drawing his fingers free from Poppy's but exchanging a bemused look with his date.
As the nun moved away, Poppy grinned back and for a moment, Rusty was deeply happy. His empty stomach even rumbled.
"Dancing like some gay boy," a deep voice sneered behind him.
Rusty spun around. It was Reid, one of the boys he'd fought with on his first day of school.
"You're just jealous," said Poppy, glaring at the taller boy over Rusty's shoulder. Then she looked at Reid's date, Jessica. "And your girlfriend's been giving you shit."
Jessica tossed her long blonde hair and turned away.
"I don't wanna be prancing around like some flamer on Glee," said Reid, stepping closer to Rusty.
Rusty's vision went red, then black. What would happen to him if any of these jerks found out what he had done to survive? If even one of Adam's photographs got out? What had that man done with all those pictures? There had to be hundreds--
Rusty wavered on his feet, his head going light from lack of food and fear. Reid laughed rudely, thinking he was intimidating Rusty.
Poppy grabbed his arm. "Are you okay, Rusty?"
"I'm fine," he mumbled, even as he knew that his face was flushed bright red and could feel the sweat running down his sides and back.
Before Reid could do anything more, the boys' vice-principal moved in to break up the knot of tension. "There's another song starting, kids. You're here to dance. So dance," said Father Jim, a grumpy man who didn't look as though he'd ever danced.
Taking Poppy's hand, Rusty led her out onto the dim dance floor. He needed to hold her close...Wrapping his arms around her waist, he burrowed his hot face in the crook of her neck.
She gave a small gasp, and her fingers buried in his hair. "Rusty--" she whispered in his ear.
Bruno Mars was singing about loving a girl enough to die for her, but that guy had nothing on what Rusty was feeling right now--
Father Jim appeared beside them. "Move back. Hand's distance. You'll get your chance at the end of the dance," the priest said, his voice filled with disgust.
With a sigh, Rusty stood back and took a couple gulps of air to clear his head. The priest was right. He had to get through the slow dance later, and maybe a good night kiss if Poppy acted like she was expecting it...Another little 'lesson' from Nick Raydor.
"You'll be able to tell, kid. It's all in the timing--"
"I know how to kiss," Rusty had said, rolling his eyes.
Nick had started to say something, then changed tack. "You don't want to scare the girl, that's something to keep in mind. She may think she wants the kiss, but it's your job to make sure it's the kinda kiss she wants."
Rusty had groaned. Great, one more thing to worry about.
"No porn star kissing," Nick had clarified.
"Okay, okay," Rusty had said. All his childhood, he'd yearned for a father. The string of his mother's boyfriends had quickly shown him what he didn't want in a father figure, and after the horror of Daniel Dunn, any such dreams were shattered permanently. But God, Nick Raydor was going to give that fatherly advice whether asked for or not!
Rusty lead Poppy into the dimmer recesses of the dance floor and pulled her close again, keeping an eye out for the chaperons. He wanted to just enjoy this evening, because by tomorrow, his life would be going down the crapper.
~*~
Nick had lured Sharon onto the couch, claiming she would be more comfortable than at her desk. She'd come over, but stayed in the far corner of the sofa, keeping her laptop up like a shield.
With a sigh, Nick had shuffled down to the other end, dragging all his notepads with him.
But her eyelids fluttered again and again, finally drifting closed. When her head drooped, her chin in her chest, Nick carefully removed her glasses, lifted the laptop from her thighs, and gently eased her over to her side. He found a blanket and spread it across her. He moved to a chair, still alert and watching the clock. He always had been a night person compared to Sharon. He could wait for the boy.
~*~
The last dance was announced by the D.J. with significant tones. The chaperones shifted their gazes away from the dance floor, giving their unspoken permission. The room became darker and the light ball hanging over the dance floor stroked the dancers with colored beams.
Rusty drew Poppy into his arms. She gave a little sigh and snuggled her head under his chin. She was a bit too tall, particularly with her heels, but Rusty decided the momentary discomfort was worth it. He smoothed his hands across her back and buried his nose in her hair, fighting unexpected tears. She smelled nice, she felt nice...In a crazy way, he was a virgin; everything about being with Poppy was new and different from anything he'd felt with another person.
