Crossing The Line - 7. Make My Way

Instead of his lover, the first thing he noticed was the shiny, black sedan sitting at the curb and the tall, dark haired man glaring at him with his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the side of the car. “Oh fuck,” he hissed as his heartbeat sped up. “What the fuck is he doing out here?”

It was rare for Carlo to venture out onto the streets where his ‘boys’ worked unless he had something on his mind and from the dark look on the Italian’s face, Ricky could tell there was definitely something on his mind. Fucking hell. He knows. I should have listened to Snow when he warned me.

“Where’s the rest of the money from last night?” Carlo asked harshly as Ricky approached him, his dark eyes boring into him. “You’re short almost two hundred, Ricky.”

“What are you talking about?” Ricky asked coolly popping the piece of gum in his mouth and trying to act unaffected in front of his peers. He wasn’t supposed to notice yet. It was only a couple hundred … a few hours’ worth of Ricky’s time out here. He’d get it back.

Carlo stepped away from the car and grabbed Ricky by his shoulder, swinging him around and pinning him to the side of the car. “You know exactly what I’m talking about, you fucking whore.” He shook him roughly and Ricky knew that the only thing keeping him from being harder on him right then was the cars that were coming and going as tricks picked up and dropped off the other boys. “Don’t you dare play games with me.”

Ricky tried to keep his breathing steady which wasn’t too hard considering he was pretty zoned out on whatever the hell pills the last trick had given him. “I’ll get it back to you.”

A look of amusement passed over Carlo’s face before the next thing Ricky saw were stars flashing in his eyes. He backhanded Ricky again and shoved him harder against the car. It always amazed Ricky how Carlo never looked like he broke a sweat. “Understand something. Every minute you spend out here is my time and my money. So how exactly do you think you’re going to get it back to me?”

Ricky felt blood trickle from the corner of his mouth and swallowed hard. He kept telling himself to mask the pain. Show nothing. Just like back home. Just like any other time.

He shrugged because he couldn’t answer Carlo so he was hit again. “Answer me, Ricky. Better yet, get in the fucking car.”

Snow stepped up next to Carlo as Carlo’s driver opened the door and shoved Ricky into the backseat. He looked up at Snow and met his gaze briefly, embarrassed that his lover was here to witness this.

“Carlo, go easy, alright?” Ricky heard Snow say to their boss with his hand on the man’s arm. He winced and sighed at his lover’s words. He appreciated Snow standing up for him but he hated that he was going to get himself in trouble with Carlo for speaking up like that.

Carlo put his hand on Snow’s shoulder and gave him a slight shove back. “You mind your business. You should have fucking told me about this. You’re getting soft, kid.”

Snow appeared stunned but tried to approach the man again before Carlo got into the backseat next to Ricky. The blond shook his head slightly at his lover and Snow took the hint and let it go. There was no stopping Carlo anyway and they were both well aware of that. It was bad enough Snow had opened his mouth at all. He don’t need to get shit for my mistake.

“Drive, Marcus,” Carlo said and turned to Ricky, smirking. “Now what the fuck was so important that you thought you could steal money from me?”

Ricky wanted a cigarette so bad but had a feeling he wouldn’t have a chance to smoke it anyway with Carlo in his face like this. Ricky knew he had no explanation, no way to tell Carlo that he needed extra money for the extra blow he’d been doing out of what he should have been selling for Carlo. He knew better than to tell Carlo that technically it evened out.

“I just needed it,” Ricky said quietly, stupidly.

Ricky’s head crashed into the side window when Carlo punched him square in the face. He lifted his hand to grab the side of his head where it hit but he had to remind myself again to not show the pain. His hand dropped to his side and he tried not to wince, the effort taking more out of him than the pain ever could have. He could taste blood in the back of his throat as it poured from his nose and he tried not to gag at the coppery taste he hated so much.

“You don’t fucking steal from me. Ever. You got it?” Carlo asked threateningly as Marcus drove slowly through the back streets and alleyways heading toward the lake.

Ricky nodded his head but was afraid to open his mouth. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell the Italian to go fuck himself and that he wanted out of the car, out of this business, and out of this life. He would kill me.

Carlo grabbed the back of his long hair in his fist and pulled. “I can’t fucking hear you, Ricky.”

“I … I won’t ever steal from you. I swear it,” he managed to get out. “I’m sorry.”

Carlo backhanded the boy one more time across the face in a strike that made his brain fuzzy. Marcus pulled the car up to the curb on a dark side street and Carlo let go of his hair. “You see that car over there?” He pointed at a dark Mercedes across the street.

Ricky nodded, a lead ball settling in his stomach as he realized what was going on. It was payback time.

“You’re gonna get in that car and you’re going to a party. I already set it up for you and when it’s over, you can consider us even.”

Ricky knew what happened at the parties Carlo set up like this and it wasn’t pretty. He started shaking and wanted to beg Carlo to not send him anywhere, trying to think of some way to get out of this but knew anything he said would only make it worse. He did the crime … now he had to do the time.

Carlo handed Ricky a small towel from the console. “Clean your face up, stupid.”

Ricky could feel the man’s laughing gaze on him as he wiped the blood from his nose and mouth. When he was done, Carlo reached over, opened the door and pushed him out. “See ya later, kid.”

