Spill The Milk Pt. 04

"I don't know yet. We can't go to our usual watering hole. Craig will be there."

"I thought he didn't go there anymore."

"He doesn't," I explained. "He stopped going there when he started dating Jamie. Mitch got the regular hangout in the best friend break-up. It really wasn't a big deal because Craig pretty much quit going out partying anyway. But it's his bachelor party. Jeremy warned me that they would be there."

"Are you mad at me?" He was so quiet that I had to strain to hear him. Obviously I had been gruffer than I had intended.

I took a deep breath and tried to modulate my voice into something less hostile. "I'm not mad at you, baby. I'm just disappointed. I already have a hard time being away from you for five nights in a row. Now you're telling me that it'll be six."

"It won't be six, Adam. I'll be there Friday. It'll just be a few hours later than usual. How about this? How about when I get there, I'll crawl into your bed naked and get myself all slicked up and open for you. I'll do all the work. Then I'll be nice and ready for you when you get home. You'll be able to just slide into bed and my ass at the same time. Would you like that?"

"Fuck," I groaned as my cock sprang to attention. Now I was going to have that image in my head for the next five days. That was not going to make my week any easier. "Tell me about it, Seth," I insisted, my voice as rough and gravelly as I had ever heard it. I leaned back against the headboard, unzipped my jeans, and took ahold of my rock hard dick. "Tell me everything that you'll be doing to yourself while you're alone in my bed."

**

I'd chosen an out of town bar so that the drunken revelry that would be Craig's stag party would have far less of a chance of accidentally stumbling in. I'd picked a sports bar so that Mitch would feel comfortable. He wasn't good with change, and the familiarity of the team banners, TVs airing games, and busty serving girls in skimpy outfits would all help to keep him calm on a night when he was sure to be anything but.

When we arrived, we discovered that the bar was hosting karaoke for the evening, which I considered a bonus, and I was crossing my fingers that the singers were extraordinarily bad. A few extremely tone deaf fools belting out 'Summer Nights', and pretty much anything that Journey ever recorded, should be entertaining enough to keep Mitch's mind off the spectacle that he wouldn't be witnessing the following day. The parking lot was jam packed, there were even vehicles spilling out onto the grassy areas surrounding the paved, designated parking, but the interior of the place was huge and had an entirely open floorplan, so it didn't feel crowded. It was still early, right at eight o'clock, and I knew the place would only get busier, so I had some concerns about how quickly we would be able to get drinks, as I fully expected Mitch to be double fisting it. However, that turned out not to be an issue at all.

We weren't three feet inside the entryway when Mitch exclaimed, "Holy shit! Is that Corey?"

"What? Where?" I scanned the faces of the patrons in the vast room.

"Right there." Mitch pointed about midway down the room, off to the right.

I followed his line of sight just in time to see Corey, dressed in the same short, plaid, pleated skirt and tight babydoll t-shirt that all of the waitresses were wearing, carrying a full tray of drinks toward a group of guys standing near a large, flat-screen TV displaying the play-off game. The moment she reached for a glass on the tray, one of the guys smacked the bottom of it, upending the tray and knocking it out of her hand. Corey ended up wearing only about half of the liquid, but all of the glass shattered on the floor at her feet.

The distinctive crash of breaking glass caused the noisy din to come to a screeching halt. Due to the karaoke, there weren't even any vocals accompanying the music to mask the hatemongering.

"Get the fuck away from me, freak!"

"Oh fuck, no." The snarled curse hadn't even left his mouth before Mitch was stomping across the floor space to intervene. I was forced to move quickly in order to catch up.

Corey stood, frozen to the spot, with her pretty face devoid of any emotion, when Mitch stepped between her and a guy about my size wearing a team jersey and a nasty sneer.

"Apologize to the lady." Mitch's voice sounded uncharacteristically calm, which I knew to be a very, very bad sign. Really, astronomically bad. The guy's friends all seemed to subtly step back, distancing themselves from the altercation. I, on the other hand, stepped up, right next to Corey.

The asshole scoffed. "That disgusting thing is no lady, no matter how much lipstick you put on the pig."

"Fuck you!" Corey shouted, recovering from her shock and getting visibly angrier by the second.

"You wish, faggot!" the bigot shouted back. "I wouldn't let you touch me for all the money in the world. You make me sick. Cutting off your dick doesn't make you a woman. It makes you a eunuch in a dress."

