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Jim looked around to make sure there was nobody within earshot. “So, I need a favor.” He paused for a second. “But, I’m not sure how to go about asking.”
Duane shrugged. “Then just go right to it. That’s probably the best way.”
Jim took a deep breathe. “Alright… but, first. And, this is gonna be a little personal… How are things on the dating scene?”
“Bringing a lot of girls back to your apartment?” Jim nodded back to the garage.
“Enough,” Duane said defensively. “Wait, you gonna set me up with somebody?”
“Un, kinda. When you were in prison…”
Duane cocked his head expectantly.
“Uh… well…” Jim stumbled over his words. He’d gone over this conversation in his head a few times since he’d woken up, and it turned out to be harder than he’d expected.
“Alright—just coming out with it.” He shook his arms and cracked his neck to brace himself. It was a bad habit he had when he was nervous—which wasn’t often. “When you were in prison, I assume there were ways you took care of…” He pointed to the general area of Duane’s crotch.
Duane pressed his lips together and nodded.
Jim was suddenly worried the big man would kick his ass. That hadn’t been part of his practice conversations either. He figured he’d gone that far, so he might as well finish.
“More than just a hand?”
Duane considered for a second, then said, “This isn’t something people usually talk about once they’re out…”
“I know,” Jim said quickly. “And, I’m really sorry.”
Duane looked him up and down. “Where’s this going, Jimbo?”
“So you did have a… bitch?”
“Yeah,” Duane said. “You know the guy. You asking me to fuck you?”
“No!” Jim waved his hand like he was trying to clear that question out of the air. “No, no, no… What do you mean, I know him?”
“You do know that if I didn’t like you and work for your brother, I’d have kicked your ass for even bringing this up, right?”
Duane’s body language was more threatening than Jim was comfortable with. And, if Spence knew what he was about to ask Duane, he’d have jumped in and helped the guy beat him. “I do. And, honestly… I’d deserve it.”
“The guy was Wade.”
Jim took a step back. “No shit? But, he’s…” Wade was an ex linebacker for the high school football team. He’d gone on to college in a football scholarship, but hurt himself a couple of years in. He still looked like he was in the NFL—and came to Duane’s weekly, Sunday poker games.
Duane shrugged. “He liked it. We all still throw him some d every now and then, if you gotta know.”
As shocked as Jim was, hearing that made the rest of the conversation a lot easier. “So, did Spence tell you my boy was gonna be around on Sundays?”
The quick turn of the conversation seemed to take Duane back a little. “Yeah…” he said suspiciously.
“Well, he’s gonna be doing odd jobs ‘cause I’m trying to teach him a lesson.”
“And, what does this have to do with me and the guys fucking Wade when times get lean?”
Good. Duane was talking a little more openly. Jim thought that maybe it would work after all. “Well, I found out my boy’s been takin’ dick for a while now. And, last night Frank and I—”
“No you didn’t.” Duane chuckled. “You looking for advice on fuckin’ a guy?”
“No. And, this is the favor—I don’t want my boy to enjoy his time here. It’s supposed to be punishment. So, I want you… and I guess the rest of the guys if they’re willing… to fuck my boy stupid until it’s over.” Jim breathed a sigh of relief. It was out. He’d gotten to the point.
Duane shook his head. “Can’t do it. I like the kid.”
Shit. “Come on, man. It’s for his own good. I really need you to humiliate him. He knows he has to do everything you say—no matter what. I’m trying to teach him responsibility about this truck thing. Otherwise he’s heading for the big-house.”
Duane mulled that over for what seemed like forever. Finally, he sighed. “You think?”