Rough Boys Ch. 14byroughboy18©
This is a copyrighted work of fiction. All rights reserved.
All characters engaged in sexual acts in this story are at least eighteen years of age.
Warning: This chapter contains offensive language, interracial romance, and mild violence.
August drew to a close and, before Ty knew it, they were into a sweltering September. The only hint of autumn was revealed in store window displays, which showed warm fall colors, sweaters, and boots. Ty couldn't help but think about college. If things had gone the way he'd planned, he would have been leaving home for school.
However, he could not regret the decision he'd made to run away. He wondered if he would still be alive if he'd stayed at home. He had not gone into details with Stephanie about the abuse he had suffered for fear that she would try to have his sister removed from his parent's care. His father had never harmed his sister while he had been living at home, and she assured him that was still the case.
He looked for work without success at first. At Abe's urging, he was selective about where he applied. He didn't want to flip burgers or clean bathrooms, although as the days went by he thought he might have to lower his expectations. After all, he had almost no real work experience.
At the end of the second week in September, just as the hot weather finally broke, he got a break in his job hunt as well. Bill called him and told him he had recommended him to the company who made the inventory control software he used at his store, and that they were interested in talking to him about a sales support position. The job would be installing and supporting the company's software.
Ty was extremely nervous for the interview. He spent many hours at Bill's store making sure he understood the ins and outs of the program before he went to meet with his potential employer.
He thought the interview went fairly well. He was able to answer almost all of their technical questions, and they didn't ask him any personal questions, for which he was immensely grateful. Since Ty had little experience with this sort of thing, it was difficult for him to judge the outcome, and he spent four days on pins and needles waiting for a response from the company.
Finally they called and told him they were impressed with his knowledge and with Bill's strong recommendation, and they offered him the job. It was only part time, with varying hours depending on need. They would pay him for several days of training up front, and they estimated that he would get ten to twenty hours of work a week. They were going to pay him fifteen dollars an hour, plus cab fare if he needed it. Ty was ecstatic. Between that job and working for Bill four hours each week, he'd make as much money as he would flipping burgers full time, if not more.
With some trepidation he opened a bank account. It seemed strange to him to have his own money and a steady source of income. He lived in constant fear of succumbing to his drug cravings. He declined the convenience of a debit card, thinking if he had to actually go into the bank to get his money, it would be more difficult for him to spend it on drugs.
The training he got at his new job was an opportunity to get to know his boss and meet a few coworkers; he already knew most of the technical information they imparted. His boss, Jeremy, was only a few years older than he was—just out of college. He was friendly and fair but seemed apathetic about the company and the product. Ty would mostly be working directly with clients, with little opportunity to fraternize with his coworkers. Jeremy went with him on his first assignment and after that he was on his own.
He quickly found that, after he got over the initial discomfort of meeting new people, he enjoyed the work. The problems were varied and sometimes challenging, and he was able to put his troubleshooting skills and technical knowledge to good use. After his boss received positive reports from his first several clients, Ty gained confidence in his abilities.
Life wasn't perfect for him though. He still had wild mood swings; one day he would feel really happy and proud of himself, and the next he would feel like a total loser—like he couldn't do anything right and no one would ever love him. It was on the down days that he really craved drugs. On his good days, he thought about drugs many times throughout the day, but was able to dismiss those thoughts quickly. But on his bad days, the cravings dogged him all day, beckoning to him with the promise of escape and instant happiness, never giving him a moment's peace.
One day after he'd been working about a month, he had a terrible day. He'd woken up in a bad mood—his sleep had been plagued by disturbing dreams that he couldn't remember but which left behind a ghost of terror and dismay.
He was running behind schedule and then had trouble hailing a cab. He arrived at the client's office almost twenty minutes late. Even though he'd called to tell the client he was going to be late, the grumpy man didn't miss the opportunity to tell him how unprofessional and inconsiderate he was.
Ty apologized several times, but he'd started on bad footing. Things only went downhill from there. The installation didn't go smoothly; the client's hardware was the minimum required, and it was already loaded with more software than any dedicated system should ever have. There wasn't enough hard disk space for the application and Ty had to get the client to tell him what he could remove.
