Lover Boy

By GA Hauser

When worlds collide in the middle of Manhattan’s Diamond District, the lives of two men are changed forever.
Daxon John York, a former military man who worked for the NYPD until he was forced to leave the department for excessive use of force, ended up a security guard for a jewelry store. Divorced with one daughter, the alimony payments, child support and stress of carrying a mortgage plus rent was weighing Daxon down. When an armed man holds the employees at gunpoint, Daxon does his best to prevent the robbery, and fails.
Corey Ellis had tried to walk the straight and narrow, but nothing seemed to work out for him. Desperate to get out of New York, Corey plans to rob a small jewelry store. What he didn’t expect was to connect with the security guard with whom he exchanged gunfire.
‘Lover boy’ a nickname Corey was given since high-school for his good looks and sensual prowess, comes face to face with a former GI/NYPD cop. Alpha males battling for power with the same goal; Happiness.
Two men; both at the lowest point in their lives crash together in a horrific encounter which connects them from that moment on.

• Language: English
• Publisher: GA Hauser
• Release date: Sep 1, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310544873

GA Hauser

About the AuthorAuthor G.A. Hauser is from Fair Lawn, New Jersey, USA. She attended university at The Fashion Institute of Technology in NYC, and has a BA in Fine Art from William Paterson College in Wayne NJ where she graduated Cum Laude. As well as degrees in art, G.A. is a Graduate Gemologist from the Gemological Institute of America (GIA). In 1994 G.A. graduated the Washington State Police academy as a Peace Officer for the Seattle Police Department in Washington where she worked on the patrol division. She was awarded Officer of the Month in February 2000 for her work with recovering stolen vehicles and fingerprint matches to auto-theft and bank robbery suspects. After working for the Seattle Police, G.A. moved to Hertfordshire, England where she began to write full length gay romance novels. Now a full-time writer, G.A. has penned over 200 novels and short stories. Breaking into independent film, G. A. was the executive producer for her first feature film, CAPITAL GAMES which included TV star Shane Keough in its cast. CAPITAL GAMES had its Film Festival Premiere at Philly's Qfest, and its television premiere on OutTV. G.A. is the director and executive producer for her second film NAKED DRAGON, which is an interracial gay police/FBI drama filmed in Los Angeles with the outstanding cinematographer, Pete Borosh. (also the Cinematographer for Capital Games)The cover photographs of G.A.'s novels have been selected from talented and prolific photographers such as Dennis Dean, Dan Skinner, Michael Stokes, Tuta Veloso, Hans Withoos, and CJC Photography, as well as graphic comic artist, Arlen Schumer. Her cover designs have featured actors Chris Salvatore, Jeffery Patrick Olson, Tom Wolfe, and models Brian James Bradley, Bryan Feiss, Jimmy Thomas, Andre Flagger, among many others.Her advertisements have been printed in Attitude Magazine, LA Frontier, and Gay Times.G. A. has won awards from All Romance eBooks for Best Author 2009, Best Novel 2008, Mile High, Best Author 2008, Best Novel 2007, Secrets and Misdemeanors, and Best Author 2007.G.A. was the guest speaker at the SLA conference in San Diego, in 2013, where she discussed women writing gay erotica and has attended numerous writers’ conventions across the country.

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LOVER BOY

By

G.A.HAUSER

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © G.A. Hauser, 2015

LOVER BOY

Copyright © G.A. Hauser, 2015

Cover photographer: Dennis Dean

Cover Model: Christopher Michaels

ISBN Trade paperback: 978-1512-2254-5-7

© The G.A. Hauser Collection LLC

This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or business establishments, events or locales is coincidental.

All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

WARNING

This book contains material that maybe offensive to some: graphic language, homosexual relations, adult situations. Please store your books carefully where they cannot be accessed by underage readers.

First The G.A. Hauser Collection LLC publication:

September 2015

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About the photographer

Dennis Dean Images

Dennis Dean continues to make his mark as an internationally known photographer. He is credited for his creative abilities, strong composition, and dramatic lighting. Dennis’s work has earned numerous awards and has been featured in several gay magazines and in a plethora of art publications, including G. A. Hauser erotic novels, as well as countless exhibitions, including two in London at the Adonis Art Gallery.

