Chapter Eight - The 'Jockey'
(Eric Tucker, 20, needs to get approved as an assistant supervisor by the end of the week. Each day seems to offer another obstacle in his path. Monday night he and his new friend Yancy, 18, were tricked into meeting a boy who threatened to let Yancy's mother know Yancy blew Eric in the car Saturday night. They were grabbed by a small group of late-teen street punks who forced Yancy to give them blow jobs while one of the group scraped some of Eric's pubes and anal hairs. Yancy was devastated by the experience, and Eric took him home to recover. There he learned about Yancy's old friend Patrick. It is now Tuesday morning in a week that for Eric that seems unending.)
In the night I had strange dreams. This Patrick person I had just learned about kept turning up, and Yancy and I were going to torture him. Or maybe not torture, but do stuff like Yancy said he did to him. When I woke up I realized I had cum in my sleep. That ticked me off. I don't have wet dreams about guys.
In addition to that, I was mad at myself for the way I had acted toward Yancy last night. Just because I had never been with a guy before, I shouldn't resent him having been with Patrick. Anyway whatever their relationship was, it wasn't anything like his and mine. If we wanted to start a relationship, I think we could find our way pretty well.
But it had to irk me that he was more experienced than I was. And deep down inside, I realized I resented how he had been able to control another guy sexually. It sounded so hot last night when he talked about how he made Patrick beg for it, and how he would delay giving him satisfaction. That would have been hot to see. And secretly I would like to have that kind of power over a guy. Lately it seemed like guys all wanted power over me. I hated that.
I had just gotten out of bed when my phone rang. It was Yancy.
"Hi Eric." His voice was quiet like he didn't want anybody to hear him talking on the phone.
"Hi Yancy."
"Are you mad at me?" I smiled. There was always that little boy quality about Yancy.
"No, of course not. What's up?" I hope today would go better than Monday had.
"I decided to get on the phone before my aunt and uncle got up. I wanted to tell you that I just wrote Patrick and invited him to visit me here. After I told you about him last night, I realized how much I missed him. I want you to meet him so we all three can be friends together."
Friends? With the guy Yancy blew as a weapon in his control? I could absolutely guarantee that wouldn't happen. But I had a different question. "If you're calling me, why did you say you wrote Patrick? Wouldn't a call be quicker?"
"Sure, but for one thing my aunt and uncle restricted long distance charges on their phone. Also a letter will give Patrick time to think about it."
But then he went on, "I have a favor to ask. If Patrick does come to visit, can he stay with you?"
Talk about adding insult to injury... "How do you know he'll come?"
"I mean if he does come..."
"Well, Yancy, stop and think about it. You know, he may have changed." Sometimes I think Yancy is really just 14 years old or something. "I mean if he's dating girls now..."
"Please, Eric."
He sounded so pleading, so whiney, so desperate, and after all the guy may not even want to come visit, so I agreed. I figured that was the last I'd hear about it. I got up, showered, grabbed a bite to eat, and took off for work.
Things were running smoothly until Mr. Penser called me into his office. This was typical when he'd had a day off. He always checked up on things that might have gone wrong while he was away.
"How did you get along yesterday?"
"Fine, sir."
"Are you still wearing your jockey strap?"
I hated that phrase, as well as the question itself. It sounded so demeaning to call it a 'jockey strap.'
"Yes, sir."
"Let me see it."
"Sir?"
"Eric, stop being so obtuse. I said to let me see it."
"Do you mean let you see it on me, or to take it off and hand it to you?"
"Why on earth would I want that?"
"Want which, sir?"
"Eric, I said to stop being obtuse."
"Obtuse? I don't think I even know what that word means, sir."
"Then come over here and drop your trousers and let me see that thing."
I was shocked. "See my thing? What do you mean, 'my thing'?"
"Your jockey. That's what you call a jockey strap, isn't it?"
"I don't know, sir. We usually call it a jock strap."