The irritable man stood over him and berated him, as if it were his fault that the application had been built to take up so much hard disk space.
Even after he got the installation completed, the software wouldn't launch. Ty spent the entire afternoon trying to troubleshoot what was wrong. He'd called his boss for help several times, but Jeremy was as mystified as he was. The client became increasingly impatient and finally about 4pm, he told Ty to leave.
Ty quickly headed out the door, desperate to get out of the caustic environment—everyone there seemed unhappy. Even the attractive receptionist was snippy.
As a parting shot, the overbearing client told him sternly that he was going to call his employer and demand that they send out someone who was actually competent the next day.
Ty felt horrible. He was worried he'd be fired. By then he agreed with the client—he was totally inept. He would probably never be able to hold down a decent job.
You should just get stoned and forget about it. You'll feel so much better when you're high.
This time Ty listened to that little voice he'd been ignoring for weeks. It will just be this one time, he reasoned. I can shoot up once and no one will ever need to know. It's not like one time will send me back onto the streets.
Before he knew it, he was standing in line at the bank to take money out of his account. He was still arguing with himself, but he was feeling so low, the voice that wanted drugs had a stronger argument.
While he was still in line, his phone rang. He glanced at the display, already knowing it would be Abe. He couldn't talk to him right now. Just the fact that he was calling him made the drug fiend inside him irritated. He powered off his phone.
He withdrew fifty dollars from his account knowing it should be more than enough to get what he needed but not so much that he'd lose all his money if he were mugged—something he needed to take into consideration if he were looking for street drugs.
Excitement quickened his pace as he headed toward the area under the overpass where he used to sleep. There were likely people there from whom he could score a hit of smack and, hopefully, a new needle. Part of him was soaring. I'm going to be high soon!
Another part of him felt positively ill. He remembered all too well sleeping on the littered ground while cars rushed by overhead. He remembered waking up every morning to nausea and a throbbing headache. He tried to subdue those memories and focus on the euphoria that he knew the drug would bring.
Still he argued with himself.
You're not really going to do this are you?
You bet I am.
No, please! Why? You don't need it.
It'll just be one more time. I've had such a shitty day I deserve to do this.
You don't deserve shit. You're an idiot!
Before he knew if, he was back in his old haunts. There were only three men hanging out under the overpass, derelicts with glassy, unfocused eyes who hadn't bathed in days.
Ty shuddered. He had been one of them once. Even so, approaching them, he felt a surge of exhilaration.
They looked up at him expectantly, struggling to focus, their gazes taking in his clean clothes, new jacket, and new boots.
He didn't come too close.
"Hey," he said softly. "Do you know where I can score some smack?"
They all stared at him for a long moment. His heart fluttered in his chest.
Finally one of them, a small Hispanic man, spoke. "You plannin' to shoot it or smoke it?"
"Shoot it if I can buy a clean needle." Goosebumps popped out on Ty's skin and he started salivating. He could almost feel the high already.
"Don't got none on me, but I can get you some. How much do you want?"
"Just like a quarter gram. Is it clean?"
"Yeah man. He purifies it himself. He always has happy shit."
"Can he sell me some needles?"
"Don't know. I'll ask." The man looked Ty over again. "You don't look like a user."
"I'm clean now."
One of the other men, an older white man, spoke up. "If you're clean now, how come you're lookin' to start back up?"
"I just feel like getting high is all." Ty didn't think it was any of his business.
Run! Run away now! the smarter part of his brain screamed at him.
The first man glared briefly at the older white man before he turned his attention back to Ty. "Give me forty and I'll go get you some."
"No. I'll hand you the money once I've checked out the shit."
"I can't get it with no money."
"Well, I ain't handin' my money over. If he comes here, I'll buy some and give you a bump."
"He don't go out and I can't bring you there. If you want drugs, you'll have to give me your money."
"Sorry," Ty said. It was a standoff. Ty knew if he handed his money over to this guy, he'd never see him again. "Thanks anyway."
Ty wandered on down the street, disappointment keen in his breast. So close! I almost had some. Or maybe that guy didn't know anyone at all and he was just stringing me along to get my money. He kept an eye out for other likely dealers or users who might know where to get some.
