A Billion Desires 1

River's eyes were sunken from lack of sleep, but he snapped them open, a one-track mind to see the Maserati he'd just finished. He'd put in a nasty three-day marathon to get it done, sending Julian a text the moment he was finished. Even with seven days' lead time on parts, a three-week turnover was a coup. More importantly, he knew the job was flawless. He reclined on the breakroom couch, planning on a quick snooze before Julian came off work.

He awakened in a stunned sense of awareness, Julian towering over him, and a surge of adrenaline coursed through him. "What the fuck?" he shouted, standing up.

Julian held up his hands in a pacifying gesture. "Sorry, sorry. I knocked. Front's empty." He gestured over his shoulder. "You said I could come by anytime."

"Right, sorry. I just thought it would be later." River rubbed his eyes half asleep and took Julian to the central office. It was noon; his sister Sierra had taken their dad, Tomás, out for lunch. River moved behind the counter to process the payment when Julian suddenly tackled him to the ground.

"What the he-"

"Get down!" Julian's body covered him, his arms over his head and neck. A second after that, glass broke and a brick landed on the floor beside them.

Julian stayed over him for a minute, until he was sure the danger had passed. "Jesus, fuck! What the hell?" he shouted, springing up and running out into the parking lot.

"They're gone a long time ago," River yelled after him, slowly getting up on his feet and following him out. They stood there, looking down the empty street.

Julian turned to him, his face fierce as he scanned River for injuries. "You okay? Christ, that brick would've killed you. You cut?"

River was amazed that he was worried, but he looked at his arms and saw that they were not cut. "I'm fine. Thank you," he answered dryly. The continual pokes were familiar, but a brick was new and frightening.

"Has something like this ever happened before?" Julian asked quietly and with gravity.

"The window, yeah. But the attacks have been going on for around six months now. They're becoming more regular. At least the window is a simpler repair than trying to get dried animal blood off the bay doors.I hope it was animal blood," he added, a morbid consideration.

"What the actual fuck? Why are people doing this?" The words, often so misplaced from Julian's lips, felt surprisingly comfortable now.

"Who knows?" River answered, leading him back inside, the crunch of their feet on the broken glass. "We've always had our hands clean and our heads down." Grabbing a broom from the supply closet, he noticed Julian had a wound on his neck. "Oh, damn. You're bleeding."

Julian looked dazed, so River nodded toward his own neck. "The bathroom's this way."

Julian shrugged off his jacket to enter the room. His broad shoulders, usually hidden under his suits, were impossible to ignore. The dress shirt sleeves bulged around his biceps, and River's breath hitched. He untied his tie and unbuttoned the top two buttons, and River, suddenly hot, retreated from the doorway.

"I'm going to fetch some boards to board up the window," he explained, needing space.

Julian grinned, dark eyes meeting River's in the mirror. "I'll be glad to help you after I've decided I won't bleed all over my suit. The rest of the office would have questions.and concerns about covering my dry-cleaning bill." The easy smile weakened River's knees. The thought of Julian's coworkers more concerned about a bill than his well-being turned his stomach inside out.

"Slow down," River told him, his voice sharper than he intended. He reminded himself that Julian was not his type. His previous girlfriends were all giant jocks. That he was a biracial, gay man made him want to be the master one, a bit of machismo imparted to him by his Mexican abuelo. While he hadn't had faith in the overwhelming, brutal elements of the culture, he'd never once been on his knees for any man. But Julian, with his strength and steadfast determination, was making him reassess everything.

Julian bulldozed out of the bathroom on his phone, jacket draped over his arm, tie clutched in one hand, and top few buttons of his shirt still undone. The sight of his smooth, rippled forearms and definition of his pecs was an unwelcome distraction.

His hard, brooding eyes snapped across River's face. "Do you have measurements on that window?"

River, flushed, shook only his head.

Julian held the phone away from his mouth. "Get a tape measure."

