Patrick's Plight

One older, sophisticated man with more money than the Donald. One younger guy who is clueless and poor. What could possibly go wrong?

Desperate for money because of a friend’s medical bills, Patrick found himself contemplating something

that

he

never

thought

he

would…doing gay porn. But, before he can even finish his audition, he’s shown the backdoor and kicked out.

Vance, the owner of the porn company, knows from the instant he sees Patrick that he and he alone should be the only one to ever touch the younger man. He tracks Patrick and offers him a job…off camera.

Patrick agrees, and the two men soon find themselves growing closer to each other. Will they be able to get through their insecurities, or will their story be over before it even began?

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Patrick’s Plight

Copyright © 2012 Stephani Hecht and Amber Kell ISBN: 978-1-77111-359-5

Cover art by Martine Jardin

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

Published by Devine Destinies

An imprint ofeXtasy Books

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Patrick’s Plight

Imperfect Porn 1

By

Stephanie Hecht and Amber Kell

All the fans who encourage us to sit down at
our computers and share our dreams.

Fuck, nothing but dust. Again!” Patrick “F snapped as he looked into the empty fireproof box.

Not that he should be surprised. More times than not, that damn container held nothing but air.

Unfortunately, the folder stuffed with their massive collection of bills kept growing larger each day. Most of them were even on red paper or stamped
Last Notice!

The one that really concerned him was the paper that threatened to evict them if they didn’t pay the rent in the next ten days. Patrick needed to find a way to come up with some cash, or they would be in real trouble.

A group of desperate, yet lovable, gay boys, tossed
out by an evil landlord. At the mercy of the cruel world
that only wants to eat them alive. Talk about being a
living cliché.

The absence of a positive cash flow wasn’t from lack of working, either. They all held jobs—well, all of them but Oliver, but he couldn’t help it.
Minimum wage didn’t cover the bills.

“Why are you up so early?” Ronnie asked as he padded barefoot into the room.

Ronnie wore a pair of sleep pants and a wrinkled white t-shirt. He had bags under his blue eyes, and his dark hair was rumpled from sleep.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Patrick replied.

Patrick wondered if he looked as bad as Ronnie.

He knew he had dark circles under his eyes, but at least his blond hair wasn’t all messed up since he had never gone to bed.

“Have you been up all night?” Ronnie’s brow furrowed in concern.

Instead of lying, Patrick nodded. “I haven’t been able to sleep for the past three nights. The only reason I can function at all is because I’ve managed to sneak in some cat naps.”

“You need to go back to that doctor to get more pills. They always seem to help.”

Patrick barely restrained himself from giving a snort of derision. “We can’t afford pills, let alone a doctor. As it is, we have medical bills coming out of our asses.”

“Oliver feels bad about that, too,” Ronnie murmured.

A flash of anger hit Patrick. “Why should he?

The accident wasn’t his fault. He wasn’t the one who got drunk, crashed head-on into another car, then left the scene.”
Ronnie held his hands up. “I never said any of it was his fault. I’m just telling you what he said.”

Patrick let out a deep sigh as the anger left him, only to be replaced by guilt. Ronnie was the sweetest of all of them, and Patrick should have never taken his frustrations out on him.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you. I’m just so frustrated right now.”

Patrick picked up the big file then dropped it again. The bills made a loud flopping sound as the papers hit the scratched and stained, ancient yellow table. That wasn’t the only thing old and worn, either. The whole apartment, from the threadbare carpets to the battered cabinets, had seen better days. Even the shower sucked. The drain was so bad that whenever somebody took a shower they ended up ankle deep in water.

Unfortunately, that’s all they could afford. Since Oliver had no medical insurance and minimal collision insurance, he’d been responsible for all the bills. The other driver had never been found to help pay expenses, and they were huge, too. Not only had they operated on Oliver’s leg to put pins and rods in his shattered femur, but he’d been in the hospital for over a week.

“He said it again.” Ronnie’s soft voice cut into Patrick’s thoughts.

“That he wants to leave.” It was more of a statement than a question.
“Yeah, he feels guilty that we’re working so hard because of him.”

Patrick shook his head. Yeah, that sounded exactly like something Oliver would say. Poor Oliver had a serious martyr complex.

“We’re friends, and friends help each other out,” Patrick answered firmly.

No way would he abandon his roommates.

They’d all attended the same high school and banded together, both for emotional support and to help keep bullies away. They’d gone through a lot together, coming out to their parents, dealing with bigotry, struggling to be accepted. Patrick wasn’t about to bail on Oliver when he needed them.

“I already told him as much,” Ronnie replied.

Ronnie got up and began to make coffee, despite the fact that it was still dark outside.

Patrick saw right through the gesture. Just as always, Ronnie acted as caretaker, and he wasn’t about to leave Patrick to the mercy of another long, sleepless night.