Then his thoughts started to race again. Should he kiss her now? Wait until they got to her house? That probably wouldn't be good. The limo driver would be watching, her father--Oh God, her brothers--might come outside to drag Poppy in before Rusty could do the deed.
It had to be done now, damn the room full of prying eyes. He tipped Poppy's chin up with a shaking hand and looked down at her. Damn that Nick, he was right. Her excitement-filled gaze was letting him know she was ready...Well, that and her hand which was gripping his suit jacket and twisting the fabric into a knot.
He put his lips to hers gently, waiting a moment before applying more pressure. He could feel her breathing quicken against his chest. That was the permission. He deepened the kiss, but keeping it sweet and soft--porn kiss, indeed! That jerk...
Poppy's giggle broke their kiss and he swallowed his sob with a chuckle of his own. Just perfect; she was laughing at him--
"That was great," she assured him, as though reading his mind. Her small palm cupped his jaw, soothing his rattled nerves. He could only nod, feeling foolish, deliriously happy, and terrified at the same moment. He staggered after her off the dance floor as the music wound down and confetti and balloons fell from the ceiling.
The remainder of the evening was a blur. The ride to drop everyone off at their homes was nothing but excited chatter and various stupid ideas about getting liquor or mooning passing cars. Finally it was just Rusty and Poppy left in the stretch Humvee's passenger area. Poppy curled up next to Rusty and pulled his mouth down to hers. Had he given her permission? This kiss became more intense than the first--why hadn't he thought of this opportunity? He was an idiot...The driver gave a not so subtle honk of his horn to let them know he's arrived at Poppy's house.
Rusty walked her to the front porch and was glad he'd taken his earlier kisses when the door was flung open to reveal her father and two of her brothers lurking in the foyer and her mother hanging off the stair railing, peering down at them.
He mumbled his goodnights, and raced back to the limo, irrationally giddy.
When Rusty slipped inside the dark condo, at first he thought Nick and Sharon were in their bedroom, but then Nick rose from a chair, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Sharon's head popped up from the couch, her usually immaculate hair disheveled. She immediately peppered him with questions.
Rusty headed to his bedroom tossing off assurances over his shoulder. "It was great. Poppy said she had a good time. I did okay with the waltz. Thanks for everything. Night."
He shut the door in Sharon's face.
After a moment, she turned away, her shoulders slumped dejectedly.
Nick put his arm around her. "Hey, the kid said he had a good time."
"I know...I just expected to hear some specific details."
"You don't want to hear a teenage boy's highlights of a dance," Nick pointed out, steering her toward the bedroom.
She gave him a sharp elbow in the ribs.
He had to have the last word. "I've been one of those teenage boys. I know of what I speak."
"Rusty's nothing like you," she said tartly, but her expression showed her uncertainty and concern.
Seeing that, Nick gave her a brief hug in the bedroom doorway. She resisted at first, but then gave him a squeeze back.
"Nope, he's nothin' like me," Nick assured her and closed the bedroom door.
In his bedroom, Rusty stripped down to his underwear, suddenly needing a shower. He felt as though he'd sweated a bucket of water this evening.
He dug the slip of paper with Adam's number out of his pocket and stared at it for a long minute, then took it to the bathroom. He flushed it down the toilet, and felt instantly better.
"Just like the shit he is," Rusty said firmly.
~end Chapter Eight
Author: bugs
Rating: T+
Word Count: 2,400
Pairing: Sharon/OC, Sharon/Flynn UST, Sharon, Rusty
Spoilers: Through season 1 of Major Crimes
Summary: Sharon must deal with her past as her everyday responsibilities call for her attention.
Chapter 8:
"As soon as Big Bear opens, we'll be going up to our cabin on the weekends--would you like to come with us? I'm sure my parents would be fine with it. There's a whole boys bunk room and Aaron and Gary won't be coming so there's plenty of space--" Poppy had to slow down for a breath.
Rusty pushed his pasta around on his plate. "I don't know how to ski."
"Ski? I snowboard!" She gave him a light punch in the arm.