"Well whatever you call it." He seemed almost dismissive. Then with a frown he repeated, "Let me see your jockey."
I came over and stood by his desk. I undid my belt, opened the waist and unzipped, and dropped my trousers. He swiveled his chair around to get a good look.
"It isn't clean, Eric. I insist my staff wear clean clothes. A dirty jockey is as bad as a dirty shirt. Don't you clean your jockey?"
I was disgusted. He kept peering through his glasses, and then adjusting them. Then he leaned close.
"Yes sir I do clean it. I washed it last night."
"Well what's this yellow on it?"
I knew it couldn't be anything. I tried to look down. "Where sir?"
He reached over and touched my pouch. I gasp and I felt his finger touching me there. My dick knew it too, unfortunately. It gave a lurch.
"Here. Right here. See?" He poked at it, then scratched on it as if he was trying to scrape it off.
"That's not a stain, sir. It's part of the material."
"What?" He scratched at it again. It was right where I had pointed my privates up. He was scratching right under the head. I tried to go cold and not move. I held my breath.
"Hmmm." He squinted at it up close. I could feel his breath on my crotch. "Well...I'm not sure. Perhaps the store where you bought it-"
"That's ok" I said, entirely too quickly. Mr. Penser jerked back and frowned.
"Eric, the store can tell you if that's a flaw in the material. You should take it back."
"I really don't think there's any flaw in it. If you like I can just buy another one."
"Eric, part of being a supervisor is doing hard things. If you're unwilling to take it back and ask, then I will go with you and show you how it's done."
Now I was desperate. "No, no, please Mr. Penser. I'll do anything you ask, but don't go back with me."
"Well I certainly shall," he said raising his head sharply. At least it got him away from my crotch.
"We shouldn't both leave the store at the same time. Who'll be here to run things?" I was frantic to come up with a reason and I thought this was it. But I was wrong.
"Paul can run it. He's been here for more than ten years. He can come out of his office for a little while, and we shouldn't be that long."
He stood up and grabbed his pager. "Paul Jeffries, to the office please."
I just stood there. I grabbed for my trousers as Paul opened the door.
"Yes?" he asked, and seeing me he grinned from ear to ear. "Don't pull them up on my account."
I knew my ears were turning red. Mr. Penser though saw this as an opportunity.
"Paul. Could you look at his jockey strap and see if you think it's damaged?"
"I'd be delighted to, Mr. Penser. Where was it purchased?"
Mr. Penser hadn't actually asked me where I got it. "Bockstrop's Pharmacy" I said. "Mr. Penser sent me out at lunch on Sunday to buy it."
Paul come over and crouched down in front of me. He got his face right up to my pouch, and raised his fingers to touch it. I winced.
He shot me a quick grin. "Easy, Eric. I just want to check this. Is it making you uncomfortable?"
"Yes, it is" I said, remembering yesterday.
"You shouldn't be embarrassed to be standing around in your...um...'jockey' strap. We're all men here, right?" His eyes twinkled. I would have liked to use my knee to hit him in the face. He was lined up perfectly for that.
"He's got an excellent build, Mr. Penser. He should be proud to show it off."
Penser seemed to be wool gathering, and suddenly he became alert. "Humm? Oh. Yes."
"With so many strong, well built young men here, we ought to publish a store calendar, don't you think?" Paul was really pushing it. But it was so easy sometimes to get Penser off the subject.
"Possibly. But there's expense involved with a project like that." He paused as if thinking that idea over. Then abruptly he returned to the project at hand. "Anyhow I want your opinion on whether he and I should take it back. He seems hesitant so I will go along with him if you feel the strap needs to be replaced."
"With a body like his, we can't be too careful. We wouldn't want damaged goods to harm his...equipment." Paul was openly grinning now. He touched the pouch and began moving his hand over the surface.
"Eric responds well to things, don't you think" he asked Penser.
