Eyes Like Winona Ch. 08

*I'm taking eighteen credits this semester.

That's not an excuse, seeing as the procrastination started this summer, but studying was part of the reason this installment was so late. I hope I'm not getting a reputation, but on several of my stories now, I have taken way WAY too long to finish things up. :(

I just want to tell you all one thing.

I work hard on a lot of story ideas, and some of them, great and exciting as I find them, I just can't finish. The point where I realize I just can't finish always comes pretty early in the writing. By the time I have committed to a piece, I make sure that I will be able to finish.

I just want to promise you. That no matter what, no matter how busy I am, or how long the writer's block lasts... I can assure you that I will ALWAYS finish what I started. Even if it takes me more than six months. (sorry)

With all of that said, please enjoy the last installment of Eyes Like Winona. I apologize for not having sex between the main characters until the last chapter. I think of that as a sign of bad erotica, and I will do my best not to have that in future stories.

All Characters are 18+

*

I think that Toby's job search was the only reason he didn't find out sooner.

It was as if he didn't want to change how we spent money until he was making his own.

From ten in the morning to dinnertime, and then from after dinner to midnight, he was gone. Hoofing it from one side of the city to the other. Asking about jobs in places that allowed convicts. He was searching so hard. If he had been looking for just any job, he would have gotten one in three days, I'm sure.

But he wasn't looking for a part-time job or a shit fast-food job. He wanted to earn more than minimum wage.

Even so. It took him twelve days to get a job. The roofing job that Mr. Browning had told me about. Twelve days to get through the interview process and to work for a week without pay. The week without pay was so that his boss would know that he was trustworthy, a hard worker.

On the thirteenth day. His first day working for pay, he looked up our financial records.

---

My jaw hurt.

Ferdinand hadn't been lying when he said that he would find us customers. It seemed like there was always someone waiting. Drake and I barely got to talk at all.

I checked my watch. It was a cheap twenty-buck digital that I had picked up somewhere. It was almost three. About ten minutes left. I would probably be expected to take another guy int he remaining time. But I hoped that I didn't have to.

I gathered the two twenties from my last client and walked outside. I shivered. It was only october, but it was unseasonably cold. I had two days. Drake had seven. The days went by so slow.

I minced over to Ferdinand's car, and I smelled the orangey tang of his newest cigarettes. He glanced at me as I gave him the money.

"The tests came back from the doctor. No STD's."

I felt this massive rush of something breaking loose. This pervasive fear that had hung over my head like a black cloud pregnant with rain. I smiled weakly, feeling wobbly with relief.

"You have come in your hair." He said softly.

I touched the top of my head, and I felt the sticky wetness. I felt ashamed, but I tried not to react. I just mumbled "Sorry."

He sighed. "You're done for the night. Take a shower in your beau's room, and get home safe."

"Thank you sir." I whispered.

---

Drake had a towel around his waist. His hair was matted and dark. He had pale violet shadows under his eyes. He smiled, but his eyes looked so tired.

"Come in."

I walked in and breathed deeply. The room smelled nice. Not like sex or sweat or the rank body odor that I had grown to hate.

I dropped my shorts and slid out of my tank top. The bruises were faded. Ugly yellow blotches went down my back like fractal patterns. It still hurt though. I was almost out of the pain pills.

I went into the shower, and I stood under the spray, sighing at the feeling of being washed. Of being clean. I rinsed my hair until my scalp hurt, wanting to get every trace of semen out of my hair.

When I came out, Drake was in street clothes, yawning.

"You don't have to." I murmured. "You're exhausted."

He shook his head. "I'm not letting you walk home alone. Come on, I'm tired." He sounded cranky. I pulled my sweatpants and a hoodie over my skimpy clothes. We went out on the street together.

Since that night, he never let me walk home alone.

As we walked, I could sense him relaxing. It was that time of night when the city slept. Even the bars and strip clubs were closed. The only people we saw were two homeless women and two drunks stumbling home.

Between two circles of light thrown by the dull yellow sodium-arcs, Drake grabbed my hand. I twined my fingers into his. His hand was long and cool.

We walked in silence, holding hands under cover of darkness.

"Seven days?" I murmured.

"Eight, please. You know how tired I am." He gave me a little push and I laughed. I pushed him back.