River floated into the shop on autopilot, finding Julian's belongings on the counter, the call continuing on the speakerphone. He grasped one end of the tape measure, and Julian unfolded it, recording the measurements.

"Beckett, the window is six feet wide by four feet high," he told the phone.

"Got it. What do you want?" Beckett's voice replied.

River snapped out of it at last. "Oh, uh, can we talk price first? I should shop around. We're doing well, but with property tax increases, we've got an enormous bill down the road, so-"

"Chill. I've got it," Julian broke in and paced back and forth in front of the desk. "I'd like the bullet-proof polycarb, both windows. They're the same width. His sister does the office, and things are getting hot. Can you grab one of those fire-proof, reinforced doors on the way? In fact, get two. I don't want the door to the shop to be a weak point." He looked upwards. "You got cameras?"

"Uh, yeah, but only on the garage bays and in back."

Julian told the voice in the phone again. "And pick up one of those new wireless security systems. The one with cameras that look like light bulbs." Julian laughed, a rich burr that made River's spine chill. "Absolutely, something like that. Just tell me how much I owe you. Any chance of getting this done first on the to-do list? It's pretty urgent." There was a silent pause, then laughter. "Thanks, man. I'll take care of the materials, but the labor, you're doing it for free. You still owe me from the lost bet."

River's eyes widened. "That polycarbonate is very expensive, man. We can't afford to pay for all of that."

Julian shrugged. "Beckett's a buddy of mine. He's a contractor, and he owes me. It's no big deal."

"No big deal? You just substituted a thirty-thousand-dollar favor for me."

"It's just money. Beckett'll be here in two hours."

Tomás and Sierra walked in before River could complain some more.

"What on earth happened here?" Tomás asked calmly, his expression indicating to River that he already knew.

"Hello, sir. Julian Ashford," Julian said, extending his hand to Tomás. "River just finished with my Maserati. We were about to sit down and work through the paperwork when someone threw a brick through the window. One of my friends is coming over in a couple of hours to install new windows and doors and board them up. I also had him bring some new cameras."

Tomás whistled softly. "Sounds expensive."

"No, sir. I took care of it."

"Why would you do that?" Tomás's eyes were narrowed, not glossing over anything.

Julian looked over at Sierra. "I know she works upstairs, and that brick could have done some serious damage." His eyes then shifted to River, his pupils seeming to widen for a moment before he cleared his throat and made a joke. "And now that I have found this place, I have some more business with you. It's not easy to get someone with this level of experience for both the Maserati and my old Corvette. If I'm going to have to leave them here overnight, call it protecting my investment."

"We don't accept doles," Tomás answered, a fire in his voice.

"Dad, Julian only wants to help," River interrupted, hoping so.

Tomás gazed at the glass on the sidewalk, then at Julian and River. "If you're sure, we appreciate it. But we can't pay you back. I want to make that clear, though."

"Understood, sir."

Sierra and Tomás exchanged a look before Sierra went on. "You and Dad can wrap things up. You two go take the Maserati out and get everything checked out so it's exactly how you want it. River reported that there was still a bit of a quiver when he turned right."

River's forehead furrowed in confusion. "I never s-"

"Uh, Sierra's right," Tomás cut in, though rather begrudgingly. "River, don't you remember? You mentioned you had no idea if it drove like that before the accident? Go with him and have him tell you."

Oh. My. God. My family is arranging for me to date a straight billionaire on a mission of heroism. So covert, guys.

River couldn't help but snort a laugh as he back-slapped Julian. "You got time?" he asked, deciding to play along.

"I'll make time," Julian's deep voice sent a shiver down River's spine.

Sierra nudged him aside gently when he brushed past her, and Julian could proceed ahead of them and bring them to the bay. But Tomás caught hold of his shoulder, holding him back. "Just take care, son. That kind of money spoils men. Don't let me find your heart getting shattered when he realizes your differences are too much."