When Ronnie opened the fridge, Patrick winced at how empty it was. Great! That would mean another trip to the local food pantry or trying to find a way to make some quick cash. At least he had another shift at the bar tonight, so maybe the tips would be better than normal.

As if! Patrick worked as a bartender at the
sleaziest bar in Chicago. It was a pit, never that full, and the guys who did show were more often than not on the creepy side. Just the night before, some perv had shoved a dollar down Patrick’s shorts then patted him on the ass. That was before he asked if Patrick would be interested in giving him a blowjob. What the fuck! Patrick may be broke, but he sure as hell wasn’t about to suck somebody off for a buck. He’d have to be homeless and starving for that.

“Maybe I should go talk to the owner of
Tropics
again,” Patrick said out loud.

He’d been trying to get a bartending gig at the top-end gay club for over a year. So far, the answer had been the same
thanks, but no thanks,
come back when you actually have some meat on your
bones.

Ronnie cocked a brow. “Are you sure about that?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Patrick asked

defensively.

“You haven’t gained an ounce since the last time you talked to him. In fact, I would be willing to bet that you lost ten pounds.”

Damn it! Why did Ronnie have to be so dead on with his assessment?

“I still don’t see why that should matter. I’m going to be behind the bar, not dancing in a go-go cage,” Patrick grumbled.
“True, but we both know that the bartenders there are part of the decoration. It may not be fair or right, but that’s the way it works.”

“I don’t even talk to any of the customers besides to ask them what they want to drink,”

Patrick protested.

“Which is another reason why
Tropics
will never hire you. You’re as shy as a virgin at an orgy,” Ronnie taunted.

“That’s an interesting analogy,” Patrick said as he tried to get the visual out of his head.

Ronnie filled up two mugs with coffee, adding cream and a ton of sugar to one, just the way Patrick liked it. Carrying the drinks over, Ronnie took a seat, being careful since he’d picked the wobbly chair.

Reaching over, Ronnie ran a finger over the large folder. “Damn, there are a lot of them. Isn’t there? Which ones are the most urgent?”

“Take your pick. They’re threatening to kick us out. Our power is about to be cut off. And the ambulance company is threatening to sue if Oliver doesn’t pay them by the end of the month.”

“Have you even told Oliver about any of this?”

Ronnie waved a hand toward the stack of bills.

Patrick took a deep breath, knowing what was coming. “Of course not. He has enough to deal with.”

Ronnie cocked a brow. “Oliver has been able to
walk again for a year now. Plus, he’s off the painkillers, so he can drive.”

“It’s not that easy, and you know it,” Patrick rushed to their friend’s defense.

“Funny, from the way I see it, we’ve been doing nothing but making it easy for him,” Ronnie replied calmly.

Patrick shrugged. “Even if we did agree that he’s physically able to work, there are other problems.”

“You mean his depression?” Ronnie asked.

Patrick wrapped his hands around his mug, suddenly feeling very cold. “Yes, that.”

“Then maybe it’s time he went and got help for that too.” Ronnie fidgeted in his seat, uncomfortable with the discussion.

“It’s not that simple. Have you forgotten that he lost George that night, too? Oliver loved him and had to watch him die.” Patrick blinked back tears.

A shudder went through him as he thought about how horrifying it must have been, to be trapped and helpless as a loved one slowly drifted away. Since the accident had taken place on a deserted stretch of road, it’d taken forever to get help.

Ronnie’s gaze grew soft with compassion. “I’m not saying that he hasn’t been to hell and back. I’m just worried that maybe we’re not doing him any good by sheltering him this way.”
Patrick decided to call Ronnie’s bluff. “Okay, then you talk to him first thing in the morning.”

Just as expected, Ronnie began to shift around in his chair as he swallowed a few times.

“But…What I mean is….the thing is…Well, shouldn’t you do it since you’re the leader of our group?”

“
Leader?
” Patrick scoffed, more than a little pissed. “I don’t get where you guys think I should be the one who should be in charge. All I have is a high school diploma, a measly ten bucks in the bank, and a serious case of insomnia. I’m not fit to lead the
Teenage Mutant Turtles.
”

“Of course not! You don’t know karate,”

Ronnie shot back.

Patrick rubbed his hands over his face. There were some days where he wondered why he bothered at all. He was nearly twenty, and what did he have to show for it? Nothing but a crappy job and an even crappier apartment.

Then he thought again about Oliver. How they’d been best friends for nearly forever and of all the things the other man had done for him.

Patrick felt guilty. He hadn’t been through nearly as much as Oliver, so Patrick had no right to complain at all.

“I’ll ask Niles if I can pick up a few extra shifts this week,” Patrick said, holding back a wave of revulsion.
His sleazy boss would expect a favor for extra overtime. So far, Patrick had avoided lowering himself to that level, but he didn’t know how long his luck would last.