After wrestling a little, we went back to walking hand in hand. I could feel my spent cock aching. I had taken three blowjobs through the night, but wrestling with Drake did more for me than the mouths of strange men ever could.

I hesitated near our usual parting spot. We usually split here, a block away from my apartment. We both flinched when we heard breaking glass.

"I'm gonna walk you a little further Neil... I don't want to let you off here."

My stomach flip-flopped a little. "I don't want you to walk home alone either. I wish I had a phone... Then you could text me, and I would know if you got home safe."

"Yeah. Me, too. But don't worry about me. I wont let anything happen to me. Not now."

I was still scared for him, but that would have to do. He walked me to the door of my building.

I gave the streetlight a scathing look. It was too exposed here, too bright. I let my hand slip out of his, and I turned to face him.

"I love you." I whispered, feeling like gravity was dragging me towards him, but I had to move away.

Then he reached out and took fistfuls of the front of my hoodie. I nearly tripped, but at the same time my feet barely touched the ground. In a movement that was rough and giddy, he pulled me to the side, and pressed me against the brick wall.

Under the yellow lights, next to the doorway. In the dark, in front of anyone who wanted to see. In front of the few people that were left. He pressed his lips against mine, he pressed his body to mine. I gasped and thrust back, pressing against him with such force that my lips felt crushed and my skin trembled with the effort.

I could feel his cock against me.

He broke the kiss. I let my head rest against the dull red bricks, panting, and licking my crushed lips.

"You're evil." I whispered breathlessly. I straightened my clothes as he laughed very quietly. He kissed my sore lips very quickly. I looked around, terrified that someone would see.

"I love you, too." He smirked.

"Eight days, mister." I whispered. My face was hot. I walked into the building feeling like my fluttery stomach would raise my toes above the ground.

I ran right into Toby.

My first reaction was to glance back. Drake was out of sight. I frantically tried to judge time and distance, trying to think if Toby could have seen us. I felt a massive wave of panic and guilt. It crushed my ability to think.

He looked down at me and his face was distracted and his brow was furrowed. "Oh, Neil, there you are. I was looking for you. Come upstairs quick.

He turned on his heel and I stumbled behind. Adrenaline had my pulse throbbing jaggedly and I could feel beads of sweat on my cool skin. That had been too close. Way too close.

But I wasn't out of the woods yet.

---

"Where were you just now?"

I shifted slightly. "Out with my friends. I don't really get to see them during the day."

He narrowed his eyes slightly. But that was the end of his questioning. A single question. He abruptly got up and went to his room. The room that he shared with my brother Ben. He had deep circles around his eyes and he looked exhausted. He had stayed up waiting for me, and only asked one question.

I was scared.

I followed him to the bedroom. "Toby?" I whispered. Everyone was sleeping, and the walls were paper-thin.

He turned around. "Are you in trouble?" He hissed. His eyes looked like they were burning in his sockets. "Ben has no fucking clue where the money came from, so that leaves you."

My stomach twisted and jived. I felt like I was going to be very sick very soon. I let my eyes go wider. I tried to jilt my voice into a cadence of confusion and ignorance. "What? What are you talking about."

His eyes narrowed. "Nothing."

He closed the door in my face. So loud that in the twins' room, Lisse started to cry.

I walked in and picked her up. I shushed the heavy toddler while Calvin's sleepy voice came from the bunk. "Whass goin' on?"

"Nothing." I whispered. "Toby's tired."

So was I. But it was a long time before I was able to sleep.

---

I knew how angry he was. But I still had two nights to work. I prayed that I would be done in two nights. I felt so raw, so nervous and electrified and scared during the whole day. It was exhausting. By the time I finished blowing Mr. Browning, I felt like I wanted to fall asleep and never wake up. I just felt bleary and unsexy and exhausted. I hadn't even started my evening.

I expected a confrontation, so after running home, paying Rosa and taking a shower, I went straight to Drake's place. It was about six, but I didn't care. I just didn't want to be in the house. I had a dim hope. That I could go to both of my remaining days and be done. Stay at home. Maybe Toby would just quit, and be happy at our good fortune.

Maybe.

The more I thought about it, the less likely it seemed.

---

"You're so tense. Just lie down."

I sighed. "You aren't going to tease me, are you?"

"No. Just gonna get some of those knots out of your shoulders. You're so tense, and this is the only PG way I know how to get you to relax."

