The Darkness Inside Me

13 - No More Friends

Isaiah was more nervous than he wanted to admit. And the reason he was here went beyond just wanting to see Shades again. In fact, I'm about to walk into his fucking penthouse. He was here mainly because he had nowhere else to go. There was no way he could return to his parents' place, and he didn't have any belongings left—his ex had probably tossed them out. And friends... Well, they weren't exactly lining up to welcome you back after you got out of jail.

Except for other former inmates, he hoped.

Juice and he had exchanged only a couple of letters, but the man had clearly hinted that Isaiah would be welcome, assuming his brother was okay with it. Isaiah had never heard anything to the contrary, so now he stood staring at his reflection in the mirrored door, waiting for it to be opened.

Just before he considered ringing the doorbell again, the door opened.

Juice stared at him with such wide eyes that Isaiah wondered if the invitation had ever been genuine, or if the man had only said it out of politeness.

"Hi," Isaiah said awkwardly.

"Hi! Yeah, I... hi."

Right. Awkward.

Juice had always been awkward, so Isaiah just pulled him into a hug. Not the best icebreaker with someone who had a history of abuse, but Isaiah realized that a bit too late. He let the man go.

"You said I was welcome here. Temporarily," Isaiah explained his presence.

"Uh, yeah." Juice ran a hand through his hair. "I kind of forgot. The place is big enough, though, so... come in."

Juice stepped aside, and Isaiah walked in. The penthouse exuded elegance and luxury with its high ceilings, large windows, and a view of the city skyline. The marble floors gleamed, and his gaze settled on the open living room, where a brown leather couch sat, large enough for his entire family to sleep on. He wondered if more than two people had ever sat on it. Shades didn't seem like the type to have many visitors, and he probably never conducted business meetings inside his house. He couldn't even picture Shades showing off a place like this; as if it were the most normal thing in the world to live in such luxury. But maybe I'm completely wrong. Everything he knew about Shades was based on rumors.

His footsteps echoed through the spacious room as he crossed the living room. He paused next to the couch. The thing looked like it had never been used. "Can I?" He gestured toward the couch.

"Sure. Want something to drink?"

Isaiah set down his plastic bag containing his few belongings. "I've been craving a beer for months."

A grin appeared on Juice's face that Isaiah had never seen in prison. Apparently, he was doing better, even though he'd probably never be the smoothest talker.

Isaiah sank into the couch and looked around. There was art on the walls, the only thing that hinted at Shades' interests—if he'd even chosen it himself. There were no photos to be found.

"How are you doing?" he asked once Juice handed him a beer and sat down beside him. He took a sip and closed his eyes in appreciation as the cool liquid slid down his throat. Heavenly.

"Pretty good," Juice answered. He seemed to mean it. "I found a job at a garage."

"And how about your brother and all that? Considering you didn't even know you had a brother?"

Juice looked a bit past him. "He's rarely here. At first... I felt alone in this place. But in a way, it was also a relief, I guess. It's weird to suddenly share a house with someone who's your brother." He made a face. "And who doesn't want to share much about himself. Not even his real name."

That was... pretty strange, yeah. Isaiah couldn't exactly say he had a fantastic relationship with his own brother—he hadn't visited him in prison, hadn't even written a letter or called—but a name was pretty basic.

"Sometimes I just wonder why he did all this. Getting me transferred. Wasting who knows how much money to get me out. Letting me live here."

Isaiah bit the inside of his cheek. "Your brother likes to be a big mystery."

A mystery he was more than eager to unravel because with his arrogant smirk and confident demeanor, he had taken up residence in Isaiah's mind. Since then, he hadn't felt attracted to any other man. He could hardly think of anything else.

Suddenly, a door opened. Shades stepped out of a room—whether it was an office or a bedroom, Isaiah couldn't tell. He looked so good in his gray suit that Isaiah's mouth went dry. Damn. That was a far cry from the orange prison jumpsuit.

"Is that so? Am I a big mystery?" Shades closed the door behind him before looking Isaiah deep in the eyes.

Isaiah suppressed the urge to tug at his shirt collar; he suddenly felt very warm.

A barely audible sound escaped his throat as he cleared it. Silently, he cursed himself. When he imagined their meeting, there hadn't been any stupid behavior involved!

"Yes," he finally managed to say, trying to muster some spontaneity and confidence. Shades would never fall for a stuttering fool. "Enough to fuel my fantasies at night."

Shades raised his eyebrows.

Isaiah felt his cheeks heat up. Can I redo that?

But no, he couldn't. And the awkward silence here seemed to swallow him whole.

Juice awkwardly cleared his throat. "This is Isaiah. My former cellmate. He... needed a place to stay now that he's out, and I thought..."

Shades snorted with so much disdain that a sharp pain shot through Isaiah's chest. "This isn't a homeless shelter."

"But he's a friend..."

Shades let out a derisive laugh. "You were betrayed by all your friends, weren't you? You'd be wise to stay away from friends in the future. You don't need them." The man looked Isaiah straight in the eye, seeming to know exactly why he was here. "Joaquin is building a new life. He doesn't need trash like you around. Go knock on the Salvation Army's door."

Without saying another word, Shades walked to the front door and left.

Isaiah suppressed a deep sigh. That couldn't have gone worse.