"Fuck off, you piece of shit!" Corey screamed. "I'm more of a man than you could ever be, and more of a woman than you could ever hope to get!"

That's when all hell broke loose. The prick lurched around Mitch, grabbing for Corey. He was lightning fast. I was standing right there, and he managed to somehow put his hands on her before I had a chance to stop him. Unfortunately for him, Mitch was already in a bad mood. The instant the guy touched her, he was rewarded with Mitch's fist in his face. He spun in order to redirect his hostility toward Mitch, only to have Mitch grab him by the back of his head and introduce his nose to Mitch's right knee. I flinched in sympathy at the sickening crunch of cartilage. The fuckwad dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

"I told you to apologize." Mitch punctuated his statement with a kick to the ribs.

For anyone else, that would have been enough. For Mitch? Not even close. The train had gone off the rails. It required me and three other guys to separate Mitch from the barely conscious man. They were both covered in blood spatter, none of it Mitch's. By the time the police and the paramedics arrived, the adrenaline had filtered out of his system, and Mitch was happier than I'd seen him since the divorce.

**

After the police had taken everyone's statements, and the paramedics had determined that Mitch didn't have a scratch on him, Corey found us sitting on the tailgate of my truck.

"I'm sorry," she said to Mitch.

He shook his head. "It's fine."

"I wasn't trying to humiliate you or anything by telling them that. I just thought it would keep you out of jail."

Mitch studied her for a moment before sighing. "You really think that I would be ashamed to be your boyfriend? I wouldn't. You're a beautiful woman, Corey. I don't know you very well, but Seth has nothing but good things to say about you, and I believe him. So, no. You didn't humiliate me by telling them that I was your boyfriend. If it was true, I would be proud of it. And honestly, sweetheart, if they had arrested me, I would have been just as proud to have gone to jail for defending you."

She just blinked at him in silence long enough for me to begin to feel like I was intruding on a private moment. "Thank you," she finally said. She waved her hand in the direction of the building. "I'm going to go home now and start looking for a new job."

"Why?" Mitch asked.

"Did they fire you?" I asked.

Corey nodded to me. "They said it was about the fight, but... you know."

I nodded with a frown. "I'm sorry."

"Why?" Mitch asked again. "What's going on? Did I get you fired?"

Corey shook her head, and I explained to Mitch. "They fired her because she's transgendered."

"They can't do that," Mitch argued.

"Yes, they can," Corey replied. "There are no protections in this state for trans people. Even if there were, they could still fire me. They could just say it was because they didn't like my haircut or something. It happens all the time. This was my third job in five months."

Mitch's brow furrowed, but he didn't respond.

"I'm going to go," Corey repeated. "Thank you again. For everything."

"Wait!" I hopped off the tailgate as she turned to walk away.

Mitch stood at the same time. "We'll walk you to your car."

"You guys don't have to do that."

"We want to," Mitch told her.

She gave a cursory glance around the relatively dark parking lot and then nodded. "Okay. Thanks."

We walked in silence, with Mitch and I flanking Corey, all three of us probably trying to process everything that had happened. When we got around to the employee parking lot on the back side of the building, I was extremely glad that we had escorted her.

"Fuck!" she exclaimed when we approached her car. "Fucking Larry!"

As the only light source was coming from the front of the building, I couldn't see what she was cursing about until we were right up on the car. The tires were slashed. All four of them.

"Larry?" Mitch asked, squatting down to check the damage.

"The fuckstick that you beat the shit out of," she explained. "If he didn't do this, one of his shithead friends did."

"You know that guy?" I asked.

She nodded. "He does maintenance at my apartment complex."

Mitch looked up sharply from inspecting the tires. "He knows where you live?"

"Yeah." She huffed out a breath of air and put one hand on her hip. "He started hitting on me right after we moved in. Back then, I was still involved with Seth. By the time Seth and I split up, I had already figured out that Larry was a cretin, so I never would go out with him."

"Well, that explains that," I mumbled.

"What?" Corey asked me.

"I was wondering how he knew," I elaborated. "You pass really well, Corey. I seriously doubt that there are more than a handful of people who could look at you and guess that you weren't born biologically female. Certainly not that asshat."

She cocked her head and hip. "You really think so?"

"Yes." Mitch and I both replied.

A genuine smile graced her lips for the first time that night. "Thanks."

"He probably has access to your lease agreement."

"What difference does that make?" Mitch asked while moving around to check the other side of the car.