Poppy's friend Baylee giggled and watched Rusty over the top of her water glass, her gaze curious.
"I don't snowboard either." Rusty couldn't eat another bite; he shoved his plate away.
Poppy squeezed his arm. "I'll teach you!"
Rusty's voice had an edge. "I don't have any clothes for the snow."
Poppy didn't see his agitation. "My brothers have tons of old clothes. We can find you something."
"Maybe I don't want to go!" he burst out.
The other couples at the table went still.
Poppy blinked at him owlishly. "Fine," she said crispy and turned to talk to the boy sitting beside her.
Rusty slumped in his chair and tore the corner off his roll, but just squished the piece until it because a ball of dough.
Without looking at him, Poppy sought and found his free hand to give it a squeeze. He clutched it back, but then reached into his other pocket and found the note there.
When Adam had shaken his hand goodbye, saying that the pictures would be ready in a few days, the photographer had passed a folded slip of paper into Rusty's palm.
Rusty didn't know how he'd managed to smile for the photographer and keep his hand for shaking as he put his arm around Poppy's waist at Adam's direction. Perhaps because he'd met Sharon's gaze over Adam's shoulder. He'd never seen her look that happy; it helped him put on a good performance.
But he had experience, didn't he?
Adam hadn't been like the other johns. Rusty had almost believed Adam at first when he'd first met the young man and he said that he just wanted to take artistic nude photographs. He didn't want to have anything done to him, or to do anything to the boys. He wanted to watch and take pictures. In a warm, well-lit hotel room...No car's back seat, or down on his knees in a urine-soaked alley--seemed like a good gig to Rusty.
Perhaps that had been the problem. As awful as it had been to work as a street hustler, Rusty quickly learned to simply zone out during the acts. But Adam took him to classy hotels, told him to drink from the mini bar while the photographer adjusted his lights and scrims. Then Rusty would strip, just wanting it done, but Adam would spend hours with his 'art'.
The cool plastic of the light meter, pressed against Rusty's pelvis... Adam's smooth voice: "It has to be just right--"
Somehow the man's intense gaze, his breathless direction for Rusty's actions, was more terrifying than any business-suited closet case's sweaty fumblings. And it kept getting worse with each encounter...
Rusty's few bites of his dinner turned in his stomach.
"Do you want the panna cotta or the parfait?" Poppy asked, scanning the dessert menu.
"I don't want anything," Rusty said weakly.
"We can share," she suggested.
"Sure, but pick what you want. I'll only have a few bites," Rusty mumbled.
The note in his pocket said call me with Adam's phone number.
~*~
Sharon shuffled through some notes she had on her case, organizing them in date order. Taking a sip from her wine glass, she waited for her LAPD laptop to log on. Her gaze strayed to the clock.
"The dance will just be starting. You've got a couple hours until you can begin worrying," Nick said from the couch where he had his own paperwork spread out around him.
"I'm not worried. I did a background check on that limo driver," she said haughtily, entering her password for the network.
Nick only raised his eyebrows and took a swig from his beer bottle.
"And I made it clear that he knew I was a cop before the kids took off," she added.
He snorted. "Lot of trouble for a school dance. Jeez, I took the bus to my date's house and we walked to the auditorium--"
"That was then, Nick," Sharon said, making it sound a very long time ago.
He frowned and scratched some notes on his legal pad.
"When do you go to trial?"
"Supposed to be next Monday," he said, "but they can still make a settlement offer at any time."
"Any chance they'll put out the money you need?"
"Not close yet. I'm not even considering the low-ball offers we've been getting," he said without looking up.
"Always playing all in," she noted.
He shrugged.
She looked at the horrific photograph of Britni's bloated, discolored nude body after it had been found in a remote reservoir by a fisherman. The young woman wasn't that far removed from her high school dances...And the prime suspect was her old boyfriend. Sharon brought up the Britni Collins file and opened the photograph from Britni's senior prom, with Seth Branson at her side, his smirk annoying Sharon.
She was set to interview him first thing tomorrow. She really needed to go to bed on time tonight...She glanced at the clock again but chose to ignore Nick's chuckle.
