Page 51 of Pieces of Me

“I actually have to stop by the manager’s office first because my house keys went missing earlier.” He held up his hand to stave off Scott’s question. “It’s a long story,” they said in unison, Scott’s tone dry, and Rylan chuckled ruefully.

Scott parked and switched the engine off. “I’ll wait for you, if that’s okay. After all this, I need to make sure you get home safely.”

Rylan smiled. “I’ll be fine, but sure, Scott.”

They both climbed out of the car, and Scott gestured at him to lead the way, following as Rylan pushed open the door to the apartment manager’s office and trying, as he always did, not to gag at the reek of cigarette smoke permeating the place. A TV blared somewhere off in the distance.

“Damn,” he heard Scott complain from behind him, “it smells like a fucking ashtray in here.” He stayed in the doorway, propping the door open with his foot to let some fresh air in.

Rylan shot him an “I know, right” grimace and stepped up to the reception counter, calling out, “Mrs. Popovic? It’s Rylan Mahoney.”

He had to shout a couple more times until the TV was finally muted, followed by the vibration of heavy footsteps on the floor as Mrs. Popovic appeared in the doorway leading from the office back to her private apartment.

“Mahoney!” she rasped, glaring at him. “You pay? ’Cause if you no have money, I no want to see you. Come back when you have money.”

“I have it!” Rylan said hastily, bending down to retrieve the cash from where he’d stashed it in his sneaker, thankful it wasn’t the shoe currently full of sloshy liquid. He counted out the $150 in back rent for her, shoving the cash across the cracked and stained counter. She threw him a dark look and picked it up to count it herself.

“Is late fee now,” she grunted. “Fifty dollars.”

“What?” Rylan yelped. “You didn’t say anything about a late fee the other day!”

“Is late fee now,” she stressed, staring at him with narrowed eyes, daring him to argue further. “Is in your rental contract, Mahoney.”

To his horror, Rylan felt a burning in his eyes, the precursor to tears. This had been such a shitty fucking day in every way. Not only did he now have to hand over the majority of his hard-earned food money, he still had to break the news to her that he’d also lost his keys. His body hurt all over, and on top of it, he was sticky and his crotch had been sitting in countless other men’s ball sweat all day long.

He took a deep, shaky breath, but before he could speak, he saw Mrs. Popovic’s mouth drop open. There was a warmth at Rylan’s shoulder, and then the sound of a honeyed Southern drawl washed over him, making him shiver. “Hello, ma’am. I was looking for my brother. Hey, Ry.”

Mrs. Popovic’s eyes were well and truly goggling now, and Rylan spun around to see Scott standing there with a dazzling smile on his face, one that showed his even white teeth and made his gorgeous green eyes sparkle.

“You were taking so long, I started to wonder if there was a problem.” His voice was warm, and he leaned against the counter with one hip and crossed his arms, the pose emphasizing his biceps and long legs.

Mrs. Popovic was practically hyperventilating, and Scott said, “Ma’am? Everything okay in here?”

She pointed to Rylan. “You―you his brother?” she croaked. Scott gave her another slow smile, and he faced her full-on, resting his elbows on the counter as he looked up at her through long, thick lashes.

“Stepbrother, actually. Just found him again after a long time.” He winked at her, and Rylan thought for a minute she’d swoon. “Isn’t that terrific news? Means I’ll be here a lot visiting him, catching up.”

He straightened again and lifted his arms over his head in a casual stretch, the motion causing his tank top to ride up, showing a slice of muscled belly. “You have a pool, right?” Scott directed this at Rylan. “I could come lay out with you over the summer, drink some beer.”

Mrs. Popovic’s greedy eyes devoured Scott’s body, clearly imagining him in a swimsuit sprawled out by the glittering pool that was visible from the office window.

“By the way, I’m Scott.” He stuck out his hand, and she took it, tucking her impossibly red hair behind her ear with the other and giving Scott a simpering smile.

“Irina,” she replied with what was probably intended to be a giggle, but instead it came out sounding like the wet croak of an asthmatic frog.

“So nice to meet you, Irina.” Scott leaned against the counter again, still holding her hand, and Rylan could only look on in amazement as with a few bats of his eyelashes and a couple more devastating smiles, he had her talked into waiving the late fee. Not only that, she was going to unlock Rylan’s apartment door for him with her own key and have the maintenance man up within the hour to rekey everything and give him a new set.

“I’ve just seen the master at work. Again,” Rylan whispered to Scott as they followed Irina’s ample form down the sidewalk toward Rylan’s building. “Some things apparently never change.”

“Putty in my hands,” Scott said with a wink, and he lengthened his strides to catch up with Mrs. Popovic, continuing to charm her until Rylan’s apartment door was safely open and they were inside.

Rylan left Scott to get rid of her however he chose and hurried into his bathroom to take a long, hot shower with plenty of soap in private places, feeling much more human again. He dressed in a pair of loose gym shorts, sans underwear, intending to let everything breathe, and pulled a T-shirt on before padding out into the living room to find Scott sprawled on the couch, his arms crossed over his chest, his head back. He appeared to be dozing, and Rylan tiptoed into the kitchen to get himself a much-deserved beer. At the hissing sound of the bottle cap being popped off, he heard a quiet voice say, “I’ll take one of those.”

Rylan grabbed a second beer and brought it to Scott before settling himself on a small recliner nearby. They drank in silence for a few minutes, and Rylan ventured, “Thanks for what you did with Mrs. P. Hell, thanks again for everything. If you hadn’t come by―” He shuddered, thinking of the assholes at the Circle K.

Scott lifted one shoulder in a careless shrug, brushing off the gratitude. “So what’s the story here, Rylan? You’re a long, long way from home, dude.”

Rylan sighed, leaning back in his chair and throwing one leg over the arm, sprawling out. “Well, I finished college last year with a degree in photojournalism and had this brilliant idea for a project. I shopped it around to some magazines, actually got some writers interested in putting a story together if I can deliver on the photos.”