A half-hour later he was getting desperate. He'd gone to the park, but there were few people out; maybe because the weather had turned. He didn't know where the wintertime haunts were. Perhaps most of the itinerants had drifted south to warmer climates.
His excitement over scoring drugs faded as his frustration mounted. Surely there's someone out here who will sell me something.
He continued walking and approached a few people along the way, but either they didn't have any or they didn't trust him. He looked too clean.
He decided to venture on to a different park that was half a mile away. There he did find a few more junkies, but again, trust seemed to be an issue. He didn't fit in anymore. He no longer looked like a user.
As a last resort he approached a tall, young man who looked too clean to be a street person, but he had long dreadlocks. He was probably cool.
After his query, the young man looked him over skeptically. "You're a user?"
"Sometimes," Ty replied.
The man nodded, seeming to accept this. "I might be able to find you some, but I need to make a call. You got a phone I could use?"
Ty turned his phone on, and it immediately started to chime with incoming messages.
Ty's guilt flared. He knew Abe was probably worried sick about him by now.
He handed his phone to the other man who dialed and listened for a minute before speaking into Ty's phone, obviously leaving a message.
"Hey Raul. It's Manny. Call me back at this number when you get this message." He handed the phone back to Ty.
Now I'm going to have to keep my phone on. Shit!
Ty's guilt was gnawing holes in his stomach.
Since he had the phone on anyway, he glanced at the messages. There were four from Abe and one from his boss. He listened to the message from Jeremy, which simply asked him to call him back at his cell number.
With growing panic Ty paced away from the dreadlocked guy and put a call through to his boss. Surely Jeremy wouldn't fire him just because of one asshole customer would he?
"Hey, Jeremy, it's Ty."
"Hi Ty. Sounds like you had a rough day."
"Yeah, you could say that."
"Mr. Adams called and wants someone else for tomorrow."
Ty's heart sank to his feet. "Yeah, he told me he was going to do that. I'm sorry, I just couldn't figure out why our app wouldn't fully install. There's no error message or anything, it's just not writing all the files." Ty's frustration was apparent in his voice.
"Don't sweat it, Ty. Sometimes these things happen. Heaven knows our software's not exactly foolproof. If it was, you wouldn't have a job."
"I still have a job?" Ty dared to ask.
"Of course, Ty. I wouldn't fire you over something like this. Adams sounds like a real ass."
"Yeah, he was ... difficult."
"So, tomorrow I'd like you to come out there with me. We can troubleshoot it together. Are you available?"
"Sure, what time?"
"I'll swing by and pick you up at 8:30. Can I call you on your cell when I'm out front?"
"Yes, of course."
"And Ty? Don't worry about this, okay? Some customers are just like that and you can't take it personally. I think you're doing a great job."
"Thanks Jeremy! See you tomorrow."
Ty had a big smile on his face as he hung up. He wasn't going to get fired after all. He wasn't even going to get reprimanded. Suddenly his evening looked better.
He glanced around. The dreadlock guy was looking at him curiously. He had wandered away while he was talking. He started to make his slow way back, having second thoughts now about the drugs. Part of him still really wanted them.
His phone was still in his hand and it started ringing. He answered it without even thinking about it. It was Abe.
"Ty! Where are you?"
Ty's gut turned to lead. He turned around and walked away from dreadlock guy again. "Uh ... at Jefferson Park."
"What are you doing at the park?" Abe's voice sounded worried.
"Looking for drugs," Ty answered bluntly. It didn't even occur to him to lie to Abe.
"Oh shit, Ty!" Abe cried out. "Don't ... oh please!" Abe's voice was anguished and Ty felt like he'd been caught kicking puppies.
"Ty, I'm on my way. Please, can you go into a restaurant or something and wait for me?"
"Uh...." Ty wasn't sure what to do. Just then his phone beeped, indicating he was getting another call. He glanced at the display. It was a number he didn't recognize—most likely dreadlock guy's connection. He turned and started heading toward the young man, at the same time telling Abe that he was getting another call and would call him back.
