Fifty cents for your soul - Chapter Five
Chapter Five
Sam was talking to a dark-haired girl with tattooed sleeves when Jared walked into the drop-in center. She smiled at him and gestured him over, finishing off with the tattooed girl and directing her to one of the computers.
“Hi, Honey,” she said, enfolding him in a quick hug. “How are you doin’ today? You feelin’ good and well rested?”
Jared told her that he was, but couldn’t hold back his blush when he thought about why he was feeling so good and relaxed.
Sam cocked her head to one side quizzically, and Jared broke eye contact, letting his gaze roam anywhere but near Sam.
“How can I help out today?” he asked, folding his arms across his chest and hunching down.
Sam was all business. “Thought you could be my shadow. I’m Front of House today, floatin’ around the place, greeting visitors, answerin’ questions,” she pointed over her shoulder at a small desk, piled high with manila folders, books and stacks of papers. Half buried under the paperwork was a computer and off to one side, there was a small ink jet printer. “I’ll be doin’ paperwork too,” Sam grimaced. “Figured I’d get you up to speed on the administrative side of running an NG, NFP O as well.”
Jared’s eyes widened. “An Engy…what?”
Sam laughed, a full-throated belly laugh, which made him feel like he was part of some in-joke and not as if he’d just asked a silly question.
“A Non-Government, Not-For-Profit Organization. An NG, NFP O. We love our acronyms in the social services sector.”
For the next hour Jared sat with Sam while she typed thank you emails to benefactors and begging letters to potential donors, entered details of their income and expenditure onto a spreadsheet and worked on budgets. Occasionally Sam got up to help someone who came in looking for information, or who was having trouble with one of the computers. As the hour progressed and Jared became more and more bored with bookkeeping and budgeting, he started to take over more of the Front of House functions, jumping to his feet to provide assistance whenever anyone walked in the door. At first, he was a little shaky, but he’d heard Sam give her spiel and go through the programs and services that Per Vias Rectas provided enough times and before long he was chatting confidently to people, handing out brochures, signing people up for programs and loaning them books.
When Jared slid back into his seat next to Sam, having just signed a new client up to NA, Sam gave him a wide smile and patted him on the arm.
“You’re a natural,” she said. “You’re really good with people; friendly and encouraging. People like you. And they want you to like them.”
Jared lowered his eyes, embarrassed by the praise. “I’m just being myself,” he said.
The doorbell jangled again and Jared looked up as half a dozen people trailed through the door.
“We’ve got the GED program this morning,” Sam said. “They’ll be using those tables over there,” she pointed and Jared saw Jeff, who’d been working in the kitchen all morning, laying out papers and pens.
“On it!” Jared bounded over to the door and greeted the new arrivals enthusiastically, confirming they were here for the GED and then directing them to the appropriate tables.
He turned at the sound of more jangling bells and broke into a smile when he spotted Danneel hovering just inside the doorway, her arms folded protectively around an oversized purse that she had slung diagonally over one shoulder.
“Danni!” he hurried across to her and then pulled up short, the smile freezing on his face, when Jensen walked through the door behind her.
He swallowed and turned his gaze back to Danneel.
“Great to see you again. The GED group’s over here.” He showed her through and then took a deep breath and attempted to center himself before heading back to where Jensen was lounging near the bookshelves like a man who didn’t have a care in the world. He was wearing tight black jeans, a pair of black leather slip-ons and a deep burgundy button-down shirt. His hair was artfully tousled in a ‘just got out of bed’ kind of way and he was holding the book he’d borrowed yesterday in one hand. Jared sort of wanted to throw himself at Jensen and rub up against him like a giant cat. Oh goodness. That was so inappropriate. He blushed; and then blushed even more when Jensen smirked at him. Dear Lord. He was so out of his depth here. He didn’t know anything. And Jensen? Jensen knew everything. Jensen was a professional. Jensen was sex on legs. Jensen was…suddenly right in front of him with a bemused expression on his face. How did Jared manage to cross the room so fast? How did Jensen manage to make leaning against a book shelf look so erotic?