Also, look for his work of eye-catching images with the apparel brand, Ruff Riders www.theruffrider.com.

See more of his work at www.dennisdean.com.

Chapter 1

As he zipped his dark blue trousers, Daxon John York stared at his uniform shirt which was on his bed. Private security. That’s where he ended up after being in the military for five years and working for the NYPD for twelve. A security guard.

It was hard not to be bitter.

He slipped on the dark blue short-sleeved shirt, buttoning it, while the traffic below his apartment on East 81st Street grew heavy. Horns blasted and loud shouting was heard. A New York minute or as Johnny Carson once said, "The interval between a Manhattan traffic light turning green and the guy behind you honking his horn."

To Dax it was as if the city itself was impatient and angry, but New York had everything anyone desired. It was the universe of extremes. He was born and bred in the Bronx, had married right out of the military since the pressure he was getting from his family to ‘couple-up’ was ridiculous, and had spawned one child. A daughter, Giselle.

Nothing worked out as planned. He knew marrying Abigail was wrong for him from the beginning. Wrong on so many levels. But he tried to move through the charade; managing to fulfill everyone’s expectations of him. All but his own.

Now he was divorced, living in a one-bedroom apartment which was too much for him to afford with alimony and child support, but he wasn’t about to live in a slum.

He made sure his gun was secured to his belt, his badge and ID were showing so he didn’t terrify strangers, and checked his phone to see if it was charged and there were no missed messages.

It was Friday and the jewelry shop he worked for, Maxim and Son, was closed on Sundays and Mondays.

The Diamond District in Manhattan. It was his old beat. Now he had to see his former co-workers walk by on patrol while he stood at the doorway and prevented theft.

His new detail was no joke. Lately the area had been hit hard by crooks netting six figure profits from their loot.

Dax picked up his keys and looked around the small apartment before he left. From his place to West 47th Street was only ten minutes away by car, an hour if he rode public transportation. So? He drove. Yeah, owning a car here was also expensive; the parking, the insurance, the traffic…he was stuck.

His dreams for an easy life, a police pension, and no financial worries when he retired, had gone out the window when he lost his job and gotten a divorce. The resentment in him was a driving force at times, but what was he supposed to do? Rob a store?

As Dax locked up his apartment and headed to the elevator, he thought he was the type of man who would never do anything dishonest. He’d been raised to know the difference between right and wrong.

How he ended up divorced and no longer working for the NYPD was confusing. It wasn’t where he expected to be at thirty-eight.

Dax walked out of the elevator and lobby door to his car. He had managed to find street parking for it. He drove the snarled traffic mess, along with yellow cabs, delivery trucks, and many other morons stupid enough to own a car in this city.

Riding a bus while carrying his weapon and looking like a cop? Not going to happen.

Dax listened to his music as he drove, trying not to arrive at work as stressed out as when he left it. He was lucky he was hired by the security service at all. Though the brass at the NYPD had tried to shaft him completely, Dax had a good lawyer appointed by the police union. Luckily his record wasn’t so tarnished he couldn’t carry a gun or do this security work.

He had a bachelor’s degree in business administration, but college seemed so long ago, Dax knew he’d have to go back to class to get a job in management somewhere. And hell, he was happier on the front lines. That’s why he enlisted in the army and then joined the police. He was a fighter, not a lover, and being around men was a choice. Being gay wasn’t.

He parked in the same lot he’d been using since he first began working security for this store. Now he had a monthly parking pass, also expensive, but what was he supposed to do?

Dax may not be a police officer or on active military duty, but he kept aware of everything around him, especially since the Twin Towers fell; men carrying briefcases, large delivery trucks double-parked, blocking the road, masses of pedestrian traffic, the daily to and fro from work…all post 9-11, which made every traffic tangle suspect to him.

Dax stood in the alcove and tapped the door. The entire front of the small store was glass, but at closing, metal gates rolled down to cover the windows.

Lenny Maxim, the owner of the shop, opened the door for him and locked it once Dax entered.