Penser still seemed mesmerized by the whole thing. Paul continued his slight but telling massage of the pouch. As he did so, he continued, "I think you should ask the manager what he thinks. Make sure he thinks it's good material. In fact it may be too heavy. I think Eric may be sweating since his pouch is getting damp.
Paul knew damn well what that dampness was. I tried to back away but Paul grabbed my strap by the waistband. "Here, let's take it off and check."
As he pulled it out, he could see my crotch area and the messed up hairs. He knew it wasn't like this yesterday. He started to give me a quizzical look, but must have thought better of it.
I wasn't totally erect, but I was getting there. I knew Mr. Penser would have a fit so I jumped back but Paul held the waistband. It snapped forward as he let go.
"Never mind, you two go on down there. The manager can examine it better than we can." Paul flashed me a triumphant look, and then hurried back to his office.
The trip to the drugstore was the longest I can remember. I offered to take my car, but he insisted we go together in his. I had hoped we could go separately. Sometimes I just need time away from that man.
All the way I was dreading what would happen when Kevin's Uncle Max got hold of me. Mr. Penser's erratic driving didn't help matters either. He complained about traffic, but he was the one who started putting on the breaks a block away from a red light, and then was the last car to pull away when it changed. We were honked at constantly, but he never thought it was his fault.
We parked outside, and he hurried in ahead of me, demanding to see the manager. By the time I caught up with him, Kevin's Uncle Max was already there, looking serious and attentive.
"This is the young man who purchased the jockey on Sunday. I feel it is damaged, and I wondered if you could check it."
"Certainly. Just hand it to me-"
"He's wearing it."
Max Bockstrop practically beamed. "Then let's go in my office where he can show it to me."
I felt a sense of doom going back in that place where he had done that stuff to me on Sunday.
Once inside, he said "Let me see it on him."
"Eric, show him what it looks like."
I didn't like the way they were talking about me like I wasn't there or wasn't important enough to talk to.
Max beamed as I dropped my trousers. "Now if he could just step out of them-"
"He'll be glad to" Penser said.
"I'm right here. Why can't you talk to me?"
They both looked at me with surprise. "Why Eric, we are talking to you" Mr. Penser said.
"You want some help with those trousers?" Max asked advancing on me.
"That's ok, I've got it." I pulled my pants down in nothing flat and stood there in my jock.
Max looked at me, started to drop down on his knees, and then said "Why not get Eric to stand on a chair so it will be easier to see."
"I could take it off" I said.
"No, it's better this way" Max replied. He pulled a straight chair over and I got up on it. I felt ridiculous.
"You see?" Mr. Penser said excitedly, coming close and pointing to something on the pouch. "See that dark red thread. Should it be there?"
"Hmmm. I'd have to examine it more closely." With that, Max reached down into my pouch and pushed the material out, but his fingers closed around the head of my dick. I gave an electric shiver. He glanced at me with a smile in his eyes, then pretended to look further at the pouch.
"I'm not sure." Another squeeze to my dick and I wanted to dance up and down.
"Eric, stand still so he can check your jockey."
Max turned to him, his hand still firmly in place. "This brings up another mater. Sexual excitement can cause the threads in his...um...jockey...to sometimes change color. Has he been involved in any sexual activity at the store?"
"Of course not. We run a clean honest store."
"How about elsewhere?"
"Eric?" Mr. Penser's eyes were wide as saucers.
"Of course not!" I said, a little too quickly.
Max began to removed his hand, but his squeezings had done their work. I wasn't boned but I was definitely hanging long.
"He'll need to take it off then."
I wanted to get down but he said to stand there, so I hopped around on one foot and the other pulling it off. Max's eyes shone with joy. Then he noticed how chopped up my pubic hair was. He raised his eyebrows slightly.
As I handed it to him, he looked toward Penser and asked, "Well then, would you say that possibly he's a constant self-abuser? That would explain the color change."
"Eric!" Mr. Penser practically wailed in shock as he looked at me.
"The pouch was that color when I bought it" I said defiantly.