"She can't have her gender legally changed until after she's had the reassignment surgery. All of her legal papers list her as being male."

"I don't remember my apartment lease specifying gender," Mitch replied.

Corey walked around the car to see what Mitch was doing. "They have a copy of my ID."

"Well, this is trashed." Mitch stood up and dusted off his hands. "You're going to need four new tires. All the damage is in the sidewalls. Can't get any tires until tomorrow."

"Fantastic," Corey groused. "Can you give me a ride home?"

"Yes," I replied.

"No," Mitch stated succinctly.

I cocked my eyebrow at Mitch. "No?"

"You're not going home, Corey. You're staying with us. That fu... guy knows where you live. He's not going to be happy with you. I didn't do any real damage to him, just a broken nose and some nasty bruises. They'll probably let him out of the hospital tonight; it's not going to be safe for you at home. We'll figure out what to do about your car in the morning."

I smirked at Mitch. His brief stutter had told me everything I'd needed to know about his feelings toward Corey. One of these days, he was going to slip and cuss in front of a woman. In all the time I'd known him, it hadn't happened yet, but I just knew it would... one day. I had been anxiously awaiting the day for years. I couldn't wait to see what happened when it did.

**

A quick pitstop at the store enabled us to pick up some beer for Mitch and some wine and snacks for Corey. There was beer at the house, but it wouldn't be enough if Mitch decided, once everyone was safely ensconced at home to his satisfaction, to go back to the original plan for the evening. We didn't make it to the house until shortly after eleven. I couldn't stop the smile on my face, or the rush of heat suffusing my body, at the sight of Seth's truck parked in front of my house.

Corey glanced at me with a mischievous glint in her eyes as I pulled my truck onto the driveway. "It's good to know that he's not the only one with that ridiculous grin."

I chuckled and agreed with her wholeheartedly.

As soon as we were in the house, I headed directly to my bedroom, leaving Mitch and Corey to deal with the groceries. I wasn't the slightest bit disappointed to discover that Seth was not naked and wet in my bed, because, instead, I found him naked and wet in my shower.

"Adam?" he called as I tapped lightly on the bathroom door.

"It's me, baby. Do you mind if I join you?" I replied, pushing open the door.

"Come on in," he offered with a chuckle. "You're early. I didn't expect you for hours."

I anxiously started stripping out of my clothing. "I missed you."

"I missed you too."

The vision before me, when I pushed the curtain aside, made my heart leap into my throat. Seth was facing me with his back to the showerhead. His head was tilted back, and he was raking his fingers through his hair. The raven black locks poured over and between his fingers like ink. The water sluiced over his shoulders and down the flat planes of his smooth skin. Fuck, his raw beauty stole my breath. I frequently found myself reaching out to touch him just to be reassured that he was real, and this time was no exception.

As I skipped my fingertips through the rivers of water careening over his chest, he brought his chin down and smiled at me. Then his plump, kissable lips turned down, and his brow furrowed in concern. He reached out to touch my cheek. "Is that blood?"

In the process of hauling him bodily off of Larry, Mitch had succeeded in smearing almost as much blood on me as he'd had on himself. Since they wouldn't let us back in the bar, Mitch and I had used the bleach wipes in my truck to get as much of the blood off ourselves as possible. It was still all over our clothing, but I hadn't realized it was on my face. "Probably. Don't worry. It's not mine. Mitch got in a fight."

"Is he okay?"

The corner of my mouth turned up in a wry smirk. "Yeah, baby. Mitch is fine. The blood isn't his either. He rarely gets injured in fights."

"What happened?"

"You know that place, Shaker's?"

He nodded. "Corey works there."

I chuckled dryly. "Not anymore. She's here, by the way."

"What? Why?"

"Long story short: The maintenance guy from your place started shit with her, and Mitch beat him bloody. The bar fired her for it, and Mitch won't let her go home because that twatwaffle could show up."

His mouth hung open in shock for about ten seconds. "Fuck!" He shoved open the curtain and bolted out of the bathroom.

"Well, damn," I said to the showerhead. "I probably should have saved that story until after I got laid."

**

I got out of the shower, after making certain that I washed all the blood off this time, to find Seth in the bedroom, getting dressed.

"What are you doing?"

"I have to go home."

Approximately fifteen, very long seconds later, I gave up waiting. "Are you going to explain that statement?"

