Guarding His Jewels

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Damian and Ryan parked in a front of a row of mansions near the juncture of Broadway and the eastern forest line of the Presidio in Pacific Heights.

"You are by the Lyon Street Steps," Ryan noted. "I have jogged up and down these steps several times."

"Yes, we are down on Vallejo and parking is generally easier up here," Damian said.

"I have made a point of finding all of the best views of San Francisco. This is definitely one of the top five. Your cousin is spending a fortune up here in this neighborhood."

"I want you to come with me and you can see for yourself."

The Lyon Street Steps were embedded in a sliver of lush, green park that surrounded them in terraced layers. To their west was the dark forest edge and to their east were streets lined with grandiose homes graced with manicured lawns and views of the Palace of Fine Arts and the San Francisco Bay. Ryan paused when they reached an elliptical plaza part of the way down and Damian smelled the flowers.

"Is your cousin going to wonder who I am?" Ryan asked. "What do I tell him?"

"Tell him you need a job," Damian giggled.

"I am not saying that."

"I am just kidding."

"Is this going to be awkward?" Ryan asked.

"I have my own entrance," Damian answered. "Don't worry. He is probably not even home."

Damian opened one of the half-wall gates in front of an Italianate mansion and led Ryan around the east side of the home. They did not notice the man standing on the covered balcony. He was muscular and had a shaved head, thick brow, wide nose, and wolf-like eyes.

"Damian," he man called out. "Where are you going?"

"To my entrance," Damian answered.

"No, bring your friend through the front door."

Damian retreated toward the front of the home and motioned for Ryan to follow him. "That's Vicente," Damian said.

"Should I leave?" Ryan asked. "I don't want to, but this feels unusual."

"Let's go in. It will be fine. He looks meaner than he really is."

The bulky, arched Tuscan double doors opened to a surprise. The large entry and living rooms were vibrant with light woods, floral patterns, yellow and white accents, and natural light from the mammoth windows facing the bay. Ryan's first impression was that it resembled a conservatory or a location for a garden party. It was spotless, clean, and inviting.

Vicente Bastian lumbered down the stone staircase without holding onto the intricate iron railing for balance. "You took all afternoon, Damian," Vicente said. "Damn. I was wondering what happened."

"Was I to rush?" Damian asked.

"Vicente Bastian, it is nice to meet you," the man said, ignoring Damian's question and extending his hand to Ryan, gripping him with a remarkably firm handshake that Ryan could not match.

"Ryan Jayden. It is a pleasure meeting you as well."

"Damian, take a hike," Vicente said, without looking at his cousin.

"What's going on?" Ryan asked, watching Damian slink away. Damian briefly glanced at Ryan with sorrow before he left the room.

"Follow me, Ryan," Vicente demanded. "Take off your shoes."

Vicente led Ryan to the back of the house and motioned for him to be seated on the sectional sofa facing the bay windows. Vicente removed the caps from two bottled iced tea drinks and handed one of them to Ryan.

"Thank you," Ryan said, glimpsing toward the hallway and trying to spot Damian.

"I get myself in trouble with small talk to strangers," Vicente said. "So I'd rather talk business, Ryan."

The blank expression on Vicente's face further startled Ryan. He began to understand that following Damian inside the mansion had been a big mistake. "I have been set up, haven't I?" Ryan asked, blushing, his cheeks crimson red, and blood pounding to his head.

"Yep," Vicente admitted. "Take a deep breath or you are going to pass out."

Ryan attempted a sip of tea to calm his nerves, but spilled a few drops due to his shaking hands and abandoned the idea. He looked away from Vicente, toward the distant mountains out the windows, and finally slowed his breathing and regained some composure.

"Damian sure made a big fool of me," Ryan stated. "Is he even your real cousin?"

"Yeah, he is one of them," Vicente answered and shrugged. "I have dozens of cousins."

"Can I leave?"

"Sure. But you won't. It would be a terrible lapse in your judgment. You don't know who I am, do you?"

"I just know your name—if Vicente Bastian is your real name—and that you are an MMA fighter."

"Go ahead," Vicente said. "Look me up, right now."

Ryan did an online search of Vicente Bastian on his phone. Headlines ranged from his achievements to his charitable work, including stories about him regaining championship trophies and earning consideration in the Hall of Fame. The picture and video options from the search engine buttressed the articles with countless images of Vicente in rings and fighting cages, as well as on promotional pictures and red carpet photographs taken by paparazzi. Ryan clicked off his phone and returned it to his pocket. Vicente studied him with raised eyebrows and a snicker.

"For whatever reason you have lured me here, Vicente, it seems clear you can afford whoever you want, for whatever you want," Ryan said. "Why am I here?"

"I have my reasons," Vicente answered.

"That's all you want to say in the way of an explanation?"

"Yes."

"Maybe I could hear one of your reasons?"

"I have been around the block for many years," Vicente answered. "I know all of the scores. Gays are more loyal."

Ryan blushed again and he did not hide his frustration that his body was exposing his emotions.

"Loyalty is everything to me," Vicente added. "The smallest betrayal could destroy my world."

"I am confused," Ryan said. "Should I be grateful that you are considering me for something?"

"Yes."

"Is this meeting a test?"

"Ryan, I need you for at least a month. To be on call at all times. Right now, there are events that I require protection at, and there could be more in the future."

"Did Damian choose me randomly?"

"Focus on my words," Vicente corrected him. "I need you for at least a couple of weeks, for some events, and I demand complete loyalty."

"What financial compensation are you offering me?" Ryan asked.

"Your pay is five grand."

"For one month?" Ryan asked, unable to conceal his shock.

"And another five grand if I can count on you to obey every directive of mine without hesitation. Do you want the ten grand?"

"I do. I need it."

"See," Vicente said, lifting his palms up, "that was easy."

"When do I start?"

"You have already started, Ryan."

"Do I report directly to you?"

"Yes. Ultimately, only to me. Sometimes, it will be someone I designate. Got that?"

"I do," Ryan answered.

"Go with Damian now to collect your things," Vicente said.

"You are putting me in a nearby hotel?"

"No, I have a room for you here. Give me your phone. I cannot risk that you might accidentally give my hiding place away."

"I know you don't want any more questions, Vicente. But I have to ask this. Why all the secrecy? Has someone threatened you?"

"Yes, an arch rival, my nemesis, is planning on stealing my jewels."

"Here? In this mansion?"

"The ones on me," Vicente answered.

Ryan's eyes darted around Vicente's body. He saw part of a gold chain around his neck, a 45mm rose gold or copper watch that revealed its inner organs, and two silver gladiator rings with lions.

"Which ones?" Ryan asked.

"All of them."

Vicente stood up, unzipped, and dropped his pants and boxer briefs to his knees. He held his uncircumcised manhood to the side, focusing Ryan's attention on his low-hanging, hulking testicles.

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