River heeded the advice, though it stung. But he was merely driving quickly in a dirty car with a hot guy. The keys, to which a Glass Saints bottle opener keychain was attached, lay on the board. He tossed them to Julian and headed for the passenger door, his heart pounding. Julian had a girlfriend, a gorgeous girl. He was likely straight. Worst case, he was bi, but River had to shut down these feelings immediately.

"You'll have to take me," Julian said.

"No problem. I know this side of the tracks." River meant it to be a joke, but Julian stopped, spread his stance, and placed his hands on the car roof.

"Just because my existence is on some other side of town doesn't mean there's anything wrong with this one."

River nodded, a nameless emotion tightening his throat. He was grateful Julian was content to overlook their socioeconomic status. The Maserati doors swung open like wings on a bat, and River, who had guessed the car was worth more like two hundred thousand dollars, took in every detail. The interior, though tight, was intimate.

Julian inserted the key into the ignition, and the purr of the engine hummed deep within River. He liked the feeling.

"Ready?" Julian asked, a smirk of half a grin on his face that caused River to grit his teeth.

Julian revved the engine, oblivious to the impact he was making. He rolled up his shirt sleeves, exposing smooth, bulging forearms and erupted veins.

Fuck my life.

"You always do this ritual before going around the block?" River quipped, attempting to relax the knot in his chest-and his pants.

Julian just smirked, and River had a feeling that smirk would be the death of him.

"Sir, can I help you find something?"

I tore my eyes away from the choking chaos of the shelves and looked at the sales girl. Her name tag, skewed on her vest, read Olosa. She was little more than sixteen. Her bouncy ponytail and wide, doe-like eyes almost made me confident enough to request help, but I avoided it. This was not a conversation an awkward adult male in a suit was supposed to be having with a hardly-teenager.

"Just Browse. Thanks." I instantly regretted using it. Who was this snobby person "browsing" at a cut-rate grocery store? The only reason I was there at all was because I was on my way to pick up Camille and she'd instructed me to swing by a emergency run for tampons. Sal's Superstore was the only one on my way that was even convenient.

Olosa nodded slowly, condescendingly, and continued to stock shelves. I found my purchase one aisle over, but also enjoyed the added bonus of walking on a huge glob of gum. "Great," I growled, trying to scrape the sticky glob off the sole of my wingtip on the lip of the bottom shelf, which was metal. It wasn't my finest moment, but I hadn't been sleeping much, and my patience was on a razor's edge.

Irritated with the choices of tampons, I chose a multipack box and, together with the chocolate bars I had chosen, headed to the self-checkout. In line for what seemed an eternity, I felt myself becoming more resentful by the minute. Not at Camille-she was a player in a game that she didn't even realize was being played-but with the inability that I had to control my own life.

Why was I, a fellow who did not care about women, buying female stuff on my way to visit a girlfriend I didn't want? The response was always the same: Stephen Ashford Sr. and my future. Three days prior, I had gone out for a run and seen a wedding in the park. When I saw that there were two grooms, my chest tightened, and I couldn't breathe. I stood and observed them until they were kissing, pleased for them and empty for me. The memory brought the tightness at the base of my sternum back around again. I unpopped the top button on my shirt and rubbed my hand against my chest. Fuck, I'd be dead before forty if I kept going.

Daydreaming, I almost caught the fact that the following register was open. I rushed to the front and tried to attempt to scan my products quietly, but one of them would not scan, and the machine required employee assistance. Thirty sets of eyes looked at me and I became red with shame. When the red light glowed above me, my contempt for the moment only grew stronger.

That is when I saw him.

Down the line, waiting for the manned checkout was the prettiest man I had ever seen. He had an armload of groceries folded in the crook of his elbow, and the weight was making his biceps swell. Just seeing him made my fury melt, replaced by unadulterated lust. He was the kind of man I longed for, though never in a lifetime would be allowed to pursue. His skin was ravishing brown, a color only children of two colors seemed to have. His eyebrows were as dark as the whiskers on his chin. A backward hat covered up his hair, but one black lock on his forehead was enough to cause me to flush with heat.