“Jared, right?”
Jared jerked upright and snapped his mouth closed at the sound of Jensen’s amused drawl.
He nodded vigorously. Talking. Talking would be good. He’d been doing it all morning. He could do it now.
“Hi,” he squeaked. Oh my goodness. He squeaked. How humiliating.
“So, ah,” oh thank goodness, his normal voice. “You look nice.”
You look nice. Seriously? That’s what he comes up with?
Jensen raised his eyebrows. “Thank you,” he said. And shifted a little, causing his legs to fall slightly wider apart, and Jared wasn’t looking at the bulge in the front of his tight jeans. Was. Not. Looking. “You’re lookin’ pretty sexy yourself.”
Jared’s eyes widened. He was wearing black dress pants and a white button down shirt. His hair was completely unstyled. There was nothing at all sexy about him and he told Jensen as much. “I wouldn’t know sexy if it fell on top of me.”
Jensen made a bitten-off, strangled sort of noise and straightened up, half turning away from Jared and surreptitiously palming the front of his pants. Jared realized, with a strange sense of wonder, that he was having the same effect on Jensen that Jensen was having on him. Which was. Weird. And maybe a little scary.
If there was one thing that Jared was good at, though, it was repressing his sexual urges. So he battened down his sudden need to press Jensen back against the book shelf and moved the conversation on to safer territory.
He looked at the book in Jensen’s hand. “Have you finished already?” he asked. He was surprised when Jensen groaned. “Not yet,” he muttered, “but I don’t think it’d take much.”
Jared frowned. “The book. Have you finished the book?”
Wide green eyes peered up at him. “Yeah. Finished it last night.”
“That’s impressive.”
Jensen tensed. “For a hooker?”
Jared shook his head. “For anyone. It’d take me at least a week to read that.”
Jensen stared at him for a minute and then his eyes crinkled and he gave Jared a bright, genuine smile. “Yeah, but you wanna be a priest,” he said, “so you clearly aren’t the sharpest tool in the box.”
“Hey! I was a straight A student, I’ll have you know!”
Jensen rolled his eyes. “Probably not hard in whatever silver-spoon-feeding, Prep school your rich parents sent you to.”
“I was home-schooled.”
Jensen shook his head. “Damn. You weren’t kidding when you said they kept you isolated. That must’ve sucked.”
Jared shrugged. “I didn’t know any different.”
There was a moment of awkward silence and then Jensen cleared his throat and held the book out. “Well, I guess I better give you this back. And uh…I’m gonna wait for Danni, but you probably got stuff you should be doin’, right?”
They moved to the bench that served as a library counter and Jared checked the book that Jensen had borrowed back into stock and then tossed it into the box of books waiting to be re-shelved.
“Feel free to browse,” he told Jensen, “I’m gonna go and ask Sam what she’d like me to do next, but give me a holler if you find something else you’d like to borrow.”
Jensen said that he would and Jared went back to Sam who was still battling the budgets over at the main desk.
“So,” she said, glancing up at him with an expression he couldn’t quite decipher. “You and Jensen seem to be getting along well.”
Jared nodded. “Yeah. He’s…” he didn’t know how to explain the way that Jensen affected him, so he settled for saying, “he’s not like anybody I’ve ever met.”
Sam chuckled. “Perish the thought of someone like Jensen in that monastery!”
Jared grinned. “Do you know Brother Paul?” he asked.
Sam’s face sobered. “Yeah. I don’t like the man. He’s a bigot. He hides behind scripture to cover up the fact that he’s filled with hatred and intolerance.”
Jared tilted his head to one side. He’d never really thought of it that way, had always just assumed that Brother Paul was more righteous than everyone else, but Sam could well be right. His zealotry could be nothing more than a front for his own inadequacies.
“We weren’t close,” he told Sam. “He didn’t approve of me. Said I was too loud and boisterous. And every time I did something wrong, he would tell me how back in the day I would’ve been whipped for it and it was a shame the whip had been banned because I deserved it.”