Good morning, Dax said, seeing Lenny’s son Jimmy and two co-workers, Pat Remy and Cali D’Lea placing the jewelry into the display cases and front windows.

Everyone greeted him as they worked.

I just made a fresh pot of coffee, DJ. Pat pointed to the back room, which was very small, had one table, two chairs, and an enormous security safe.

Thanks, but I’m good. Dax didn’t mind being called DJ- since these employees knew his middle name was John, they nicknamed him that. At this point in his life, he didn’t care what anyone called him. He’d heard it all, including, pig, cocksucker, douche…

Dax took his place by the front door and leaned against the metal frame, looking out at the flow of humanity. It was a long shift to stand on his feet, but he didn’t want a chair. There wasn’t room for one near the door. The store was so tiny, there wasn’t room for much. Dax checked his watch and exhaled tiredly. It was going to be one long-ass day.

~

Corey Ellis drank a cup of coffee while standing in his kitchen of his one-room apartment on 129th Street and Lenox Avenue. One room. One-motherfucking-room.

In that space was a single bed, a dresser, and a counter with a hotplate, coffeemaker, mini-refrigerator, and a folding chair and tray table. His bathroom was nothing more than a coffin-sized shower stall, sink, and toilet.

He finished the coffee and rinsed the mug in the sink in the bathroom. After he did, he glanced in the mirror. He ran his hand over his facial hair and looked at his dark eyes.

He was sick to death of New York. He wanted out.

Unfortunately, since he had a criminal record, Corey couldn’t afford to get ‘out’. He also couldn’t get work. The claustrophobia of not only the one-room abode, but of Manhattan itself, was driving him crazy.

His time in prison had been short. A slap on the wrist for petty shit. Jail sucked, but he’d made it through without anyone killing him. What terrified him more was becoming a street person, pushing a fucking shopping cart, freezing while he slept on the sidewalks in winter.

He was walking a razor’s edge to stay where he was, coming up with the six-hundred and fifty bucks a month for this dump.

He stood at the bathroom doorway and looked at the mess. There was so little storage in the place, he had everything piled against the wall. The window overlooked the next apartment house and a narrow alley.

When Corey was young his family used to boast about him becoming a star or working in theater. At eighteen, Corey had high expectations. He auditioned for every production, large or small, that he could find. In the beginning, Corey earned a few speaking roles, but even those dried up.

Now? All he could think about was escaping New York and getting to LA. Maybe there he could leave his past behind and become a star.

Corey opened the bottom drawer of his dresser and removed a handgun. It was a nine-millimeter semi-automatic pistol, and today he was going to do what he had to do to get out of this self-made prison.

He tucked the gun into his waistband, and covered it with a light jacket. Since it was summer, he knew he’d sweat, but he had nowhere else to hide it. Corey put his sunglasses on and checked his reflection in the mirror.

No one thought he was talented enough or handsome enough to make it? He’d show them.

He’d leave town, change his name, and find fame and fortune in Hollywood. They’d love his story there. A bad boy who rose to fame? Yeah. He could see it. Maybe someone would write a book about it. How he came from nothing to become a superstar.

Corey smiled at his reflection.

Today, he was going to do it. Weeks of planning, months of thinking about it, getting up the courage, finding the right place, the right time, the right tactics. It was as if he was already playing a role in a film.

He’d seen movies like this. The poor kid from the gutter, ‘discovered’ and made into an international superstar.

Corey knew he was handsome. Hell, yeah, he did. He’d earned the nickname ‘Lover-boy’ in high-school, breaking all the girls’ hearts.

But these idiots in this town can’t see it. He snarled at his reflection as his bitterness grew. They’ll see now, won’t they?

Corey zipped the light jacket up to hide the gun and pocketed his keys. He had a plan. Simple.

It was so simple, Corey had no idea why he’d waited so long. He was twenty-eight. He should have been in LA at twenty. He was fit, worked out, did pushups and sit-ups, knew how to get strong with very little equipment when he was in prison. He also learned how to get rich.

Not banks. No. The Feds chased bank robbers.