Max shook his head. "Ah but I don't think you were in any position to see how it looked." He turned to Penser, "He came in on his lunch hour Sunday and was so aroused it was hard for him to even be able to put the pouch on."
To say my boss looked distressed would be putting it mildly. I knew my face was red, and my breath was coming in gasps. If I could have decked that guy at that moment, I would, and would gladly be fired in return.
Max Bockstrop continued like a doctor giving a lecture. "Self-abusers secrete glandular heat because of the constant manipulation of their genitals. No pouch material in a strap could withstand a constant bombardment of that. The company declined to make one that would be unaffected by it, since the cost would be so much higher, and there are relatively few self-abusers any more."
But what happened next really took the cake. He reached over and held my dick like it was a tie on a rack. He looked down at it, then up at Penser.
"Clear signs of constant self-abuse." He ran his finger along it as if he was tracing a pattern.
"THAT'S NOT TRUE!" I said it so loud I'm sure people could hear it out in the store itself. Both men stepped away. Without waiting for them to say anything, I jumped down. I was aware my dick was swinging and had lengthened.
Fortunately Mr. Penser must have felt things wert getting out of hand.
"We just want to exchanger this for one without flaws" he said.
"All right. But with the mangled way he trims his pubic hairs, they could be causing this problem as well."
Mr. Penser came over. "What happened here, Eric?"
"Nothing, sire. A club I joined did a little hazing on me last night."
"Well, be careful about joining things. In this day and age, you never know where it could end up."
It was at that point that Max Bockstrop came up with an idea. "Why don't you go on back to work, and I'll spend a little time with Eric and we will see what we can get that will fit him properly. I'll be glad to drop him back at work in an hour."
I shook my head frantically at Mr. Penser, but he was already heading out the door. All this intimacy apparently was too much for him.
As the door closed behind him, Max smiled. "Well, Eric, we're alone at last."
He stepped forward and I backed away.
"There's no need to be afraid, Eric. You look like you could take care of yourself. I'm just going to trim those pubes. Now kindly get back up in the chair."
"Please don't, Mr. Bockstrop. Please just let me go back to work." I didn't think pleading with the man would do any good, but in my situation I was willing to try anything.
"Up in the chair, Eric. The sooner we do this, the sooner you get back to work."
With that, he moved in on me and began taking my arm . I didn't need any help in getting up in the chair, so I just got up there right away. He looked me up and down as I stood there. It was creepy. I mean I don't like anybody looking me up and down when I'm naked, and especially not him. He sighed.
"I was remembering Sunday" he said. He ran his hands down my sides and along my hips. He reached between my legs and felt my thighs. He sighed again. Then, as if he had made an important decision, he turned away.
"Let me get my scissors."
He returned with them. They gleamed, all silvery and sharp looking. As he began to trim, he had to push my dick out of the way. His face was practically buried down there as he worked.
"How long is this thing, Eric?"
I waited a second before saying "I don't know. I never measured it."
"Want to do it now?"
I almost fell backward from the chair I reacted so abruptly, shaking my head and saying "Absolutely not!"
"That's all right. We can do it another time."
I thought to myself that there wasn't going to be another time. I wanted to get my jockstrap and get out of there.
"Now hold still. I haven't finished trimming. You want this to look good, don't you?"
"Actually I don't care."
"You're still semi-hard. There must be something about this you like." Than he stopped, lifted my dick - making me sort of shudder and said "Want me to even up the hairs on your balls? Really they'd do better if they were shaved."
"NO!" Again I almost fell off.
"Hmm... Well, we'll see. Now turn around and let me see your ass."
"What?"
"Eric, don't play around. You need to get this over. I'm sure Mr. Penser doesn't want you wasting the store's time when it isn't necessary."
He touched my butt, running his hands appreciatively on each cheek. Then he gave a sigh that almost sounded like he was getting aroused.
"That's nice back here. You are lucky to have such a great ass, Eric." His hands never stopped smoothing the skin.