I sighed and leaned on his shoulder. "Seven days."

He laughed, and pushed me. "Eight days. I want a chance to relax, mister bossy."

When he pushed me, I went limp and flopped on my stomach on the bed. Drake grabbed my ankles so I was lying down flat on my stomach. I didn't help him take off my shirt at all. I stayed limp, forcing him to work a little.

He tickled me under my arms, to punish me. I giggled and lifted my arms so he could take it off.

I closed my eyes, and moaned when he put his bare hands on my bare back. Then I yelped.

"What are you doing!" I squealed, as he dug his thumbs deep into the large muscle above my shoulder blades.

"Think of it as a shiatzu massage." He grunted, between digging his fingers deep into my skin. "It will feel great when it's over."

I bit the pillow, half-laughing and half-grunting with shock and pressure. He dug his fingers in, in rough little circular motions from the base of my neck to just above the waistband of my jeans. Under my arms, the sides of my neck, everywhere.

He sat back on his heels, and I tentatively moved. I expected to be bruised to hell by that rough once-over, but I was shocked to move and feel, great.

"Damn." I whispered.

He laughed, and hugged me from behind. He kissed my shoulder. I felt the wanting. It was a sweet heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach, at the base of my groin. In my fingertips and eyelids and the insides of my lips. I wanted to touch him everywhere. Know him in every way that it was possible.

But I had his exact fear. I didn't want to mix this. This beautiful untainted feeling that I had with him. I didn't want to associate it with the men I saw every night.

I let him nuzzle me for another moment before pulling away and grabbing at my shirt.

"Eight days." I conceded.

"Eight days." He whispered.

The melancholy was gone in a shake of his head. He grabbed his guitar and started strumming. He started to hum the first low notes of 'Swing Life Away', by Rise Against.

I sang along.

---

I only had fifteen seconds.

When it was eight, Drake and I changed into our street clothes. Him into a red mesh shirt and tiny spandex shorts. Me into jeans cutoffs and a white shirt that I had cut so it showed my stomach. The rag barely covered my chest. I crossed my arms as I walked out into the streetlight, into the cold.

My foot hit the sidewalk.

I looked over, and I saw Jose walking towards us. Kirk was sitting on the sidewalk.

I looked around.

I saw Ferdinand's black car sitting like a low-slung reptile just out of the streetlight. I could see a tiny red ember glowing in the corner of my eye.

I jumped a little as Drake put his arm around my waist. It was just the kind of easy gesture that he was always doing. He pulled me closer so we were standing hip-to-hip, and he kissed my ear.

A car pulled up. A red car that seemed slightly familiar. Just enough to set off a single small warning light in my skull. It squealed to a stop in front of us.

I tensed. The person inside was drunk or violent. I could hear Ferdinand's door open. He was ready for trouble.

Toby boiled out of the driver's seat. The car's headlights were still on. I recognized it as Rosa's car in a dim distant part of my mind, as the rest of my mind screamed and went alive with panic.

I walked numbly to meet him. Tearing free of Drake's embrace. I took three steps before he met me. Before my face collided with the flat of his hand.

My knees went weak. I nearly fell. I didn't really feel pain. Just a tremendous heat, and tears were streaming from my eyes.

"Toby." I mumbled. I looked up blearily, and I saw Ferdinand out of his car, walking towards us with burning eyes. I saw Drake behind me, running to help. I had less than a moment.

"Ferdinand, Drake!" I called, turning to meet them. "I'm okay. I'll be back in a second. J-Just... Just give me a s-sec--"

Ferdinand was glowering. Drake was inching closer, glaring at my brother warily, like Toby was a snake. "Listen mister, you don't know what's going on, so calm down and--"

"Shut up faggot." Toby snarled. He grabbed my wrist. His grip was so tight I could feel the bones in my wrist creaking. He didn't speak to me. He didn't look at me. The only way he was interacting with me was his painfully tight grasp on my wrist.

"I'll be fine." I mumbled. Not sure who I was talking to.

He yanked me back to the car and he looked like he wanted to shove me in, but he only let go of my hand. I crawled in the seat, touching the side of my face, knowing that I had a handprint as clear as day. I could taste blood. I had cut the inside of my mouth on my teeth.

Drake was hovering a few feet away. In his tiny clothes, he looked long and gawky and scared. I tried to smile. I could feel Toby getting into the car. I tried not to show how scared I was. How serious this was.