Sam shuddered, her face etched with revulsion. “What a sick man.”
“Imagine him and Jensen in the same room?”
Sam shook her head. “It wouldn’t be pretty.”
“Yeah. But my money’d be on Jensen. He’s smart, Sam. And not afraid to speak his mind.”
They both looked across to where Jensen was rifling through the box of books to be re-shelved. Sam poked Jared in the side.
“You know what,” she said, “those books really do need to go back on the shelves.”
Jared nodded and stood watching Jensen.
“Well?” Sam whacked his thigh. “What are you waiting for? Get onto that re-shelving. Oh and Jared? Don’t forget, we’re a volunteer run organization. We’re happy for anyone and everyone to help out around here.”
-X-
Jensen had reasons for being at the drop-in center again. Good reasons. Reasons that had nothing whatsoever to do with a certain doe-eyed, floppy-haired young man with big hands and big feet, who was quite obviously going to grow into himself in the next few years and turn into a muscular giant; a big strong man who would be perfectly capable of manhandling Jensen just the way he liked it on occasion, but who would never do so with unwanted force or cruelty, because Jensen could tell that he was always going to be a kind-hearted puppy dog, no matter how big he got. Jensen stared sightlessly at the paperback that he’d dug out of the returns bin as he imagined a muscle-bound Future-Jared pinning him naked to his bed, those big hands wrapped as tight as handcuffs around his wrists as he lowered his-
“Jensen!”
“Fuck me!” Jensen started sharply and dropped the book he was holding. Jared - Present-Jared - was back by his side.
“Uh…what?” the younger man said, his face going a violent shade of crimson.
“You scared the crap outta me. You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that.”
Jared’s eyes widened and he tilted his head. “I didn’t sneak,” he protested. “I walked. You were just…deep in thought.”
Jensen bent down swiftly and picked up the book he’d dropped. What the hell was wrong with him? It was obvious that being in the company of a gay hooker made Jared feel embarrassed and uncomfortable, and stirring guys who reacted to him like that by flirting with them had been Jensen’s standard modus operandi for years. But just now, he’d been seriously fantasizing about the undoubtedly straight guy who was training for the priesthood-as if his life wasn’t fucked up enough without him turning into a walking cliché. He was a hooker for Christ’s sake, why was he even thinking about sex when there wasn’t a pay check in sight?
“So,” said Jared. “You’re gonna wait for Danneel?”
Jensen nodded.
“For the whole hour?”
Jensen worried at his bottom lip and ran a hand across the back of his neck. Reasons. He had reasons. Right. “We’re going with Jeff to meet up with that girl Gen-you know, the one who’s in hospital-after they’ve finished the class. Figured I may as well hang around here rather than walk home.”
Jared beamed. “I’m glad. It gives me someone to talk to while I re-shelve these books.”
“You want me to give you a hand?”
The offer was out of Jensen’s mouth before he even realized that he was going to make it, but it was worth it to see Jared’s face light up again.
“That’d be great.”
They divided the books into two piles, those whose author’s surnames fell in the A to K range and those whose author’s surnames fell in the L to Z range. They chatted amicably while they sorted the books, about everything and nothing, and on more than one occasion Jensen caught Jared staring at his lips; his hands; his groin. Interesting. So maybe Jared didn’t keep blushing because it embarrassed him that Jensen was gay and a hooker. Jensen contrived to drop another book and then watched in the window’s reflection as Jared checked out his ass when he bent down to pick it up. Huh. Well that changed things. All of Jared’s reactions made sense of a different sort now. Clearly Jared wasn’t as straight as Jensen had been assuming. In which case, he was probably so deep in the closet that he was neighbors with Aslan; because Jared was training to be a priest.