I almost accidentally said "Thanks."
"Now spread them ."
"If I do I'll fall off the chair. My feet are already on either edge."
"Not your legs, Eric" he said in a disgusted tone as if I was stupid or something, "your ass cheeks. I need to check their condition. So bend over and spread them."
I did. Then I heard him moving around and a drawer was being opened. After that he moved back and I knew he was looking at my crack. Then I felt his fingers slid along the trench. The fingers felt wet. He tapped at the edge of my hole.
"We need to shave the hairs back here. Some got scarped off and the effect isn't pretty. I'm using a skin softener salve on it. I didn't bring a razor to work."
"That's ok Mr. Bockstrop. You don't need to bother."
"But I do need to bother Eric. You want to look your best Friday night."
I nearly dropped dead on the spot. "Sir?"
"The stag party. You and your little friend are coming, right?"
My heart sank. His fingers continued to slide up and down my crack.
It was almost with fear that I asked, "You're in that group too?"
"Yes, of course. Why wouldn't I be?"
"I just meant I didn't know. I thought it was some neighborhood friends of Marcus Garner's. He's in our meat department."
"Yes I know. He's known to us as the meat man." With that his finger pressed against my hole. I tried to squeeze tight.
His voice changed. "Eric, why do I always have to tell you that it's the easy way or the hard way?" His finger pressed harder. "Now relax. That's an order."
I tried to keep squeezing tight, but in a sudden push he breached me. His finger was inside me. Then he began pushing it in and out, moving it so that he was all the way to the knuckle in me.
"How's that feel?" he asked, his voice husky and his finger probing.
"Different." I mean what did the guy expect me to say? It was the oddest feeling I've ever had. On the only two times anyone tried to push in there, it was rough and didn't last but a second or two. Neither Rico nor the gang with Tyler Tew were as expert as this man seemed to be.
"Now for two" he said, and I was suddenly being stretched back there. It hurt and I said so.
"It's just a second finger. It's on top of the first so it should only give you a moment of discomfort. From what Kevin's told me, you're basically a penis guy. I want to show you some anal things I'm sure you will enjoy."
As he said that, he touched something and I felt a sexual jolt. My dick bobbed. He sensed it from my sudden movement.
"Ah yes, we're getting there. But for today I need to shave your rectum and then you need to get back to work." He sounded like he as doing me some big favor.
"That's ok Mr. Bockstrop, I can just hurry on now."
He pulled his fingers out and shoved them in my face.
"See that? See what's on my fingers?"
I pulled my face back but his fingers followed me. I couldn't even shake my head they were so close.
"No please."
"That's your shit. From now on you give yourself an enema every morning, and more often if you need it. That's an order."
He was still waving those fingers in my face.
"The next time you come in, I want that channel to be clear. Understand?" He sounded like a sergeant ordering a recruit around.
"I don't think I'll be coming -"
"Yes you will," he snapped. "I'm going to get that hole open by Friday night. Tomorrow come in on your lunch hour. I want you to be cleaned out when you do."
"I don't know if I can -"
"Kevin's got a friend who works at your store. I'll have him check you out if you fail to show up. And I'll make sure he's a lot harder on you then I would be."
"Who?"
"Robby Walker." He paused a moment, then he said "Clean my fingers." He shoved them against my lips and grabbed my dick in a fierce yank. I opened my mouth to cry out and he shoved his fingers in. I hope I never have to do anything like that again, but I got them clean.
He still held my dick, but more in an affectionate way. With his other hand he patted my cheek. "Good boy." He made me feel like he was petting his dog.
I couldn't believe how much I was falling deeper into a trap. "Robby? You'd make Robby check me out if I didn't show up here?"
"You'd do better to show up here. That's all I'm saying." He was still holding my dick, even using his other hand to lightly smooth the length.
"Please Mr. Bockstrop, I gotta go."