The tires squealed. I could smell the hot dull reek of burning rubber, and my hands flew to secure my seatbelt. I held onto the armrests and tried to settle my stomach. Toby was hunched over the steering wheel, silent. I couldn't read his face. I couldn't read how much trouble I was in.

"Toby?" I whispered.

Then I cried out as the rubber squealed again. He turned viciously into a parking lot. An Italian restaurant. He parked and closed his eyes. I felt my thighs trembling. Sweat was beading on my lower back. All of my muscles felt weak and stretched. Like old rubber.

"Explain yourself." His voice was small and quiet. But I could see his hands clenched into fists. The bright hot pain in my cheek had faded to a dull swollen sting.

"I didn't want to." I whispered. The tears were trying to come up, but I forced them down. The AC was on in the car, and I was cold. I was trembling from the cold, and all of my worn-out muscles were shaking with exhaustion.

"I didn't want to do it. I... I had to."

I flinched when he slammed his hands on the wheel. It was the kind of motion that might have been comical if I wasn't so fucking scared. He slammed the heels of his hands into the wheel so hard and so fast and so many times that when he was finally done, he cradled his hands together. He had bruised them.

I was cringing in the front seat. My breath reduced to a terrified whisper in the back of my throat.

"I wish it had been drugs." He whispered. His voice was heavy with disgust. I wilted under the disapproval.

"I h-had to." I mumbled. "Calvin... Calvin b-broke his arm. We had all those bills and... And we n-needed the money."

"And did you need to let that faggot rub all over you? Did you need to do that?"

I started to cry. "Toby... Please Toby, you're scaring me so bad right n-now."

He leaned forward in a sudden violent movement that made me flinch against the inside of the car door. He was taking off his sweatshirt. He flung it at me.

"Cover up." He muttered. "We're going to figure this out. We wont say anything to Ben and the kids. Lets go home and forget all about this."

His face was getting less tense, he was relaxing. "Things were bad when I was gone. But now I'm here. We'll just go home. This will be gone. This will be done and forgotten. We're going to get our lives straight Neil... Everything is better now."

I already felt sick and scared, but for the first time, I felt anger. Small and smothered, but deep in the pit of my stomach there was a resentful ember of heat. He had wished that I was on drugs. He was more worried that Drake had been touching me than I was a prostitute. He put the key in the ignition and I felt that anger get smothered with a huge fear.

I hated to speak, but I had to. My lips felt numb, and I had to repeat myself so I could be heard.

"I can't go home yet."

He looked me in the eyes for the first time. "Why?" His hands tightened on the wheel again. I cringed.

"I h-have to. I have two days left on my contract." There hadn't been a contract, but that way it sounded official. I broke down only a moment after I spoke. "Please Toby, I can get in so much trouble."

"How much."

"Wh-What?"

He slammed the steering wheel again and I let out a little frightened groan. "How much money do we have to pay them? You're not going back there. I'm not going to let you.

My stomach felt very sick. "Too much Toby, w-we can't pay it off. Please T-Toby... He'll break-- He'll hurt me if I don't come back. He can. He's done it b-before."

He whirled. "What did that fuck do to you." He grabbed my upper arms and shook me. His fingers were digging into my arms. The back of my head smashed into the window and I heard a crack.

He immediately let go and I cowered, one hand cupping the back of my head and the other going around my knees as I moaned weakly. I could feel blood in my hair.

"Neil!" He gasped, he tried to reach out to me, to see the damage. But by then I was curled into a tiny ball on the seat, gasping and crying, cradling my head in my arms. I saw him slowly withdraw his arms out of the corner of my eye. I saw the confused look on his face that kept changing between fury and concern and a frustration so huge it was tearing him apart.

He spat it out. "You can come back when you're done with your contract."

I didn't understand what he was saying. I looked up and he was gripping the steering wheel tight. He glared at me and I shrank against the inside of the door. "Go back to your pimp. Finish up your whoring."

"Get out!" He snarled. He wasn't my brother anymore. He was so full of hate. I fumbled with the seatbelt. My hands were so numb. He finally reached over and depressed the button, yanking the seatbelt off of me.

I got out of the car. I turned around to say something, but before I could think of a single sound to make, he was squealing out of the parking lot. I heard a car honking at him. Then the squalling tires moved further away.