Chapter 61

Richard glanced at the boys by the store, then back at CJ. The way he looked him over made every drop of blood in his body rush to his dick, and his baggy pants felt two sizes too tight when Richard’s eyes met his. “How old are you?” he wanted to know.

“Nineteen,” CJ whispered.

Richard frowned—CJ looks a lot younger, he knows he does, he still gets carded buying scratch-off lottery tickets. “You sure?” he asked. When CJ nodded, Richard started, “If you’re shitting me—”

“I have my license,” CJ offered. He dug into his back pocket to extract his wallet, the one he wears on a chain not so much to be cool but so he won’t lose it. All of a sudden he wanted Richard to believe him, more than anything. I’m old enough,he thought, scrambling through the folds of his wallet, past movie tickets and business cards and receipts, crap he stuck in there and promptly forgot. “If you want to see it—”