"All right, until tomorrow then. Remember use the enema thoroughly. Several times if necessary. We've got to work on that hole of yours. And while you're here then, I'll teach you how to suck better. You need the practice."
He released my dick, which was now hanging long, and went over to his desk. He pulled out a fresh jock strap which he had taken out of the package.
"Here with the compliments of the store. It's a nice plaid, heavy duty to keep that thing of yours inside, and it's guaranteed not to change color through cum, piss, or sexual sweat. Wear it in good health."
I pulled it on and it felt good. Actually it was very colorful.
As I stood there looking down and admiring it, he picked up the phone, punched a button, and said "Reynolds, could you being one of those enema packages back here to my office please? The ones with the multiple nozzle sizes included."
I looked up in astonishment and grabbed for my trousers, but the door opened before I could get them on. A young man in his 20's came in hurriedly carrying the package. He looked at my near nudity and grinned.
"Here sir " he said to Bockstrop. He sounded very polite. He had straw colored hair and pale blue eyes. He was only about Yancy's size. He had on a wedding band.
"Wait a moment, Eric and you too Reynolds. Could you look at his anal opening and see if those nozzle sizes will give him ample opportunity to be sure he has the right size?"
Reynolds grinned happily. "Yes sir." He said it with a polite sort of real enthusiasm.
He came behind me. I was still bent over trying to get into my trousers. He held the package against my exposed rear and then touched my ass.
I looked back with a frown and he smiled cheerfully. "Would you like me to show you how it works?" he asked. I would swear there was a hint of enthusiasm in his voice. I knew he was loving every minute of this.
"No, but thanks anyway" I said.
Bockstrop was obviously pleased. "Good job, Reynolds. Next time he comes in I'll send him to you if he needs any help along that line. You do an excellent job with our customers."
"Thank you sir" he grinned and then left.
That was when I was finally able to get the rest of my clothes on. When I got to the door, Max called to me, "Remember tomorrow: enema and then a butt hole shave here when you arrive. Plus some sucking practice."
He seemed very pleased with himself, folding his large hand across his broad chest.
My mouth tasted awful. Back on Sunday I thought his cum was the worst thing I had ever tasted. Well I was wrong. When I got in the car I used some more of that expensive mouthwash from when I dated Rita. I gargled like crazy. This seemed to be turning into a habit. I decided to drop by Bunker's Supermarket. I needed to see Yancy to get him to agree to the Friday night stag party. Time was running out and I was growing desperate.
I didn't want to see that bunch of guys who worked there because some of them were the ones who had kept me stripped and displayed in Kevin's brother's front yard Friday night. Fortunately Yancy was sitting on the long bench outside the store. People waiting to go on a shift usually sat there until time to clock in - naturally no store wanted anybody to ever clock in early. Yancy had been hanging his head, but when he saw me coming he grinned happily.
"You waiting to clock in?" I asked him.
"Not for a while. But my aunt doesn't like me hanging around the house, and with a neighborhood that's got guys like Benson in it, plus that little Tyler Tew, I had to go somewhere."
I totally understood, but I was sad he had no place to hang out at. "I wanted to ask a huge favor of you."
Before I could go on, Yancy asked, "Can we talk in your car? If any of the softball guys come out and see us here, they might try to start stuff. Especially Rico, he's been on a mean wave lately."
"I'm not scared of them" I said bravely. Truthfully I wasn't that confident, but I wanted to keep up my strong protector's image in front of Yancy.
"Well even so they'd take it out on me later. Please, Eric, let's get away from them, ok?"
We climbed in my car. Once we were seated, I did my best selling job on having him join me for the Friday night stag party. His eyes got big as saucers.
"You mean on a stage with them watching us while we do stuff?"
I tried to explain it in the nicest possibly way, but he still wasn't buying it. Finally I had to play my trump card.
"You want Patrick to stay at my apartment, right? Ok, I'm happy to do that. But in return..."
"But Eric, I'd die if I had to do that."
