Home > Work > Black John (Johnnies, #4)
1 " Chimp-baby was a basic ginger tom (heh heh heh), and he’d seemed to have a very grounded, bombproof constitution while crawling in the adoption cage with his siblings. "
― Amy Lane , Black John (Johnnies, #4)
2 " Their entire life was about to start, and he’d never in his life seen such promise. He loved, and was loved in return, and every day in which that is true is cause for celebration. Don’t miss how the story started! "
3 " Galen’s sweet Benedictine smile illuminated his face in that mix of glory and dirt, and John had to swallow hard or he would have just cried at beauty like a kid in church. "
4 " Three trips to rehab,” John said at last. “The third time….” He closed his eyes and blocked it out. He couldn’t do this, not now. “It was bad. I thought maybe I was the problem, right? ’Cause… ’cause I’d do anything for him. Anything. I’da stayed for another trip to rehab—I’da stayed for all "
5 " the trips to rehab—but… but if I left, maybe he’d find a way without me. Because staying wasn’t doing him any good. "
6 " Didn’t happen. Won’t want this again.” He sighed and wrenched himself back. “Yeah, we will,” Galen said soberly. John swallowed, legitimately afraid. “I’m a recovering addict—” “And I’m not recovering,” Galen said. Those luminous green eyes narrowed and glittered. “Not yet. But I want you. And you need someone. So you need to decide how this is or is not going to happen, because it’s an issue. "
7 " Oh Galen—I’ve never been anybody’s first choice. There’s no reason for that to start now. "
8 " They were taken from a bridge—the Sunshine Skyway, "
9 " How could you commit suicide and not be a dick? Not leave detritus and wreckage behind you? But Tory—he’d taken it to the next level, hadn’t he? Like sex, like drugs, like Star Wars, like anything he’d done. "
10 " you don’t have to be a saint to want to be treated like a human being, do you know that? Yes, I know he’s an addict. So the hell what? You don’t write him off because of it. You don’t write me off because I care for him. We’re people, that’s all. Miserable, stupid, fucked-up people, and all we have in this world to hold on to is each other. Can you understand that? "
11 " could show you such faith,” he said, almost transported by the thought. “I could believe in you until all your pain faded to memories. I could believe in you as we lived side by side. I could be your lawyer and defend your right to make beautiful porn until we’re too old to get it up. My faith could be absolutely boundless, if only…. "
12 " Do you know what I’d do with that kind of faith?” John asked, knowing he couldn’t answer. “I’d hold it so tight inside, it’d never have a chance to disappear. Nobody has ever believed in me like that. If you believed in me like that, you’d better believe I’d never let you go.” “Deal,” Galen breathed, and although John startled and thought seriously about cursing at him, he didn’t. "
13 " The other man leaned back his head and breathed carefully for a few minutes. John waited in respect. You had to respect pain, because pain didn’t respect shit. "
14 " Galen met his eyes levelly, and although his pupils were still a little dilated, he was as stone-cold sober as a stoned man ever got. “We are all a fucking mess. Porn stars don’t corner the market on it. They’re just brave enough to do it naked, so we see it more often. "
15 " Now you learn some fucking discretion? Fine. Pay me a dollar.” John had seen this movie too. He fished out a dollar and handed it over, and Galen crumpled it and threw it at him. It bounced off John’s forehead. Galen retrieved it and did it again. "
16 " (John had forgotten her name as soon as she said it—it might as well be Charon for all he could remember), "
17 " The point was nobody was enough all the time. That was what being partners was about. One person got to spaz the fuck out, and the other person got to hold the other guy’s hand, and then they switched places. "
18 " almost grateful to leave Galen’s nice little apartment—which still held hope like tattered party banners—for Tory’s, which was a testament to when hope died, violently and by its own hand. "