Ricky walked slowly to the Mercedes, knowing he would be watched until he got into the car. He quickly gave up any thought he may have had of running. Where the hell would I go, anyway?

He opened the passenger door and turned back for a quick second, took a deep breath and got in. The wicked gleam in the silent driver’s eyes were reminiscent of his uncle’s drunk eyes and the look of dark promises in that gaze frightened him. Ricky stared straight out the window as the Mercedes pulled away from the curb and away from the lesser of two evils … Carlo.

0o0o0o0o

"Where did you send him, Carlo?" Snow asked angrily as he entered the apartment. He threw his nights’ money on the coffee table in front of where Carlo was sitting watching television, drinking a glass of wine and smoking one of his expensive cigarettes. He’d been scared as hell once his boss had taken Ricky away but had to finish his shift or the shit would trickle down. His night couldn’t end fast enough for him.

Carlo looked up at him like he had three heads. "Excuse me?"

Snow glared at him. After all these years of obedience, he figured Carlo could deal with one night of defiance. "Where the fuck did you send him? It was the only time he ever did anything like that and he was gonna put it back. How could you fucking send him out like that?"

The boy had figured wrong. Carlo stood up ... all six foot two of him ... and towered over the boy menacingly. For the first time ever, Snow was afraid of him. "Gimme your hand, Snow."

"What?" Snow asked, confused while his heartbeat banged in his ears. “Whatcha want my hand for?”

"Give me your hand," he repeated, staring Snow down in the face with his cold, dark eyes and he saw what everyone else probably did when he was angry ... the depths of hell.

Snow reluctantly held out his hand and Carlo grabbed his thin wrist tightly. The last thing the boy would have expected was what happened next. The lit cigarette was pressed into his open palm and the burning pain was excruciating.

"FUCK!" Snow screamed as tears nipped the corners of his eyes.

Carlo held fast and pressed it until the fiery red ember was out while Snow stood there with teeth clenched and his entire body shaking. "I don't know who the hell you think you are but if you ever cover up for him or anyone again, it ain't gonna be your hand I burn."

He abruptly threw Snow’s hand out of his and the teen could feel his wrist throbbing where Carlo’s thumb had been digging into it. He just stood there watching in disbelief as Carlo acted as if nothing had happened and he sat back down to watch television. "Carlo ..."

"Don't fucking look at me like that, you little prick," he said harshly without even glancing up.

Snow looked down at the burnt flesh of his hand. "I didn't mean to ..."

"You like this lifestyle I gave you? Then you better do what I say or you'll be back out on that street alone,” Carlo said darkly with his gaze firmly affixed on the television screen. “Now get the fuck out of my sight."

Snow sat on the coffee table in front of him and forced this newfound fear aside. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees and tried to get Carlo to acknowledge him. “No. Let me just explain myself.”

Carlo still wouldn’t look at Snow so he sat next to him on the couch. “Carlo, please,” Snow said gently.

Finally, the man turned and looked at Snow. “What?”

“I’m sorry. You know I wouldn’t do anything to screw you over. If I thought for a minute he was stealing from you, I’d have taken care of it myself,” Snow said sincerely and hoped Carlo wouldn’t see through his lies.

“Why do you have to make me hurt you like that? You think I liked that?” The dark haired man said with some actual emotion.

Snow shook his head, afraid to make him angry again. He didn’t want him to see how wound up he just made him. Snow didn’t want him making him leave. “I know you didn’t like doing it. It was my own fault. I’ll never let it happen again.”

Carlo stared Snow dead in the eye and spoke quietly. “Next time you do … well, I think you can figure out where you’ll be.”

Snow nodded and stood up from the couch. He had effectively been dismissed and his heartbeat was going a million miles an hour as he walked down the hall toward the bathroom. He dug out the bottle of peroxide from under the sink, poured it on his hand, and quickly wrapped gauze around it. He didn't want to look at it and didn't want to think about it. He just wanted to forget.

Carlo had never done anything like that to him before. He’d never hurt him, never threatened him, and never scared him. Maybe he acted that way with some of the other guys but never Snow. It wasn't the Carlo he had grown to know and obey. But then, Snow had never acted the way he did tonight with Carlo before.

Who didI think I was? Snow wondered while his head reeled with confusion.

Carlo had given him everything. He saved him from a life the boy didn’t even want to think about. How could he have let Ricky take anything from him and not tell him? Carlo would think he was doing shit like that all along and stop trusting him now. He'd be watching him more closely. He wouldn't think of Snow as his special one anymore. He wouldn’t be the golden ticket any longer and Snow hated it. Carlo would throw him out in a heartbeat and now he had to worry about that where it had never even entered his mind before.

In the back of Snow’s mind was that nagging voice that was telling him the truth. Carlo didn't care about him and never had. Ricky did care and Snow thought he was crazy for caring about someone like him but he had forced him to.

Snow was scared for Ricky. He didn't even know why he had to ask where Carlo had sent him. He had an idea where he was and what was being done to him and it was way worse than he should have gotten for a couple hundred dollars. And all I got was a lousy cigarette burn. Fuck!