"Ty!" Abe cried as Ty hit the button to connect to the other call.
"Just a minute." Ty was in front of dreadlocked guy now and handed his phone over.
His hands shook. He was having serious second thoughts about doing drugs. Crawling through his belly was a very large slug whose name was Guilt.
Abe's frantic voice reverberated through his system. The sound of him crying out Ty's name as he disconnected dug its tendrils into his flesh painfully. A massive shudder seized his body. He was vaguely aware of Manny talking on his phone, asking for smack.
His stomach lurched and bile surged to the back of his throat. He swallowed it back down as panic broke loose behind his calm facade. I don't want drugs! Never again!
He was just about to interrupt Daryl when the young man hung up.
"Sorry, dude. He's just sold his last quarter. He says he'll have more tomorrow. If you want to meet me here around three or so, I can hook you up."
"Uh, okay," Ty said, accepting his phone back from Daryl. Relief flowed through him like water, soothing his panic. "I don't think I'll be able to make tomorrow, but thanks anyway."
He turned and started walking, oblivious to his surroundings. His heart was still pounding and his breath was coming in quick pants. That was damn close! What the hell was I thinking? I'd better call Abe.
He hesitated. I can't believe I told Abe I was looking for drugs. He's going to be pissed. Fuck! What if he kicks me out? Suddenly he was afraid to call Abe.
Just then he became aware of footsteps approaching rapidly from behind. His heart rate spiked right back up as he whirled to face whoever was closing on him.
A large man barreled toward him. Even in the dark he realized that it was Abe immediately. That did not cause his panic to subside. He looked into the black man's eyes with trepidation. What will he think of me now? Has he totally lost all respect for me? I'm a loser-junkie.
But what Ty saw in Abe's eyes was not scorn or disgust, it was dread.
Abe pulled to a halt in front of Ty, putting his hands on the younger man's shoulders and staring at him as if he were afraid that he were already dead—a walking ghost. His breathing was labored and, in spite of the cool temperatures, sweat beaded on his forehead and trickled down his neck.
"Hey, Abe," Ty said quietly. His heart was in his throat. He was terrified of Abe's reaction. After his first brief glance, he couldn't meet his eyes. He looked at his feet.
Abe made a woofing sound as he fought to get air into his lungs. He finally managed to gasp out, "Ty!" He reached one of his hands up to lift Ty's chin and he stared intently into his eyes.
"I ... I'm not high," Ty told him, realizing why Abe was looking at him so closely.
"Oh, thank god!" he wheezed.
"Did you run all the way here?" Ty asked, wondering about Abe's state.
Abe nodded. "God, Ty...." He paused, still gasping for air. "You scared me so bad!"
Shame drenched Ty's countenance in red. He looked down again. "I'm sorry," he said in a small voice. "I ... I wanted it bad, Abe. I took some money out and went looking for smack. I'm such a fuckin' loser."
"No, Ty, you're not a loser." Abe pulled Ty into a hug. Ty clung to him trembling slightly.
"I am. I was going to shoot up. The only reason I'm not high right now is because I couldn't find any."
"Thank god!" Abe replied, tightening his hold on Ty. "I was so worried about you."
"Are you going to kick me out?"
"Of course not, Ty."
Ty took a deep shuddering breath and was suddenly overwhelmed by the scent of Abe, more pungent than usual because he'd been running, but no less intoxicating. The spicy, musky scent soothed his frazzled nerves and repaired his broken spirit. This is exactly what I need. I don't need drugs; I need Abe.
He took another deep breath and this time Abe's scent warmed him, it's tantalizing muskiness reminiscent of passion. Ty's cock plumped instantly.
When he took his third whiff, he wanted to climb inside of Abe. His cock strained against his jeans. It took all his control to not start humping the big man's strong leg.
Panic struck him again, but for a different reason. He pulled away from Abe a few steps and bent over, putting his hands on his knees, head down. As he took deep breaths, trying to calm himself, he felt Abe's hand on his back, rubbing gently.
"Are you okay, Ty?"
"Yeah, give me a minute. I'll be fine. I just had a bit of a scare, that's all."
"Do you know what triggered this Ty?" Abe asked.