Chapter 38
Christian fucking Sharpe, who’d seduced an entirely willing seventeen-year-old Scooter Stahl one summer, and then dumped him like trash the next year. Who brought his “assistants” and his “interns” and his “protégées” to the beach property each year for Memorial Day week. A new one every year. And Chris always brought them to Dockside, at least once, like he was parading them in front of Scooter. Since Chris had taken his seat in the state Senate, his young men had all at least been adults, but they’d stayed in the same age-bracket—the oldest had been twenty-two—while Chris got older. No less handsome, though. And even those boys hadn’t kept Scooter out of Chris’s bed, because whenever Chris crooked his finger, Scooter had gone, eager and hating himself for it.