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Chris did, detaching himself from his own skin to make this easier.
“People will go wild for your ass. You will be devoured.”
“I can take it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Turn around.” When Chris did, Mickey pointed to the floor. “My shoes need cleaning.”
He’s loving this.Chris sank to his hands and knees. He had hoped that agreeing to take Anthony’s place would be enough, but nothing was ever simple. He stuck out his tongue and licked Mickey’s right shoe. The scent of leather was tamed but noticeable. He couldn’t tell whether Mickey was even looking at him, but that didn’t matter.
“Other one,” Mickey said, sounding both stern and bored.
Chris moved to lick the other shoe, his tongue quickly drying out. He tried to keep his shame locked in a dark room, but some slipped out.
“On your knees,” Mickey finally said.
Chris stopped licking and rose to his knees. With no warning, Mickey slapped him.
“Do you have any idea how angry I am to see you acting like this?”
Chris rubbed his cheek. “You know why I’m doing this.”
“Your reasons are pathetic, and so are you. Listen to me closely. I won’t let you anywhere near the club as a toy. You will come there as a proud owner and my personal guest.” He placed two fingers on Chris’s mouth before he could argue. “I’m not doing this out of spite. You were born for great things, and I will not take part in having it go to waste. People like us can sometimes get lost in silly notions of friendship, but when those notions slow us down, we need to look past them.” He cupped Chris’s cheek, surprisingly gentle. “Go see Anthony. Convince him to agree. Use every trick that you can think of to get the job done, as you would to win a case.”
“He’ll hate me.”
“He’ll feel what you allow him to feel.” Mickey slipped a finger into Chris’s mouth. “Once you remove someone’s options, he can only follow your lead.” He slipped another finger inside, slowly stroking Chris’s tongue. “Make him understand it has already been decided. If he needs to be persuaded by other means, use them. It is your right.” He twisted his fingers and sharply shoved his fingernails into Chris’s upper palate. The pain made his eyes sting, yet he remained still, enduring the pain because someone more powerful decided he deserved it.
After a long moment, Mickey pulled his fingers out.
Chris filled his dry mouth with saliva, tasting blood. “I’ll speak with him.”
“Good boy.” Mickey wiped his fingers on Chris’s forehead. “Tomorrow evening, you and Anthony will join me at the club. I’ll send you the address.”
“Tomorrow?”
Mickey got up. “I’ve wasted enough time running after you two. Get dressed and go back to work.”
Chris rose to his feet. “Can I get back on the case?”
“That’s up to you, isn’t it?” Mickey watched him from across his desk. “Get your bitch in line, then we’ll see about the case.”
Chris hurried to get dressed.
*
He stood in front of Anthony’s door for a long time, unable to knock. Slime nested in the pit of his stomach, like rotten food. He kept waiting for the feeling to pass, but it didn’t. He would need to soldier through or face the consequences of his failure.
Finally, he knocked.
Anthony opened the door wearing only his underwear and a tense smile. Chris stepped inside to the smell of homemade cooking. The last time Chris had lived in a small bachelor’s apartment was with Ethan when they had just moved to New York. Their place smelled more like expired leftover take-out than homemade cooking.
“I baked some things,” Anthony stated the obvious. “Now that I have some free time.”
Chris listened for an accusation but there was none. “Smells great.”