If Jared had been…well, anyone else, Jensen would have taken advantage of the man’s obvious interest in him and flirted and worked it until Jared was handing over a fifty dollar bill and Jensen was going to his knees in the men’s room or the alley out back. But then anyone else would have been leering at his cock-sucking lips and tight ass and Jared…Jensen wasn’t even sure if he was aware that he was looking. It never took Jensen long to figure out if another person was interested in him sexually; call it an occupational hazard; and he was definitely getting those vibes from Jared, whether Jared was aware he was sending them or not.
“Hey, Jare?”
Jare? Really? He was giving the kid a nickname now?
Jared seemed ridiculously pleased, looking up at him with a small smile twisting his lips.
“Mind if I ask you a personal question?
Jared said that he didn’t mind, so Jensen asked him why he wanted to be a priest.
The answer wasn’t what he’d expected to hear:
Jared had grown up on a large property in the Hollywood Hills and that property bordered a monastery. The grounds of the monastery held fields and vineyards and farm animals and a small wooded area, and Jared and his siblings had been sneaking over the wall to play in it since they were small. Of course, going out of their own yard was strictly forbidden and several hard spankings had put his siblings off the idea of exploring the monastery further, but Jared found that he couldn’t stay away and he went back alone, time and time again. Sometimes he was chased off by Brother Paul or one of the other monks, sometimes his siblings weren’t able to cover for him and his transgression was discovered by Nanny and he was punished. But other times, he was able to enjoy hours of solitude and tranquility. Hours where he could roam and explore to his heart’s content, running through the woods, singing loudly and badly out in the fields, playing with the animals; just being himself without censure. One day, when he was fourteen, he’d been kneeling in the middle of a field, his hands clasped in his lap and his face turned up to the warmth of the sun, when a hand had clamped down hard on his shoulder. He’d been hauled to his feet by an angry Brother Paul, dragged down to the monastery building itself and into an office.
“This is the boy who keeps trespassing, Father Michael,” Brother Paul said.
Father Michael was an imposing figure, sitting behind an ornately carved mahogany desk, in a high collared black robe with a large crucifix around his neck. He steepled his hands in front of his face and examined Jared in a way that made him feel like a bug under a microscope.
“What was he doing this time?” Father Michael asked.
“He was in the top paddock.”
“Doing what?”
Brother Paul frowned. “Nothing. Just…kneeling there. Looking up at the sky.”
“Were you praying, son?” Father Michael asked Jared.
Was he? He’d been hoping that Mom would come home soon; that she’d get to spend some time with him and his siblings without Dad or Nanny around to spoil things. He’d been hoping fervently. Maybe that was praying?
He nodded his head slightly.
Father Michael continued to study him. “Why do you keep coming here?” he asked finally.
Jared shrugged, unsure how to explain himself. “I guess,” he said hesitantly, “I just feel…called-” Father Michael drew breath sharply and Jared stopped. He’d been going to say that he felt called by the wooded area and the quiet open spaces, but he sensed that ‘called’ was the important word, so he shut his mouth and looked pleadingly at the priest, hoping for clemency.
Father Michael had driven him home that day, rather than letting him go back over the wall, and the look on Nanny’s face when she’d opened the door to Jared and the priest caused Jared’s butt to clench in anticipation of agony. When Father Michael had asked to come in, so that he could discuss Jared’s spiritual devotion and calling to the cloth, no one had been more surprised than Jared. Nanny had been delighted; his father even more so, and Jared had been happy enough to visit the monastery regularly for catechism classes and religious discussions with Father Michael, because it got him out of the house. Over time he came to genuinely respect Father Michael and to enjoy his company. His religious beliefs grew and solidified and becoming a priest himself seemed the next logical step.
When Jared finished telling his tale, Jensen just stared at him. And then his tongue poked out from between his lips and he swiped briefly at the seam of his mouth. “So basically,” he said, “you lied to a priest about having a ‘calling’ and then went along with the lie because it got you out of a stifling, controlling house? That’s why you’re gonna be a priest?”
Jared shook his head. “Okay. That’s…not entirely…inaccurate. But I did feel drawn to the place. And I do have beliefs. I dunno, Jensen. It just seemed like the right thing to do.”
