Saddled, chapter 15 (Patreon)

Getting into the car, John felt loose and the knots that had made his neck stiff had vanished. John hated to admit it, but a few hours of walking practice had calmed him more than he liked thinking about. Despite Kevin and his damn drugs and Logan’s endless pushing and Fawn’s stupidity, John had reached a point where he could simply let it go and follow the hot walker around in a circle. Bondage as meditation. He was surprised someone out in California hadn’t set up a business.

Or maybe they had. They were weird like that. After starting his car, John stared at the townhomes across the street. He could go back to the hospital, but he didn’t know what to say to his mother. Obviously Kevin had overstepped some serious boundaries, but if John tried asking what had happened, his mom was going to go right back to defending and deflecting.

Some days John felt like he needed a degree in family counseling to navigate an afternoon with his family.

John didn’t even like to think what would happen when Logan’s plane landed. Of all the siblings, John liked Logan best, but he could admit that the man brought drama the way Liberace packed furs. He was west coast gay—open and loud and willing to ring the bullshit bell the second anyone looked at him cross eyed.

Even before he’d left home, he hadn’t fit in. Maine was all about minding your own business. If you were at someone’s house and they let cats walk on the counters, you waited until you got home and were in private to make the appropriate gagging noises. A deliberate social blindness and a misuse of the letter r were the cornerstones of John’s existence.

John picked up the phone and dialed before slipping the Bluetooth ear piece in. He talked his way past Helene as he pulled out into the road. In his years of working for Elena, he had talked to her in person maybe a dozen times. He was definitely abusing her time now, but he figured he was a headliner bringing in more case now that Davidson was interested in him.

Or in his ass. John definitely needed to keep focused on the fact that Davidson was looking for a certain body type and attitude; he didn’t care about the person as a whole.

“John, how nice to hear from you. How did the session with Noah go?” she asked.  That was a rather unsubtle way of telling him she was keeping track of him. Noah had probably called her while John was getting dressed.

“It was relaxing,” he answered. Let her figure out if he meant it or if he was following her instructions to keep any discussion of prostitution as vague as possible. 

“Was it?” she sounded amused, and John regretted trying to play word games with the woman. So he went straight to the reason for his call. “I’m concerned about Rachel. She is not old enough for these sorts of rough games.”

“I hate to tell you this, but the way most people play, it’s not particularly rough. You and Clive are rather unique, which I fully support. Be as unique as you like. However, Rachel is in no danger.”

“Really?” John checked traffic before making a right turn. “The rumors I hear are that this guy has a reputation for pushing too hard.” John had more sense than to mention assistants or payments; however, Elena was too shrewd to miss his reference.

“He might push hard, but Noah is skilled in teaching a person to assert themselves.”

“Really? Because Rachel can’t be more than nineteen. And you’re standing by letting an asshole chew her up and spit her out.” John felt his blood pressure rising by the second. The fact that Elena didn’t seem to be taking this seriously made the issue worse. The reason he worked for Elena was because she didn’t allow shit like this on her watch. Apparently if someone waved enough money under her nose, she’d find them the services they wanted.

“Watch yourself,” Elena said, her voice sharper than John was used to. “Rachel is an adult, one who ripped into Noah for what she believed where anti-gay comments and who called you old. She doesn’t sound like a fainting wallflower. And I asked Noah to call you over at the same time so she would get to know you.”

John heard the thump of the other shoe dropping. Sometimes Elena called John in to play the heavy—to restrain a client  or even threaten someone. Elena wanted him to know Rachel so she wouldn’t be frightened if Elena sent him in to threaten this guy. “You’re a devious woman.”

“I grew up poor enough to learn the value of knowing where every penny was buried. I would call it a high survival instinct—not deviousness.”

“It’s both.”

Elena laughed. “Yes, but I have spoken to Rachel, and I believe her boyfriend has misjudged her rather significantly, not that you would notice. Your instinct toward chivalry is admirable, but it does blind you in some ways.”

“I would rather be a gentleman who underestimates a few women than turn into an asshole.”

“So you would. How is your mother?”