"Want me to turn on the Nancy Grace show?" he asked. "That should keep you distracted."
"No thank you," she shot back. "Poor Buzz is watching it for us and he'll give me his notes."
"Better him than you?" said Nick.
"Most definitely." She took another deep drink from her wine, then started transferring her notes, keeping her gaze from the clock.
~*~
"You were so wonderful," Poppy gasped, still holding Rusty's hand after they moved off the dance floor. He'd successfully navigated them through the waltz and was actually pretty proud of himself too. He grinned at her.
"Nothing to it," he said, sounding bored.
"Good job, Rusty," said Sister Doris from behind Rusty. She looked at their joined hands pointedly.
"Thanks, Sister," said Rusty, drawing his fingers free from Poppy's but exchanging a bemused look with his date.
As the nun moved away, Poppy grinned back and for a moment, Rusty was deeply happy. His empty stomach even rumbled.
"Dancing like some gay boy," a deep voice sneered behind him.
Rusty spun around. It was Reid, one of the boys he'd fought with on his first day of school.
"You're just jealous," said Poppy, glaring at the taller boy over Rusty's shoulder. Then she looked at Reid's date, Jessica. "And your girlfriend's been giving you shit."
Jessica tossed her long blonde hair and turned away.
"I don't wanna be prancing around like some flamer on Glee," said Reid, stepping closer to Rusty.
Rusty's vision went red, then black. What would happen to him if any of these jerks found out what he had done to survive? If even one of Adam's photographs got out? What had that man done with all those pictures? There had to be hundreds--
Rusty wavered on his feet, his head going light from lack of food and fear. Reid laughed rudely, thinking he was intimidating Rusty.
Poppy grabbed his arm. "Are you okay, Rusty?"
"I'm fine," he mumbled, even as he knew that his face was flushed bright red and could feel the sweat running down his sides and back.
Before Reid could do anything more, the boys' vice-principal moved in to break up the knot of tension. "There's another song starting, kids. You're here to dance. So dance," said Father Jim, a grumpy man who didn't look as though he'd ever danced.
Taking Poppy's hand, Rusty led her out onto the dim dance floor. He needed to hold her close...Wrapping his arms around her waist, he burrowed his hot face in the crook of her neck.
She gave a small gasp, and her fingers buried in his hair. "Rusty--" she whispered in his ear.
Bruno Mars was singing about loving a girl enough to die for her, but that guy had nothing on what Rusty was feeling right now--
Father Jim appeared beside them. "Move back. Hand's distance. You'll get your chance at the end of the dance," the priest said, his voice filled with disgust.
With a sigh, Rusty stood back and took a couple gulps of air to clear his head. The priest was right. He had to get through the slow dance later, and maybe a good night kiss if Poppy acted like she was expecting it...Another little 'lesson' from Nick Raydor.
"You'll be able to tell, kid. It's all in the timing--"
"I know how to kiss," Rusty had said, rolling his eyes.
Nick had started to say something, then changed tack. "You don't want to scare the girl, that's something to keep in mind. She may think she wants the kiss, but it's your job to make sure it's the kinda kiss she wants."
Rusty had groaned. Great, one more thing to worry about.
"No porn star kissing," Nick had clarified.
"Okay, okay," Rusty had said. All his childhood, he'd yearned for a father. The string of his mother's boyfriends had quickly shown him what he didn't want in a father figure, and after the horror of Daniel Dunn, any such dreams were shattered permanently. But God, Nick Raydor was going to give that fatherly advice whether asked for or not!
Rusty lead Poppy into the dimmer recesses of the dance floor and pulled her close again, keeping an eye out for the chaperons. He wanted to just enjoy this evening, because by tomorrow, his life would be going down the crapper.
~*~
Nick had lured Sharon onto the couch, claiming she would be more comfortable than at her desk. She'd come over, but stayed in the far corner of the sofa, keeping her laptop up like a shield.
With a sigh, Nick had shuffled down to the other end, dragging all his notepads with him.