Jensen noted his use of the past tense. “I get it,” he said. “Sometimes, when you’re in a bad situation, you’ll do anything to get out of it. Even risk the devil you don’t know on the off-chance it might not be as bad as the devil you do know.”
Jared sighed and picked up an armful of books. “It’s not like that.”
“No? Then maybe you’re just using the priesthood to hide.”
Jared frowned. Father Michael had suggested the same thing. “From what?”
“Catholic priests aren’t allowed to have sex, right? And your family’s pretty religious. Maybe you just don’t wanna face the reality of who, gender-wise, you want to have sex with?”
Jared blanched and hugged the books even tighter against his chest. “I…no. If I thought…if I was sure that…then I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t take my final vows if… the truth is, you’re the only person my own age who’s not a relative that I’ve spent any time with. And I like you. But I don’t know what I’m feeling. Or why. Maybe it’s just because you…and no one’s ever touched me like that before and I… I’m sorry,” Jared’s mouth clamped shut and he spun away, heading towards the shelves with his books.
Jensen stared after him, trying to sort through the rush of pained half sentences he’d just had hurled at him, and then he started after Jared and put a hand to his shoulder. Jared flinched.
Jensen dropped his hand. “You’ve never been in a sexual situation before because of your upbringing,” he said quietly, “And then I groped you and you didn’t hate it. Only I’m a guy. And I make a living from turning people on and getting them off. So you’re not sure what it means; whether it means anything. Not sure whether you’re gay or just ridiculously inexperienced. Does that about sum it up?”
Jared nodded.
Jensen leaned back against a book shelf. “So, maybe you should try hanging out with some straight, non-hooker people your own age? See if it takes?” It pained Jensen to say it, but it was what Jared needed. He’d gone from one extreme to the other here - from an environment of virgins to one of whores - and what he needed more than anything was some normality.
Jared nodded again. “But I’d like to hang out with you too,” he said hesitantly.
Jensen raised an eyebrow. “You do realize that for a to-be-negotiated sum of money, I’m a sure thing?”
Jared’s already pale face became almost translucent. “That’s not what I… I didn’t mean. I don’t want. I want us to be friends.”
Jensen had regretted his words almost as soon as they’d left his mouth, but at the same time he’d needed to know whether Jared saw him as a potential friend or just someone to experiment on while he sorted out his sexuality. He’d hung his head when Jared started stuttering, but when Jared proclaimed that he wanted them to be friends, he lifted his head and met the younger man’s eyes with a determined expression. “Yeah,” he said. “I’d like that.”
-X-
When Danni finished her GED class, she came across to where Jensen was re-shelving books and explained that Jeff had to help out with the lunch rush before he could take them to see Gen in the hospital.
“How long’s that gonna take?” Jensen grumbled. He would’ve been a lot more irritated if he hadn’t been enjoying Jared’s company so much.
Danneel shrugged. “A couple of hours, maybe.”
“A couple of hours?” Okay, now he was irritated. “He couldn’t’ve mentioned that earlier? I could’ve gone straight home!”
“Oh, I dunno, Jay,” Danneel said coolly, her eyes sliding across to Jared. “Looked to me like you were enjoying yourself plenty.”
Jensen huffed. “Alright, let’s go. We’ll come back at two.”
Danneel shook her head and told him that Jeff had asked her to stay and help with lunch and that she’d agreed to.
“You’re welcome to stay too, Jensen,” Jared said, “I’ll be helping out as well. It’ll be fun.”
Jensen snorted. “Yeah. Right. I seriously doubt Jeff wants someone like me serving food.”
Jared grabbed hold of his upper arm and started to drag him towards the kitchen. “Let’s ask him. Jeff! You don’t mind if Jensen stays and helps out too, do you?”
Jeff turned and fixed his kind, brown eyes on Jensen. “Of course not. We’re always happy to have new volunteers.”
Jensen’s lips thinned. “You’re not scared I’ll give your clients AIDS?”