I was tracing the tattoos on his arm with my gaze when he looked at me with narrowed, cold blue eyes. No way in hell they were natural. One look at his face and I knew his expression meant: Why are you staring at me, psycho?

I quickly shook my head, got out a stiff, penitent smile, and focused on my own problems. Olosa strolled over, corrected my mistake, and allowed me to finish checking out. I inserted my black AMEX card into the machine, took my bag, and headed for the door, hoping against hope for one last glance at the man in front of me. I'd had my fill of embarrassment and kept my eyes on the sliding glass door ahead, happy to escape under the overwhelming scent of cheap disinfectant.

My dress shoes clicked on the asphalt as I hurried through the parking lot. My sports car unlocked as I approached, and I pulled out Camille's things and pushed them into the passenger seat. I pulled it inside, let out a bitter sob, and put my head against my hands wrapped around the steering wheel. I succumbed to despair for an instant. My parents knew I was gay but the ultimatum they had given-this arranged marriage among other things-meant that I lived a lie daily. Other times I was so overwhelmed with work that I could fulfill the role quite nicely, but between the park wedding and the man in line, I was shaken. There was a craving now running through me, as if the dark-haired god had awakened some latent animal. I had felt his eyes, his presence, in the marrow of my bones. I was drawn to him more than ever before. Attraction, lust, and passion coursed through my body like blue flames that burned everything else around them to smoldering ash. I was drawn to him like I couldn't look away. The fact that he probably thought I was judging him by what he was wearing in his suit and tie made me sick to my stomach.

Anxious for the day to be over at last, I got the car into reverse and started backing out when I saw the man in the backwards hat exiting the store. His pants were filthy, and his fitted t-shirt exhibited the outline of bulging muscles along the chest. In a fit of desperation, having to do something about taking control of my life and this want, I kept retreating as a horrible plan evolved in my head. I went slowly, not wanting to call attention to myself. It was fortunate that this Maserati looked right at home amidst the Toyotas, Hondas, and Kias in the dealership. I mouthed a prayer of thanks that I hadn't driven my Corvette today.

I followed him until he went to his own car-my heart palpitated-a black vintage Dodge Challenger, maybe a '75? Just the right one for him. I parked in his stall and let him back out. I nearly felt bad about it, but I knew his metal bumper would destroy my front end. I'd get all the damage, as I deserved for trying this little trick. I coasted into his blind spot and stopped.

Within five seconds, I could hear the revolting crunch of plastic and metal. I couldn't help but smile like the lust-crazed idiot I clearly was. Instead of jumping out of his car, angry, he leaned back into his seat and massaged his hands over his face. Frustrated in wanting to ease his upset, I got out of my car and rapped on his window. It suddenly struck me how manipulative and selfish this was. I was appalled with myself for sinking to a whole new low. It was a witness to how far out of control I had allowed my life to become. Too late to turn back now, I screamed through the glass.

"Hey, man. Are you alright? I really apologize about that."

He glared at me with those striking eyes, saw me in the checkout line, and his face darkened. Shit, he's even better-looking close up. He'd had little black gauges in his ears and a tiny silver ring in his nose. The little one added to his hotness in a way I never could have pictured. My dick seemed to agree.

He opened his door, and I stepped back, much as I'd have liked to sandwich him between his car and my hips. "Didn't they teach you to see reverse lights at prep school?" he sneered, then looked at my car and shuddered. "I really didn't need this today."

"It's uh...it's okay. All my fault." I stammered, not sure what to say. He was looking at my bashed front bumper, and I was looking at him. My angle was improved.

"It's clearly not okay," he said, pointing towards our cars. "I trashed your entire right quarter panel, and there is no way that I can get it done at the dealership price on this."

I massaged the back of my neck, trying to placate myself after I'd heard the sound of the word "fucked" leave his mouth. What was I going to tell him? That I didn't like this car anyway? That I'd just drive another two-hundred-thousand-dollar car tomorrow morning? Something in me recognized that he wouldn't be impressed with any of that. And something in me already loved him for it.

