Page 2 of Troy
“Hi, can I speak to Rafferty McMahon?” A deep and seductive voice asks.
“You are.” My reply is short, who the fuck is this? I’m having a horrendous day and, however hot this guy sounds, I want off my phone.
“Good, you’re a tough guy to get hold off.” The man still sounds way too cheerful for my liking.
“That’s because I don’t like unsolicited calls, so, if you want me to change my cell phone or change my gym membership, you can fuck off now.” I bark down the line but all I get is a chuckle. What the fuck?
“You really are as irascible as your reputation,” the stranger laughs. “Okay, I’ll get to the point. My name is Troy Ballantyne and I represent…”
But before he says anything my heart stills and my mouth goes dry, “De’ath of You. Shit! Sorry for being so rude.”
“Yes, I’m sure you are. Now, if I can get to point? Although I am beginning to regret this, we have been watching you for a while now and would like to discuss the possibility of a position with us.” His voice is still sexy as fuck, even when he sounds pissed.
“Shit! Really? Wow! God, yes, I would love to meet with you. When would you like to do this?” I throw my cigarette stub out of the window and listen to what the guy is saying to me. This is like a dream come true. Christ, after years of struggle—not merely with who I was but with who I wanted to become, and what I had to run away from.
“When would you be able to come out to us, we would usually try to come to you, but our schedules are crazy busy for the next few weeks and we can’t leave the office.”
“Hell, yeah, I can make it in a couple of days, if that suits?” My fingers and toes cross as I wait for his answer.
“Hmm, that may prove tricky for us. We have a gap on Monday morning or we have one on Friday, which would suit?”
“I would love to say Monday, but I’m not sure I can get away at such short notice. Can I see if I can swap a few things around and get back to you later today?” Please, please let this be okay.
“Of course, I don’t expect you to drop everything on a Friday and jump on a flight; just let me know. I will text you the contact numbers. I look forward to hearing from you, Rafferty.”
“Raff.” I blurt out.
“Excuse me?”
“Please, call me Raff.” I don’t know why but I really want this guy to like me, there’s something about his voice that affects me.
“Okay then, Raff it is. Speak soon.” The call ends before I can say goodbye.
Well, fuck me sideways! My day has improved tenfold; hell, my month has improved. These last few weeks felt like my life was beginning to implode, starting with that fucker Drake, a man I wasted far too much time on. Even though it was four weeks ago, it still feels like yesterday. My mind drifts back to it again and walking in on him.
Pulling into the designated parking space for my apartment, I see a car in Drake’s spot I don’t recognize; it’s a flashy Porsche, so I would have remembered seeing that before. My Ford Raptor seems massive, parked next to it, but I love the speed and it is perfect for all the equipment I carry about when I’m on assignment—I travel thousands of miles every year, preferring driving over flying. So much of this beautiful country is missed out on by flying. I love the colors and landscapes; so different and diverse from each other, yet still blending so well together.
I grab the mail out of my mailbox and flick through it as I push open the door to our apartment. Tossing my keys into the bowl on the small table by the door, I call out to Drake.
“Hey, Drake, baby, you up yet?” Making my way down to our room, I stop before I get there: this is the part in the film where you shout out not to open the door. I know what’s going on before I even reach it; hell, it’s always the nice guy who gets shat on. The sounds from inside the room are familiar because I know the sound Drake makes when he’s being fucked, for the last two years it’s been me fucking him. But not today, it seems.
Nudging the door open with my foot, I am greeted by the sight of my boyfriend bouncing reverse cowboy style on some unknown fucker. Both have their eyes closed; it appears they are about to climax, Drake’s hand pumps frantically up and down his dick as he gets himself ready to blow. Well, fuck that, I’m about to stop him in his tracks.
“Hey, Drake, you nearly done there?” I’m amazed at how calm I sound when his eyes fly open and his hand leaves his purple dick to reach behind him.
“Don’t fucking stop, Drake, I’m so close.” The voice comes from behind Drakes back.
Raising my voice this time—I’m not quick enough and the faceless body comes hard, pounding into my boyfriend’s ass, “I think you’re done here, dude.”
The guy freezes and then looks around Drake’s back. “Fuck! Yeah, I’m outta here.” He pulls out quickly and I see his soft cock slide from Drake’s body. My eyes lock on the sight.
“No fucking condom! Are you shitting me? Fuck, Drake, how many guys have you been fucking bareback and still fucking me?” The blood in my body burns at the thought of what he could have done to me. “You know what? Get out! You can collect your shit and clear the fuck out of here, too.”
Naked stranger has pulled on his pants and T-shirt and races past me before, seconds later, I hear the door slam as he exits. You never believe it will happen to you, it’s always the sad schmuck who gets cheated on. That’s not me, I’m no pushover, or so I thought.
Then Drake comes to life and starts screaming at me, shouting shit every which way he can. I just want him to shut the fuck up and get out. I’m done.
“Drake, I really don’t give a flying fuck about your reasons or how you are turning this ‘round to be my fault. I just want you out, this is my apartment. I pay the rent; I own the furniture, although I will quite happily let you have this bed.” I look at him now he finally has pulled some sweatpants on. “Don’t think about saying anything else, I’m going to give you thirty minutes to sort out your stuff and then, when you walk out the door, I don’t ever want to see you again.”