Jeff frowned. “You look pretty healthy to me. But if you are HIV positive, I’ll ask you to refrain from spitting or ejaculating into the food. In fact, best if you don’t do that, period.”
Jensen’s jaw dropped, but before he could think up a suitable reply, Jeff had turned to Jared. “You can show them where the aprons, hairnets and latex gloves are.”
“Kinky,” said Jensen. “You know I think I saw a porno that started like this once.”
Jared blushed, Danneel smacked him and Jeff just laughed. “Wouldn’t surprise me,” he said.
The aprons, Jensen didn’t mind so much, but the hairnets were hideous and the latex gloves reminded him unpleasantly of a fisting job he’d once done.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he muttered to Danneel. “Does my hair still look alright under this stupid thing?”
Danneel snorted and shook her head. “You are so gay.”
“Jared, my man!”
A skinny, untidy blond man slapped Jared’s back enthusiastically. “How’s it hangin’ bro?”
“Chad,” Jared held out his hand and then looked perplexed when Chad tried to execute some kind of complicated hand shake. “How are you?”
But Chad’s gaze had left him and was fixed firmly over Jared’s shoulder, where Danneel was snapping on her latex gloves.
“You,” he stretched out an arm and pointed at Danneel. “I’ve seen you at Whiskey and Rye. You’re a stripper!”
Jensen stepped smoothly in front of Danni, screening her from the blond’s view. “And you’re a douchebag,” he said.
Chad stared at him for a moment and then his eyes widened. “I’ve seen you on the Boulevard. You’re a hooker!”
Jensen drew himself up to his full height. “And you’re still a douchebag. Are we gonna have a problem here?”
Chad frowned and looked genuinely confused. “No. I’m Chad.”
Jensen faked a grin. “Yeah,” he said, “I got that. When Jared called you Chad.”
Chad nodded, as if Jensen had said something profound. “Right. I feel you. And just so you know, I have absolutely no filter between my brain and my mouth. I don’t mean to be an asshole, it just happens.”
Chad turned out to be alright for a douchebag. He ran his mouth more than anyone Jensen had ever known, and he couldn’t seem to stop himself from leering at Danneel, even after she slapped him for it, but he treated gap-toothed homeless old men with the same respect that he treated Jeff Morgan-which is to say with none whatsoever-and he was honest and open and said what he thought. Jensen found that he respected him for that, just a little. He could’ve done without the constant stream-of-consciousness verbal diarrhea, complete with leering and innuendo, but all in all Chad wasn’t too bad.
Somehow, as Jensen, Danneel, Jared, Chad and Jeff stood side by side serving chicken and biscuits, the talk turned to how old you’d been the first time you had your first drink of alcohol. Chad and Danneel had been fifteen, Jeff had been eighteen and now everyone was looking expectantly at Jensen. He slopped a portion of the chicken casserole down onto a plate and handed it across the counter to the young red-haired woman waiting on the other side. Jensen had seen her around-had seen her begging; had seen her turning tricks; had seen her sitting beneath the overpass, her pupils dilated and her eyes bloodshot, a burnt can clutched in her hand. As he passed her the plate he could see that her hands were shaking and he didn’t like her chances of keeping down the meal. Jeff noticed too and his concerned gaze followed her to a table, where she found a seat as far away from anyone else as she could manage. Jeff met Jensen’s eyes briefly and then turned away, calling out to the kitchen, “Alona, we’re running low on plates out here!”
“So what about you Jensen?” said Chad.
Jensen frowned. What about what?
“How old were you? When you had your first drink.”
“Sixteen,” Jensen lied.
He’d actually been nine the night his father had thought it would be hilarious to force Tequila shots down his son’s throat until he puked. He turned to Jared, wanting the attention off him as soon as possible.
“How about you Jared? How old were you when you had your first drink?”
Jared shrugged and smiled lopsidedly. “I don’t know. It hasn’t happened yet.”
“Da fuck?” said Chad.
“I am only eighteen,” Jared said reasonably.
“No, no, no,” Chad shook his head. “This travesty cannot be allowed to stand. You’re in your first year of seminary school, so you’re basically a college freshman, right?”