"I'm really not worried about it. I don't need it fixed right away," I tried, holding back until it was a suitable moment to ask for his name and number for the insurance claim that never was going to be done.

"Listen," he released a breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I know you're not gonna believe this, but I've got an auto repair shop on the south side of town with my dad." He looked at my dress and made me feel small and insufficient. "I'm sure it's not your first choice, but we're the best in the region for import restoration. You can read our reviews on Yelp and crap. Moreno Custom Garage."

"Are you going to fix my car?" I asked in amazement. If he would fix the car, then I would have a chance at seeing him again. I winced at the way that sounded. "I only meant, I'd appreciate that, and I'll pay, of course."

"Yeah, I can fix it no problem. It might take me a few weeks to be able to get what I need, but if you want to make a police report, that's okay too."

"I'd rather not have anything to do with that if it's alright with you." If my name ended up on a police report, the press would have it covered. It was an election year, and Camille was the governor's daughter. My association with her, and the fact that I was one of the wealthiest members of the city, made me need to watch every move that I made very closely.

Mr. Tatted Wet Dream held out his phone. "Here, give me your number, and I'll look at the books when I get back to let you know when to bring her in."

I hoped he didn't see my hand shaking. Julian Ashford, get a grip you bloody wimp. It didn't pan out. Holding his phone was such as holding something precious because it was his. It was also warm from being in his pocket, and I could honestly say I never really noticed that about something before.

I hurriedly filled out my information and gave the phone back to him. He jammed it into his front pocket and stepped around to approach me. "Do you have a minute? I just need to double-check your tire so it won't be rubbing the wheel well when you drive."

"Fine. I'm not in a hurry." Sorry, Camille.

Before I even had time to blink, he was on the ground, his head under my car. He reached overhead, stretching his arms, and his t-shirt crept up, revealing the top of his boxers and a small strip of golden sun-kissed skin. If that was an ink on his side, I was going to faint. He slapped the fender and stepped out from under the car. "It seems to be fine, but maybe don't take her on any road trips." He stood up, drying his hands on his jeans and looking at me. "I assume you have something else to drive while I get her sorted out?"

I hadn't even had time to answer him when my phone rang and Stephen Ashford Sr.'s name flashed across the screen.

"Wait one second, please. I have to take this." I swiped to receive as he gave me a curt nod. "Father," I said. "Mm-hmm." Pause. "No, I'll take care of him." Pause. "I said I would take care of it." Pause. "It's three o'clock in the morning." Pause. "I don't care if he's in Japan. I'm not." Pause. "Fine."

I hung up the phone and turned on the man before me, butterflies replaced by buzzing hornets.

"Okay?" he inquired, his tone polite.

"Just business politics," I snarled.

He chuckled and massaged the back of his neck. "Yeah, I get those."

Finally able to think with my head, I asked for his name.

"Oh, yeah. River Moreno." He extended his hand. Grasping it, I glanced down, afraid my pencil-thin pants would tent. It wasn't needed. When his palm hit mine, I received a shock of electricity, as if closing your hand around a live wire. The callouses on his palms sent my brain down a naughty, inappropriate path, and it took all mental force of will to snap back in line. Hopefully, my delay was not visible.

"Julian Ashford."

River laughed, the low, throaty sound striking my balls squarely. "Wow, they really read you for a suit with that name, huh?"

I couldn't help but chuckle. "You have no idea."

"Well, hey, I'm really sorry about all this. I'll text you later and let you know when to drop her by the shop."

"Sounds good. And uh, I'm sorry too. I'll pay closer attention to those back-up lights next time, and maybe send a letter to my prep school encouraging them to include it in the curriculum."

River gave me a genuine smile as he blew out a laugh. My cock stayed on the loose as I slid behind the wheel of my car.

Okay, so it was a rotten thing to do, but did I regret it? Not even a little.