He wasn’t stupid. He got sloppy one time. He’d been stealing high-end cars and selling them to chop-shops. It would have been a lucrative living, until the ring of thieves was rounded up, and him with them.

So, he waited. He laid low.

In the news he read about a string of robberies over the last few months where the suspects hadn’t gotten arrested even after they’d been caught on camera. Well, this was his chance. And he was going to make a killing.

~

Dax stood by while customers were buzzed into the secure store. He kept an eye on them as the employees took items out of the glass cases and placed them on velvet pads on the countertops.

Seeing rich New Yorkers blowing a hundred-grand on earrings or rings wasn’t easy. Dax wasn’t a socialist by any means, but a hundred-grand could feed a lot of hungry people. Hell, who needed a six carat diamond on their finger? Or canary yellow diamonds on their ears?

He never understood materialism. His ex-wife was into ‘things’. To her, a big house, expensive car, designer labels in her clothing; that meant success. Why she married a former army guy was beyond him. Maybe she thought he had potential.

After all, if he had stayed employed by the NYPD for thirty years and made it to the rank of captain he could be earning close to two hundred grand a year. Maybe that’s what Abigail was hoping for.

Even at that salary, New York was an expensive city to live in. Right now, he was suffering trying to keep payments up for his wife’s place on Long Island, his apartment rent, alimony, child support, and medical expenses. His divorce was not amicable. Abigail let all her fury out and he was strangled by her demands.

Did he blame his divorce as the reason he was dismissed from the police? Maybe. Because of the stress he was under, both financially and mentally, his behavior on the street suffered. He’d become a hot-head and quick to anger.

In this day and age, being a hot-tempered police officer was a no-no.

Inevitably it led to a police harassment charge. And to avoid looking soft on police aggression, he was dismissed, not really fired, but he was forced to quit.

Dax allowed his personal life to affect his professional one. And being what he imagined -a good, honest person- that act not only haunted him, it kicked him in the ass and he lost his job.

The store was so tiny, when a sale was made, Dax could hear every word. There goes another hundred-grand into a jewelry box.

Dax tried to shift his weight as standing hurt his low back and knees. He rested his hand on his Glock forty-caliber gun, and looked at the couple who had purchased the diamonds. They were older, probably retired. Who knew what they did for a living?

As they smiled and held their purchase, walking to the door, Dax tried not to sneer. He tipped his cap, just to be polite, and even opened the door. They smiled and thanked him.

After they had left, the employees high-fived and did a happy dance. The owner paid commission, so Pat was the lucky one today.

Dax leaned against the doorframe listening to the excitement as they celebrated the sale. He wondered if it gave them an adrenalin rush. You would think so by the flushed cheeks and smiles.

Dax looked out of the front window, seeing several large delivery trucks blocking traffic, hearing horns from the taxi drivers who were eager to get through, and watching pedestrians hurry by with shopping bags, some with designer names.

Money.

Everyone wanted it.

Not everyone had it.

He was given several breaks during the day. They were short, but he was able to sit down, take a piss, or eat his lunch. That was one nice thing Mr Maxim did for all his employees, he bought lunch.

They had a deli close by, as well as a Chinese restaurant, pizzeria, and several coffee shops. Today it was deli sandwiches.

Dax ate his in the lunchroom with Cali. She was petite, young, and single.

You look tired today, DJ.

He wiped his mouth on his napkin. I am. I didn’t sleep well last night.

At least today is Friday, and tomorrow is a slightly shorter day, right?

True. I can’t complain. We don’t work nights or Sundays. He bit into his dill pickle wedge.

Cali ate her corned beef sandwich and potato chips. After she swallowed the mouthful, she asked, Are you dating anyone?

Not really. Dax sensed Cali may be interested in him, but he never would ask her out. They didn’t know why he got his divorce, and being a gay man was only one reason. Of course to Dax, it was the main reason.

I sort of met a guy last weekend at a club, but he never texted or called. She took another bite of her food, her blonde hair tied up in a ponytail behind her head. She was pretty, and that was probably one of the reasons she had good sales potential.

"Why don’t