Scum (Wrong Side of the Tracks 1)

He half-expected Shane to chase after him, but he remained where he was, his forehead cloudy. “Fine. But I’ll be in touch. Give me the contact to your landlord? I want to make sure you don’t have to live with those kinds of lowlifes,” Shane said firmly.

Ros bit his lip. He should reject the offer and make this a clean break instead of letting someone else handle his problems, but some days, he felt so lonely in his new reality, that he caved and gave Shane what he wanted.

And secretly, he did look forward to Shane being in touch even if he wouldn’t say it.

Chapter 16 – Shane

The bar Ros worked at was a real hellhole, and while the shortened hair made him look less out of place among its clientele, Shane still made sure to be around each evening, in case someone picked on him. The owner did keep a shotgun in the back, but he wasn’t always there and, according to Ros, often was just as drunk as the patrons and didn’t make for reliable security.

So like every night since he’d crashed back into Rosen’s life, Shane rode up to the old brick building that housed Paradiso the dive bar, and entered its dark interior through a door plastered with layers of concert posters. He was glad Ros had enough sense to take the big tips Shane always left him, because the position he was in didn’t leave much room for pride.

Ros was behind the counter as usual, and thanks to the owner pinching pennies on everything but the heating, he was able to work in a T-shirt despite the snow outside. Shane could still not get over the fact that someone had the nerve to cut Ros’s lush hair against his will, but the boy was cute with the little ponytail as well. Shane did worry whether he was eating enough though, because he seemed skinnier than on the day they’d met.

Rosen hadn’t been happy with Shane’s visits at first, but he’d gotten used to them and nodded as Shane took a seat on one of the green bar stools. On a slow night, Rosen would linger close by, eager for Shane’s attention regardless of what he declared, but he was talking with a customer, so Shane left him to it. After all, he had all night to ask for a drink of his own.

“I know of a place down the road from me that’s for rent,” the stranger said to Ros, which meant that this conversation has been going on for a while, because Ros wouldn’t have revealed that he was on the lookout for a new apartment otherwise.

Shane ended up paying the landlord rent for both the assholes who left, adding a little extra to keep Ros in the dark about it.

Ros smiled and waved it off. “Nah, it’s fine, Bill, I’m trying to save up as much as I can.”

The customer was a burly redhead with a big beard and lots of freckles and wore a plaid green shirt with sleeves rolled up to show off the tattoos under lots of ginger hair.

He seemed harmless enough, but then again, Shane knew from experience that the neatest-looking people might attack your underbelly when you least expected it, so he remained wary and helped himself to a bowl of pretzels someone hadn’t finished.

It was a peaceful midweek evening, and only a couple of tables were occupied by regulars whom Shane was already familiar with. But the redhead? He was new and therefore required more attention.

“You said you’re a painter, right?” Bill asked, licking off the beer foam that clung to his beard. “I’ve got this cabinet I bought at a garage sale, and it could use a new coat of paint.”

Ros leaned against the counter, polishing a glass. “I’m not that kind of painter, but I could give it a shot.”

“Would you come over to see it? I’m not that good at choosing colors.”

Shane’s head jerked up, and he dug his nails into his denim-clad thigh, awaiting Ros’s answer, but his throat already felt thick with fury. Was this guy clueless about Ros’s sexuality, or this obvious in his covert propositioning?

Ros hummed. “I could do next Friday.”

Bill smirked, and all of Shane’s body hair bristled when the fucker reached out to cup Ros’s elbow with one massive, freckled paw. “You could come tonight after work. I could wait up and give you a ride.”

“Will you let go of him, or should I break all your fingers?” Shane asked quietly enough that his words remained indiscernible for most of the patrons. But the country music flowing from the speakers wouldn’t keep his opinion secret from Ros and Bill, who turned his head Shane’s way.

He kept up the eye contact. “You only just came in, friend. Maybe focus on your pretzels.”