But her eyelids fluttered again and again, finally drifting closed. When her head drooped, her chin in her chest, Nick carefully removed her glasses, lifted the laptop from her thighs, and gently eased her over to her side. He found a blanket and spread it across her. He moved to a chair, still alert and watching the clock. He always had been a night person compared to Sharon. He could wait for the boy.
~*~
The last dance was announced by the D.J. with significant tones. The chaperones shifted their gazes away from the dance floor, giving their unspoken permission. The room became darker and the light ball hanging over the dance floor stroked the dancers with colored beams.
Rusty drew Poppy into his arms. She gave a little sigh and snuggled her head under his chin. She was a bit too tall, particularly with her heels, but Rusty decided the momentary discomfort was worth it. He smoothed his hands across her back and buried his nose in her hair, fighting unexpected tears. She smelled nice, she felt nice...In a crazy way, he was a virgin; everything about being with Poppy was new and different from anything he'd felt with another person.
Then his thoughts started to race again. Should he kiss her now? Wait until they got to her house? That probably wouldn't be good. The limo driver would be watching, her father--Oh God, her brothers--might come outside to drag Poppy in before Rusty could do the deed.
It had to be done now, damn the room full of prying eyes. He tipped Poppy's chin up with a shaking hand and looked down at her. Damn that Nick, he was right. Her excitement-filled gaze was letting him know she was ready...Well, that and her hand which was gripping his suit jacket and twisting the fabric into a knot.
He put his lips to hers gently, waiting a moment before applying more pressure. He could feel her breathing quicken against his chest. That was the permission. He deepened the kiss, but keeping it sweet and soft--porn kiss, indeed! That jerk...
Poppy's giggle broke their kiss and he swallowed his sob with a chuckle of his own. Just perfect; she was laughing at him--
"That was great," she assured him, as though reading his mind. Her small palm cupped his jaw, soothing his rattled nerves. He could only nod, feeling foolish, deliriously happy, and terrified at the same moment. He staggered after her off the dance floor as the music wound down and confetti and balloons fell from the ceiling.
The remainder of the evening was a blur. The ride to drop everyone off at their homes was nothing but excited chatter and various stupid ideas about getting liquor or mooning passing cars. Finally it was just Rusty and Poppy left in the stretch Humvee's passenger area. Poppy curled up next to Rusty and pulled his mouth down to hers. Had he given her permission? This kiss became more intense than the first--why hadn't he thought of this opportunity? He was an idiot...The driver gave a not so subtle honk of his horn to let them know he's arrived at Poppy's house.
Rusty walked her to the front porch and was glad he'd taken his earlier kisses when the door was flung open to reveal her father and two of her brothers lurking in the foyer and her mother hanging off the stair railing, peering down at them.
He mumbled his goodnights, and raced back to the limo, irrationally giddy.
When Rusty slipped inside the dark condo, at first he thought Nick and Sharon were in their bedroom, but then Nick rose from a chair, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Sharon's head popped up from the couch, her usually immaculate hair disheveled. She immediately peppered him with questions.
Rusty headed to his bedroom tossing off assurances over his shoulder. "It was great. Poppy said she had a good time. I did okay with the waltz. Thanks for everything. Night."
He shut the door in Sharon's face.
After a moment, she turned away, her shoulders slumped dejectedly.
Nick put his arm around her. "Hey, the kid said he had a good time."
"I know...I just expected to hear some specific details."
"You don't want to hear a teenage boy's highlights of a dance," Nick pointed out, steering her toward the bedroom.
She gave him a sharp elbow in the ribs.
He had to have the last word. "I've been one of those teenage boys. I know of what I speak."
"Rusty's nothing like you," she said tartly, but her expression showed her uncertainty and concern.
Seeing that, Nick gave her a brief hug in the bedroom doorway. She resisted at first, but then gave him a squeeze back.
"Nope, he's nothin' like me," Nick assured her and closed the bedroom door.
In his bedroom, Rusty stripped down to his underwear, suddenly needing a shower. He felt as though he'd sweated a bucket of water this evening.
He dug the slip of paper with Adam's number out of his pocket and stared at it for a long minute, then took it to the bathroom. He flushed it down the toilet, and felt instantly better.
"Just like the shit he is," Rusty said firmly.
~end Chapter Eight