Jared nodded and Chad looked triumphant. “It is a rite of passage for you to go out with your buddies and get absolutely shit-faced, sometime this year. It’s in the American constitution-”
“Pretty sure it’s not,” Jensen interjected.
Chad scowled at him. “It’d be un-American not to,” he stated firmly. “And I for one, am not about to let a friend down like that. We’re going out. Tonight.”
-X-
Jensen hated hospitals. He hated the sterile whiteness, the constant brightness and the antiseptic smell. Most of all he hated the faux-caring expressions of the staff, the way they plastered on an I-give-a-damn face while they calmly tore your world apart with carefully-chosen, yet blunt, words.
He owed Danneel a lot, or he wouldn’t be here now, leaning with his back against the wall of Gen’s hospital room, arms folded across his chest, trying to look tough and not like a scared kid who was about to hyperventilate.
Jeff and Danni were sitting by Gen’s bed in the two visitors’ chairs. They were talking to her in the low voices that horse breakers used when they didn’t want to spook a particularly skittish colt. Pellegrino sure did a number on her. Even if Danni could get her a job at Whiskey and Rye she wouldn’t be able to start working for a while, not with her face bruised and swollen the way it was.
Gen huffed gently and pulled herself more upright. Ignoring Jeff and Danni, she looked straight at Jensen, her puffy mouth twisting into a tight smile.
“I’ve seen you on the beat,” she said. “You’re Dean, right?”
Jensen nodded.
“Come’ere,” she gestured him forward and patted her bed.
“I’m good where I am.”
“Pussy. I wanna talk t’you. Don’t wanna shout. Shoutin’ hurts.”
“C’mon, Jay,” Danni moved her chair sideways and beckoned Jensen forward.
“Jay?” Gen queried.
Jensen sighed and moved to her side, settling himself gingerly right on the edge of the bed. “Jensen. Dean’s just a working name.”
Gen nodded slowly and then winced. “Fuckin’ Mark,” she said.
“He really did a number on you, huh?”
Gen snorted. “It’s not the first time. It isn’t even the worst time,” she eyed Jensen critically. “Alastair talked about you, you know. While he was cutting me. Said you cried real pretty.” She flipped the hospital blanket off her legs and slid them slightly apart before pulling up her hospital gown. The inside of one thigh was carved with pentagrams and other bizarre symbols. The other thigh was still tightly bandaged.
“Fuck,” Jensen breathed. “At least he only cut lines into me.”
Gen covered herself again. “Yeah, but he was plannin’ on carving you into a whole new creature. You would’ve been singin’ soprano, if your boy Eliot hadn’t turned up and beaten him unconscious.”
Jensen shuddered. “I was stupid,” he admitted. “But I learned my lesson.”
“Yeah,” Genevieve looked thoughtful. “I think it’ll be a while before I let a trick tie me up again.”
“If I can get you a job at Whiskey and Rye,” Danni interrupted, “you can stop hooking completely. Dancing’s a lot safer.”
Gen flicked her gaze to Danneel and then back to Jensen. “What’s with this? Jeff I get; he’s a do-gooder. What’s she? Some kind of stripper with a heart of gold?”
Jensen grinned. “She’s one of my best friends. And her roommate just ran out on her so she’s lookin’ for someone to share the rent. You move in with Danni and get a job at the strip club and you won’t have to rely on Mark. Seems like you guys could help each other out.”
Gen nodded thoughtfully. “I’ve stripped before. Gonna need a couple weeks though,” she gestured at her face. “Not lookin’ my best right now.”
Jeff leaned forward. “I’ll have a word with the proprietor. Get him to hold the job open for you.”
Gen settled back against her pillow and tipped her head to stare pensively at the ceiling. “You know, my momma always used to say ‘better the devil you know’, which didn’t work out so well for her and hasn’t been workin’ out so well for me either. So,” she flicked her eyes back to Danni, “I guess you got yourself a new roommate.”
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