such odds

Tony thought he was seeing things while he was out on the street. It couldn't be. He just imagined Maxxie was there when he wasn't. It was an awful feeling as if he'd digressed completely. being with the likes of Spencer what was to become of him if he kept this up?

It was a clever business. Tony supposed. A bang for a buck. Was that how it went? It seemed that way an awful lot. Going out. Clubbing in places that were not his taste. Fucking in a backroom and all one really remembered was a swaying dimmed light bulb hanging from the ceiling.

Sure there was a time when Tony liked to try new things. But this was getting a little tedious.

First off, he didn't want to be with men old enough to be his father. It was disgusting. How in the world would he ever get out of this mess he'd been sucked in to.

Of course, the drugs helped. It made Tony see clearly what he needed to do. And well, there was Spencer to tend to as well. But then when he saw that bloke who looked an awful lot like Maxxie, everything seemed to be tumbling down. It gave him a different perspective. Would Maxxie even want him now? Was there any way to go back?

How long had he been gone?

Truth be told he'd been defeated. Hadn't he? It just wasn't that easy to be ruthless, anymore. Especially, when the one individual he so wanted to have a throw down with was now telling him what to do.

"Just don't do it," he said to this bloke who really looked lost there on the street.

"Do what?" He was about as flaky as Maxxie too.

"Go, somewhere else. Get out while you can. This establishment isn't all that, if you must know, and it doesn't suit you." Tony gave him the look over. "Do you have a name?"

"Jamie."

Tony just smiled. His accent was American. What was the odds of that?