John was at a red light so he closed his eyes for a second.  He hadn’t wanted to discuss the subject, but he didn’t feel comfortable telling Elena to back off, especially not when she’d thrown in an extra ten grand toward the treatment. “She’s looking the same. I haven’t found a doctor to talk to, so I don’t know if that’s a good or a bad sign.” John could only pray that the treatment worked. Elena was silent for a moment, and John wondered if she still had her parents in her life. She rarely said anything about her past—her comment about growing up in poverty was the closest she ever came to sharing personal information.

“You may have some extra spending money this week. I called Clive about another job I was considering sending you out on. He wants to keep you local in case he needs to consult.”

Something in her voice sat wrong with John. She sounded like she had won something. “What did you do?”

“Nothing significant, and you should appreciate that this gives you more time to work out with Noah.”

“Elena,” John drew the word out.

She laughed. “There is a woman who wished to consult, and the topic is right up your alley. Clive had an exceptionally quiet fit. Apparently he does not want you working on other people’s projects at all. He is a territorial bastard.”

John frowned. He would understand why Davidson wouldn’t want John with another man. He’d been perversely turned on by the idea John had never had sex with a man. However, John had been up front about the fact that he had fucked women on the job. He didn’t understand why that would cause Davidson to get his tail in a knot. The man had a real lack of logic. “Why would he care?”

“Oh, I think he likes you more than he’s willing to admit to himself. He was actually sorry he couldn’t work with you on that script this weekend, but apparently his schedule is a little crazy. Like I told you, these jobs run hot and cold, so take advantage of it while it’s running hot.”

“Yeah. And I appreciate you getting me this job, but don’t do too much to abuse Clive’s finances on my behalf.” As much as John needed money, he wasn’t about to financially abuse Clive just because he could. He knew plenty of assistants who did that. Hell, Elena had him sit in the back and look threatening during a few of her meetings with assistants who got out of line with the clients.

“This isn’t about you. I need to figure out why Clive is so fond of you. Every move I make is to prod at his psyche, so don’t you go all protective.”

“I’m not,” John said unhappily. “I have certain morals, and that has nothing to do with Clive or even you.”

“Then I will try to avoid offending your morals,” Elena said dryly, and then she hung up. John sighed. If he wasn’t careful, his job with the agency wasn’t going to survive longer than his contract with Davidson. He didn’t know what the hell was wrong with him. He knew better than to aggravate Elena. Even if she didn’t fire him, she could give him shit jobs for a year. While he did take rich kids out on the boat for a marine version of boot camp, he hated it. If those were the only jobs Elena sent him, He’d starve inside a month. Fishing sure wasn’t bringing in the money it used to.

John’s dad had thought that all the boys could make a good living off the sea if they only applied themselves. John had a few good summers on the Alaskan boats, enough to buy his father’s boat. However, crab fishing was the most dangerous job John could ever imagine. Fishing had a high mortality—higher than the military or police work, that’s for sure. A bad line could cut off a finger or send someone overboard. A fast-moving storm could trap a boat on the open ocean, and freeing tangled nets required patience, strength, an a fatalistic understanding that a human could get dragged in and drown as quickly as other animals out on the sea.

And none of those dangers scared John as much as government regulation and protestors. The worst part was that he was a good sixty percent sure Maine needed both because he’d seen too many captains overfishing areas because they needed the money immediately, and they didn’t care about the long-term health of the ocean.

As John got older, he understood the mentality better than he’d wanted to. He tried to play fair and only take allowed species in allowed amounts, but as he watched others cheat, a little part of him felt like getting in there and scooping out as much for himself as he could. 

That was the number one reason why John needed a job on land. He didn’t want to become one of those assholes driven by desperation to act unethically. And if he relied on his boat for the majority of his income, he feared that was the most likely outcome. 

With a renewed determination to play nice with Elena until the house and boat were fully paid off, John went in search of some place he could park the car for the night and sleep without getting hassled. Sadly, he was having fond memories of the stall where Davidson had kept him. It was warm and comfortable enough, if he ignored the bondage. Sleeping in the back of his ’92 Buick Century would probably leave him with more bruises than Davidson’s damn horse gear. 

Chapter 16: https://www.patreon.com/posts/saddled-chapter-19490176 

Chapter 17: https://www.patreon.com/posts/saddled-chapter-19634666