"You didn't die Friday night. And just like then, I'd be there with you." I reached out and wrapped my arm around his neck, pulling him closer.
Immediately I heard a hand slap against the side window and I looked over. It was Kevin.
"Snuggling up to your best girl, are you?" he asked sarcastically.
That made me so mad I couldn't think of a reply. Worse than that, I blushed. But then he said to Yancy, "Oh yeah, before I forget, I think Rico wants you in the back."
"I haven't clocked in yet. I'm not on the clock for another hour."
"Did I ask if you were on the clock? I'm giving you a message. In fact you can consider it an order."
"I don't work for Rico. Please Kevin."
"Maybe not, but I'm sure Rico can find things for you to do until you clock in."
I couldn't keep quiet. "Kevin, that's just stupid. Nobody works for free. In fact you could get fired for trying to make an employee work off the clock."
Kevin never liked being challenged or contradicted. His green eyes flashed. "Watch yourself asshole or I could tell everybody what you did at the drug store yesterday."
That's when I totally lost it. "And I could tell them you kissed Turkey Johnson's fat dick."
Kevin went white. I knew I was wrong to bring that up when he hadn't actually said what I did Sunday.
Yancy came alert. "Wow! Kevin, who's Turkey Johnson and why'd you do that?" He was wide-eyed with both excitement and shock.
Kevin was still livid. He turned on Yancy in an instant. "You watch it, you little faggot asshole. And don't you ever repeat that." He waited just a second and then turned to leave. "I'll bring Rico out here then and see how you like that."
"Wait, no!" Yancy squealed. "Please, Kevin."
Kevin acted triumphant. "You missed your chance, Yancy. I didn't want it to come to this." He had this smug expression on his face that got all over me. He really liked making people crawl.
I couldn't keep quiet any longer. "No Yancy, let Kevin bring Rico out and I'll go in and ask the store manager why some of his employees are playing around in the parking lot. I'll ask him if they have enough work to keep them busy."
Kevin was really angry now. "Look you stupid asshole, it's my lunch break. That shows how little you know about what goes on at a real supermarket, not that loser place you work for." It was obvious he was backing down.
"Ok then. But now can Yancy and I finish our conversation?"
"You can sit out here and blow him for all I care!" Then just before he stomped off, he said "I'm going to tell Uncle Max what you told about me. You'll pay for that for sure!"
Once he was out of earshot I grinned at Yancy. "He gets kind of huffy sometimes, doesn't he?"
Then I got down to business. "If you'll go with me Friday night, I'll owe you one. You can do this for me, can't you?"
"And you'll promise me that Patrick can stay with you?"
"Sure, but you didn't even know if he's coming, do you?"
"No, but I'll write him again."
"He may have a job now."
"I know. But maybe he can come." Yancy sounded so wistful it made me jealous. But I couldn't think about that right now. I had my mind on other things.
"That reminds me, Yancy, how can I get a message to you without having to drive here or to your house? I can't call you at home?" It was a question, not a statement.
"Well...I'll give you the number, but be sort of careful. My aunt is a very difficult person, so don't call unless you have to."
"Ok, but what's her problem?"
"I think because the house is small, when we came it just got too crowded. I just she feels like us being there is a big imposition. She likes me to be gone. That's why I come here so early for work."
"Yancy, why don't you take part of your paycheck and buy a disposable cell phone with a limited number of minutes. That way you'd have access to things you may want to do."
He brightened up. "I'll try that" he said.
I hated to break up our conversation, but I had to get back to work. Before I left, I asked, "Will you be safe out here until you clock in?"
"Yeah. Kevin will have forgotten all about this when he gets back inside. And Rico doesn't have the brains to remember from one time to the next what he's threatened to do to me or anybody."
I took off, glad to see Yancy handling things a lot better than he did last night.
(End of Chapter Eight)
(Thanks to all who have written me about the story. I've replied to you each individually, but now collectively I'll say how much that encourages me. Bart384@yahoo.com)