He looked up sharply at my tone. Seeing the expression on my face made him abandon his shoelaces, untied. "Mitch won't let Corey go home. She can't stay here without having stuff; clothes and make-up and... other things. She doesn't just wake up in the morning looking like that. There's effort and product involved there. We talked about it, and Mitch thinks it's unsafe for her to go home. I agree with him. So we decided that I'm going to the house to get some stuff. Staying here is one thing, but she's going to flip out if being safe means she can't be herself. She won't do it. She fought too hard and for too long for this to let some douchebag take it away from her just because she shot down his little fantasy of fucking a tranny. Poor Larry. Now he'll have to find someone else to help him scratch 'chick with dick' off his bucket list."

There was a great deal of steel in his voice and more hostility than I ever thought he was capable of. I sighed and sat on the edge of the bed next to him. "I never expected her to quit being who she is, and I don't think it even crossed Mitch's mind. He's just trying to protect her. His methods are a little heavy-handed, but I warned you about how he is with women. It's just because he cares."

Seth took a long, deep breath and slowly let it out. "Adam, Larry has a key. He works for the complex. He can get into the apartment at any time. I don't have much, and neither does Corey, but I don't want to lose what I do have. If he trashed her car, what do you think he'll do to our apartment?"

My mouth set in a grim line. I had already thought of that. I didn't want Seth or Corey at the apartment for that exact reason. Not just for the night or the weekend. I didn't want either of them going back to that apartment at all. Ever. I believed that Seth could take care of himself. In fact, I also believed that Corey could take care of herself. But neither one of them had much of a defense against arson or ammunitions, among other things. I nodded and gave his thigh a gentle squeeze. "Let me get dressed."

**

Seth and Mitch took Seth's truck to the apartment while I took my truck to the only store still open at that time of night: Walmart. I bought ten plastic storage containers, hoping it would be enough. It was all they had in the thirty-gallon range. If we needed more, I'd have to go up or down in size. It was my first time to be inside Seth's apartment. It was a small, one-bedroom with furniture that was ratty but serviceable. I found Mitch in the tiny, galley kitchen. Since we didn't have any newspaper, he was wrapping the breakables in linens.

"That's a great idea." I grinned. "Kills two birds with one stone."

Mitch glanced up from his task. "Three moves in a year, dude. I got this."

I laughed, dropped off a few of the storage totes, and went in search of Seth. He was in the bathroom, basically doing the same thing that Mitch had been, only he was using repurposed, plastic, grocery bags.

"Did you give Mitch all the sheets and towels?"

He shot me an impish grin. "Yeah, but no. If any of this breaks or spills, it'll make a huge mess. Otherwise, I'd be using her clothing for packing material, but Corey would kill me if I ruined any of her clothes."

"Okay. Where do you want me?"

"Bedroom," he instructed. "There's a roll of trash bags on the bed. The clothes can go in them. Just use your best judgement. Anything soft can go into a trash bag. Anything breakable, not so much."

I left him a couple of the totes and stepped into the bedroom. "Ah, Seth?"

"Yeah. I know," he called out. "She's a slob. You should try living with her some time."

"I'm going to be," I mumbled as I glanced around the disaster of a bedroom. There were clothes everywhere; floor, bed, and draped haphazardly over every surface. There were books, stuffed animals, and sheets of sketch paper with half-finished drawings scattered about. And there were pens and pencils littering every available surface. It looked like it had been ransacked.

When I just continued to stand there, staring at the mess, Seth eventually stepped into the room beside me. He had to kick a few things out of his way to clear an area for his feet. "Don't worry. She keeps it restricted to her own things in her own space."

Honestly, that didn't make me feel better. "What am I supposed to do with this?"

"Just toss the soft stuff into trash bags. Let her sort it out. If she can't find something, it's her own damn fault."

Once I got started, I discovered that it wasn't as much of a hassle as I'd feared. It wasn't dirty. There was no dust, cobwebbing, or filth. It was just cluttered and messy. Everything she owned was spread about in a room that was so small there was hardly enough space to walk around a full-sized bed. All the clothing, bedding, and stuffed animals went into bags. The art supplies, books, knick-knacks, and unmentionable stuff went into storage containers. Jesus, the girl had a lot of that kind of stuff. There were items that I had no clue what they even were. Some of it was somewhat embarrassing, and I started to envy Mitch's assignment of packing the kitchen. After I got the contents of the room packed into a couple of totes and a handful of trash bags, I opened the closet to discover that it held only one item: A single suit bag, complete with a three-piece, double breasted suit.